Spice & Thyme Series

GINNY

Grandma eased into the kitchen chair, still clasping my hand, and gestured for me to do the same. Persephone magically appeared and stealthily resumed her perch on Grandma’s lap.

I sat, but immediately stood up when the caked dirt on my ass irritated me, embarrassingly.

I stood and held up a finger. “I need to take a quick shower, Grandma.”

She stroked Persephone’s back, and both she and the cat gave me a knowing look. Well, a glare really, at least from my cat, who decided Grandma was her favorite person at the moment.

“You go ahead, dear. Sand can be quite discomforting in the wrong place.”

“Grandma,” I snarled teasingly.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve had the same problem a few times.”

“Oh, good Lord, Lila Rose. So not what I need to picture right now.”

“Goes both ways, dear. Persephone and I will wait for you to finish your shower and then we can discuss what’s distressing you. Maybe over a margarita?”

“Hell yes!” Grandma was an excellent bartender, lending her uncanny ability to create magic into a blender. “I’ll be quick.”

I intended to be quick in the shower but as I let the dirt wash down my legs and the sweat from everywhere find the drain, I realized Grandma had read my mind.

I was only just thinking about a glass of wine while in the kitchen, debating the earliness of the day but acknowledging it was my day off and after twelve noon.

Grandma was so much more talented at going with the flow and not analyzing every decision she made. But she was a real witch. I wish I had half her ability.

Oh, my manifestation abilities shone from time to time, but nothing even close to her league.

Even as the word manifestation crossed my mind, the image of Matt appeared.

How did he go from Voodoo University asshole yesterday and to my sex god the next day? Not even twenty-four hours had passed.

As much as I didn’t want to discuss my sexual life with Grandma, she was the only person who could see the truth in the situation.

She would know if Matt’s sudden craving for me was borne naturally or a side effect of my lustful manifesting. And that scared me. Either option was a cavernous hole that needed attention.

Part of me wanted to stay in the shower until the hot water ran out and the other part wanted to talk with Grandma. Get the conversation over with.

Although she was the single person on the planet I could have this conversation with, she also looked at every opportunity as a learning moment for me.

She may damn well know what happened with Matt’s sudden lust, but it didn’t mean she would be outright honest about it. Nope. She was likely to explore both angles with me and let me be the judge.

I prayed that just once she would be forthright and decide I have had enough lessons for one lifetime.

I thanked the Universe for listening to my request and stepped out of the shower although I realized I hadn’t even used soap.

A margarita was in my very near future, and despite the anxiety I was feeling, I was hopeful that Grandma’s insight would be useful.

I mean, she did fly all the way from Florida because she heard me calling for her. Although, truth be told, I genuinely didn't call out to her via phone or mental telepathy until this morning.

So how did she know I needed her advice? And why not just call me? Maybe she suspected I was way over my head in the shit I created and needed her ability to fix it.

I dried off and flung the towel down the laundry chute—the best invention ever. I dressed in a pair of crop yoga pants and a loose top. What did Matt call that style? Breezy?

I slipped into my expensive, ergonomically fitted flipflops and went into the kitchen. But Grandma wasn't there, nor were there margaritas.

Although the blender was in the dish rack, I was hopeful still.

I peeked into the shop to find it empty, so I traced my steps back to the kitchen and out the back door. Like Matt, I let the screen door slap close—a sound I rather enjoyed.

It reminded me of all the times I was a child and too excited to go outdoors to be mindful of a slamming screen door, despite Grandpa's loud encouragements that I should “mind the door!”

The greenhouse door was ajar, so I meandered in that direction. Thoughts of Alisha accompanied my slow walk. I was not being a very good friend.

I had not checked in on her about Matt coming to the East Coast, and I basically slept with her twin brother. Wasn't sure how that tidbit of information was going to go over with her.

Did she even have to know? Even though I had introduced her to Liam and they quickly fell for each other, that didn't give me free rein to her brother.

I considered how I would react if roles were reversed. Then I considered that I could be overthinking the whole thing.

Why was everything so complicated? Did I make it all complicated? Is that why Jason and I didn't work out? Too much complication so he went and found a bed with less complications?

I mean, I had my issues for sure—anyone with my twisted background would. But was I the problem? Did I think too much?

Through the greenhouse door, and my worries melted down to a manageable fire. The smells alone soothed me to a level of peace nowhere else could.

Grandma fussed over the broken basil plants with two condensing margarita glasses perched by her side.

“Ahhh, alas, the whore of Babylon emerges. Did the shower shed you of your sins?”

I was taken aback by her words. The pain of them stopped me in my tracks. No words found their way to my throat.

If my own grandmother saw me that way, then I was completely off base considering the possibility I had done wrong. I was hell-bound with my ass already on fire.

Grandma watched me for a few seconds, obviously considering my frozen stance. She picked up a margarita glass and gestured a cheers in my direction, but she didn't drink.

“Aren't you going to join me?”

“Do you really see me that way, Grandma?” I conjured every ounce of energy not to bawl out my eyes.

“I really see that you see you that way.”

I stepped toward her and my waiting cocktail. Persephone twirled between my legs. “What are you doing out here?” I asked and bent to pat her. “You're an indoor cat.”

“She asked if she could come out, and I said yes as long as she stayed by my side, though I know she could handle herself against the coyotes and fisher cats in the area.”

“Which is exactly why she's an indoor cat.”

“Is that for your mental well-being or hers?”

“Both.”

“In that case, Persephone, back home,” Grandma said and gestured toward the house. Like an obedient dog, the cat pranced back toward the house.

“But she can't get in.”

“Then call her back,” Grandma said. In her tone. That tone she used when she was secretly giving me a lesson.

“Obviously she listens to you. So, you call her back.”

“She's your cat.”

“Fine.” I went to the door and hollered, “Persephone, come back here.” She stopped in her tracks and turned back to me. She sat but didn't move.

“Now I have to go open the door for her,” I said exasperated.

“Do you?”

I looked at Grandma, my energy drained already. “Yes. Yes, I do because you let her out.”

“She wanted to come out.”

“Of course she did. She's a cat. A cat who doesn't know how to defend herself outdoors.”

“It's her nature. She would figure it out.”

“Just like I'm a witch? It's my nature, I'll figure it out? Is this your lesson today, Grandma? I'm not a witch. Not a real one anyway.

“I manifest. Anyone can manifest with enough practice. We've been over this.”

“Yes, and you are a hard nut to crack.” Grandma pushed past me and called out to the cat. “Persephone, go home, dear.”

I watched as Persephone trotted through the grass toward the kitchen door. With a flick of her hand, Grandma summoned the door open.

It never ceased to amaze me just how gifted she was. I longed for that ability, but I never got past the simple parlor tricks.

Grandma came back into the greenhouse and with one hand rubbed the leaf of a broken basil plant, and with the other lifted her margarita glass. “Shall we?”

I hesitated.

“I didn't come here to argue with you about your abilities as a witch, Ginny Dear. I came because you find yourself in a dilemma and no one to talk to about it. So, we will drink margaritas until we giggle, and then we will talk.”

Seriously, who could argue with that? I retrieved my glass, and we clinked glasses. Down the hatch. The woman was a fine margarita-maker.

Grandma straddled her glass on the side of the planter's box and went to a cooler I hadn't seen. Ice clinked as she dug into the cooler and retrieved a sealed jar. More margaritas.

How could I stay angry at a woman who was so thoughtful? Yes, she pushed my buttons and annoyed me from time to time, but she was the mother I never had.

As if she knew where my thoughts were straying, Grandma said, “I spoke with your mother.”

I swallowed the immediate reaction of anger and approached Grandma with my glass out. She poured my second one and walked around me to get her glass.

With our backs to each other, she said, “She asked for my forgiveness.”

“Of course she did. She has to atone for her sins.”

“We all do at some point in our lives.”

We turned and faced each other.

“I hope you told her to fuck off.”

“I have in the past, as you well know.”

“And did you this time?”

Grandma took a swing of her drink, before responding, “Not this time.”

“Please tell me you didn’t tell her you forgive her!” I was mortified. My voice showed it, my shaking hands showed it; the horror in my eyes showed it.

“Is that why you came here? To tell me you forgive her after she killed your son?”

Grandma looked at my glass and said, “Take a drink. Take it down a notch.”

We each took a sip and Grandma said, “No, I did not bless her with my forgiveness, and I did not come here to tell you about all of this. But you have a right to know.”

“Great. I know, my mother is still harassing you about forgiving her. That’s nothing new.”

“She asked about you.”

“Oh, she remembered I exist! Well, that’s just swell. I can sleep better tonight.”

“Ginny, I did not come here to upset you.”

“Yeah, you came because you heard my call, but funny thing is, I didn’t call you until this morning, either by phone or our Voodoo shit. Why can’t we just be normal!“

The anger boiled up and over. I threw my glass and it smashed against the wall. Had the glass been heavy crystal, I would certainly have shattered the wall, but thank goodness for cheap thin glass.

I might spend a small fortune on footwear but not everyday glassware.

The silence expanded a good solid minute before the tears flooded.