Wish Club (8 page)

Chapter Eight

Claudia
carried a glass of wine and a chair over from her dining room. She clunked the chair down between Gail and Jill, who scooched theirs over to make room. Lindsay followed Claudia into the now overcrowded living room and settled onto the couch next to Mara.

“How’s Tippy doing?” Lindsay took a sip of her wine, eyeing Mara over her glass.

She’s like an attorney, Claudia thought, asking a question she already knows the answer to.

“Just great.” Mara smiled her wide grin. “He’s back to his old self. He’s gained back almost all his weight.”

Lindsay sank more deeply into the couch, a look of satisfaction on her face as she took another sip of her wine. “Does anyone,” Lindsay said, still swallowing, “have any doubts about what we’ve done?”

“It just can’t be this simple,” Gail said, “wishing for something you want, chanting about it, throwing a few herbs into a bucket or lighting a candle and—voilà, magic.”

“Well, it’s not just throwing a few herbs into a bucket.” Lindsay frowned at her. “You have to use your energy, focus your energy onto your wish, into the herbs. I think that’s the hardest part, the concentrating. When I used to meditate at home, I always felt so scattered when I tried to focus my mind. Most of the time, I found myself thinking about everything else except what I wanted to be thinking about. I think that’s why this works in a group; we help each other focus and concentrate.”

Lindsay meditated? I never knew that. Huh.
Claudia marveled at Lindsay, always so fearless in her willingness to try everything, the way she dove into her causes and trends with voracious abandon. It was admirable—even if she did end up abandoning most of her new things before too long. In fact, it was too bad Lindsay had quit meditating, because if anyone could use some focus, it was Lindsay. Then again, who was she to talk. If anyone could use more Zen moments, it was Claudia.

“I’ve always been curious about stuff like meditation,” Claudia said. “The supernatural, the metaphysical, all that New Age thought. The thing I never realized until I started reading this book we got is that all the things I thought were cool, that held some truth in them—ESP, numerology…astrology, herbology. What I didn’t know is that all these things, these
’ologies,
are actually part of one ancient religion. I mean, I think it’s really neat that they are, but on the other hand I think the fact that witchcraft
is
a religion makes me…I don’t know, uncomfortable, I guess. I mean, I don’t think I could ever publicly call myself a witch, or even a Wiccan. It’s just too, I don’t know,” she waved her hand in circles at the end of her outstretched arm, “too, out there.”

There were nods of agreement around the room.

“Everyone just thinks witchcraft is satanic,” Mara said, “but they have no idea. It’s so totally
not
that. There’s no devil in Wicca at all. And if you were to call yourself a witch, people would either think you were nuts or a devil-worshipper—and they’d lock up their pets and small children.” She sank back into the couch and crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.

“Maybe…” Lindsay paused and looked up for a long moment, then made her
getting an idea
face. She brought her eyes back down to the group. “Maybe we could just call what we’re doing ‘wishing.’ It’s obvious we don’t want to be a witch club, but I don’t think we’re just a book club anymore, either. Maybe we could be a ‘wish club.’ Then we wouldn’t have to get all caught up in the religion thing
or
the witchcraft thing.” Lindsay nodded her head in agreement with herself.

“We
should
just call it ‘wishing.’” Even though Lindsay was still sitting on the couch, she started doing her little hopping thing, bouncing up and down in the cushions. “That
is
what it is. And we’ve had such huge success I certainly don’t want to have to stop—and this way we won’t have to worry about what we tell other people, or about reading all these witchcraft books or consecrating circles and all that other stuff. If we could, like…say, after we’re done with our book discussions…make
wishes
for people. If we happen to use some herbs or a candle or some scented oil, well then, that’s just our New Age way of focusing our energy. It’ll just be our way of pulling it together.”

Lindsay was bouncing so hard on the couch now, that Claudia thought it a wonder she hadn’t catapulted Mara to the other side of the room.

“Oh come on, this is perfect.” Lindsay was in her groove now. “This is it. It may sound a little weird, maybe, but it certainly isn’t terribly ‘out there,’ and it isn’t going to get us run out of town or hung by a rope in the town square.”

“I think it’s a great idea!” Mara was nodding her head in agreement, or maybe it was just an aftershock from the vibrating couch.

Gail was nodding her head too, although more slowly. Even Jill seemed to be considering Lindsay’s idea.

Wishing. Hmm. Claudia liked the idea of
wishing
much better. Truly, what could be the harm in making a few wishes and burning some candles?

“Besides,” Mara said, “who doesn’t have a million things they want to wish for?”

“Of course,” Lindsay said. “See? We can make this work. We can still do this thing—we’ll just do it our way.”

They all started talking at once, as though a huge underlying tension had been broken. Their beloved Book Club wasn’t going to turn into some freaky coven. They were even still going to read books. Regular books. And then afterward they were going to make wishes.
Wishes.
Even the word had a simple, uplifting quality to it. Childlike and innocent. Wishes.

Everyone seemed happy. They were all talking and drinking their wine, discussing all the things they were going to wish for.

As Claudia listened to the discussion, she felt a lingering uneasiness. There was something she didn’t like about it, even though she couldn’t put her finger on it. Something about all of it that still gave her pause. Could it be that it was just semantics? Weren’t they really talking about practicing witchcraft without
calling
it practicing witchcraft?

“I’ve got a million things I’d like to wish for.” Mara’s face was flush with excitement.

Claudia swallowed a large gulp of wine and said out loud, to no one in particular, “Well, you know what they say about being careful what you wish for.” She was trying to be funny, but no one had laughed. It seemed her comment had gone unheard above the din.

A
little black cauldron full of wishes hovered above Mara’s head, the hopeful paper scraps bouncing up and down like popcorn every time she shook it. The women had decided the most democratic way of choosing the wishes was for everyone to write one down on a piece of paper and then draw them out of a bowl. Mara had been given the honor of drawing them out. Claudia had been given the honor of choosing the bowl and she’d picked her cauldron-like potpourri cooker. She enjoyed the irony.

Mara raised the bowl up over her head, closed her eyes tight, then reached her hand in, and pulled the first one out. “Okay, here we go.” She unfolded the small slip and looked around the room, trying to heighten the anticipation as if she were an announcer at the Academy Awards. “It says…’I want to have a baby.’ It’s Claudia’s wish.”

The women gushed out an “aww” in unison.

“Oh Claudia, that’s wonderful, honey,” Gail said. “Kids are great. Have you been trying?”

“Yeah, we have. A year or so—it hasn’t been…” She blinked and looked up, on the verge of tears.

“Well, don’t worry about what hasn’t been, my dear,” Lindsay came to her rescue. “Start worrying about how to decorate the nursery, because we are going to make this happen for you.”

Mara consulted Claudia’s copy of
The Modern Witches’ Grimoire.
Its celestial cover design was a throwback to another era, something from a 1950s textbook, and it gave the impression that any witches pictured on the inside would, along with the pointy hat, be wearing a frilly apron and holding a tray of fresh-baked muffins.

For a fertility spell,
The Modern Witches’ Grimoire
suggested a green candle, a handful of dirt, and some sage leaves. Gail was put in charge of procuring the dirt, which meant she had to walk down three flights of stairs and dig under the snow in the front yard, using one of Claudia’s serving spoons, because Claudia didn’t own a shovel. She dumped several spoonfuls of dirt into a bowl and when she got back inside, Gail told them that a man out walking his dog had asked her, as he passed, if she’d gotten his ex-wife’s recipe for soup.

Jill’s effort to find a green candle in the drawer of the dining room’s built-in hutch was much less farcical. Mara and Lindsay stayed on the couch and consulted their books to write the chant and work out how to do the spell. And Claudia went to find the sage.

In the kitchen, she opened the door to her spice cabinet and was assaulted by a cacophony of smells.
What had she been thinking?
Her nerves were raw, and for a minute she’d thought she was going to burst into tears back there. She had never told anyone that she and Dan were trying to have a baby—not even Lindsay or Gail—and now she’d just spilled to the whole room. Sure, they were all her friends, but suddenly she felt so vulnerable.
We don’t have to be naked when we chant, do we?

The red-topped McCormick spice bottles kept falling over inside the overcrowded cabinet and a few bounced down onto the counter as she searched for the sage. Claudia hurried to stand them back up, stuff them back in. They kept falling over. Another one fell out. She was all thumbs.
Good grief.

She should just run back into the living room and call it off.
Just kidding. Never mind. Let’s forget this whole thing.
Maybe the toppling spices were a sign.

Where was the sage?
Maybe she didn’t have any. Her stomach fell, and Claudia was struck at how much that thought had scared her, way more than going through with casting the spell did.

She moved a tall canister of sea salt. Aha! The sage. She put the chili powder and garlic salt back on their shelf. And they stayed.

From
their circle, Claudia stepped into the center and sprinkled dirt around the softly glowing green candle. Then she shook some of the dried sage leaves on top of the dirt. She stepped back into her place and they rejoined hands, beginning their chant.

Oh Great Goddess hear our plea,

Bless our Claudia with a baby.

No more waiting, no more strife,

Bring to her a brand new life.

They finished like they always did, with their clasped hands raised up over their heads, looking like the scalloped edges of a big-top tent at the circus.

“Well, thanks everyone,” Claudia said.

“No problem, sweetie,” Mara said. “But if it’s a girl, you have to name her after us—or at least me.” Mara giggled and thrust out her chin before taking a sip of her wine.

“Okay,” Lindsay asked. “Who’s next?” She nodded to Mara, who quickly, guiltily put her wineglass back on the coffee table and picked up the bowl, getting back to duty.

Mara shook the bowl again, tossing the paper wishes up and down. She raised her eyebrows up and down in synchronization with her tosses, then held the bowl up over her head, closed her eyes, reached in, and plucked one out.

“Okay, here we go…” She unfolded the little slip in her hand and her face exploded. “Oh my. Oh! I’ve picked my own. I’ve picked out my wish.”

“Well, are you going to share it with us?” Gail asked.

“Oh. Ha.” Mara’s face turned red. “I guess that would help the process. Of course. It says, ‘I would like more abundance in my life.’” She looked up at them with a wicked grin on her face. “In other words, ladies, I’d like to win the lottery!”

And with that the wish-making process began to fall into a routine. Mara looked for the spell they needed, or a similar one, in the grimoire, and then the others were sent off on a scavenger hunt to find the necessary supplies and ingredients. Meanwhile, Lindsay and Mara sat on the couch and wrote the chant, reworking what the books said—to make it more
wishy.

When everyone returned to the living room, wish-making supplies in hand, they took their places in the circle, went over the chant, and then joined their hands together again. They began their wish for Mara.

Oh Great Goddess hear our prayer,

Bring great abundance to our Mara.

May abundance grow for her and Henry,

It is our will so mote it be.

“The next meeting at my house will be held in the ballroom,” Mara laughed, holding her wineglass up to them in a toast. They all toasted back, before taking sips of their own.

They wished for Lindsay, who wanted to lose weight and obtain the perfect body. Her wish required an orange candle, rosemary, and a waning moon—the one ingredient they couldn’t control, but since they were just
wishing,
they figured it wouldn’t matter. Besides, Lindsay said she thought it actually was a waning moon anyway.