Witches in Flight (17 page)

She has the instinctive patience of a teacher.

That was high praise coming from her husband, one of Witch Central’s
best trainers.
 
Maybe she’s
always had it.
 
Even as she
said it, Nat knew that wasn’t true.
 
Here, on the mat, Elsie could integrate some of the many pieces of the
woman she was and the woman she was becoming, even if she was still feeling a
little fractured the rest of the time.

She’s had plenty of good models lately, and she’s smart enough
to learn from them.
 
If anyone can
teach her to integrate, it would be you.
 
Her
husband grinned as one of his lightning changes of mood struck.
 
And Lizard’s got stiff hips, if
you’re looking to torture someone today.

Nat surveyed the class and her newest student, considering.
 
Hip openers weren’t always the right
answer, no matter what Jamie thought.
 
And there was more than one way to loosen hips—and foster connection
at the same time.

She raised her voice just enough to be heard throughout the room
and eased everyone up out of triangle pose.
 
“Now that you’re open in your own hearts, let’s try
something a little different today.
 
Look around you, please, and move your mat together with one of your
neighbors.”
 
Time for some partner
yoga.

It pleased her enormously when Lizard and Elsie automatically
slid their mats together.

~ ~ ~

Lizard scowled as the mental chatter in the class made it clear
that pushing your mats together with a buddy wasn’t the usual order of business
after triangle pose.

She glared over at Jamie, currently being accosted by a little
old lady.
 
What the heck is
“partner yoga?”

You’ll see.
 
He was distracted
by the worry that he was going to break the sweet old lady in two.

Lizard rolled her eyes and tried not to imagine what was going
to happen when she and Elsie did whatever was coming next.
 
Tell her the cute old guy in the
front row is single.

Is he?
 
Jamie
sounded surprised.

Lizard grinned.
 
I don’t think so, but it should give
you enough time to make a run for it.

Nat walked gracefully back to Jamie’s side, ignoring his quiet
snickers.
 
“Today, let’s do some
flying together.
 
Most of you have
seen the basic version.”
 
She
waited while her husband lay down on his back and lifted his legs.
 
Then she stepped in, settling his feet
into her hip creases.
 
“You’ll have
to work out how to fit your bodies together comfortably—and hopefully
your partner doesn’t have cold feet.”

The rest of the class laughed, and then clapped as Nat reached
for Jamie’s hands and floated into a swan dive position in the air, supported
by his feet.
 
Then she let go of his
hands and gracefully arched to the sky, arms reaching overhead.
 
“This is the more advanced version.
 
Only go here if you’re both feeling
good.
 
Remember, the partner on the
floor is grounding for both of you.”
 
Lizard stared, captivated by the absolute, easy trust coming from both
their minds.

Nat dropped gracefully back to the ground.
 
“Okay, have a chat with your partner
and figure out who’s flying first.”

That was easy.
 
There were eight inches and forty pounds separating her and Elsie.
 
Lizard had no intention of being
crushed.
 
She looked over at her
roommate.
 
“I guess that’s
me.”
 

Elsie smiled and dropped gracefully to the mat, swinging her
legs into the air.
 
“Ready when you
are.”

Lizard stepped forward—and then realized this was totally
nuts.
 
She fell over in freaking
triangle pose, and that one involved having three limbs on the ground.
 
“Maybe you should work with somebody
who’s done this before.
 
I’ll go
sit against the wall.”

Elsie just smiled again and reached out her hands.
 
“Imagine my feet are as big as a
bed.
 
All you have to do is float
on top.”

“Imagining crap isn’t going to help.”

“Then imagine it’s like soufflés.”
 
Elsie’s look was more pointed now.
 
“If I can be taught to fold eggs the right way, you can
balance on my feet.
 
We’ve got all
day.”

Lizard almost walked away.
 
Almost.
 
But that damned
gratitude was leaking from Elsie’s mind again—and the quiet message that
friendship ran both ways.
 
Frack.
 
She stepped forward
and tried to stuff Elsie’s feet in the general direction of her hips.
 
And realized those eight inches were
going to be a bit of a problem.
 
No
way could she reach Elsie’s outstretched hands from here.

Nat was at her side guiding before she managed to yell for
help.
  
“Remember flying like
a jet airplane when you were a kid?
 
Same thing here.
 
Hop up
gently to help Elsie lift you, and keep your arms out wide.”

Oh, hell.
 
This was
so going to end badly.

I’m two feet away and I can teleport.
 
No one’s gonna get bloody.

Well, at least Jamie’s offer was practical.
 
Lizard decided the fastest way out of
this mess was to take a hop and try not to land on the pregnant woman.

The last thing she expected was for it to work.

Or to find herself staring down at Elsie’s grinning face as she
gently swayed on the two surprisingly solid legs holding her up in the
air.
 

“Breathe,” said Nat’s amused voice in her ear.

Lizard saved breathing until her feet hit the ground again.
 
And then she closed her eyes, sending
thanks to the patron saint of crazy yoga people.
 
Hopefully it was time for the lie-on-your-back-and-pretend-you’re-dead
part of class now.

Elsie rolled up from the mat and put a hand on her
shoulder.
 
“Your turn.
 
I shouldn’t have any problem reaching
your hands, so it will be easier this time.”

Lizard blinked.
 
Uh,
no way.
 
Small people learned early
in life not to end up on the bottom of the pile.
 
They sure as hell didn’t volunteer for it.
 
Jamie had flown Nat, not the other way
around.

Don’t say that out loud,
sent a quietly chuckling Jamie.
 
I don’t want her to forget she’s
pregnant and try to show you.

She flies you?
 
Yoga people really
were crazy—Jamie had to outweigh his wife by about a hundred pounds.
 
Nat must have legs of steel.

She does
,
he said, glancing at his wife’s legs with appreciation.
 
But that’s not what this takes.
 
It’s all about trust.

Trust was a new-age-bullshit word that would do exactly nothing
to keep 150 pounds of Elsie in the air.

Jamie stretched
into downward dog.
 
The only person here who doesn’t
think you can do this is you.

She knew a dare when she heard one.
 
Double freaking hell.
 
Lizard turned back to her roommate, patiently waiting on the edge of the
mat.
 
“If you land on top of me and
break my ribs, I’m making
you
drink the green goo Ginia sends us.”

Elsie’s lips only twitched a little.
 
“Then you probably don’t want to drop me.”

Like it was going to be on purpose.
 
Lizard got down on her mat and stuck her legs in the air,
waiting for the ton of bricks to land.
 
And felt Elsie smoothly glide up with only the lightest touch on her
fingers.
 

Legs of steel,
sent Jamie.
 
Way
to go.

Lizard was pretty sure her grin was as dopey as Elsie’s had
been.
 
And it stayed that way, even
as her roommate let go and swept up her arms toward the sky in a credible
imitation of Nat’s advanced pose demonstration.

She was balancing a human pretzel on her feet.
 
And it somehow didn’t feel totally
weird.

~ ~ ~

--------------------------------------

To:
[email protected]

From:
Jennie Adams <
[email protected]
>

Subject:
Nothing for me to do.

--------------------------------------

Dear
Vero,

It appears that my job as WitchLight guide has turned into one
of watching and applauding from the sidelines.
 

Lizard and Elsie are well underway now, and I believe they begin
to see glimmers of their destinations.
 
It amuses me to guess what those will be and the interesting turns
they’ll take on the way there.
 
But
I realize I’m no longer much afraid that they won’t arrive.

They have a lot of help, inside and out.
 
Both are finding their own inner compasses—the
needs and fires that will keep them putting one foot in front of the other, or
flapping their wings, whichever is needed.
 
And they have a delightful partner in each other.
 
The lovely symbolism of them flying
each other in yoga class today wasn’t lost on anyone watching.

Fewer people applauded the crafty Nat who set up the exercise in
the first place, but her husband always notices these things.
 
And reports them, or I’d just be
puttering along in happy ignorance.

There are a lot of people who love Lizard and Elsie—and
love is a potent wind under newly extended wings.
 
It occurs to me that I may be out of a job soon—and I
can’t seem to escape the eerie sense that Melvin is laughing at me when I say
such things.
 

All
my love,

Jennie

~ ~ ~

Elsie put the last skein of silky Malabrigo up on the
shelf.
 
It was hard to let
go—the glorious blend of merino wool and silk was like candy for her
fingers.
 
Helping with Caro’s
summer inventory was every kind of temptation.
 
She looked over at Helga, who was neatly re-stacking sock
yarn into cubbies.
 
“Is this Caro’s
secret plan to make us buy every yarn in the store?”

Helga chortled.
 
“Some of us don’t need any help doing that.
 
In twenty years, I’m pretty sure there isn’t a thing in here
that hasn’t been on my needles.”

Caro looked up from the front desk.
 
“You were one of my very first customers.
 
Bought a ball of my own orange
handspun.”

“And I still can’t resist your handspun.”
 
Helga turned and swept up a new armful
of colorful skeins.
 
“You don’t
make nearly enough of it anymore, and you don’t hide it well enough when you
do.”

“She’s supposed to sell it.”
 
Marion climbed down from a low stool on the other side of
the store.
 
She was inventorying
the cottons.
 
“And I know you raid
her behind-the-counter stash all the time.
 
Snuck the last ball of red out from under my fingers last
week, you did.”

Elsie grinned at Helga’s look of bruised innocence.
 
In this particular case, Helga actually
wasn’t to blame.
 
“That was
me.
 
I know a four-year-old whose
head just grew out of his favorite hat.”
 
And she’d been entirely unable to resist the way Aervyn’s eyes had lit
up when he’d spotted the fire-engine-red yarn she’d pilfered from behind Caro’s
counter.

Marion’s glare was in mock protest.
 
Mostly.
 
“I
thought we didn’t let beginners at the really good stuff.”

Caro snorted, still writing busily in her ledger book.
 
“Anyone who can learn your crazy-cable
pattern isn’t a beginner anymore.”

Elsie felt warm licks of pride sneaking onto her cheeks.
 
It had taken her two days to master
those cables, with three of the best teachers in town coaching over her
shoulders.
 
“You’ve taught me
well.
 
And I’m going to do a really
simple hat with the handspun.”