Moon White: Color Me Enchanted with Bonus Content (10 page)

“And if you want to sneak some homemade wine,” Liz says quietly, “I know where to get it.”

I give her a look but don’t stop them as they head over to the drinks table. I happen to know that my dad’s pretty liberal about stuff like this. He has kind of a don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy. And I also know that he smoked marijuana in college. He just flat-out admitted it to me once. To be perfectly honest, it wouldn’t surprise me if he and Augustine might sneak some grass occasionally even now. I’m pretty sure I smelled it on her once after she’d been down to the beach. But, like my dad, I don’t ask and I don’t tell either. In fact, if it wasn’t for my friendship with Lucy and her very biblically based standards, who knows what I’d have done by now?

Consequently, I join my friends at the drinks table and, like them, I pour myself a little bit of Dad’s boysenberry wine. To my surprise, it’s much better than what he let me sample the other night. Then the four of us sneak off to a table in the corner of the yard and sit down.

“This party is really pretty cool,” says Hudson.

“And the wine’s not bad either,” says Porter with a wink.

And so we just sit there, talking and joking, and I’m thinking this is all so surreal. Like, is this really my life? And before long, I’m not sure if it’s the wine or Liz’s persistence, but we’re all four out on the dance floor, and these boys aren’t half bad. Hudson is a fast learner and only steps on my toe once. My favorite songs are the slower ones, and I feel an amazing rush as he holds me close to him. I think I can feel the power of the locket between us. It’s as if it’s sealing something, and I’m pretty sure that Hudson can feel it too.

We switch partners a couple of times. I think it’s just to be polite. And while Porter is actually a better dancer than Hudson, I can’t wait to be back in Hudson’s arms. Then, too soon, the party is winding down. The band plays a last song, and soon people start drifting away.

“I guess we should go too,” says Hudson.

“This has been so fun,” I tell him. “It’s sad to see it end.”

He looks directly into my eyes now. “I thought it was just beginning.”

“Oh?”

He grins. “I mean, hopefully I’ll get to see you again. How about if I call you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” I tell him, trying not to sound overly eager. “That’d be good.”

Then he leans down and kisses me good night, and it feels like my feet come off the ground.

“See ya later,” calls Porter as the two guys make a quick exit out the back gate.

“That was fun,” says Liz. “You guys need any help cleaning up?”

“No,” says Augustine. “We’re leaving everything for the morning. Then Vince gets to handle it. It’s our little agreement.”

I nod. “It’s true. If one of them cooks, the other one cleans up.”

“Augustine cooked all the food?” asks Liz, impressed.

“Not actually,” I say quietly. “She had it catered.”

“Smart woman.”

“Hey, you could sleep over if you want,” I say as Liz gets her purse. “I mean, I know you’re home alone and everything.”

“Thanks,” she says. “That’s tempting, but I think I’ll just head home.”

“Okay.” Actually I’m relieved. I feel like I need some space right now. I want to think about everything that Hudson said and did tonight. I want to replay every little scene, maybe several times. And I want to do some rituals to ensure that whatever has begun will continue. And continue . . .

I
FEEL LIKE
I’
M FLYING HIGH DURING THE NEXT WEEK
. H
UDSON IS STILL
interested in me. We’ve talked and hung together and are going out tonight. Also, I’ve been doing better at ballet. I’m getting my strength back. I mean, it’s like everything is going my way — and I know why. It’s so amazing to have this new sense of control over my life, like I’m not going to be tossed around by uncontrollable circumstances ever again. It’s incredibly freeing and exhilarating.

I’m beginning to understand why women from earlier centuries discovered and developed these kinds of powers. If you think about it from a historical perspective, women have been pretty downtrodden throughout the ages. It doesn’t surprise me that this primarily feminine religion evolved and progressed. For instance, what if I’d been a Celtic maiden in the eighth century and my parents had promised my hand in marriage to the village brute? Well, I’m sure I’d have wanted to whip up a special potion to prevent that union from ever happening. Women had a need for magic or witchcraft or Wicca or whatever you wish to call it. I think it was a very necessary survival skill. I remember back when I used to argue with Lucy. I told her that Wicca was
not
a religion. But now I see that I was wrong. It’s definitely a religion, and the deeper I get into it, the more I understand how powerful and exciting it really is. No wonder it’s
survived for so many thousands of years!

Thoughts about women in previous generations ripple through my head as I peruse the aisles at The Crystal Dragon. I’ve gathered a variety of items that I feel will be useful to my own practice. Among other things, I have a small gold-and-purple beaded pouch with a pentagram design that I plan to use for herbs and stones. But right now I feel strangely drawn to what looks like an Egyptian statue. I have no idea why, but I believe it has a spiritual connection to me, perhaps something from a previous life.

“That’s Isis,” says Willow.

“What?” I turn, surprised that the proprietress of the shop is here today. When I came in I saw only Jamie.

She smiles. “Sorry to startle you. I was speaking of the statue.” She picks up the golden figurine and turns it slowly in her hands.

“Oh. Isis, is that her name?”

“Yes, Isis of a thousand names,” she explains. “She’s a goddess of magic and feminine power. It was through her that Osiris was restored to eternal life.”

I nod as if I understand, but it’s really Greek, make that Egyptian, to me. “She’s very beautiful,” I say.

“Those are hieroglyphics,” says Willow, pointing to the base. “And that’s onyx.”

“Can you read hieroglyphics?” I ask.

She laughs. “No, but I suspect it tells the story of how Osiris’ brother Set murdered him, sealed him in a special casket, and threw him into the Nile. Then about how Isis rescued Osiris and breathed life back into him. She had great powers.”

“Wow.”

“Of course, some dispute that story, telling the myth in a different way so poor Isis is left completely out of the story. I suspect that
writer was a male, though.” She strokes Isis’s scepter. “Far too much history has been written by men.”

“How much is Isis?”

Willow smiles. “Unfortunately, Isis is not cheap.”

I nod and try to mentally calculate how much I’ve already gathered here today. I’m usually a rather frugal person. I got that from my mom. I know some girls who think nothing of spending more than $200 for a pair of shoes, including Liz, but I couldn’t live with that kind of extravagance. Of course, this is different. This statue is worth more than shoes.

Willow sets the statue back on the glass shelf. “Isis is $185, Heather. I’m sure it’s beyond your budget. But perhaps someday when you’ve — ”

“No,” I say quickly. “I want her. I’ll buy her today.”

Willow looks slightly surprised but simply smiles. “I’ll have Jamie box her up for you.”

“Thanks.”

“But if you’re getting Isis, it seems only right that you get a special altar cloth to set her upon. I would think something in purple, since Isis is such a powerful goddess. I just got some new ones in that are still in the box. Would you like a sneak preview?”

So I go to the back room, which I have been curious about, wondering if there is some wonderful magical setup back here. However, it’s simply a very ordinary-looking back room.

“Here they are,” says Willow as she sets a box on the table and opens it. “They come in purple and black. And the gilt moons and stars look amazing by candlelight. I saw one woman use it as a scarf too. Very pretty.”

I’m not sure that I’d ever wear something like this as a scarf, and I can only imagine what someone like Lucy would say if I
did. However, Halloween is coming. Who knows? “How much are these?” I ask.

“Only $20,” she tells me as she unfolds a purple one, laying it in my hands. “Of course, they would be more if they were silk, but I do try to carry items that are affordable so everyone can enjoy the craft.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll get this too. But I better stop here.”

“Certainly.”

As she writes up my purchases, she asks how I’m doing with my practice and whether I need any tips. “I’m having a special seminar two weekends from now. I think you’d benefit greatly from it, plus you would make some very good friends.”

“Is it expensive?” I ask, suddenly concerned about the amount of money I’m spending.

“You have to think of these things as an investment,” she tells me. “It’s your life you’re planning here, and you have to value it and know that it’s worth putting time, energy, and yes, sometimes money into.”

“So it’s expensive.”

She smiles. “I’ll tell you what, Heather. Since you’re new to the craft and I really do like you, I’d be willing to give you a discount again. If you decide you want to come, I’ll take 20 percent off.” She hands me a green paper with information on it. “The workshop includes one night’s lodging, three meals, as well as the workshops and instruction — all for $300. But if you want to join us, it’ll only be $240 for you. Oh, yes, and I almost forgot, everyone who comes to the seminar also gets a special discount coupon for 20 percent off any purchases made here within one visit.”

I take the paper. “I’ll think about it,” I say.

“Well, don’t think too long. Space is limited. I expect we’ll be
full in a few days.”

I nod. “Okay. If I decide to come, can I just call to reserve my space?”

“Of course, dear.”

Then I thank her and leave, but as I drive home I get a very strong urge to attend this seminar. I think Willow is right. It is my life we’re talking about here. It’s worth investing in. Still, I should probably discuss it with Dad, although I suspect he’ll think it’s silly or a waste of money. But I have a feeling Augustine will be okay with it. Maybe I should approach her first. She can talk Dad into anything.

Dad’s car is gone when I get home, but it looks like Augustine is here. I go straight to her studio but then see she has company. This isn’t unusual, since customers often come to her studio to talk about commissioned works or see what she has available. But she looks surprised to see me and sort of jumps when I call her name.

“Sorry to interrupt,” I say quickly. “I wanted to ask you something, but I didn’t know you had someone here. I can come back — ”

“You’re not an interruption.” She puts a hand on my shoulder. “Heather, I’d like you to meet Jonathon Morrow, an old friend of mine. We went to school together in England.”

He smiles and takes my hand. I notice how his dark eyes wrinkle at the corners, and it occurs to me that he’s very good-looking, at least for a thirtysomething guy. “Nice to meet you, Heather.” His accent is charming, and he sort of reminds me of Hugh Grant.

“You too,” I say as he releases my hand. “Are you visiting in Westport or just passing through?”

“A bit of both,” he says. “I’m quite charmed by your seaside town. I just happened into the Blue Moon Gallery and was stunned
to see my old chum’s art being shown there. Then I inquired about her and was even more stunned to learn that she actually lives in this quaint little town. The last time I saw her work was in a very chic gallery in Boston.”

Augustine laughs. “Hey, so I finally figured things out. It’s more fun to be a big fish in a small pond than a tiny fish lost in a big sea.”

“Oh, I don’t think that was ever the case.” Then he turns and gives me a sad expression. “I was also a bit shocked to hear that Augustine recently married — I believe to your father. I didn’t think this woman would ever settle down.”

“Who says I’m settled now?” she teases.

I laugh. “Yes,
settled
is definitely not a word I would use to describe Augustine.”

She nods. “Thank you.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say to Jonathon. “I’ll talk to you later, Augustine. I’m going downstairs to practice for a while.”

“I’ll be here,” she calls as I open the door to the basement.

And I really do intend to practice ballet down here, but I’m also very interested in practicing something else too. And I want to reexamine my new purchases. So I take them out. First I put the little beaded bag around my neck, and then I unfold and smooth the purple altar cloth, reverently laying it over my old toy chest. I’m amazed at how it immediately transforms the box into something rather magical. I light some candles and a stick of “energy” incense, then put on a new CD that Willow recommended. I open the cardboard box containing my precious Isis, carefully unwrapping the layers of tissue paper and finally setting her in the center of the altar cloth. I’m not sure if it’s the music, the lighting, the mixture of scents, or Isis herself, but I am suddenly moved with a sense of awe.
I can feel the power in this room, and I invite the power to enter into my being. And after centering myself and recanting a chant that I created a few days ago, I remove my shoes and begin to dance. Not ballet, but more of a whirling, mystical, magical sort of dance — and it feels like an act of worship. When I finally stop, I am sweaty and out of breath. But I feel exhilarated, excited, and energized.