“Noon. You’ve been sittin’ here for hours. Ain’t this why you got a lawyer, so they can explain this stuff to you?”
“I mean...” Violet stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, trying to crack it. Fuck, how long had she been sitting hunched over, staring at this stuff? It wasn’t even complicated, just basic employment contracts and rental agreements and... “I just want to make sure I understand it all.”
“Aren’t you supposed to call your mother today?”
And that too. She was supposed to call her mother. Today was the agreed upon day. Sort of. Monday had actually been the agreed upon day, but she had clients that day, so then it was Tuesday but she had a meeting at the bank, and then Wednesday with the lawyer, and now it was Thursday, and she had no excuses. They were heading to Garoureve in a little over a week, and she still hadn’t called to inform her mom... or the coven.
Not that she needed their permission to go! For starters, she wasn’t technically a witch. She didn’t participate in the quarterly events. She didn’t practice in any way. She wasn’t improving her craft. She wasn’t working with a pack. She was, other than the occasional flare ups, seen as a human.
Except, a witch returning to Garoureve was kind of a big deal, because her mother had made it a big deal by leaving the way she had, in fear. No one had reached out, after, to ask for a witch to return, and...
There was a process to this sort of thing! Her simply returning was... a thing.
“Yeah… why don’t you instead just show me what you want to show me, and we pretend like I don’t need to make a phone call.”
The look Henrik gave her told her that she needed to buck up and stop avoiding the necessity, but… well… she had planned for this! One of the many reasons why it was taking them a month to travel somewhere that could, easily, be a few hour journey.
There was no telling how easy, or hard, it would be to return to Garoureve. Depending on where they were at mentally, the leylines, the season, whether or not magic was willing to forgive them for leaving, intention, her mother’s spell…
Easily, they could accidentally end up in Garoureve just trying to drive to the next town over… or… it could take an entire day, if the town decided to fuck with them.
She had never really driventoGaroureve before. After all, she either rode with her mom, or Henrik in his old beat up truck. And things were different then. The borders were different. The town was more established. The pack was stronger.
She didn’t know everything about what had happened after she left, but…
That was another thing. She had never found out just how bad it was, only that it was… well…
She needed to face that too.
For years…years… Violet had wavered between telling herself that everyone she had ever known and loved was dead… and holding onto a stupid hope that everyone was fine. So many people, so many friends… but…
It was a real possibility that everyone they grew up with was gone, and that they were returning to a pack with nothing.
And that was terrifying. Beyond terrifying.
“Alright, I can see you startin’ to get into your head again, but that ain’t gonna do you no good. Either tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, or let me distract you from it.”
She liked that he gave her a choice, an option. She could express her fears and feelings, or she could continue to ignore them, but she had to let him distract her. She could do that. She could let him do that.
“Come on,” she said, standing up and stretching again. “You said you have a surprise for me.”
“I do,” he confirmed with a nod of his head. “And you’ll be needin’ these. Maybe.”
He held out a pair of work gloves to her, clean and new-ish looking, but work gloves all the same. What the hell did she need those for? And why not use the thinner ones they had been using?
“Come on, they don’t bite.” He shook the gloves at her slightly, trying to beckon her forward without answering any of her questions. Fine then. She would play this game.
Taking the gloves from his hands, Violet followed him out the back door and into the sunlight. It was rather warm for being early December, but she would take the warmth while she could. It was sure to be snowing sometime soon, particularly in Garoureve, where a white Christmas wasn’t out of the question.
“So, I might’ve been workin’ on somethin’ for a while, before I knew for sure you was willin’ to go back to Garoureve, so… so don’t get all upset or start thinkin’ I knew for sure you would agree, because I didn’t. I did this all on hope, and because I want it, you hear?”
She didn’t know what he could possibly be so worried about as he led her in through the back door of the nursery, where pallets were kept. She hadn’t really seen much of the space other than the front entryway when she had to ask Mrs. Strous to get the delivery guy to move. This was a newer area for her.
Henrik stopped beside a large wagon filled with four long planter boxes, each one containing various herbs. He was staring at her, then down at the wagon, and she blinked, studying the boxes themselves.
She recognized most of the herbs immediately, seeing as how she had been surrounded by them for years, and glanced up, startled. Sure, there was the traditional lavender and rosemary, but also mint and bergamot and echinacea and motherwort. Each of the herbs served a different purpose in a witch’s arsenal, all of them useful for various potions, poultices, and tonics.
Why were they in a wagon? Why were they even growing this late in the year? And why was Henrik staring at her with a proud look on his face.