A Broom With a View (7 page)

Since
she was stuck in the house for the night with nothing to do, Liza Jane decided to make use of her time and organize her altar. Maybe try a little ritual. She’d already moved everything to her new room, after all; she just needed to organize.

She’d made sure her altar box rode up front with her on the drive down, and had gone so far as to take it in the Charleston, West Virginia hotel room with her. It contained some of her most precious items and she wasn’t about to let something happen to them.

Now, as the sun sank down over the mountains, turning them a chalky blue in the twilight, she sat cross-legged on the old shag carpet in her “office” and carefully unpacked the items she’d spent years collecting.

The altar cloth was one she’d made herself. It wasn’t going to win any contests (not that there
were
contests for such things) but she liked it. It had a Celtic triple moon on one side and a triquetra on the other and the cloth was a beautiful shade of hunter green on smooth silk. She’d done her best with the embroidery–something she’d done during the monotonous hours on a particularly boring trip she’d made with the pop opera group when they’d visited Kanas City. Back when she was still “allowed” to travel with them.

She had three tall, thick white altar candles. She didn’t particularly
need
three of them, that’s just the way Kohl’s sold them in their January sale. She removed one from the box and placed it on the television stand and packed the other two in a shoebox. This, she placed on the shelf below.

Next, she opened a different shoebox that held an assortment of tea candles and skinny little taper candles. Liza had them in all colors, from black to silver. There were several different candle holders to hold the tiny taper candles, too. They ranged from beautiful silver antique pieces she’d unearthed in flea markets and estate auctions to funky Art Deco style candle holders she’d picked up at Target.

Liza Jane wasn’t a snob when it came to shopping; she was just as likely to buy something from K-Mart or the Dollar General as she was from Marshall Fields.

Altar provisions were kind of a personal thing for witches. She’d never used a chalice or bowl or ritual bell, for instance. She did, however, have a little brass cauldron she used for mixing herbs and oils and cherished a handmade wand a friend had created for her. It was made of a beautiful piece of Dogwood.

She’d always been drawn to the Goddess and tried to buy things with the feminine energy since they called to her. For that reason, she kept two statues of the Goddess on her altar and one in her living room. They helped keep her calm.

“Well,” she admitted to an athame she unwrapped from purple tissue paper, “the Valium is also helping these days.”

But the Goddess statues couldn’t hurt.

She had one white ritual robe and two heavy cloaks (a winter-white one with rabbit fur and a deep burgundy for summer) and these she folded up and placed on a stool next to her altar. She’d never really been into the “costume” aspect of ritual work, although she knew some people who were.

Liza was more of a “sky clad” person herself, although Mode had been slightly uncomfortable about having a wife who thought nothing of standing naked in the middle of the room, chanting and playing with fire.

“For God’s sake Lizey,” he’d whispered on more than one occasion, “just don’t go outside like that and make sure the curtains are closed before you turn the lights back on. We have neighbors!”

“Prude,” Liza muttered even now, still a little stung at the memory.

She wondered how Colt Bluevine would feel about her wandering around the house naked…

At least she wouldn’t have to worry about shocking the neighbors anymore.

“Nobody here to see me outside naked but the skunks and the deer,” she said with glee, all but clapping her hands together.

Then she was hit by another thought.

“Do snakes come out at night? I’d better Google that…”

Now that she had all those acres it seemed a shame to waste them and not try to garden something. She’d been good at that in the past and there were a few different herbs she liked to use in a few of her rituals. These she kept in little crocheted sachets and stored them on the shelf. They included mugwort, angelica root, devil’s root, and black cohosh. She also had a five-pound bag of beeswax pellets because, despite Mode’s insistence that it was easier to buy things rather than make them, she enjoyed creating her own candles.

Crafting gave her something to do. She was a Pinterest fiend. In fact, she had a bumper sticker on the back of Christabel that proclaimed she’d #nailedit.

When everything was arranged just the way she liked it, Liza got up and trotted down to the kitchen. There, she fetched a dark ceramic bowl and filled it with water. Carefully, she took it back upstairs and placed it on the floor in front of her. She then turned off the lights and used wooden matches to light first her altar candle and then three blue taper candles.

The room was suddenly filled with dancing shadows and the sounds of small flames licking at the musty air. Thin slivers of black smoke rose slowly upwards, dissipating and disappearing before they reached the ceiling.

Liza Jane peeled off her blue jeans, socks, and underwear and folded them neatly by the door. She then pulled off her sweater, trying not to get the fabric caught on her hoop earrings.

She failed.

Naked from the waist down and with her breasts jiggling against her chest she hopped around, blinded by the angora sweater as she tried in vain to free it from the sterling silver.

“
Damn it
,” she cried, ruining the relaxed and cheerful mood she’d tried to create for herself.

As hard as she might, she simply could not get it loose. It was either going to tear the fabric or rip her earring out.

Not wanting either to happen (the sweater had cost $75; she was damned if she’d ruin it before she even got to wear it more than once), she finally gave up and spun a little verse. Suddenly, she could see again as the sweater was gently untangled and the piece of clothing was smoothly lifted over her head and held high in the air. Sighing in frustration, she reached up and pulled it down, as casually as she might pluck an apple from a tree.

She hadn’t meant to use magic that early; every little bit she spent took something out of her, making the next attempt less effective. And she wanted what she was about to do to be as helpful as possible.

With the candles burning brightly Liza lowered herself to the floor and crossed her legs. She placed the bowl of water inside her legs on the floor and situated the three blue candles around her. She then proceeded to offer a protective spell to the four corners of the room, encasing herself in their walls with a barrier of security.

Gazing intently at the water, she spread her arms out beside her, palms up, and opened herself to the air to welcome in the energy that was slowly gathering around her. She could feel her own power intermingling with the influence of the house, the energy left over by her grandmother, and the vitality from the candle’s flames and colors. They were more than just symbols to her, after all; she derived strength from them. It didn’t always come on as quickly as it was that night, but she’d found that working in a new place always brought on a little more force, as she and it began learning about one another.

Liza could feel her heart and mind opening; her chest swelled with happiness and potency and a slow smile spread across her face. With her eyes closed she offered up ancient words, as well as words of her own creation, and felt the air about her tremble.

She could almost get lost in that sensation, in the feeling that there was something big and magical in the world around her and she was a major part of it.

But she had business to attend to.

Opening her eyes now, she bent slightly forward at the waist and gazed back down into the bowl of water. The once smooth surface was rippling now, making small waves, much like the air in the room. Downstairs the refrigerator hummed, her cell phone played a Bon Jovi tune that signified her sister’s call, and the microwave “pinged” (she’d forgotten to take out some noodles half an hour ago and now the darn thing wouldn’t let her forget).

She blocked out all of these and focused only on what was before her.

At first, there was nothing but blackness–the color of the bowl mixed with the mountain water. But then it began to change little by little. She could see herself standing over a table, her hands shiny with oil. A woman was on her stomach on the table before her, her naked arms outstretched and a white sheet covering her lower half. Candlelight flickered.

Next she saw a party. Live music and cowboy boots on a dance floor. The smell of hay. Laughter. The room spinning around and around. Liza Jane was dancing, the shoulders under her arms strong and muscled. Colt’s eyes gazed down upon her, a hint of mischief in them.

Liza felt a warmth spread through her stomach, something that had nothing to do with her candle ritual but nevertheless an ancient ritual that men and women had known since the beginning of time.

The scene suddenly changed, however, and became darker. Liza leaned closer to get a better view and then jumped backwards as the bowl filled with the scent of blood. She heard screaming, saw pain, and felt fear rising in her throat. A man lay on the ground, blood spilling from his mouth.

And Liza stood over him.

DAYBREAK WAS
amazing–when that daybreak meant the first morning of your first official opening day at work in your fist official business, anyway.

And ready just in time.

Opening time was 9:00 am but she’d been there for two hours already, nervous and antsy. She’d had her “soft” opening already but this was the real deal. All her products were out and everything.

Her first client would be there at 11:30 am and had booked a sixty-minute Reiki session. She had another one at 2:00 pm for a Swedish massage and then a facial at 3:00 pm.

“Man,” she laughed, tossing her hair back and twirling around in a little circle. Little sparks of light flew out from under her feet and then rose into the air like dancing fireflies. She was already
booking appointments for the upcoming weeks
. “The ad I put in the paper must have really paid off!”

In all actuality, it probably had more to do with the town’s sheer curiosity of her than anything else, but she wasn’t going to let her mind go there. She’d rather believe that the sore, well- paying residents of Kudzu Valley were just people who needed a good rub down.

And the place looked good, too. Mode had chastised her, saying that she didn’t really know what hard work was, that she used her magic to do all the little mundane things she didn’t like, like clearing the dishes. But her building’s beauty had nothing to do with magic and everything to do with good old-fashioned hard work and elbow grease. Her wood floors looked brand new from the wax she’d gently applied to them, her windows glistened with Windex, and the air was fragrant with the scent of warm vanilla and cinnamon from the candles she’d artfully placed throughout the downstairs.

Liza stopped twirling and bit her bottom lip, suddenly giving in to a bout of nerves. She was anxious, that was true.  Her stomach did a flop and gurgled as a reminder. She’d spent part of the morning in the bathroom, trying to get herself together. Everything was ready and she knew that she was good at what she did, even if she hadn’t actually done it professionally for several years, but she wanted to make a good impression on everyone. The people from the week before had been pleased with her work and many of them had already re-booked appointments with her but still…

If this didn’t work for her, if she couldn’t make it in Kudzu Valley, she didn’t know where she’d go. Everything she had was
there
.

“Oh, screw yourself Modey,” she muttered, trying to get the image of his condescending smirk out of her mind.

And
because
she wanted to make a good impression and was never completely satisfied with herself and what she did, Liza raised her arms high in the air and waved them back and forth in tiny circles. In the blink of an eye, the floors changed from smooth and clean to actually sparkling and the decorative throw pillows on the vintage settee in her waiting area plumped themselves.

Sometimes it was good for the morale to assure herself she still had the gift and could use it when needed.

Of course, the trouble with the magical cleaning was that it wouldn’t last. It was an allusion, more or less, and couldn’t possibly hold once her attention and focus were turned elsewhere. Still, it tickled her to be able to do it at all and for a moment, at least, her stomach settled down.

To be on the safe side, she popped another Tums. 

T
hanks for taking me in at the last minute.” Taffeta “Taffy” Cornfoot’s muffled voice rose from the bed she was lying face down on.

It was already 5:00 pm, and starting to get dark. Liza had noticed right away that it got darker faster in the mountains, like the hills blocked out the sun and cast it away once it was finished with it. Taffy, County Court Clerk and a grandmother to sixteen, had waltzed through the door ten minutes before Liza had planned on closing.

“I know I don’t have an appointment but Patsy came in the office this afternoon just bragging about the massage you did on her and she just looked so relaxed.”

Taffy lowered her voice then and glanced quickly around the room, her eyes darting to all the corners to ensure nobody was hidden in the shadows, listening. “And believe me, making that woman relaxed is nothing short of a miracle. I should know. I’ve known her for forty-seven years.”

Liza, herself, remembered the other woman’s bossiness, critical appraisal of everything she’d done to the place, complaints about the music and candle scents…until Liza had started working on her. Her tune had changed
real
fast then.

It might have had something to do with the bit of lavender oil she’d rubbed into her and the lemon balm she’d slipped under the sheet by Patsy’s head and feet. By the time Patsy left, she’d all but swooned out the front door, her eyes dopey and her doughy body languid.

Now Taffy, who’d spent ten minutes reciting the minutes from the town’s last Rotary Club meeting in case Liza was interested in joining, was quiet and still under the modesty sheet.

Liza worked on her callused feet, puffy and swollen, and felt sympathy whenever she felt the other woman tremble slightly from the touch. She’d learned Taffy was diabetic and suffered from a lot of nerve pain. Her hypertension caused massive edema in her knees and feet and it almost pained Liza to touch them.

“But I’m still gonna work,” Taffy had declared as she filled out the medical questionnaire. “I know some of these women can’t wait to file Disability and get their money from the government but I ain’t one of ‘em. I will work until they roll my cold, dead body out of that court house. “

Now, Liza tried to imagine a big ball of light, bright and warm. She closed her eyes and could see it there, just on the back of her eyelids. It was brilliant, like the sun, and radiated heat that sent waves all the way down to her toes. She brought forth a healing chant her grandmother had sometimes used when Liza’s legs bothered her as a child.

“Growing pains” they’d called them back then.

When Liza opened her eyes, the ball of light was in the center of the room, hovering over Taffy’s body. Liza let it glide up and down the woman’s height, from the top of her head to her toes, taking time to pause at painful and inflamed joints and muscles along the way. Although it warmed her and soothed her aches, it never quite touched her, always stopping before it made contact with flesh. Once it had circled around twice, Liza murmured a few soft words and it disappeared, dissipating into the shadowy room and leaving nothing behind but some smoke tendrils.

Half an hour later, Taffy was all but flowing on her feet and walking much easier than she had when she’d entered the building. “I don’t know how you did it but you did more for me than any of those pain medicines and nonsense do that they give me at the doctor.”

“Oh, just what I learned in school,” Liza said with a wave of her hand.

Taffy narrowed her eyes. “I suspect it’s more than that but I’ll let that go.
For now
.”

Liza walked Taffy to the door, unlocked it, and then paused. “Look, I don’t want to overstep my bounds or anything but my grandmother was a diabetic and there were some things she used that helped with the swelling and some of the nerve pain. They’re natural, but of course I’d need to make sure that they don’t interact with any of the other medications you might take. That is, if you’re interested,” she added in a hurry.

Taffy nodded. “I surely am. I’d rather stick with the stuff that comes from the roots and trees than that crap they make up in a science lab. What you got?”

So Liza spent the next thirty minutes getting to do what she really loved but hadn’t been able to do in a very long time–talk about herbal healing. She went over essential oils and carrying oils, pointed out herbs, explained the steps to creating a tincture…

The longer she talked, and the more interested Taffy appeared, the more pleasure Liza felt balling up in her stomach. She was afraid she’d be rusty when the time came, since she’d had no use for any of it in years, but the opposite was true–she felt more confident than ever.

“You certainly do know your stuff,” Taffy remarked as Liza bagged her items. Liza, for her part, was glad she’d let Taffy stay when she walked in unscheduled. “Did somebody teach you?”

Liza paused, a sampler box of oils in her hand. She was surprised to feel tears prickling at her eyes. Perhaps the day had been more exhausting than she’d thought.

“It was my grandmother at first,” she explained as she attempted to gather her composure before she embarrassed herself in front of a customer. “We only came down here a few times when I was growing up but I was always fascinated by her garden and what she called her ‘medicine room.’ I’d ask a ton of questions, probably pestered her to death.”

“Oh, shew,” Taffy scoffed, patting Liza on the hand. “That’s what grandmothers like. Did she teach you then?”

“A little. They came up to see us a lot, once they figured out Mom had no intentions of coming back. I went through a stage where I didn’t care at all and didn’t want to know anything about it, but then it turned around again in high school. She was a good teacher,” Liza said simply. “She knew what she was doing.”

“That she did, that she did,” Taffy murmured in agreement. “Did you do any formal studying?”

Liza nodded. “I did, actually. I couldn’t find a college program that I liked so I went pre-med. I figured I would need to know about western medicine, too, and those classes gave me all the science and biology I was lacking. I interned for a naturopathic doctor in Boston for a year and loved it. But I didn’t graduate.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?” Taffy’s cheeks turned bright pink then and she lowered her eyes. “I’m sorry. That was nosy and rude of me. I am a nosy and rude old woman.”

Liza laughed. “No, it’s okay. Just embarrassing. No big story or anything; I just met my husband, fell in love, got married, and that was the end of my own personal life for a very long time.”

Taffy nodded, understanding clouding her eyes. “It’s very hard to be a woman sometimes. I don’t think a man can ever realize how much we give up, even when it’s not necessary to let it go. When a woman has committed herself to a family, and I don’t just mean children but to the idea of belonging to something she has to nurture, she can never truly belong to herself again. She can’t turn that little button off inside her head. Men are different.”

“You got that right,” Liza agreed, but she was taken aback by Taffy’s words–words she strongly identified with. For years she’d done little for herself, other than getting the massage license she only briefly used and the job at the nonprofit that she’d lost during the separation.

Mode had been able to keep his career, leaving her alone for weeks at a time, indulging in his hobbies (some of which were blond haired and blue eyed) and having a completely separate life apart from their marriage.

She hadn’t been able to.

That worry, that constant
need
to make their house just right, to keep their marriage fresh and exciting, to take care of his emotional and physical needs…those things had overpowered her.

“Hey Taffy?” Liza asked suddenly as she handed Taffy her bag of purchased items. “Did you ever roll over in bed, first thing in the morning, and look at your husband and feel totally disgusted? Like, the first thing that goes through your mind is, ‘I’d kill you right now and take myself on a three-week cruise through the Bahamas with the insurance money if it weren’t for the fact we’re laying on the nice sheets I just bought and I don’t want to ruin them’? Do you ever feel like that?”

Taffy grinned and patted Liza on the hand. With a twinkle in her eye she leaned in close and replied, “All the time, dear. All the time.”