A Charming Brew

by Robin Roseau

  I gave her my hand to hold.

  * * * *

  We ordered wine, and then I watched her loosen up. Maeve was bright, charming, and engaged, and I had one of the best dinners out that I’d had in a long time. Afterwards, we went for a walk, holding hands, and I laid my head on her shoulder as we walked.

  “I am unaccustomed to being taller than my dates,” she observed. “I think I like it.”

  “Everyone is taller than I am,” I said. “My 13-year-old niece is quick to point it out too.”

  “Lydia sounds wonderful, and I like the tone your voice takes when you mention her.”

  “I’ll never have any of my own,” I said.

  “Because you are gay?”

  “Because I can’t have children,” I said.

  “Oh. I’m sorry. Did you want children?”

  “I have Lydia, and my sister has shared her with me from the very beginning.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “Part of me wanted kids,” I said. “It’s complicated.”

  “I suppose so.”

  I wondered if she were asking how I’d feel about dating a woman with a young son. But she didn’t ask anything more about it, and I didn’t want to say anything to suggest I was thinking about anything past tonight.

  We eventually made it back to my car. Before she stepped in, she turned to me and pulled me into a tight, tight hug.

  “Is this okay? Will people stare?”

  “It’s fine,” I whispered back.

  “I’ve had-“ she broke off. “Thank you.”

  * * * *

  I pulled into her driveway and put the car into park.

  “I’d like you to come in,” she said. “Please.”

  “All right, but I’m not staying. I don’t do that on the first date.”

  “Good. I’m not ready for that, either.”

  But we met at the front of my car, and she took my hand. This time she didn’t ask. She just took it. That was good. Her confidence was improving. She led me to the door, and inside, she took my coat, setting it aside.

  “Did you want tea?”

  “Only if you’re having some. You don’t need to offer to be polite.”

  “I’m buying time,” she said with a smile. “I am afraid you are ready to flee, and I don’t want you to go yet.”

  “Tea would be lovely.”

  We moved to her kitchen together, and then I watched as she puttered about. Neither of us talked. But she moved to stand beside me, both of us leaning against the counter, while the tea steeped. I was tentative about it, but I put my hand on her back, my fingers just caressing the back of her neck. She responded by lightly leaning against me.

  Neither of us spoke while the tea steeped, but then she made a tray and carried it to the living room. We sat together on the sofa, our knees touching. She poured, handing me a small cup, and then sipped nervously at her own.

  I waited a minute, sipping at my own tea. She refused to look at me. Finally I set my cup down then took hers from her and set it to join mine. Then I used two fingers to turn her to face me.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “About what?”

  “I-“ she closed her mouth.

  “I had a nice time tonight,” I said. “Did you?”

  She nodded. “Yes. Karla said you were very sweet, and I could trust you.” But then she turned her face away, and I let her. But I sighed.

  “You’re nervous about something. Did you want to tell me?”

  “No.”

  “I have guesses. You’re either afraid I’ll kiss you, or afraid I won’t.”

  “I-“ She opened and closed her mouth a few times. “I am afraid of a great deal. I’m afraid you won’t. I’m afraid you will, but I’ll be a bad kisser. Or you will, but you’ll want a great deal more than a kiss.”

  I put two fingers over her lips.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Let’s just sit here and cuddle for a little bit. How does that sound?”

  “That sounds really nice.” And so I leaned back. She tucked her legs up on the sofa and leaned against me, her head on my shoulder. That meant she was staring straight down my dress. I decided not to tease her about it. Instead, I kissed the top of her head while wrapping one arm around her. When I offered my free hand, she took it in one of hers.

  “I’m going to tell you a few things,” I said. “First, unless you ask me not to, I intend to kiss you in a while. It will be more than a simple kiss, and I intend to enjoy it, but it’s still just a kiss. Then I’m going to ask for one more at the door, a few minutes later.”

  “All right.”

  “Jay-jay and Karla intend for you to date around for a while. That’s between the three of you and anyone they introduce you to. I’m leaving you my number, and you are free to use it, but I don’t do stalkers.”

  “I wouldn’t.”

  “Good. I think their plan is a good plan. You need time to decide what you want. Maybe that’s me, or someone like me, but frankly, I’m not going to be your rebound girl, and I’m not going to be what could just be a big experiment for you. I think you should let them introduce you around. You can trust their recommendations. You need some time to figure things out.”

  “You don’t want to see me again?”

  “I would love to see you again,” I said, and I realized I would. “But you need to kiss a few more women, and maybe, when you’re ready, ask them to introduce you to a player?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Because the players will love you and leave you, but if you know that’s the plan going into it, you can just enjoy it without the pressure.”

  “Ohhh,” she said slowly. “That’s interesting advice.”

  “It might be bad advice,” I said. “I’m just giving you things to think about.”

  “You don’t seek to monopolize me, to win that toaster oven.”

  “No. I tend to lose my heart. You’re not ready to receive it.”

  “And if I were?”

  “Then we’d be having a far different conversation, one that began with, ‘What are you doing next week?’”

  She turned her face towards mine, and I used the opportunity. Our lips met. Hers were soft and sweet, and I made it a long, slow, generous kiss, withdrawing slowly at the end.

  She sat with her eyes closed, turned towards me.

  “Well,” she said finally, opening her eyes to look at me. “On a scale of one to ten...”

  I smiled. “Six.”

  “Only a six?”

  “You’re too nervous, and we’re both being too careful for it to be much more than six,” I said.

  “I have never been comfortable as an underachiever,” she said. Then her hand moved to the center of my chest, and she pushed—gently—but telling me to stay where I was. She rotated, and then she stretched a knee over my legs, coming to a rest straddling my legs and looking down at me. I set my hands on her hips.

  “For the record, this isn’t turning into sex.”

  “Maybe not,” she said. “But I am not letting you up from this couch when my kiss was only a six. I wonder how long it takes to reach an eight.”

  And then she lowered her mouth again, and I could taste her hunger. She teased me with her tongue, and when I parted, she invaded.

  We were both panting long before she withdrew. Then she loomed over me, one eyebrow raised. “Still a six?”

  “No,” I said breathlessly. “That was definitely a lot higher than a six. God, Maeve, you don’t need practice, that’s for sure.”

  She smiled then bent down and kissed my nose playfully. “So when I next ask you out, will you say ‘yes’?”

  “Yes,” I said. “If I’m available.”

  She climbed from my lap, which was a little disappointing, then pulled me to my feet. She hugged me tightly before leading me towards the door. At the door, she helped me into my things then took my hands.

&nb
sp; “Thank you.”

  “I had a lovely time, Maeve.”

  “As did I.” She smiled. “You have promised one more kiss, and I am greedy for it.”

  Our third wasn’t as good as the second, but it was still better than the first, and during the hug afterwards, we both sighed.

  Teasing

  “So, how was your date?” Phoebe asked me mid-morning on Saturday. Ron, Jay-jay, and Abby were directing the kids in making the flats, and Phoebe and I were working on decorations and accents for the maze.

  “Oh god,” I said.

  “That bad?”

  “Well, no. That weird though.”

  “Two heads?”

  “She’s recently divorced from her husband.”

  “Oh, dear,” Phoebe said. “So, bad date?”

  “No. She was nervous, as you can imagine. But she’s gorgeous and brilliant, and if it weren’t for the recently figuring out she was gay thing, she would be exactly my type.”

  “So, bad date?”

  I laughed. “Good date.”

  “When are you seeing her next?”

  “Six months, maybe a year, maybe never. She needs to date around and figure out what she wants. Or at least that’s what Jay-jay and Karla have planned for her. And I think it’s good advice.”

  “But if you had a nice time...”

  “I tend to lose my heart, and I don’t want to do that with someone who doesn’t have a clue what she wants yet. If she calls me in a year or two, tells me she’s gone out with a dozen different women, one or two for more than a date or two, and then says she wants to try with me, I might listen. If I’m available.”

  “I understand.”

  I glanced over at her. “Maybe I should give her your number.”

  “No thanks,” she said quickly. “I’ve kind of got my eye on someone.”

  “Really?” I asked. “Anyone I know.”

  “I don’t want to say. It’s complicated.”

  “He hasn’t asked you out?”

  “I’m not afraid of doing the asking,” she replied. “But it’s someone I know through work. It’s complicated. I’m still deciding if I’m ready for that. I’m picky whom I date.”

  “What do you look for? Tall, dark, and handsome?”

  “Kind, gentle, and honest.”

  “Those are good traits. I hope it works for you.”

  “Thanks. We’ll see. I suspect if I ask, I’ll get a date, maybe more. But we’re still getting to know each other. We’ll see.”

  “Gotcha,” I said.

  I decided not to relay the conversation to Lydia.

  * * * *

  We worked hard all day. Ron and Abby had to go, but everyone else stayed for dinner. I kept it simple. We were on a pasta theme from the first night, so I just made spaghetti. With more garlic bread of course. But it’s easy, and I wasn’t in the mood for fancy. I knew the girls wouldn’t care and would have been happy with pizzas, but I wanted something a little bit better than that.

  As before, I assigned tasks. Lydia was to be hostess, and she was good at it. Jay-jay did fetch and carry and cleanup. Karla handled the garlic bread. Phoebe and I stood together at the stove, making the spaghetti together.

  “I always just use a jar.”

  “This is only a minimal amount more work, and I enjoy the process,” I said. “But if you want to go sit...”

  “Oh, no,” she replied. “I’m happy to slave at the stove with you.”

  I bumped shoulders with her.

  After dinner, Jay-jay and Karla headed out, promising to return in the morning for breakfast.

  The girls headed for the living room and did whatever it is teenage girls do when you get five of them in one room together. I looked at Phoebe.

  “Staying?”

  “Am I invited?”

  “Yes. The kids all have sleeping bags and pillows, so they’ll get the downstairs. There’s a guest room waiting with fresh sheets. I have a variety of games we can play, either with just the two of us, or we can see if the girls want to play.”

  “Let me grab my bag from my car,” she said. “Why don’t you see what the girls want?”

  The girls wanted to watch movies and eat popcorn. Phoebe and I moved into the den for a game of Scrabble.

  She beat the pants off me. Well, not literally at least.

  * * * *

  With all the help and cooperation, our plan for the maze came together. By dinner, we’d accomplished as much as we were going to, and the rest would come down to setup. I thought it was going to look good.

  For dinner, I gave in and ordered pizzas. Abby talked to all of us about costumes and then told us what to buy before next weekend.

  Then, with dinner over, plans settled, and goodbyes given, our guests departed, and I was left on my doorstep, my niece standing beside me, as our friends drove away.

  I sighed.

  “Aunt Jackie.”

  “Don’t say it.”

  “You like her.”

  “Yeah. I like her.”

  “So you’re at least going to ask her out.”

  “She said she’s got her eyes on someone.”

  “So? Ask her anyway. Before she finds someone else.”

  “She’s straight.”

  “You promised to ask her.”

  “After the party.”

  “All right. But then you’ll ask her.”

  “Yeah. Then I’ll ask her.”

  “All right. Good.”

  “She’s going to say ‘no’.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I need some of your hair.”

  “Before you can ask Ms. Mathis on a date?”

  “For a new necklace for you.”

  “Oh. Can I watch you make it?”

  I thought about it. “No. 14th birthday.”

  “Oh. All right.”

  * * * *

  The week seemed amazingly free of commitments. I’d spent every night the previous week doing something, either preparing for the weekend or my date with Maeve. It seemed strange to have so much time to myself.

  And I wanted an excuse to call Phoebe.

  And in between thinking about that, I wondered if I should have pursued something with Maeve, anyway. No, that was a bad plan. She had a lot of thinking to do, and I didn’t want to be around if she decided this wasn’t what she wanted after all.

  I went out for dancing one night, turning down offers to go home with two guys but unfortunately, none from the women I danced with. Pity.

  I made the necklace for Lydia and began mapping the protection charms I’d add to Merry’s house. I refreshed a few on my house; they were getting old.

  Saturday morning arrived.

  * * * *

  I picked Lydia up at home. She didn’t fuss when I showed her the necklace. She let me weave the ends closed with it around her neck, then pulled her shirt up to partially cover it. I got a kiss, a hug, and a thank you.

  Then we collected Merry’s sewing machine and all the supplies Abby had asked us to bring. Soon we were on our way.

  “Aunt Jackie, do you wish you could have kids?”

  “I have you.”

  “You didn’t give birth to me.” At least she didn’t say she wasn’t really my daughter. She wasn’t, but I felt like she was.

  “I was still kind of young and figuring things out when your mother’s magic came to me,” I told her. “I knew only one of us could have kids, and I was pretty sure your mother would beat me to it.”

  “So it was some sort of race?”

  “No, but she was married to your father, and I’ve never kissed a man.”

  “Really?”

  “I figured things out earlier than some.”

  “Ah.”

  “But the magic can be a little cruel,” she said. “It always settles down to one of the sisters.”

  “What about cousins?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “What if Grandma had two sisters, not just one. You said sometimes
there’s more than two daughters. If Grandma had two sisters, then one would have the magic, and two would have kids.”

  “Ah. More of the magic, I think. One of the sisters would only have girls. The other would only have boys. Or at least that’s how it worked the one time that happened that I specifically know about. And the magic only follows through the girls. So there are no competing cousins. But I suppose if you want to experiment with it, you can pop out three girls in another fifteen years and see what happens.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said with a grin. “Or not. Maybe I’ll stay the witch, and my little sister can be the mother. I’m not sure I like the idea of popping out a couple of brats. They might turn out like me.”

  I laughed. “You should be so lucky.”

  “I’ve seen movies. I’m not sure about any of that.”

  “You’re 13. You have at least 10 years to decide. Well, maybe more like 20, because you wouldn’t want your little sister popping out a brat or two, as you say, when she’s only 16. So the two of you have time to decide.”

  “If I decide I don’t want kids, and she doesn’t want kids, what happens?”

  “That happened to your great-grandmother and her sister. They both wanted to stay witches.”

  “And?”

  “Well, clearly that didn’t stick. Your great-grandmother had your grandmother and Aunt Mable. And then your grandmother had your mother and me. Your mother had you and your little sister. And so it continues.”

  “There are ways to prevent becoming pregnant.”

  “There are. But abstinence seems to be the only reliable one, and I don’t know what would happen if both you and your sister decided to avoid boys. I actually hope we don’t find out.”

  “Why not?”

  “This is a bad subject.”

  “Oh.”

  We pulled up in front of the White residence, but Lydia didn’t get out of the car.

  “Do you think even then the magic would make sure one of us became pregnant anyway?”

  “Yes, Lydia. I do.”

  “Even if Sis and I both prefer girls.”

  “Yes. I really don’t want to talk to a 13-year-old about this, Lydia.”

  “I’m not stupid. I know what you’re saying.”

  “I know, but I’d rather not think about it.”

  “Yeah, neither would I.” She flashed a smile. “What’s your costume going to be? Something sexy?”