Hedgewitchin' in the Kitchen Read online

  They’d never caught the drunk driver who hit him. The police told us Dad died instantly.

  Was it really a wonder I’d gone from one prescription medication to another? First Missy and Derrick and then my dad. I didn’t think I had caused his death, but the loss of three people I was close to in three years was a lot to get through.

  Mom’s voice quivered. “God rest his soul, your father. He was a smart man, and he knew what he was talking about. But he never thought you would pick teaching as your occupation. You aren’t going to be any better off as a teacher than you were as a starving artist. There aren’t enough jobs out there for art teachers.”

  “Not in this area, but that’s fine. I’m going to go to a job fair at the end of the year after I get my teaching license. I might find a job out of state.” I kicked at a watch battery on the floor.

  She clucked her tongue in the way she always did that told me exactly what she was thinking. “Anytime you step into a high school, bad luck follows you.” She turned back to the pan, scooped out another serving of wet burrito, and slapped it on a plate.

  “That’s not true.” Sometimes it was a middle school or elementary school.

  Plus, there were plenty of times unexplained phenomena happened that weren’t at all related to schools where I worked. Like Derrick. I pushed him out of my mind. And Jason. I tried not to think about that date gone wrong either. Or Missy. I hated myself for that tornado.

  Mom went on in her typically unhelpful way. “It’s your subconscious sabotaging you. You’re punishing yourself with guilt. You became a high school teacher to relive the traumas of your teenage years. Now you keep projecting those circumstances on others. Why don’t you go back to Doctor Bach?” She picked up the battery and a handful of rubber bands from the floor and placed them on the counter.

  I slumped into the wobbly kitchen chair with the rabbit hole decorations. I didn’t have the energy to have this conversation right now.

  I closed my eyes. “Dr. Bach wanted to pump me full of drugs. He made me feel like a freak. Every therapy session made me more depressed. I’m not going back.”

  The occurrences of weird had lessened when I’d been medicated. But so had everything else. I couldn’t even paint with the drugs he gave me. I was a lifeless blob.

  Her voice turned high and cracked. “Someone else then. I just worry about you, honey.”

  I deflated further. “I know.” It was hard to be mad at her when her bossiness and pushiness came out of a place of love.

  “After your father died, I couldn’t bear the thought of living so far away from you. That’s why I moved down here from Oregon City. But now that I’m here, I hardly ever see you.” She set plates on the table and seated herself across from me in the queen’s castle chair. “Why don’t you come over and have dinner tomorrow? I’ll make your favorite—lasagna and garlic bread. We can have cannolis for dessert.”

  Satan should have taken lessons in temptation from my mother.

  “I’ll see how I feel tomorrow.” I stared at the plate of cheesy heaven in front of me. I loved my mom’s cooking—everyone loved my mom’s cooking—but I couldn’t muster up the desire to feel hungry.

  “Maybe we could plan on having a girls’ night instead. We can talk about a new four-year plan for you.” She blew on a forkful of burrito. “If you want to go back to school for a degree in something else, I can help you out. I’ve been saving up. And you can move back in with me to save money.”

  My annoyance percolated through my veins, simmering into anger. I said through clenched teeth. “That is sweet, but I’m not getting a different degree.” I would slit my wrists before I went back to living at home. After Dad had died, she’d needed to know where I was at every minute of the day. She’d sent me text messages at midnight, warning me not to eat spinach because there had been a contamination of E. coli on Oregon farms, and every time she’d seen a news report on a school shooting in another state, it worried her that my school might have a shooting. When she saw I had a bottle of wine in my fridge, she started leaving behind AA pamphlets.

  Mom pointed at me with her fork. “You know what else would be a good idea—”

  “Mom, stop! You’re smothering me,” I shouted. “I had a bad day. I don’t feel like talking about this right now.”

  The wounded look in her eyes speared me to the heart. I hated it when I was rude to my mom. It always left me with a sick, icky feeling in my belly. She sniffled.

  I glanced up at the calendar on the wall. April twenty-first. Oh, shit. It was the anniversary of my dad’s death. I’d been so distracted by my day at work I’d forgotten about it. No wonder she’d been so high-strung. I felt even worse. I took a few calming breaths.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know this was a bad day for you.” And I wasn’t helping.

  “I miss your father,” she said quietly. “You’re all I have left.”

  I squeezed her hand.

  She nodded at my plate. “Try your burrito. It’s a new recipe. Let me know what you think.”

  Ice cream still churned unpleasantly in my gut. I forced myself to nibble on a bite of burrito even though I didn’t feel like eating. We chewed in silence. The sweet onions and tomatoes combined with the salt and savory spices, filling me with comfort. I ate another bite, savoring the sensations of warmth and calm spreading over my body. My hunger returned in full force. I didn’t know how my mom could make such a culinary masterpiece. She was a gastronomic genius.

  We ate in companionable silence. The food was too good to permit conversation. Her home cooked meals were the best legal drugs ever. Afterward, Mom did the dishes as I cleaned up the mess on the kitchen floor.

  “Tomorrow. Dinner at my place?” she suggested.

  “Sure. That would be great.” I smiled.

  I didn’t know if that was the guilt talking or complacency after eating such a good meal. I hadn’t wanted to go to her house earlier, but I couldn’t remember why now. It was only eight o’clock, but I was drowsy and ready to go to bed. The events of the day felt faraway. My troubles felt faraway. All those guilty thoughts and worries that I was a witch seemed ridiculous now.

  I wasn’t a witch.

  “What do you think about me helping you find a new therapist?” Mom asked.

  I shrugged. “Okay, if you want.” There was no harm in letting her look up a couple numbers. It wasn’t like I was agreeing to go. On the other hand, maybe I would go to Dr. Bach. He was such a nice man.

  “We can talk about a new four-year plan for you tomorrow over dinner.” She rummaged through her purse. “Oh, and here’s a strawberry-kale smoothie I made for you.” She set the quart jar in the fridge. “It will give you so much energy. You’ll feel great.”

  “Thanks.” Kale wasn’t my fave, but it was the thought that counted.

  “By the way, I stopped at the pharmacy and picked up your most recent prescription.” She set a tan bottle on the chess board of the table. Next to the tiny salt and pepper shaker, it looked like a queen dominating two pawns.

  Normally my mom’s controlling ways would have enraged me. I would have blustered about HIPAA and how they shouldn’t have let her refill my prescription, but I didn’t have the energy. I didn’t care. I was happy. I felt cozy and warm.

  Complacent.

  “Thanks, Mom, you’re the best,” I said with a spurt of enthusiasm that hadn’t been there half an hour before.

  She swallowed, her smile sad. “I would do anything for you.”

  If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought that was guilt in her eyes. That was silly, of course. My mom hadn’t done anything worthy of feeling guilt. Probably she just felt sad because it was the anniversary of Dad’s death.

  Mom hugged me good-bye and left.

  I plugged my phone into the charger and retrieved the object of my shame from the cupboard. I no longer felt any sexual desire, only fatigue. For a long moment I stared at the vibrator, wonder
ing why I had wanted to transport myself somewhere else in my wardrobe. I was an adult. It was time I let go of fanciful dreams. I washed the plastic and returned it to the bottom drawer of my wardrobe.

  I popped one of the pills my mom had brought me. One of the side effects listed for this prescription was that it curbed sexual libido. Maybe it wasn’t the anti-psychotic ingredients that made it work, but the fact that I hadn’t felt aroused while taking it. If I went back to taking medicine, nothing would trigger my hallucinations. I could conquer my affliction and make sure no one got hurt. I didn’t have to give up on my dreams of being an art teacher.

  I would cut magic cold-turkey. Or the idea of magic, anyway.

  Yet when I heard the crinkle of paper at my door and saw the envelope shoved underneath, I couldn’t help thinking of my Hogwarts letter. At last, after a day like today, this was the invitation that would take me out of my miserable existence and place me in the magical world where I belonged. That sense of childhood wonder surged through my veins.

  No one ever shoved letters under my door. It had to be something good. I leapt to my feet and ran across the ancient shag carpet that all landlords apparently thought was cool.

  My optimism burst under the sharp sickle of reality. Stamped in red across the envelope were the words, “Eviction Notice.”

  Magical Herbal Blend

  These herbs need to be dried and crushed prior to combining.

  Ingredients

  • 2 Tbsp. crushed basil

  • 2 Tbsp. crushed parsley

  • 1 Tbsp. crushed sage

  • 1 Tbsp. crushed rosemary

  • 1 Tbsp. crushed thyme

  • 1 Tbsp. crushed green onion or onion powder

  • 3 Tbsp. garlic powder

  • 3 Tbsp. bell pepper

  • 3 Tbsp. salt

  • 1 tsp. black pepper

  * 1 tsp. cayenne pepper (optional)

  * 1 tsp. dehydrated bell pepper (optional)

  * 1 tsp. dehydrated tomato (optional)

  Directions

  1. Stir all ingredients in a cauldron.

  2. Place in an airtight container such as a canning jar. Store in a cool dry place.

  3. Sprinkle on salads. Add to sauces, stews, soups, or bland cafeteria food.

  Excerpt from Hexes and Exes

  I tucked the forbidden book under piles of papers on my desk.

  Thatch didn’t come up for dinner. I didn’t know if he was ready for me to visit so soon after the ordeal with Maddy.

  In the cafeteria, I made him a plate of food to take down to the dungeon. The worst that could happen is that he would shout at me to go away again and I would have to leave the plate at his door.

  I found him at his desk in his office grading papers. He was alone, his familiars absent from the cage and under his desk. I set down the tray with the soup and salad.

  He flung his quill down, splattering red ink across the paper he was grading, resting bitch face in place. “What?”

  His foul mood didn’t bode well. Tentatively, I scooted the tray forward on his desk.

  He tasted a spoonful of the soup, made a face, and set the spoon down. “You’ve brought me food, even if it isn’t very good food.”

  Knowing Thatch and his philosophy on showing gratitude in this realm, that was about as close as he would ever allow himself to say thank you.

  “You might as well say whatever it is you came to say.” He removed a glass vial from his top drawer, pinched a portion of black, white, and green powder into his hand and sprinkled it into the soup.

  “What’s that? Is it something magic to make school food taste good?”

  “Just so.” The hint of a smile cut through his crabby mood. “It’s salt and pepper mixed with Italian herbs.”

  “Yep. Magic.”

  Lasagna

  • 1 package cooked lasagna noodles

  • 15 ounces cottage cheese or low-fat ricotta

  • ½ cup grated parmesan or Romano

  • ½ tsp. garlic powder

  • ¼ tsp. salt

  • A dash pepper

  • 1 cup cooked and chopped spinach fresh from the garden

  • 4 cups or 2 jars of homemade spaghetti sauce (if none is available Classico Spaghetti with 1 Tbsp. of MAGICAL HERBAL BLEND added to the sauce will do)

  • 3 cups mozzarella cheese

  • 1 lb. cooked, drained ground beef, chicken, turkey or pork (salted and peppered with a general heaping of garlic sprinkled on top afterward)

  Directions

  1. Preheat the oven to 350 ° F (180 ° C).

  2. Mix the spinach, cottage cheese, garlic, parmesan and salt in a bowl. If you use a food processor to chop it up smaller, it is even better.

  3. Arrange the first layer of noodles, overlapping the edges. Use the deepest baking dish you have. Three to four noodles should fit in each row.

  4. Add half the cottage cheese mix to the layer. Spread about ½ cup of sauce over it.

  5. Add another noodle layer. Top this with the meat and another ½ cup of sauce.

  6. Cover with more lasagna noodles. Top this with cheese and another ½ cup of sauce.

  7. You can make as many layers as you can fit in your pan depending on how deep it is, but make sure the top layer is smothered with sauce and then mozzarella.

  8. Cover with tinfoil. Bake for 45 minutes or until the top layer of mozzarella is golden like it would be on a pizza.

  

  Garden Witching Tips

  Spinach is used for increasing prosperity. It is low in carbs, abundant in Vitamin A, potassium and iron, and is a good source of insoluble fiber. Spinach grows best in nitrogen-rich soil that is moist and loose. Seeds can be planted about six weeks before the last frost in the spring and about six weeks before the first frost in autumn..

  Garlic has been used for thousands of years to break curses, hexes, ward off the evil eye, and repel evil creatures—not just vampires. Garlic can help lower cholesterol, reduce blood pressure, and aid the body as a natural antibiotic remedy when made into a poultice.

  If you don’t have a garlic press, try grating it into a sauce so that it will cook more evenly and more quickly. Also, it’s best to let garlic sit for ten minutes after chopping to bring out its full flavor.

  Tomatoes have long been considered an aphrodisiac, but that’s most likely because in is high in vitamin C, potassium, antioxidants, and other vitamins Europeans were lacking in their diet when it was first introduced from the Americas.

  Tomatoes do not freeze well. They are best preserved by being canned, made into salsa, or dehydrated and turned into sun dried tomatoes.

  A couple tips for the garden witch who wants to produce the sweetest, juiciest fruit: tomatoes love the sun, so plant them somewhere they can soak it up. Remember to tie plants to a stake with a string or cage them so the plant doesn’t fall over. Don’t let the soil become dry, but don’t overwater either. To prevent fungal infections, water the soil, not the leaves. Cut back on watering and fertilizing when the plant starts to fruit.

  Excerpt from My Crazy Hex Boyfriend

  He grabbed my wrist and tugged me away from my paintings. “You’re taking a break. You missed dinner. It’s time for you to eat.” His hand was cool against the fever of my skin.

  It was rare he made physical contact with anyone, let alone me. The way his touch turned my insides to jelly made it hard to resist him.

  I followed him out the door to the stairwell. “You don’t like it when I pilfer food from the kitchen.”

  “I didn’t say we were going to the kitchen.” He led me down the steps, his long legs taking them two at a time.

  I ran to keep up. “I’m not going to eat any of your poisoned apples.”

  “They aren’t poisoned. They’re laced with an elixir that detects Fae enchantments.”

  “Same difference. I’m still not eating them.”

  He turned ba
ck to me. “What do you want to eat?”

  I laughed. The question was so normal it was ridiculous. It wasn’t like we had a Burger King or McDonald’s we could drive to in Lachlan Falls.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Pizza,” I said, knowing it was close to impossible. Our kitchen never made pizza. We’d have to walk a couple miles through the woods to get to the Morty Realm.

  Thatch sighed. “As usual, you’re being difficult.” He removed his wand from his breast pocket and tugged my hand to follow him.

  We stopped on the main floor. I started toward the cafeteria, but Thatch snagged my arm. The door to a supply closet popped open. He shoved me hard enough between the shoulders that I tripped forward and stepped into a cleaning bucket on the floor.

  Darkness closed in on me. Something soft and airy like silk brushed against my face.

  I started. “What’s going on? What happen—”

  The world went topsy-turvy. Wind whipped my pink hair into my face, and my breath was sucked from my lungs. I flailed out my arms, trying to grasp hold of something. The tweed of Thatch’s jacket brushed against my fingers and I clung to it. An arm circled my shoulders.

  This has to be it, the panic inside me screamed. This was the moment Thatch was going to kidnap me and bring me to the Raven Queen.

  When the world stopped spinning, I found myself holding the front of Thatch’s tweed jacket, my face buried against the rough fabric. He stared down at me, expression unreadable.

  The door popped open, and light shined into the closet. It wasn’t the school closet anymore—although, my foot was still stuck in a bucket. From the dim lighting outside the closet, it looked like we were in a restaurant. Thatch drew back from me in the small space and exited.

  The savory aroma of garlic and tomato sauce filled the air. My belly cramped with hunger.

  I shook the bucket from my foot and stepped out of the closet. “Where are we?”

  “Someplace that serves pizza, I imagine.” Thatch stooped to pick up the bucket. “Have a care not to leave this here. Ludomil will want this back when we return.”