Autumn Spring

by Shelley Thrasher

  “I’m glad.” Linda slowly removed Sarah’s bandage. “Oh, your wound looks so much better. You must have been thinking a lot of healing thoughts since I saw you last.”

  Sarah smiled. “As a matter of fact, I have. And Bree brought me a puzzle featuring the four main characters in The Wizard of Oz. We spent several hours working on it together, and it’s cheered me up.”

  “Puzzle-healing—that’s a new technique I’ll have to recommend to my other patients.”

  “Might be a good idea.” Sarah nodded. “But tell them to work with someone they care a lot about. That seems to be the key.”

  Linda picked up her bag. Sarah Principal didn’t seem like her usual self today, but Linda liked the new, happier version of the woman who’d recently seemed so melancholy. Bree’s presence was obviously making a difference, which delighted Linda.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Great day for a festival, don’t you think?” Bree held a jar of old-fashioned syrup she’d picked up in one of the booths lining the main streets downtown.

  “Sure is,” Carolyn said. She looked around at the crowd, which seemed to be growing by the minute. “Had more than thirty thousand people here last year.”

  “Wow. I had no idea this one was so popular.”

  “Yeah. I was a little worried earlier. The wind and rain made it as cold as a witch’s tit—pardon the old expression. Thank goodness the weather cleared off.”

  Bree paid for the syrup and slipped the glass bottle into her large purse. “Speaking of witches, weren’t we supposed to meet some of the other coven members here?”

  Carolyn took Bree’s arm and pulled her away from the booth to a less crowded spot. “Yes, but keep your voice down. We never use the words witch and coven in public. We call ourselves Greenies.”

  “Greenies?”

  “Yeah. Almost all of us are green about witchcraft. Sandy knows quite a bit, but the rest of us are just learning.”

  Bree glanced around. The people strolling from booth to booth seemed set on nothing but having a good time, but you never could tell. “Got it. I suppose a lot of people still think of witches as devil worshippers who cast evil spells and perhaps even sacrifice an animal or two.”

  “Exactly. A lot of area preachers wouldn’t hesitate to rail against us as immoral and indecent if they even suspected we exist.” Carolyn frowned, an uncharacteristic expression for her.

  “Greenies. That’s an interesting choice. Reminds me of Brownies—little Girl Scouts.”

  Carolyn’s frown turned into a smile. “Yes. But we chose the name mainly because we’re interested in green witchcraft.”

  “I’ve never heard of that.” Bree spotted a booth selling earrings and began to nudge Carolyn toward it.

  “It’s all about the natural rhythm of the seasons. Also, the importance of goddesses as well as gods. And it relies more on a personal approach instead of being part of a group.”

  “I’m confused. I thought you were a group.” Bree fingered a pair of silver dangling earrings set with green stones. They’d look pretty on Linda—match her eyes.

  “Yes. But we’re mainly a group of friends who get together when we feel like it. We don’t have a lot of fancy rituals or even believe in some of the same things. We simply like the basics of green witchcraft and want to know more about them and how to apply them to everyday life.”

  Bree impulsively handed the vendor some cash for the earrings and dropped them into her purse. Then she glanced down the street. “Let’s go look at those antique cars.”

  They strolled past a cluster of booths offering brochures from various hospitals and service organizations in the area, but she didn’t see any familiar faces. “Where are Sandy and the others we’re supposed to meet?”

  “Down by the old train depot. Surely you knew it was transformed into a museum years ago. It’s the center of cultural activity.” She waved a hand. “Downtown’s the commercial part of the festival.”

  They examined some of the antique cars parked near the courthouse. Then Carolyn pointed to a long flatbed trailer filled with square bales of hay to sit on. “Let’s catch a ride on one of those wagons. It’s not far to the depot, but I’d rather save my legs for walking around there.”

  The brief trip was bumpy, but the smell of the hay and the rain-cooled air soothed Bree as they headed through the familiar shady streets. The leaves had begun to change color and reminded Bree of her mother’s most recent painting. She’d seen it when she’d visited earlier and had felt pulled in, almost as if she were the woman in red about to enter the glorious autumn forest.

  “We’re here,” Carolyn called, and they both accepted a hand down from the wagon.

  Something smelled good—sweet, yet salty. Kettle corn, popping in a huge black vat. “I haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Hungry, Carolyn?”

  “You better believe it.” She waved at someone and then looked around. “Sandy’s supposed to save us a table.”

  “Wonder where she is.”

  “Over there,” Carolyn said, after they pushed their way through the crowd. “And Linda’s with her. Come on.”

  Bree noticed Tornado Taters, links, hamburgers, barbecue, and some of the best-looking Mexican food she’d ever seen as they hurried past various stands. By the time they reached Sandy and Linda, she’d decided what she wanted to eat.

  “Hey. Good to see you again.” Sandy pulled her into a big hug, and Linda touched her arm with a shy smile.

  “We’re famished,” Carolyn announced. “What do you want, Bree? You sit here with these little piggies while I go get something for us.”

  “We got tired of waiting for you two,” Sandy said, then took a bite of her barbecue sandwich, while Linda sipped a large drink. “See anything interesting downtown?”

  “The old cars. And I bought some ribbon-cane syrup.”

  Carolyn took Bree’s order and hurried away toward the food stalls.

  “So what’s going on here?” Bree asked as she sat down in a folding chair next to Linda and across from Sandy.

  “Obviously this is the food area,” Linda said. “And that building over there’s part of the museum. It has a lot of exhibits demonstrating how people used to make things.”

  “Such as?” Bree asked.

  “Oh, quilts, lace, soap. You’d probably enjoy it.”

  Sandy finished eating her sandwich and wiped a spot of sauce from her cheek with a napkin. “The main part of the festival is in that fenced-off section behind the old depot. Over there.” She pointed at the long red building that had stood beside active railroad tracks when Bree was a child.

  Bree raised a brow. “Remember what we used to call the only train that ever came here?”

  Sandy laughed. “Sure do. The H and O B and F.”

  “That must have been before my time. What on earth?” Linda asked.

  “We all called it the Henderson and Overton Back and Forth,” Sandy and Bree said at the same time, and laughed.

  Carolyn walked up, her hands full. “What are y’all cackling about?” She handed Bree her food and sat down next to Sandy. “You might know I’d miss something good.”

  “The H and O B and F. Linda never even heard of it.”

  “Why did they call it that?” Linda asked in a little-girl voice and put on a pouty expression.

  Sandy finally explained. “The train went from Henderson to Overton once a day, and when it reached Overton, it didn’t have room to turn around, so it just backed up from Overton to Henderson.”

  “That’s not funny. That’s sad,” Linda said.

  “Why sad?” Bree asked.

  “Well, the townspeople must have expected great things when the railroad company went to all the trouble to build the tracks and such a huge depot. But the train later just became a joke for all the kids to laugh about. That’s why.”

  “I remember when they used to ship cotton and tomatoes on the train,” Carolyn said.

  “And they must have shipped c
anned goods too, because a big warehouse full of them burned down in the early ’50s,” Sandy said.

  “But you’re right, Linda,” Bree said. “It is sad.”

  “Thank you.” Linda gave Bree a smile.

  “Actually, a lot of history’s sad,” Bree said. “It makes us realize we’re getting older and how things change and we can’t do a thing about it.”

  Sandy slammed a hand down onto the table. “But we’re still alive and kicking. So after you and Carolyn finish feeding your faces, Bree, let’s go enjoy the rest of the syrup festival and celebrate still being here and able to enjoy such a beautiful day.”

  *

  After they paid their admission fee, Linda and the others strolled through the old depot and looked at the various exhibits depicting the history of the county and its still-flourishing folk arts. She always liked to study the quilts on display. Judging by all their tiny stitches, a quilt-maker must have spent hundreds of hours to produce just one. How patient the women were who decided on a design, found just the right fabric to use, cut it into squares, and then sewed them together, even if they used a sewing machine instead of their fingers.

  A tune popped into her head, something about handmade quilts and handmade love. After a few minutes, Linda found herself humming.

  “I’ve heard that one,” Bree whispered to her, and winked. Linda blushed.

  “I’m tired of standing around. I want some action,” Sandy said. “Let’s go watch the mule make syrup.”

  As they walked down the ramp from the old depot to the area behind it, Linda stopped to survey the scene. It spread out in front of them like a Bruegel painting, full of people bustling around and engaged in so many different activities it was hard to process them all.

  Huge oak trees provided plenty of shade, and people clustered under them selling homemade jams and jellies, soap, herbs, and brooms. Children darted in and out, and adults strolled over to inspect the tractor exhibits and ate kettle corn from huge bags.

  “Let’s go over there,” Sandy said. “I need a new broom.”

  “Is your Dyson on the blink?” Carolyn asked, deadpan, and Sandy gave her a knowing glance.

  “No, silly. You know why I want a new one.”

  Linda and Bree lagged behind, and Bree asked, “What’s going on with them?”

  “She uses a broom to sweep our ritual area before every ceremony. You know, for the Greenies.”

  “Oh. Not to ride?” Bree chuckled, and Linda elbowed her with a grin.

  “Don’t even joke about it,” Linda whispered. “Somebody might take you seriously. Hey, I need some herbs. Let’s go over to that table.”

  While Linda examined the plants, Bree wandered over to watch the syrup-making. Linda joined her eventually, carrying a brown paper bag with some plants sticking out the top of it.

  “So is this what the festival’s supposed to be about?” Bree asked. “Exactly what are they doing here?”

  “Making syrup from sugarcane. It’s fairly simple. See the machine in the center of that area?” Linda pointed to a large fenced-off section. “It has three steel rollers inside. And you can see how the mule’s hitched to the long pole attached to the machine.”

  Bree nodded.

  “Watch. As the mule walks, he makes the rollers turn.”

  “Wonder how he feels,” Bree murmured. “Poor old thing.’”

  Warmed by Bree’s concern for the mule, Linda took her hand and led her closer to the fenced-off area. “The guys wearing overalls and baseball caps are feeding ribbon cane into one side of the machine and pulling the crushed canes out on the other side,” she explained. “Then they collect the juice in buckets and cook it in big vats until it produces the kind of syrup you bought.”

  Carolyn and Sandy emerged from the crowd and stood beside them, watching the mule plod around and around. Finally Carolyn broke their trance. “Want to go listen to the sacred-harp singing?”

  The eerie music had always appealed to Linda, and as she stood at the edge of the crowd listening to the songs her ancestors had sung, she felt pulled back into another time. People had been connected more strongly to the changing seasons and to their surroundings back then. That was one reason witchcraft attracted her. Also, the magic had disappeared from her life, and she wanted to find some way to regain it.

  Bree murmured, “Let’s go sit down. I’d like to enjoy the music awhile.”

  Maybe Bree had a similar thought.

  They found two empty seats near the merry-go-round, and the almost-discordant music evoked a type of peace Linda hadn’t felt for a long time. She blew out a deep breath and watched the children ride the carousel. It seemed like she and Bree existed inside a bubble as they sat there side by side. She grew philosophical. Was everyone riding in a circle until the music stopped and they wandered to a new destination?

  Linda glanced at Bree. What did she think of all this? What did she think of her? Every time she was near Bree, she wanted to know the answer to these questions even more.

  *

  Bree tried to make sense of the magic whirling around her. Oak trees, eerie music, brooms, herbs—what had Linda, Carolyn, and Sandy stumbled into? Ever since she’d attended their Samhain celebration two weeks ago, she’d begun to look at the world differently. Oh, the change was subtle. She was seeing the same objects she’d always seen, but some of them had an underlayer she’d never noticed.

  Even the puzzle she and her mother had begun to put together yesterday seemed to hint at a deeper meaning. To begin with, why had she even chosen it from the huge assortment she’d found at Walmart? Was she Dorothy, traveling down the yellow brick road through a field of wildflowers with her three companions, headed toward a yellowish-purple sky? Being back here in her hometown reminded her of being in Oz. Everything was familiar, yet everything had changed. Or was only she changing?

  Suddenly, someone shook her. “Hey, Bree. Snap out of it.” Sandy had her hand on her shoulder. “We want you to see the old doctor’s office and the three-hole outhouse our local historical society has preserved here on the grounds. Somebody with your background in museums should appreciate them.”

  Bree followed her friends, though her Oz-like feelings still tickled her.

  *

  A chill breeze had begun to overshadow the sun’s warmth when Carolyn looked at her watch. “This has been so much fun. Why don’t we keep it going at my house? I’ve got several pounds of peeled frozen shrimp. What do you say to some creole?”

  “I’d forgotten how much people down here like to eat,” Bree said. “But count me in. I’ll even make dessert.”

  “I wouldn’t want to miss that,” Linda said. “How about I go home and grab some veggies and a loaf of French bread, Carolyn? You can start making the roux, and I’ll help cook when I get there.”

  Sandy jumped up from her folding chair. They’d wandered back over to listen to the last music performance of the day. “I don’t want to be left out. I’ll go home and whip up a green salad and see you over at Carolyn’s as soon as I can.”

  At her home, Linda rushed inside and gathered the ingredients she’d promised. Then she foil-wrapped the bread she’d bought this morning and drove to Carolyn’s.

  Soon they stood side by side in her kitchen. Linda minced garlic and chopped two onions while Carolyn stood at the stove, stirring the roux. After it turned a dark brown, Linda dumped the pungent vegetables into the hot iron skillet.

  A gust of steam smacked her in the face when the vegetables sizzled. “Love that smell,” she said as she watched Carolyn caramelize the onions and garlic in the roux. Linda then opened two quart jars of tomatoes and a bag of frozen green peppers.

  “Nothing like that aroma, is there?” Carolyn said.

  “Nope. Where’d you learn to make a roux like that?”

  “In the Beaumont area. I had a lot of Cajun friends who’d moved there from Louisiana, and they taught me to appreciate their French culture. It’s a whole different world down there.”
r />   “Different how?”

  “More relaxed. You know. Laissez les bons temps rouler.”

  “Yes. I haven’t spent any time in Southeast Texas, but I have been to Razzoo’s restaurant in Tyler. They definitely let the good times roll there, especially if you buy one of their oversized drinks. All four of us could get drunk on just one.”

  “Speaking of alcohol, will you grab a couple of bottles of white wine from the rack over there and stick ’em in the fridge? Just enough to chill them.”

  “Sure. What kind of dessert do you think Bree’s going to bring? I didn’t think she cooked at all.”

  Carolyn dumped the tomatoes into the roux mixture, then chopped the peppers and added them. After pouring in a little water and letting the mixture boil, she covered the skillet and turned the fire to low. “No telling what Bree’ll come up with. She’s probably at Walmart or Kroger right now, standing in their frozen section and trying to decide.”

  Linda located the wine and put it in to chill as Carolyn washed their cooking utensils. “The shrimp are thawing. We can add them after Sandy and Bree get here.”

  Linda stuck the loaf of bread she’d brought into the oven. They could warm it later.

  “Let’s go rest.” Carolyn wiped her hands on a dish towel. “Do you want something to drink now, or would you rather wait for the others?”

  “I better wait. I’m not a big drinker, and it’ll be more fun with all four of us here. Like an impromptu ceremony or ritual.”

  “Agreed.”

  They settled down in Carolyn’s den. “I’ve been dying to ask you something, Linda. Are you and Bree seeing each other?”

  “Seeing each other? What do you mean?” Linda positioned a cushion behind her back as she found a comfortable spot on Carolyn’s oversized couch.

  “Like in dating? Sarah mentioned that you two drove to Tyler to some kind of dinner with some other women and to Kilgore to see some museums.”

  Linda laughed. “So because we’re both lesbians, we must be sleeping together. Is that what you mean?”