One Hex of a Wedding

by Galenorn, Yasmine

  MAEVE LIVED NEAR the southern border of Chiqetaw. She’d put hundreds of hours into landscaping her land, and her gardens burgeoned into an array of brilliantly colored plots. But there was something else, besides the roses and hydrangeas and rhododendrons that gave such life to the land here.

  It was as if Maeve had tapped into the perfect place to nurture her spirit. She had the magic touch, every plant thrived here, and even the rock garden seemed to hum with life. Somehow, she’d forged a connection with the land that ran as deep as the tree roots. A sovereign bond existed between the soil and the woman, and the verdant foliage springing forth from the land stood as silent testimony to her dedication.

  As I parked next to her modest pickup and slipped out from the driver’s seat, the sharp tang of freshly mowed grass hit my nose and I breathed deep, letting the smell soothe my senses. Maeve’s garden smelled green.

  She met me at the front door. A strikingly tall woman, she would have been called “handsome” a hundred years ago. She had changed out of her linen pantsuit into a pair of tidy jeans, a button-down short-sleeved striped shirt, and a pair of gardening gloves.

  “I was just finishing up with the nasturtiums. Come in.”

  I’d been to visit several times, but the custom-renovated rambler never ceased to amaze me, with its loft-high ceilings and multiple skylights that let through the brilliant blue of the afternoon sky. Maeve’s decor tended toward minimalist Scandinavian. The first time I entered her living room, I’d expected to find old walnut antiques and lace curtains, but instead, found light birch furniture free of frills or carving, and sheer panels covering sleek blinds. The floors were hardwood, not a speck of carpeting entered her house, although each room contained a Persian rug.

  I glanced at her dining table and saw a large white box sitting on it. She saw me looking at it and nodded.

  “Come. Let me see your necklace while you examine the dress. If you like it, try it on for size.”

  I handed her the necklace and approached the box. It was old, but obviously well-cared for. I would expect nothing less from Maeve. I hesitantly reached out and touched the bow, then slowly pulled the ribbon away. At first I’d been excited about the possibility of wearing a wedding dress that had history to it. Now, I felt a sort of reverence.

  “Maeve, do you think your mother would mind a stranger wearing her dress?” I asked as I lifted the top off the box.

  “Not at all. Mother was a lot like me, and since she entrusted her gown to me, she obviously trusted my judgment.” She held up the string of crystals. “You said these were made in Ireland?”

  “Yes, though they ended up in Jamaica.”

  As she turned away, still holding the necklace, I carefully unfolded the acid-free paper in which the gown had been stored. A wash of ivory satin met my gaze, a sparkle of light flickered in the corner of my eye. Slowly, making certain my hands were clean, I lifted the gown from the box, gasping as it fell open to reveal its full beauty.

  A vision in lace and satin, the dress was formfitting, with a low sweetheart-cut neckline. The ruched bodice had lace inserts across the waist and down the sides, framing the breasts, while pearl buttons fastened the dress in back. The sleeves were mildly poofy at the shoulder, tapering into points that would cover the top of the hand. The back of the skirt flowed into a rounded train that trailed a good yard behind the hemline.

  No visible stains or tears marred the gown, and I found myself entranced, hoping with all my might that it would fit me. “Oh, Maeve, this is so beautiful Are you sure you want me trying it on? I just love it.”

  Maeve bustled over to me. She had placed my necklace into a vase. I couldn’t see what else was in there, but right now my focus was on the vision in satin before me. “Of course I want you to try it on. You may use the guest room. There’s a mirror in there. Let me help you; I don’t think you’ll be able to fasten those buttons by yourself.”

  She escorted me into the bedroom. I pulled my corset—the original one—out of my tote bag. “I hate to ask this, but can you help me lace this up?”

  Maeve laughed. “Oh, dear. I remember the days when we were expected to wear girdles as a matter of course. My mother used to get so mad at me because I’d run off to school before she could make sure I had my proper foundation garments on.”

  I grinned at her. “My Nanna didn’t believe in corsets or girdles. She said they restricted the rib cage.” I slipped out of my skirt and top, suddenly wondering if I was making Maeve uncomfortable, but she just smiled with her usual nonplussed demeanor. “I have to take my bra off for this,” I warned her.

  “My dear, I am over sixty years old. I am a woman. Every day of my life, I see my own breasts. I doubt seeing yours will be much of a shock. Now, let’s get you cinched into this thing.”

  Laughing, I slipped out of my bra and fit the corset around my waist. Maeve stood behind me and cinched the ribbons snug, but not so tight I couldn’t breathe. I bent over and shuffled my boobs into place, and then arched my back. Unlike my five-hundred-dollar fiasco from the bridal shop, this corset actually fit. Of course, I’d paid good money to have it custom designed from a store in Seattle.

  Maeve held up her mother’s dress, unfastening the pearl buttons one by one. “My mother commissioned this from a seamstress in Dublin. The lace is Carrickmacross lace, which originated in Italy but developed a distinctive Irish flavor as the lace weavers adapted it. The buttons are mother-of-pearl.”

  I rested my fingers on the material, shaking my head. “It’s incredible. I can feel the love that went into this, and there’s something else.” I raised my head. “A wildness . . . ?”

  She nodded, smiling. “You felt it, then. Faerie energy. I have pictures from my parents’ wedding. The barrow was ringed by mushrooms and wildflowers—all natural. My mother’s family has a long history with the Sidhe and she laid down the law with my father. They would marry on the mounds, or not at all.”

  “Wasn’t that rather unusual?”

  “Oh yes,” Maeve said. “The priest was scandalized but my mother’s family was so well-placed that the wedding proceeded without a hitch. That morning, Mother walked out by the mounds alone, her last day as a single woman. She told me, when I was a little girl and again when I was grown, that she heard a faint music playing from below her feet, but saw nothing. When they were married later that day, a doe followed by a buck raced past.”

  She held out the dress. “There now, slip this on and let’s see if it fits.”

  I stepped into it and held my breath as I slid my arms into the sleeves. At first, I thought it would be too tight but suddenly, there seemed to be plenty of room. I felt like a princess as she began to button me up.

  “Oh, Maeve,” I whispered, smoothing the satin skirt. The dress accentuated every curve of my body in all the right ways. As she turned me around to face the mirror, I gasped. A shimmer seemed to hover around me, whether it was the satin glowing in the afternoon light or just a trick of my eyes, I couldn’t tell.

  “Don’t forget the veil,” she said, lifting out a length of matching lace that was attached to a golden barrette. I thought briefly of Nanna’s veil, but this one matched the dress. Inhaling deeply, I let go of the old vision and accepted the new. Maeve fastened the veil on my head and I froze, unable to believe that the woman in the mirror was truly me. “There now, that’s better than a store-bought gown, don’t you think?”

  I could only nod, unable to speak. After a few minutes, I stammered out, “Please tell me you mean it, that I can wear this dress. I love it.”

  “It might have been made for you, my dear. And I’m sure Miranda will look just as lovely in it when her wedding day arrives.” Maeve arranged the train as I realized what she’d said.

  “Miranda? But you can’t mean—”

  Maeve gently grasped me by the shoulders. “Emerald, what am I going to do with this dress? I’ve already had the only wedding I’ll ever have and I could never fit into this even if I were to remarry. When
my husband died, I knew that he was the only man I could ever tie my heart to. My sister and her family don’t care about heirlooms. If I keep this, it will sit in the closet until the day I die and then be carted off to some vintage thrift store to be bought by strangers.”

  I saw her point. What was the use of keeping heirlooms if they sat in the closet, gathering dust and shadows?

  “And you fill it out so beautifully,” she continued. “I couldn’t think of asking for it back. You have a daughter who—and I guarantee this—will want to wear it when she gets married. I know these things sometimes,” she added. “So, consider this my wedding gift to you.”

  Stunned, I searched for the proper words, but “thank you” seemed so inadequate. “Maeve, I don’t know how—”

  “Then don’t try. I already know what you’re trying to say, so there’s no need. Now then, since this fits, let’s get this off you.” She bustled around back, unbuttoning the dress and untying my corset. While I changed back into my regular clothes, she shook out the gown and gently placed it on a padded hanger. “There, if there are any wrinkles they’ll release by the day of your wedding.”

  As we returned to the living room, I felt a renewed sense of optimism. Everything would work itself out. I wandered over to the plate-glass window that overlooked Maeve’s backyard. A bevy of jays had taken over one of the fir trees and their shrieks echoed through the golden light of afternoon.

  Maeve reached in the vase that I now saw was filled with water. She pulled out the crystal necklace and carefully wiped it off with a soft cotton cloth. “Here now, this should be cleansed.”

  I peeked in the vase. The water looked clear. “What’s that?”

  She gave me a secretive smile. “Holy water with a little lavender and lemon essence added.”

  Holy water? She had to be kidding. “Where on earth did you get hold of holy water?”

  “Oh dear, not from a church. I have one of my cousins send me water from a sacred well near Kildare. They live a few kilometers away from it, and twice a year I ask them to nip down and snooker me a few gallons, then carefully pack them and send them air express. I keep a fountain out back and each day, I add a quarter cup of the well water to it. I think it does the birds good,” she added, touching her finger to her temple.

  I held the necklace lightly, closing my eyes, keying in on its energy. For some reason, I hadn’t picked up on the chaos attached to it, but now I could sense a clarity in the crystals that hadn’t been there before. It felt almost . . . blessed.

  “Maeve, what would I do without you? You’re like some guardian angel. In some ways, you remind me of a younger version of my Nanna.”

  “Well, that’s a compliment, but if I weren’t here, someone else would be. Sometimes, the powers that be find it in their heart to throw us a safety net.” She glanced at the clock. “And now, my dear, I have work to do. I don’t want to rush you out but, I promised a flat of peppermint seedlings to my neighbor and I’ve barely started on them.” As she walked me to the door, she asked, “Would you rather leave the dress here, or take it with you?”

  I thought about it. No sense tempting fate. The dress felt safe at Maeve’s. “Leave it here for now,” I said, stepping out into the late afternoon. I gave her a hug and slipped into my SUV. Maeve was right. The universe could be a tough taskmistress, but sometimes she came through.

  WE DRESSED FOR dinner with care. Harlow was going to a lot of trouble and when she said formal, she meant it. Joe wore a lightweight suit jacket and a pair of khakis. Randa had chosen a sky blue sundress, and Kip looked spiffy in his dress shorts and new polo shirt. I gazed at them. My family. My comforters, and my responsibility.

  I showered and dressed in a little black number that was formal enough for dinner, yet cool enough for a summer evening. I hesitated for a moment but, trusting in Maeve’s sacred well water, fastened Rose’s necklace around my throat. Sometimes, the universe required a leap of faith.

  As I changed out my purse to a velvet clutch bag, I felt someone in the room next to me. I looked up to find Nanna watching me. She walked over and laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. It was only a whisper—a shift in the air currents, but it was enough to make me tear up.

  “I miss you, Nanna,” I said. “I wish you could be at my wedding. I’m so happy with Joe.”

  She beamed, then crooked her finger and glided over to the closet in which I kept her trunk and pointed to it.

  “There’s something in there you want me to see?” I pulled out the trunk and, sitting on the floor, lifted the lid. I couldn’t imagine what she wanted me to look at, I’d been through the trunk time and again. And yet, something called to me. I sifted through the charms until I came to a pair of matching Algiz runes.

  The rune of protection, Algiz looked similar to a three-pronged fork. I had several of the runes throughout the house, guarding the doors alongside the security system and locks, but I didn’t recall ever seeing these. They were about two inches long, marcasite, with tiny garnets inlaid at the base. Jewelry hooks on the top indicated they were intended to be used as pendants.

  I looked up at Nanna. “Do you want me to wear one of these?” Did I need protection? Was she worried about me?

  She nodded, then gently lifted her fingers to brush the center of my forehead. I closed my eyes as the breeze of her ghostly fingers ruffled through my hair. The image of Murray flooded my mind.

  “Murray! You want me to give the other to Murray?”

  Nanna stepped back, nodding gently. And then, lifting her fingers to her lips, she blew me a kiss and vanished.

  I stared at the charms in my hand. I knew that I hadn’t seen them in the trunk before and yet . . . and yet . . . perhaps I had. Stranger things in my life had happened, and I’d learned to pay attention when they did. I slid both charms onto black ribbons and dropped one in my purse. The other I slipped around my neck, after taking off the crystal choker.

  Joe’s voice echoed up the stairs. “Get your buns in gear, babe. We have to put gas in the car before we head out for Harlow’s.”

  One last look in the mirror. Something about my eyes caught my attention. They were almost glowing. Emerald to match my name, they glimmered in the evening light that filtered in through the window. Puzzled, and feeling oddly aware, I headed down the stairs.

  WE TOOK THE shortcut to Harlow’s through Birch-wood Ravine. The blackberries were tiny green nubs on the bushes, but in a couple months, the ravine would be overgrown with plump, ripe fruit, as well as the occasional bear or cougar that wandered through the area. As we turned onto Wildflower Drive, leading to Harlow’s house, I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the seat. This was how it was going to be from now on. Joe and me and the kids. A complete family. My life felt fuller, less my own and yet somehow expanded.

  Harlow met us at the door. “You look so nice,” she said. She was wearing a short pink sundress and a pair of silver strappy sandals. I wondered what it would be like to have legs that went on forever.

  Horvald and Ida were there, as well as Jimbo and Murray, and White Deer and Maeve. Joe and the kids and I completed the guest list. While Kip and Miranda went with Lily, the nanny, to visit Eileen, the rest of us settled in the living room with cocktails. James was playing bartender.

  I accepted a wine spritzer and motioned Murray to one side. “I have something for you. Nanna told me to give it to you. I wouldn’t have even known it was in the trunk if she hadn’t led me to it.” I pulled out the Algiz rune pendant and handed it to her.

  She weighed it in her hand, then looked at me. “You think I’m in danger.”

  “I know it,” I said, my heart sinking. I’d been able to forestall my worry for a while with the joy over actually knowing I had a wedding dress, but now it hit full force again.

  Murray slipped it over her head. “I have two pieces of news—one good, and one not so good.”

  “Give me the good news first,” I said, wanting to fortify myself.

  “We caught J
anette. She tried to slip back into town and another irate bride-to-be who lost her dress saw her and called the cops. You’ll be able to pick up your dress next week from Evidence.”

  A tingle of satisfaction ran through me. It wasn’t nice to be happy at others’ misfortunes, but Janette earned it. “Great, I won’t have to throw a hex on her. What’s the bad news?”

  “Tad officially found out that Rusty’s in the area, but we can’t pinpoint his location. He’s been seen in a few shops, but nobody seems to know where he’s staying. We’ve put out an APB on him. Who knows if it will do any good?”

  “Hey, what are you two talking about? Get over here,” James called out from the bar.

  We drifted back to join the others. The rest of the evening went smoothly and it was such comfort to be in the company of friends without some tragedy intervening. We had rack of lamb and asparagus, sorbet, fruit and cheese for dessert, and I told everyone about Maeve coming to my rescue with the dress and necklace. We were gearing up to leave when Murray’s cell phone rang. She moved off to the side for a moment, then hurried back.

  “That was dispatch. I’m needed on a call. There’s been more trouble out at the old Catlan house.”

  “Are you going alone?” Jimbo asked.

  She shook her head. “Dispatch said one of the guys will meet me there. Probably just teenagers partying again. Jimmy, can you grab a ride home with someone?”

  He gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Sure thing. Be careful. Call if you’re going to be late.”

  As she wheeled out of the drive, I felt a flicker of apprehension, but she was wearing the necklace. It should give her some measure of protection. The evening wound down around shortly thereafter and we headed for home.

  Fifteen

  THE GROUND WAS soggy beneath my feet and I was having a hard time keeping my balance as I jogged through the dark woods. Overhead, the moon was dark, in her secretive place where she went each month to hide and grow strong and full again. Stars glistened in the cloudless tapestry, and the soft hooting of owls signaled the beginning of the night’s hunt.