The Accidental Witch (14 page)

Ellie smiled brightly when she saw me walk in. She ran from behind the desk and gave me a huge hug.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “I’m so glad you came! Let me show you your office.”

“I haven’t committed yet,” I said.

Ellie ignored me and walked me up the back stairs into a brightly lit hall with four rooms off of it. She took me to a pretty room with hardwood floors that overlooked the square. There was a green sofa and a desk in the office. A picture by Monet hung on one wall. I looked around. It was perfect. There was a small fountain bubbling in the corner.

“I’ve already had three people ask about you,” she said. “Folks have been talking about what you did at the hospital. Word spreads fast around these parts, you know. People are saying you got a gift.”

“This town’s full of good Christian folk,” I said. “They may hate me more than they love me for my gift.”

“Times are hard,” Ellie said. “People are willing to see God before the Devil in anything that helps when times are this hard.”

“I’m a witch, Ellie. I don’t want to mince words with you. When I helped you, I used magic. If I’m going to help anyone else, I’ll have to use the same magic.”

Ellie smiled. “I go to church every Sunday and I ain’t never heard of Jesus saying a witch should die. We don’t listen to the Old Testament that much these days, anyways. When’s the last time you heard of anyone eating kosher? I seen what you do, Phae. I’ve felt it and if the healing you do ain’t from God, I don’t know what is. I was dying and you saved me.”

I smiled. “Thanks, Ellie. I needed that. All right, I’ll work here with you. What’s the rent?”

“No rent for you,” Ellie said. “I owe you more than you know. If it’s okay, I might take ten percent of what you make. I don’t want to take anything from you, but I’m on the verge of going bankrupt just like everyone else around here.”

“I’m sorry things were so tough before,” I said.

“It doesn’t matter. That is all behind me. Can I start scheduling patients for you tomorrow? What time would you like your hours to be?”

“I’ll work 9 to 4 if I can fill that many spots,” I said. “Of course, I’m flexible and if someone really needs a late session, I’ll stay late.”

“Perfect!” Ellie said as she gave me another hug. Ellie walked me out of the store and waved to me as I moved out and across the square. I sat down in my car and turned the air conditioning as far up as it would go.

I had a big decision to make now and I didn’t like my options. There was no mall in Dismal. There wasn’t any shopping of any significance. There was only Walshop. I would have to get a few things for my office if I was going to start working tomorrow. I would have to get materials to make cards and begin marketing if I wanted to have any clients. The only place that would have what I needed was Walshop and Walshop was my least favorite place in the world. I really almost had a Walshop phobia.

In order to understand my phobia, you have to understand that Dismal is a very small town. In a small town like Dismal, Walshop is one of the rare places just about everybody goes to. Since almost everybody in the town knew each other by kin or other relation, I knew almost everybody in town in one way or another. Statistically speaking, that gave me a 100% chance of seeing someone I knew well in Walshop and a 200% chance of seeing someone I never wanted to see again.

My odds were bad, but I had no choice. So I buckled up and drove to the enormous gray building surrounded by an ocean of trucks and cars. I took a deep breath and got out of the car. Already, I could see my fate. The greeter was a girl I went to high school with. She smiled big, revealing her blackened teeth. We exchanged pleasantries. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but I had just made it through the door and all I could see was an ocean of faces I knew. My cousin, her husband, and their three kids were by the produce. The janitor from my elementary school was looking at swimwear. Two of my former patients were laughing it up by the greeting cards.

I kept my head low and navigated the labyrinth of familiar faces in a desperate attempt to go unnoticed. I filled my cart and clung to the hidden aisles. I had almost made it to the checkout stand when I ran head long into the one person I wanted to see least in the world. The step-cow.

My step-cow had a name. Her name was Sue, but she had always made me call her Mom. Sue stood in front of me positioned in such a way that I couldn’t get around her. I tried to smile, but I just didn’t have the strength. Sue was in her usual Holiness uniform. She was wearing a long denim skirt and sneakers. She had never cut her hair and it was tied back in a braid that hung all the way down past her ass. She didn’t wear any makeup or jewelry. She was fifty pounds overweight and her skin was covered in moles. She was butt ugly. As a child, I had been forced to dress like that. I had a closet of long denim skirts and one pair of dingy sneakers. I hadn’t cut my hair until I went away to college. I had cut it all off as short as I could because I had been so sick of it.

The Church taught that women shouldn’t wear anything that inspired lust in a man. Our preacher said that if women knew how painful it was for men to feel lust, we would know that dressing in a provocative or attractive way was the cruelest form of torture a woman could subject a man to. It was a woman’s duty to do everything she could to avoid being an object of desire. I have to say, I’m pretty sure my step-cow had succeeded in that goal because there was no way in hell any man would willingly put his penis anywhere near her. I don’t even think my father felt lust for her. He just had sex with her to have babies and then went back to his praying.

Sue shook her head when she saw me.

“Your father would be so ashamed of you,” she said.

“I know,” I answered, still trying to discover a way to get around her fat ass.

“Look at yourself. That skirt is so short, I can see your thighs and that makeup … Didn’t you hear anything at church or were you so lost in your evolutionary devil worship that you couldn’t comprehend God when he reached out to you?”

“Probably,” I said. “I was just thinking about how we all came from monkeys and how much fun it would be to have sex with the Devil. Can I get to the checkout line? I really don’t want to have this conversation.”

“Your father tried so hard with you. You are an ungrateful, selfish girl and you’ll burn in Hell with your mother.”

“Well, if Heaven is filled with people like you and Pa, I’ll take Hell any day. Don’t you have anything better to do? Can I please checkout now?” Mental note. If I ever needed to go to Walshop again, I should just drive the hour to Huntsville.

“It’s not too late to save your soul, you know,” she said.

I saw a window. Sue had stepped just a little bit to the right, opening a gap between her and the checkout stands. I pushed the cart as hard as I could and ran to the checkout stand.

“It’s been great,” I said as I put the groceries on the counter.

“You’ll burn in Hell,” she said.

“Good to see you, too,” I answered.

I made it! I made it out of Walshop. I knew there had to be a God, because he had helped me escape intact. Now all I had to do was drive home and hit my pillow for an hour pretending it was the step-cow.

* * *

Lawson was just packing up when I arrived. He looked very pleased with himself. I stepped in and looked around the house. All the walls were painted and the hardwood floors were in. The railing on the staircase was up and I could turn on all the lights. There was running water in the bathrooms and even the back patio had been sanded and refinished. The house was beautiful. It was perfect and I stood next to Lawson looking at the sprawling glory that was my home. I began to weep with joy.

“That ain’t the reaction I usually get,” Lawson said.

“No,” I answered. “I’m just so happy. You did an amazing job. It’s like Tara from
Gone with the Wind
. It’s beautiful. I love it. I love it. Thank you, Lawson!”

“Any time, Phae.”

I got my checkbook out and wrote him a check for the remainder of the balance of my account. It felt good to spend Johnny Boy’s money on The Black Magnolia. It felt right. The house felt right. I felt stronger in the house. I felt at peace at the house, and even though I missed some things about city life, I knew that I was meant to be here.

I gave Lawson a hug with the check and he kissed my cheek.

“Now you give me a call if you need anything else,” he said.

“I will, but I think I won’t need to,” I answered. I gave him another hug and he collected the rest of his tools and left. I closed the door behind him and spent an hour just wandering from room to room. I lived in the home of my dreams.

C
HAPTER
5

W
EAVING
P
ROSPERITY

Most private practices take years to build up. You spend all you can spend on marketing and wait for word of mouth to work in your favor. Most psychologists don’t have a full caseload until they’ve paid their dues and done the rounds notifying everyone about their services. Even then, there are usually at least a few empty time slots and there are always no shows. They are an inevitable part of any outpatient practice.

My first day at the Holistic Healing center, I had eight clients scheduled and eight clients showed up. I knew most of them from here or there, but not well enough that it was an ethical dilemma. Their problems weren’t as severe as I was used to seeing in hospital settings, but they still brought them significant woe. Financial problems mixed with marital discord seemed to be the re-occurring theme of the day and financial problems were definitely number one on everyone’s list. There was no surprise there. I listened and established therapeutic rapport. I did everything I would do in a regular session. I took notes and made files.

At the end of the day, I wrote my clients’ names on a piece of paper. I cleaned up and walked downstairs. Ellie sat reading behind the counter. The store was quiet and it didn’t look like she’d sold anything all day. She looked up at me as I walked by. She was acting as my secretary and my landlord and I felt like I owed her more than ten percent, so I stopped her as she began writing out a check for me.

“Take twenty percent,” I said. “You’re handling all the billing, the scheduling, and everything. You deserve more than ten percent.”

“No,” Ellie protested. “I really do owe you …”

“I don’t care what you owe me,” I said. “Take twenty”

“Are you sure?” she asked

“Of course,” I said.

Ellie rewrote the check. “I tell you,” she said. “I wish my other tenants were doing as well as you. They don’t have very many appointments these days.”

“Could you write their names down for me?” I asked.

“Why?” Ellie asked.

I shrugged and smiled at Ellie and she understood and quickly wrote the names down on the back of one of her cards. I winked at Ellie and left the building. It was still brutally hot. I couldn’t wait for fall. I was sick of sweating. Even the trees seemed to sweat in the sweltering southern sun. I peeled off my jacket, so I was only wearing the light sundress and sandals.

It was nice getting home a little after four. At the hospital, I didn’t see much of the sun. I worked most daylight hours. The new job seemed more relaxing and since I was billing sixty dollars an hour, I actually made quite a bit more than I had at the hospital. I had to pay out to Ellie and I would have to pay for taxes and insurance, but I could also write-off my expenses, so I thought I would still be ahead in the end.

The sun was high in the sky as I walked down my secret path to my little cabin. The sun cast odd shadows on the ground in front of me. Birds sang in the trees. The air smelled sweet.

I got to the cabin and laid a blanket out on the floor and sat down. I had carried the spell book with me and I already knew what spell I was going to use. I had gone through the book enough times to know what I wanted. I cleared my altar and got all my materials together. I lit a green, bayberry scented candle and watched the flame. I knotted three gold cords together and poured candle wax over the knot to seal them. I then braided them together and when I was finished, I knotted the cord and put more wax on that end. I did this same procedure with three lengths of green cord and three lengths of orange cord. I then braided all three of the braided cords together and bound them at both ends with wax.

I was slow and deliberate and moved with a steady purpose. I laid the cords down and let the wax harden on them and then I took out a green pouch. I lit cedar incense and held the pouch over the smoke until the pouch was so infused with the scent, it smelled like cedar on its own. I picked up the braid and placed it in the pouch and sealed it with the same green wax. I held the pouch over the incense and chanted.

“Lady Anatha, Queen of Heaven, Strength of Life, help me weave this spell.

Queen Anatha, Ruler of Dominion, Mother of Gods charge these cords with power.

Anatha Baetyl, Lady of the Mountain, Mistress of the Sky, grant these people (and I read my lengthy list of names) prosperity!

I laid the pouch down by the incense and the candle and watched the candle and incense burn themselves out. I picked up my spell book and the pouch and carried it home with me. The light was fading and the moon was up as I walked home. Aaron was waiting for me on my front porch when I got home. I hid my objects in the front bureau and let Aaron sweep me up the stairs and into his arms. He kissed me all over and made love to me until I trembled and I saw nothing but good all around me. I could almost feel the prosperity spell leak out of the house wrapped in the smells of cedar and bayberry.

* * *

The next few weeks brought more of the same. People came to me from all over Northern Alabama asking for help with money problems and love problems. The more people came, the more I knew they weren’t looking for therapy, they were looking for magic. I couldn’t blame them. Therapy was hard work and medication was unreliable and had nasty side effects. The magic was flawless and always brought exactly what I meant it to bring.