The Enchanted Garden Cafe

by Abigail Drake

  “Tell me more about the Midsummer celebration.”

  Eliza smiled. “Our beliefs are tied to the moon and its cycles. The summer solstice is a shift of power. Each day has been building up to the longest day of the year, but when it finally happens, we almost mourn it. It’s a paradox, a time of change. The full moon triggers natural rhythms and breeding cycles. It inflames passions and makes even sane people act a little wild. The summer solstice brings all of the crazy to a whole new level.”

  I listened to her, my eyes widening. Maybe this explained a great deal. “How do you make it stop?”

  Eliza laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “You can’t make it stop, Fiona. It’s ageless. The moon is yin to the earth’s yang. It brings life and holds mysteries and affects us in ways we can barely comprehend.”

  Her cell phone rang. She spoke for a few minutes and then hung up. “Got to go. One of my clients is going through a nasty divorce. Her husband’s full moon was seen in someone else’s bedroom, and he’s going to pay for it dearly,” she said with a wink. “Fiona, please join in our celebration this evening. Your mom always comes, and it would be an honor to have you as well. I think you’ll enjoy releasing your inner goddess. Also, we can put a blessing on you for the meeting. What do you think?”

  I wasn’t feeling up for a Wiccan festival but couldn’t offend Eliza when her offer was so genuine and kind. “I’d love to come.”

  She grinned. “Great. I’ll see you next by the light of the moon, Fiona Campbell.”

  “Yippee,” I said softly as she left the garden.

  Mom giggled. “You’re in for a real treat.”

  The party preparations took all day, and the Wiccans arrived at ten. The bonfire burned, and we’d set up tables piled high with good things to eat. Another table had paper and pens requested by the Wiccans and sheets of beeswax to make candles. Not sure what to wear to a Wiccan Litha festival, I chose a long white sundress that hung loose and light down to my toes. Mom and I spent the afternoon braiding flowers and leaves into wreaths for the Wiccans to wear on their heads. My hair hung down, and I put a wreath on my own head as well. I got a shock when I saw my reflection. I looked more like a flower child than my mom ever did.

  Mom dressed a lot like me, and many of the Wiccans wore similar clothing. There were a few men wearing flowing white shirts, but most were women in long dresses. Eliza grinned when she saw me. She wore a full-length white lace dress with spaghetti straps and a tightly fitted bodice. It screamed Paris in the lace, color, and style and in every stitch of the fabric.

  “Your dress is beautiful,” I told her.

  She spun around. “It’s nice to have the chance to wear something that isn’t a suit. I’ve found the more feminine I dress, the easier it is to connect with my goddess.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” I looked at Mom, trying hard not to laugh.

  “Come out to the garden, Eliza. I want to make sure we did what you wanted.” Mom led Eliza out as Kate strolled in, dressed like a curvy, sexy goddess herself in a white dress with a short skirt. Her breasts nearly exploded out of the corset top, and her tattoos provided a sharp blast of color on her pale skin.

  I gave her a hug. “What are you doing here?”

  “Your mom told me to come. Mrs. Porter’s daughter offered to stay with her so I could have a night off.”

  “I’m so glad.” I grabbed a wreath from the table and put it on her head. “Have you done this before?”

  Kate shook her head. A woman walked past dressed as a fairy, and Kate snorted. “This is going to be a hoot.”

  We went out to the garden where the guests gathered. Madame Lucinda was already there. She smiled and waved. The moon glowed in the sky, bright and beautiful. Other than some candles and the twinkle lights in the trees, it provided all the light we needed. Kate and I nibbled on pagan-symbol sugar cookies and waited for the party to start.

  “How did things go with Matthew last night?” she asked, and I choked on my cookie. I grabbed a glass of water, but a few minutes passed before I could speak.

  “It started out well, but . . .”

  Kate grew still. “You did him again, didn’t you?”

  I nodded and whispered in her ear, “In my mom’s tearoom. Standing up.”

  We spoke quietly, but Kate gasped so loudly several people glanced our way. I shushed her and pulled her away from the dessert table. “I think I’m a nymphomaniac.”

  Kate laughed. “Until a few days ago, you seemed like a bit of a prude. No offense.”

  “None taken, but Matthew unleashed something. I’m sex crazed. It’s out of control.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “It might be that way with Matthew, but it isn’t like you’re sleeping around. Can you even imagine doing it with someone else?”

  I stared at her. Kate munched on a cookie, oblivious to the fact she’d shifted my nicely planned and organized life right off its axis. “I can’t. Oh, crap.” I winced. “This is a disaster. I’m just like my mom and Aunt Francesca. I think Matthew has ruined me for other men. I don’t want anyone else. I want him.”

  Kate thought about it. “What are you going to do?”

  “I have no idea. For tonight, I’m going to release my inner goddess and hope she doesn’t jump some unsuspecting man.”

  Kate’s eyes danced with mischief. “This is going to be fun. I’ve always wanted to see you let go for once, get a little wild and irresponsible.”

  “Matthew said if I acted more irresponsibly, Mom would become more responsible.” I frowned, thinking about how well she’d organized things lately, even bringing the books to Mr. Jenkins. Maybe Matthew had a point.

  “Well, there is only one way to test his theory.” She pointed at the punch bowl set up by the food. “Is that mulled wine?”

  I nodded, and she poured each of us a glass. We lifted our cups into the air. “Cheers,” I said as we touched our glasses together.

  “To irresponsible behavior,” said Kate.

  I took a sip of the sweet and spicy wine. Immediately, my belly felt warm, and I was a little bit happier.

  “Yum,” said Kate. “What did you put in this stuff?”

  Mom came up to Kate and kissed her cheek. “Magic and moonlight and a touch of mulling spice,” she said. “It’s the only way to make punch worthy of a Litha celebration.”

  She grabbed a plate of cookies and brought them to some Wiccans admiring our fountain. Kate looked at me and giggled. “How does she always do that? She comes up when we are in midconversation and says something profound and yet a little . . . well . . .”

  “Off? I know. I’ve lived with it my whole life. It looks like they’re ready. Let’s go to the bonfire.”

  Eliza called the quarters. We faced east, and she said, “From the east come the winds, cool and clear. Be part of our circle now.”

  The Wiccans all responded, “Hail and welcome.”

  We turned to the south, and Eliza spoke again. “The sun is the light of fire on the land, the sea, and the heavens. Be part of our circle now.”

  “Hail and welcome.”

  Eliza turned to the west. “From the west come rain and fog and life-giving water. Be part of our circle now.”

  “Hail and welcome.”

  At last, she turned to the north and said, “The earth is below my feet with soil rich and fertile. Be part of our circle now.”

  “Hail and welcome.”

  A cauldron provided by Eliza hung over the bonfire. Eliza placed herbs in the water of the cauldron, and soon the air grew rich with the scents of rosemary, thyme, bay leaf, and several other things I couldn’t pick out. We burned cedar wood for the bonfire, also supplied by Eliza, and it smelled rich and soothing.

  One of the Wiccans gave us each a piece of paper and a pen. We all stood around the fire, cheeks rosy both from the warmth of the flames and the wine. Eliza addressed us with a small smile playing on her lips.

  “You are part of the divine. You are one with the universe. Open your hearts and your
minds. Use this paper to write down your greatest desire, your special wish, or your secret pain, and then throw it into the fire, releasing it and sending it out into the heavens.”

  The Wiccans scribbled on the slips of paper. I wasn’t sure what to write. I had pain from never knowing my father, dreams of becoming a professional, and way too much desire for a man who wasn’t my boyfriend. I decided to keep it simple. Show me my heart’s desire.

  I threw it into the fire and watched as the bright flame ate my piece of paper until it curled up and burned into nothing but ash. As soon as all the wishes were tossed into the fire, several of the Wiccans picked up drums and a few other instruments, and we danced. We held hands and moved in a clockwise direction around the bonfire like an adult game of ring-around-the-rosy.

  I’m not sure if it was the mulled wine or if they burned something other than cooking herbs in the fire, but I felt joyful and free. I held on to Kate’s hand as we danced. We moved faster and faster as the drums pounded and people swayed. The music reached a fever pitch; then it stopped, and all was quiet. We stood looking at each other in confusion, panting a bit after the exertion of the dancing, and Eliza spoke to us in a loud, strong voice.

  “To the fountain.”

  We walked to the fountain, laughing and excited. I had no idea what was about to happen but didn’t care. Living in the moment. The new me.

  We stood around the fountain, and Eliza told us to use the sheets of beeswax to make a candle. We filled it with herbs signifying what we needed help with the most. There were bowls of herbs labeled “Health,” “Wealth,” and “Happiness,” and the last was “Love.” Kate and I went straight to the love bowl, sprinkled the herbs on our sheets of beeswax, put a long wick through the middle, and rolled it up. The Wiccan with fairy wings gave us little drip guards so the hot wax wouldn’t burn our fingers.

  We stood in a circle around the fountain. Eliza led the Wiccans in prayers of thankfulness for the longest day of the year and asked for protection as the days grew shorter and the nights grew longer. They put a blessing on me for the council meeting. Very peaceful and normal. Not knowing what to expect from a Midsummer celebration, I’d pictured cackling witches stirring cauldrons full of nasty, smelly, and foul things. These people simply loved nature and were tied to it in ways I hadn’t expected.

  The Wiccans sang softly in a strange language. The sound, mournful and yet beautiful, carried into the night. As they sang, they lit the candles one by one. After Eliza lit her candle, she used her it to light the candle of the person next to her. Soon candlelight bathed our faces, and slowly, softly, the song ended.

  Eliza’s candle had burned down to a nub. She stood directly across the fountain from Kate and me and spoke. “Wells and springs are connections to the otherworld, and right in front of us is a sacred spring, rising up from a secret river far below the land.”

  I looked at Kate and rolled my eyes. Kate bit her lip to keep from giggling. My candle was nearly gone. I’d polished off my glass of mulled wine quickly and felt more than a little buzzed at the moment.

  Eliza continued. “By bathing in the sacred water on this holy day, we ensure the rain will be brought to the crops.”

  My eyes widened in alarm as some of the Wiccans undressed. The woman in the fairy costume wore nothing but a set of wings by the time she finished. I looked around for Mom and heard a strange noise as the fountain began acting peculiar. The normal gurgling sound it usually made had grown louder and stronger. Suddenly water shot out of the fountain and straight up into the air. It fell on our heads like a gentle rain. In spite of my panic about the naked Wiccans in our garden, it was a beautiful sight. I tilted my head up to the sky and laughed.

  The music started again, and the Wiccans danced. A little differently this time, more sensual and erotic. Eliza raised her hands to the sky. The “dragon lady” lawyer was gone. In her place stood a pagan priestess.

  “All of the men are naked,” whispered Kate. “It figures. Men love to be naked.”

  Several of the women pulled Kate off to dance in their circle. A naked man tried to dance with me, but I managed to scamper away. I moved to the edge of the group, and that’s when I saw him. Matthew stood in the shadows, watching me. He wore a white shirt like the other pagans, but he was so beautiful, he looked like he could have been their god.

  Show me my heart’s desire. I’d made the wish, and only moments later, he stood right in front of me. This Midsummer wishing method had proved to be extremely effective.

  He held out his hand to me, and I took it. His hand was warm and big and his grip strong. He led me to the darkest corner of the garden, as far away as possible from the wild Wiccans and their Midsummer party. He dragged me behind a huge, flowering rhododendron and pulled me into his arms for a passionate, angry kiss. I melted against him, taking in his anger and answering it with soft, sweet nibbles on his lips and gentle, hesitant strokes of my tongue. My hands were on his shoulders, and as soon as I felt his muscles relax and knew he wasn’t as angry anymore, I slid my hands up to his hair and pulled him closer.

  He pressed me against the back wall of the garden, his hands hot as they moved over my body, greedily covering my breasts and moving to my bottom to grab it firmly and pull me closer to him. I moaned into his mouth, and his hands reached down to pull my dress up to my waist. He yanked off my undies, his movements frantic. I pushed him down to the ground and climbed on top of him. The pagan drums pounded in the background and I’d imbibed enough to feel brave. I straddled his body, my eyes on his face, and gently lowered myself on top of him. He groaned, but the Wiccans were so loud no one heard him. I wouldn’t have cared if they had because all that mattered to me at this point was having Matthew inside me.

  The drums continued to play. Matthew’s hands gripped my hips, helping me find my rhythm. The scent of the cedar from the bonfire mixed with the perfume from the wreath of flowers in my hair. I leaned forward and clung to Matthew, kissing him with everything in my heart and my soul. I felt myself getting closer and closer to a climax, and just before we both came in the most perfect kind of unison, I whispered in his ear, “I love you, Matthew.”

  Chapter Twenty

  A tablespoon of trust is vital, but half a cup is even better.

  ~Aunt Francesca~

  Slowly, steadily we both fell back to earth. Matthew helped me up and straightened my dress. He buttoned his jeans and stared down at me, his face hidden in shadows.

  “What did you say?”

  My cheeks got warm, not because of the wine. “I love you, Matthew.”

  He cradled my face gently in his hands, his thumbs stroking my cheeks. “Are you sure?”

  His dark eyes, illuminated by the moonlight, were no longer sad or angry. They were full of hope.

  “I’ve known for days but was afraid to admit it,” I said.

  Matthew touched his forehead to mine. “Last night, the look on your face when that suit showed up . . .”

  He sounded like a person in pain. I tilted my chin up to give him a gentle kiss. “Scott’s last girlfriend cheated on him. He walked in on them. I didn’t want it to happen to him again. It seemed unnecessarily cruel.”

  Matthew went still. “It wasn’t because you still love him?”

  “Is that what you thought?” He didn’t have to answer. It showed on his face. I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him close. “I don’t love Scott. I never did. I’ve never loved anyone but you.”

  “I love you, too, Fiona. So much.” He pulled me close, his face in my hair, and spoke in a whisper. “What are we going to do?”

  I played with a button on his shirt. “Well, first I’d better get out of these soggy clothes. My dress is still damp from the fountain water.”

  “Yes, it is.” Matthew brushed the hair out of my eyes. “You’re soaked to the skin . . . again.”

  I reached up to whisper in his ear. “And we did it in a public place . . . again.”

  He laughed, low and soft. “Yes, we
did.” He ran his hands up my arms. “I seem to notice a pattern here, but you’re getting cold. Do you want to go to your room and change?”

  “Only if you come with me,” I murmured against his lips.

  He gave me a sexy grin. “My pleasure.” He paused and muttered an oath as he searched the ground around us.

  “What happened?”

  “I can’t find the condom. I thought I left it right here.”

  “We used a condom? I lost my panties, too, by the way.”

  He grinned, a flash of white in the moonlight. “You’re taking this whole free spirit thing a little too seriously.”

  “I’m a changed woman. What can I say? Let’s go inside. I’ll find everything tomorrow.”

  Later, after peeling off my soggy clothes and making love one more time, we curled up under the quilt Mom made for me when I was a little girl. I had my back to Matthew, and he held me close, his big, warm body fitting perfectly next to mine.

  “What were you doing in the garden, and who were those naked people?”

  I giggled. “Wiccans. Summer solstice. They invited me to their party.”

  “Wow. What was going on with the fountain?”

  I turned to see his face. “I have no idea. It suddenly shot water straight into the air. Very strange.”

  Matthew’s lips curved into a smile. He was half-asleep, and he looked completely content and satisfied. I felt exactly the same.

  “Why did you come tonight?” I asked. “You were so mad at me.”

  He kissed me softly on the mouth. “Yes, but I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I decided to go for a walk, and my feet led me right here. I don’t seem to have the ability to stay away from you, Fiona Campbell. I’m sorry I was a jerk.”

  I stroked his cheek with my hand. “I’m sorry I was a jerk too. I made a wish to have my heart’s desire for Midsummer, and you came. These Wiccans know their stuff.”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “I smelled smoke and thought the café was on fire. The front door was locked, so I ran around the side. I heard the drums and found you dancing in the moonlight with a bunch of naked people and with flowers in your hair.” He yawned and pulled my back tightly next to his stomach again. I loved the way my bottom fit against his body, the way his legs twined with mine. He had his arms wrapped around me, and he laced my fingers in his. “Tell me again.”