Misty listened to the sound of birds chirping outside her window. She had been restless last night, missing the sounds of Stevie singing and cicadas buzzing, and had risen before the sun. Around her she could feel nature waking up, and, crossing to her door, hoped that Miss Cordelia had already done the same.
Padding the few short feet down the hall, Misty raised her fist and knocked tentatively at Miss Cordelia's door. "Miss Cordelia? Are you awake?" she called softly.
Behind the door, she could her the tap of Miss Cordelia's cane as she approached, then the soft scrabble of her fingers on the door as she sought the doorknob. Finally, the door swung open, revealing Miss Cordelia, already dressed in a beautiful green dress adorned with a curling black pattern and a sheer black lace collar.
"Good morning, Misty," she said softly, a small smile playing at her lips. "You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep. Too quiet without the sounds of the swamp." Putting her hands on her hips, she asked in mock reproach, "And what's your excuse, ma'am?"
Miss Cordelia's smile grew. "The same. My mind just wouldn't turn off." Suddenly she grew serious. "I suppose you'd like to retrieve your things now."
Misty hadn't even been thinking about that. "Oh, well, yeah, that'd be nice. I miss Stevie."
"Stevie?" Miss Cordelia asked, perplexed.
"Stevie Nicks. I left all of her tapes behind," explained Misty. Miss Cordelia nodded, her brow smoothing in understanding. "But that's actually not what I wanted to ask you."
Miss Cordelia waited, her eyes conveying a certain openness even through their blindness. "I was wonderin'… if you'd let me help you in your greenhouse. I'm real good with plants, and it'd make me feel better about intrudin' on your hospitality…"
"Misty," Miss Cordelia said, quieting the younger witch with a smile, "You're not intruding anywhere. I've told you, this house is your home, too, for as long as you want it." She reached out towards Misty's arm, but drew her hand back before she made contact. Misty wished that there were a way for them to touch without worrying about setting off another vision. She remembered the way Miss Cordelia's hands had been so soft and warm in her own when Miss Cordelia had used the contact to learn Misty's identity. She wanted to feel their touch again.
"But in regards to the greenhouse," the older woman continued, "I'd love it if you helped me."
A huge grin spread across Misty's face. "Oh, Miss Cordelia, thank you, thank you!" She clutched her shawl around her, bouncing a bit in happiness. "You won't be sorry, I promise!"
Miss Cordelia laughed, retrieving a simple black cardigan from her bed and shrugging it on. "I don't think I'd ever be sorry to have you around." She emerged into the hall, Misty hurriedly moving back to give her space, and closed the door behind her. "But before we start the day, how would you feel about some scrambled eggs for breakfast?"
"That'd be heavenly," Misty sighed, following closely behind Miss Cordelia as she descended the stairs, the woman's hand gripping the railing as she slowly lowered one foot after the other.
"And then we can go get your things. I want you to be as comfortable as possible here, and I always think having some familiar belongings around helps ease the transition to somewhere new."
"Thank you, Miss Cordelia," Misty said as sincerely as she could. "You're really too kind to me."
Miss Cordelia paused at the foot of the stairs, turning to face Misty. As Misty was still a few stairs up, she ended up staring at her stomach. For some reason, Misty found it incredibly endearing.
"I'm only doing my job," the other woman asserted, although the way the corner of her mouth turned up in the ghost of a smile told Misty that wasn't entirely the truth. "Why don't you wait in the greenhouse, and I'll bring breakfast out when it's done?"
Misty smiled, recognizing Miss Cordelia's attempts to keep her hidden from Fiona. "Alright," she agreed skipping down the last few steps. "Just don't take too long, I'm famished."
As she spun past, she heard Miss Cordelia chuckle softly, and her heart lightened at giving the woman even that split second of happiness.
After what seemed like half the morning, Miss Cordelia finally emerged trough the door of the greenhouse, carrying a tray bearing two plates. Instead of containing eggs, however, the plates were piled high with pieces of toast, cut into triangles and slathered with butter and jam.
"Hey, Miss Cordelia," Misty called, setting down her watering can and joining the witch at her worktable.
"I'm so sorry I took so long," the other woman apologized immediately, a bitter undertone to her voice. "I knocked the eggs off the counter. Broke them all." She unloaded the tray carefully, setting a plate in front of each of them. "Managed not to screw up the toast, though."
Determined not to let her friend wallow in self-pity, Misty took a huge bite of toast with jam. It was cooked to perfection, crunchy without turning dry. The taste of strawberries exploded across her tongue, tart and fresh.
"My god," she mumbled around the mouthful. "This is delicious. Toasted just right. And is that fresh strawberry jam?"
Miss Cordelia blushed, ducking her head slightly. "I make it myself."
Misty nodded, stuffing more toast into her mouth. "You sure know how to cook, Miss Cordelia. This is the best breakfast I've ever had."
"Thank you," Miss Cordelia said softly.
"No, thank you," Misty replied.
Both women knew neither was referring solely to the simple breakfast.
They both finished quickly, although Miss Cordelia left several pieces of toast on her plate while Misty all but licked hers clean. The fact didn't escape the young witch, although she held back from commenting. She could tell that the older woman had a lot to worry about at the moment, and figured that she wouldn't have much of an appetite if she had to deal with it all on her own, either.
"Well." Miss Cordelia stood, smoothing her skirt and collecting her cane. "Are you ready to go?"
"Yes, ma'am," replied Misty, jumping to her feet.
"The swamp's a half-hour away on foot," she explained as they exited the greenhouse. "Although I might know a shortcut that would cut it down to twenty minutes…"
"Oh, no, dear, don't worry about that. We're taking the car, of course."
Misty was struck by Miss Cordelia's use of the term of endearment, by the way it slipped off the woman's tongue. She thought about pointing it out, but felt too nervous to do so. The other witch probably wasn't even conscious of saying it, being used to referring to the other girls in the same way.
The ride out to the swamp was filled with a comfortable, friendly silence as they relaxed in the backseat of the car, a silent, albino man doing the driving, only broken by occasional, disjointed comments or observations of the scenery flashing by.
They had to stop a few minutes away from the cabin, the swamp too treacherous to drive through in the car. The two witches got out and slowly made their way through the reeds, Miss Cordelia grasping Misty's elbow where it was covered by her shawl for balance.
Suddenly, they emerged from the rushes into an organized chaos: Misty's garden. In front of them stood her small cabin, its weathered boards looking just the same as when she left… just yesterday. Had it really been such a short interval? It felt like a lifetime.
Miss Cordelia had come to a stop beside her, and turned her face toward her in silent confusion.
"We're here," Misty breathed, leading her farther into the garden. "This is my home."
Miss Cordelia let out a soft, short breath at her words, but Misty hardly noticed. She whirled away down the pathway, calling as she went, "Stevie! I've come back for you!"
As soon as she passed through the door she ran to her bedside table, where she kept all her Stevie Nicks tapes. Wrenching open the drawer, she ran her fingers over the cassettes, sighing in relief at seeing them unharmed. Kyle had destroyed her tape player, but she was sure she could find another somewhere.
Behind her she heard the tap of Miss Cordelia's heels on the boards of the porch, then a sharp, ragged gasp. She spun to see Miss Cordelia frozen in the doorway, her hand on the frame.
Jumping up, she rushed to the witch's side, her hands hovering over her shoulder, unsure if she should touch her. She prayed that the woman wasn't seeing the night the man had come to kill her. She didn't want that darkness to be the first impression Miss Cordelia got of her beautiful home.
Suddenly, the witch's head dropped forward, and when she lifted it again, Misty saw her cheeks were flushed.
"What'd you see, Miss Cordelia? Was it that man?"
"No, nothing like that," she said, turning her blind eyes around the room as if she could see it. "I saw your home. It's… beautiful." She turned her face back towards Misty, and the swamp witch could have sworn she could really see her. "And you're beautiful in it," she added softly, her blush growing as a small smile crossed her lips.
"Thank you," Misty replied simply, gazing around the room for herself. "I know it ain't much, but it's all I had for a long time."
She stood there for a moment, lost in memories, then lightly touched the small of Miss Cordelia's back to guide her towards the small table with its rickety chair.
"You just sit right here, and I'll get myself all packed up."
Miss Cordelia silently obeyed, sitting with her face turned toward where she could hear Misty's movements.
Misty pulled a medium-sized steamer trunk from under her bed, thumping it down on top and throwing open the lid. She pulled the colorful quilt from under it and piled it inside, then crossed to her small wardrobe. Opening the doors, she gathered her small collection of dresses and shawls and tossed them haphazardly in the trunk. Next, she carefully scooped her Stevie Nicks tapes out of their drawer and transferred them to a small wicker basket, delicately nestling it among the pile of clothes. Trying to decide if there was anything else she needed to bring, her eyes landed on the little mason jars of swamp mud she kept lined up against the wall. Wrapping them in a few of her rattier shawls so they wouldn't break, she carefully placed the bundle in the trunk as well. Taking one last look around and deciding the rest could be left, she let the lid fall with a resounding thud, clicking the clasps closed.
"That's everything, Miss Cordelia," she announced, rousing the woman to stand. "You ready?"
It took some doing, but they managed to get the trunk through the tall reeds back to the car.
They left the albino man to stow the trunk in the rear of the car, collapsing into their seats.
"Phew," Misty exhaled, sagging back into her seat. She turned her face towards Miss Cordelia, who was resting with her head tilted back against the headrest, her eyes closed.
"Thanks for bringing me today," she said. "You're right, I do feel better now that I've got my stuff."
