Awethology Light

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  For the appetizer, we were served a tomato and cucumber salad that was drizzled with a tangy sauce.

  “The tomatoes are so good today,” Michelle said, scooping more onto her plate and taking a big bite.

  “Save room for the dinner,” Mrs. Silver chided, as she went to the stove. “I have made your favorite.”

  Returning to the table, she began to serve us, “This is one of my mother’s recipes. I hope you enjoy it. I made the macaroni noodles fresh this morning.”

  Hesitantly, I took a bite of the cheesy concoction that was sprinkled with a crunchy crust and was pleasantly surprised by the taste. Realizing that I was being watched, I said, “This is really good. I can see why it is your favorite.”

  “Now, you need to try my garlic twists,” Mrs. Silver bragged. “You will fall in love.”

  Taking a bite of the buttery bread twist as she watched, I smiled. “You are right. I might have found my true love.”

  Laughing, she patted my hand. As our hands touched, I sent a small bit of my magic to her. Her response was a calm smile before she began to eat the dinner she had prepared.

  As we ate the meal, we basked in the warmth of the home. This was a home full of love. A child raised here would be the perfect person to help us restore Danu’s spirit. It was a simple home with mismatched furniture, dishes and accessories but the right colors felt like they belonged together. Books about mythology, herbs, fairies, goddesses and magic lined the bookcase.

  Following the dinner, we played a card game and talked about school. Since the four of us had only arrived in Starten that day, we listened more than we talked. Blaze was perfect at making it appear that we had been around for a while. As the sun set and the night began, Mrs. Silver said her goodnights hugging each of us tightly and telling us to not stay up too late with a wink.

  When she was sure that Mrs. Silver was safely tucked in her bed, Camille held up a bottle of zizzleberry wine and mischievously said, “For our campfire.”

  Quickly, Viv took the bottle and shoved it in the picnic basket that she had prepared. “Not here,” she scolded. “Wait until we are outside or everyone will be sent home.”

  With a look of amusement, Camille said, “You are acting as paranoid as Lucy.”