Welcome to Witchhood (Sister Witches Book 1)

by Colleen Luddington

  “So you work on the farm with Mirabelle?” James started.

  “Yup, we’ve been working for Anona these past few years.” Matthew answered, looking at James intently. James glanced around the farm.

  “Very different from what I am used to.”

  “What are you used to?” Matthew asked.

  “Well, I’ve been living in New York City.” James began. Mirabelle laughed.

  “For two weeks! He’s from suburbia like me.” Mirabelle told the brothers.

  “I’m a city boy at heart.” James retorted. “Why don’t we go inside, have little intimate time?” He nuzzled Mirabelle’s hair. Mirabelle fought the urge to recoil in front of Matthew and Michael.

  “Okay... I’ll see you guys later.” Michael and Matthew nodded goodbye, and walked back into the orchard.

  Once they were inside the house, Mirabelle turned to James.

  “That was really awkward. Any reason you felt the need to grope me in front of the two guys I work with?” James rolled his eyes.

  “Please, Matthew is totally into you. He was looking at me like he wanted to hit me.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” Mirabelle paused. “And you’ve never been into PDA. I don’t want you acting like I am your piece of property. Just act normal. They are my colleagues.” James looked hurt. “I don’t want to fight. You just got here.” James nodded. He sat on the couch and pulled Mirabelle onto his lap.

  “I missed you.” James said, kissing her quickly.

  “I missed you, too.” Mirabelle kissed him back, his hands twisting around her waist. Mirabelle sighed to herself. She had missed the feeling of someone so close to her, with such a need to hold her. James moved his hands to her legs, which he always claimed were her very best feature. There was a loud crashing on the porch.

  “That would probably be Anona warning us that she is coming.” Mirabelle said, sliding to sit next to James.

  “Hello!” Anona called, slowly creaking open the door until she saw Mirabelle and James sitting on the couch. She held a wicker basket overflowing with vegetables and was chewing a small piece of sage. “So, I was thinking, I am going to make dinner, why don’t you show James the woods and the orchards?” Mirabelle laughed and blushed, but took James by the hand to lead him out.

  “Also,” Anona called after them, “I’ll make up a bed for James on the couch out here.”

  “Well, that answers where I am sleeping.” James murmured. Mirabelle let out a huff in frustration, more towards James’ attitude since arriving than Anona’s sudden motherly role. Though Mirabelle’s mood was sour, the farm was shining in all its September glory. This had always been Mirabelle’s favorite month; she loved nothing more than the quiet end of summer as it gave way to fall. Mirabelle, slipped her shoes off to carry them, took a deep breath, and wound her arm around James’ waist. They headed towards the creek.

  “Isn’t it beautiful here?” Mirabelle said.

  “Mmm.” James answered dreamily. He jumped over the creek, a little clumsily. Mirabelle just walked through the cold water, cooling her feet along the way.

  “I think you are turning into a little hippie.” James commented. Mirabelle laughed.

  “I still shower everyday and no dreadlocks will adorn this head.”

  “Walking around barefoot on the farm you live on, before you know it you will be making your own soap and selling hemp clothes at Lilith Fair.”

  “And what would be so wrong with that?” Mirabelle questioned.

  “Nothing, I just always pictured you walking down the streets of Greenwich Village in a beret by my side.” Mirabelle shrugged.

  “I don’t really look good in berets. I enjoy the occasional fedora, wool hat in January, even a baseball hat in the summer, but never a beret.” By now they had wandered into the thickest part of woods on Anona’s property.

  “Well, this is the kind of cover I was waiting for.” James said, pulling her down to the ground next to him. “Hippie doesn’t mind hooking up in the dirt, right?”

  James slept on the couch that night. Mirabelle did sneak out around 3 am for a quickie and was back in her bed by 3:30, pretty positive that Anona slept through the whole thing. Saturday morning began with pancakes then Mirabelle convinced James it would be fun to pick some apples. He hardly fit the part wearing a tweed sport coat, which he eventually took off due to heat. Mirabelle began to wonder what he thought they were going to do for the weekend on the farm, drive to Philly? The day went by quickly; Mirabelle and James had one last chance to sneak off into the woods without Anona noticing. That night, Mirabelle felt a rush of sadness sweep over her as she lay in bed. James would go back to New York in the morning, but at the same time, Mirabelle had hardly felt that James was there. This new version of him had come to visit her and they had barely spoken. The weekend was full of niceties, no real conversation. She found herself wondering what had happened to the boy she had been dating when she left Illinois.

  Sunday morning, Mirabelle sat on the porch, waiting for James to wake up. He finally did around ten, and they had to leave at eleven.

  “Good morning.” Mirabelle said, James sitting beside her.

  “Before we go, I think we should talk about some things.” James said, taking a sip of her tea.

  “What kind of things?” Mirabelle said playfully.

  “Well, the parameters of our relationship in particular.” Mirabelle’s face dropped.

  “What exactly do you mean? We have been dating exclusively for a year.” Mirabelle questioned.

  “I just think that this would be a good time for us to explore carrying on in an open relationship.” James nodded as he spoke.

  “So, in other words, you want to sleep with girls that aren’t me?” Mirabelle felt her blood rise to her face. James rolled his eyes.

  “I just think it is unrealistic for us to be faithful at this time.” Mirabelle stood up.

  “At this time? Have you been faithful to me since I left?”

  “I haven’t slept with anyone else.” James said, barely looking at Mirabelle.

  “So what, you’ve done other things? And you waited until I slept with you three times this weekend to tell me!” Mirabelle was shouting now. Every muscle in her body was clenched and for the first time she felt like she could hit someone.

  “I wanted us to enjoy the weekend-”

  “Get off my sister’s farm!” Mirabelle screamed. “I never want to speak to you again and you can find your own damn way to Philly!” Mirabelle ran into the house and slammed the door. Anona stood in the kitchen, eyes wide.

  “Why don’t you go lie down; I’ll drive James to the train station.” Anona picked up the keys and James’ bag and shut the door quietly behind her.

  Mirabelle could not lie down. In fact, she had somewhat of a mental breakdown. She ripped up every letter James wrote her, then, over the sink, and proceeded to burn the remnants. Then she screamed for thirty minutes. After that, she cried for thirty more. Once the crying subsided, she went to the porch to try to calm down. Anona had been gone for much longer than she expected. Mirabelle felt exhausted and leaned her head against the side of the house, closing her eyes.

  She tried to remember why she had started dating James. It had been the beginning of senior year. Mirabelle recalled feeling as if she was on the edge of something great. The energy of the beginning of that year was unmatched and after months of tension, James had finally kissed Mirabelle at a party. The next day it was just assumed they were dating. They usually hung out in big groups, rarely went on dates, and texted rather than talked on the phone. At the moment, Mirabelle couldn’t remember a single thing she liked about James, but there must have been something, at some point.

  “Hey,” she heard, waking her out of her daze. Matthew stood on the porch steps.

  “Hi,” Mirabelle answered softly. Matthew had on a rumpled white t-shirt with dirty jeans. He fit right in on the farm.

  “James go home?” Mirabelle nodded. Matthew walked ov
er towards the porch. “I’m sorry, but he is a total douche bag.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Mirabelle answered.

  “How are you with him? You are this wonderful, wholesome person and he is just fake and contrived. I mean, his clothes? Is he kidding? Did he not realize you live on a farm in rural Pennsylvania? He’s a joke. I don’t understand why you would be with someone like him.” Matthew said.

  “I’m not with him anymore, thank you. Before he left, he told me he has been treating our relationship as an open one.” Mirabelle snapped. The color in Matthew’s face drained. Mirabelle couldn’t help but let another tear roll down her cheek, but she quickly wiped it with her hand, hoping Matthew didn’t see.

  “I’m sorry,” Matthew said after a few beats. “He didn’t deserve what he had of you.” Mirabelle huffed. She dropped her aching forehead into her lap and groaned. “Do you want me to give you a hug?” Matthew asked.

  “Not really.” She barked. “I don’t really want to be touched right now.” Mirabelle heard Matthew sit down on the porch steps. She stayed there, with her head in her lap, until she heard Anona’s pick-up pull up and Matthew walk home.

  “How do you feel about apple pie and ice cream for dinner?” Anona asked.

  “Pie usually makes me feel better.” The two sisters ate pie until their stomachs hurt, and though her chest still felt tight and broken, Mirabelle fell asleep that night without the worries one whom had lost the love of her life would feel.

  Mirabelle had never given much thought to September 26th. She had never known anyone who did. Anona did.

  “Why are we doing this?” Mirabelle asked, loading crates of apples into the back of the truck.

  “Tradition.” Anona answered. Mirabelle rolled her eyes. She and Anona both wore flannel shirts, cut-off jeans, and no shoes. Mirabelle was still getting used to the idea of walking around with bare feet without worrying she would step on a nail or something sharp. She did have to watch out for the occasional goat/dog/cat/bunny/sheep dropping, but they were all pretty good at going in designated areas.

  They first drove to Tommy and Ashley’s house. To Mirabelle’s surprise, the whole family was out in the yard, with a big picnic spread on a table. When they saw the car, all the kids started waving.

  “Anona and Mirabelle!” Ashley yelled, leading the pack of kids racing to the truck. Stacy had the baby, Danielle, on her hip, and her hand secured to the two-year-old, Kristen. Johnny was being closely followed by their dad, Steve. Tommy picked up middle brother, Andy, as Mirabelle was getting out of the car.

  “Everyone is so happy you are here!” Stacy called. “Happy Johnny Appleseed Day!”

  Mirabelle and Anona sat with the family for a long time, eating, laughing, playing. Tommy and Ashley were anxious to tell Mirabelle every detail about school since it had started. Everything was perfect.

  “Where are those two good-looking young boys from your farm?” Stacy asked Anona.

  “Matthew and Michael, we’re on our way to see them next.”

  “Older one has eyes for Mirabelle. Saw him gazing at her on the last day of camp. Anything come of that?” Stacy asked. Hearing her name, Mirabelle’s ears perked, but nothing more was said.

  Once four o’clock rolled around, Anona and Mirabelle headed off to their next stop. Mirabelle had never been to the Reynolds’ house before, which was odd; Matthew was her closest friend besides Anona, and Michael was a close third. They pulled up to a brown wooden house, with a big front porch, like Anona’s. The house was a little older, and Mirabelle could tell that Matthew and Michael had been fixing it up themselves. Matthew was in the yard, clad in jeans and a white t-shirt, sweeping dirt off their path. He waved when he saw them, and leaned the broom against the porch. Anona stole a glance at Mirabelle.

  “What?” Anona just shook her head and smiled.

  “Lucy makes good applesauce,” was her response.

  “Hey, Mirabelle,” Matthew said, opening the truck door for her.

  “Hey, thanks.” She answered, but Matthew was already pulling a crate of apples off the back.

  “My mom made a crazy apple feast for us, but she didn’t put out any regular, old delicious apples. These’ll go well.” Mirabelle followed Anona and Matthew into the house. The door lead them straight into the kitchen, which had a table covered in a red and white checked cloth. Applesauce, apple tarts, apple pie, apple salad, apple sandwiches with cheese, and apple cider covered the table.

  “Mirabelle, nice to see you,” Lucy said, kissing her on the cheek.

  “I also think it is nice to see you, but will offer you a firm handshake instead of a kiss,” Michael said, soliciting laughs from everyone.

  “Come, come, grab a chair.” Lucy motioned to everyone. The kitchen was lit only by candles, and with the witching hour closely approaching, Mirabelle thought she could almost feel the onset of autumn. Lucy turned to Mirabelle, “I don’t know what Anona has told you, but we go around and say what we are thankful for on September 26th. You can go in the middle so you don’t have to start or finish.”

  “I am thankful for my mother, my brother, and my friends.” Michael began. “I am thankful for the fourteen years I had with my father. And I am thankful for the harvest.” Candlelight danced on the pale faces of everyone, solemn now. Anona followed.

  “I am thankful that I am able to live everyday of my life without regrets, knowing this is what I love.” She motioned to Mirabelle.

  “I am thankful I am here,” Mirabelle started. “I am thankful that my family accepted this path for me, and that Anona facilitated it.”

  “I am thankful for the new face at our table this year, and those that have been here year after year, including the one we cannot see, but is here.” Matthew had his eyes closed. Lucy cleared her throat.

  “For those around us, for those above us, for those we wish were with us.” Lucy smiled. “Now, onto the feast.”

  Mirabelle had never eaten so many apple products in her life. After filling her stomach and swearing off the fruit for at least a month, she and Anona climbed back into the truck and headed home.

  “Thankfully, October begins my pumpkin-fetish month.” Anona said offhandedly. Mirabelle laughed.

  “You’re a weird person,” Mirabelle said, “but in this really fantastic way.”

  Chapter Five

  With the cool wind and rustling leaves, October brought new beginnings.

  “I have been seeing someone.” Anona stated casually as she made a batch of crust for pumpkin pies.

  “What?” Mirabelle responded, looking up from The Complete Grimm’s Fairy Tales. “When?”

  “At the Farmer’s Markets. We usually hang out afterwards for an hour or so.” Anona stayed with her baking, unfazed.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Sam. He is a vegetable farmer. He has the best zucchini I’ve ever tasted.” Mirabelle burst out laughing.

  “What?” Anona said, looking up finally.

  “I am sorry, but he has the best zucchini I’ve ever tasted? Did you forget that a few months ago I was a high school student?” Anona’s face stayed blank. Mirabelle rolled her eyes. “Think of a zucchini. Think of ‘best I’ve ever tasted.’” Anona glared at Mirabelle.

  “First of all, don’t be vulgar. Second of all, we hang out in the same fields the markets take place in, so there is none of that going on.”

  “Any reason you decided not to tell me?” Anona shrugged.

  “No one likes a girl who says, ‘I got a boyfriend!’ just when yours turns out to be an asshole.” Mirabelle nodded.

  “That is true.” Mirabelle picked her book back up and opened it to the very disturbing, original Cinderella, complete with chopped off toes and heels, and eyes gouged out by crows. “I’ve been thinking about sleeping with Matthew.”

  “He won’t do that.” Anona laughed.

  “Well, thanks!” Mirabelle said, sarcastically. “And I happen to think that he both enjoys my company and finds me attrac
tive. I have caught him looking at my very non-existent chest and at my very round ass. Some guys like a pear-shaped girl.”

  “That’s not what I meant. I meant Matthew wouldn’t just sleep with you. Matthew will court you, date you, tell you he loves you, then sleep with you, and he’ll call it making love. If you are looking for a rebound shag, drive to a college campus around here for the day.”

  “Did you just say shag? What are you, British and from the 1970’s?”

  “I happen to like the word shag - it doesn’t sound dirty, but still sounds casual.”

  “So, are you shagging Sam?” Mirabelle asked blankly. It was somewhat funny to her to speak so plainly to Anona. A few years ago she would have been mortified to talk about sex with her older sister.

  “No, I do not want to shag Sam. When I want to be with him, it will not be casual.” Mirabelle shook her head.

  “When I was younger I had this image of you being this crazy, New York party girl; modeling, drinking, and to use your phrase, shagging tons of guys.” Anona smiled.

  “I had fun in New York. Being George’s muse was cool, but it was also exhausting. A lot of nights, George wanted me by his side for parties where I didn’t know anyone, and all I wanted to do was go home and read. I did my fair share of partying and shagging, but it gets old.” Mirabelle had a sudden pang of loss over James. He had sent her a letter a week earlier asking if they could “work on us” over Christmas. Mirabelle had not answered yet. She didn’t so much miss James, especially the James that visited her, but she missed that feeling of knowing she was wanted by someone, anyone. James had, before he went to college, wanted her enough to be exclusive. You can’t bottle that kind of reassurance.

  “Will you pull the pumpkin out of the oven? Start pureeing it for me?” Mirabelle stuck her hand into a fat oven mitt and grabbed the cast iron pot that held slices of pumpkin. Mirabelle grabbed a large fork and began gutting the pumpkin.