Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
She led me to the back of the house and soon I found myself seated at a small, two-person table that was set up in a kind of glassed-in sun porch. Outside the many windows I could see a thriving garden filled with a wide variety of plants and flowers, all mixed in together.
“Oh, are you noticing my garden?” Goody Albright asked, smiling as she saw where I was looking.
I nodded and made a gesture I hoped conveyed that I thought it was lovely.
“I’m so glad you like it!” she exclaimed brightly. “So many people have the silly idea that one must keep the vegetables and flowers separate, but when you think about it, that makes no sense! You want the pollinators to find your plants and the fastest way to lead them in the right direction is to have some lovely bright flowers blooming nearby.”
I wished I could ask her how it was possible to have what looked like a full summer garden in the Fall, but I still couldn’t speak. It was too bad because she seemed so nice—and she’d clearly known my Grandma. Then I remembered that I had my purse with me.
I dug around in it, looking for a pad and pen that I always carried. Eventually I found them and pulled them out, just as the Brownie called Lynta brought a tray with a steaming pot of tea and two cups.
“Ah, here we go! Let me pour you a cup and we can have a chat,” Goody Albright said, smiling.
As she busied herself with the tea, I started writing. The garden wasn’t really important, so I began with what was really on my mind. I finished my question and handed her the paper, just as she was handing me a cup of sweet-smelling tea.
“How do you know my Grandmother?” she read aloud as I took a small sip of the tea. It was sweet and hot and deliciously fragrant.
Goody Albright smiled.
“How did I know her? My dear, she was my best friend for years!” She sighed and shook her head. “I miss her dreadfully. Ever since she faded, I’ve felt so alone.” She fluttered her hands dramatically.
I nodded sympathetically. I missed my Grandma too—even though I had only just remembered her yesterday.
Goody Albright leaned forward and studied me again.
“You have her eyes—and her nose,” she added. “In case you’re wondering how I knew who you are. Also, you have the scent of Morris on you—which is good! It should let people and Creatures around here know that you’re under his protection.”
So I smelled like my Grandmother’s house? I frowned and turned my head to sniff my sleeve.
Goody Albright laughed.
“No, no, my dear! It’s not a physical smell—it’s a magical smell. Which means that anyone who has or is magic will be able to scent it on you.”
This brought up even more questions—“anyone who has or is magic?” What did that mean? But I had an even more pressing query to ask. I scribbled it quickly on another sheet of paper from my pad, tore it off, and handed it to her.
“What did you mean when you said I’m ‘bound’?” she read aloud.
She looked at me with wide eyes.
“Why, I meant exactly what I said—your magic is bound. And along with it, your voice.” She cleared her throat and glanced down at my lap. “As well as some other things, I shouldn’t wonder.”
I scribbled again and handed her another piece of paper.
“I don’t have any magic,” she read and then burst into peals of laughter. “Oh, my dear—of course you have magic!” she exclaimed. “Any witch of the Pruitt bloodline has more magic than they know what to do with. Why, I remember when you were just a little thing and your talents started to show—your Grandmother was so proud of you! She bragged to me that you were going to be the strongest witch in generations.”
I wrote again and passed the note to her.
“I’m not a witch?” she read, making it into a question. She frowned at me. “Why, sweetheart—of course you’re a witch! I can feel the magic, just under your skin.” She put out a long-fingered artistic hand and gripped my wrist. “It’s all bound up in knots because it can’t get free, but it’s there all right—like an electric current looking for an outlet.”
Now I had so many questions I didn’t know where to start! But one seemed to be the most important. I scribbled it down.
“How do I get unbound?” Goody Albright read aloud. She frowned. “Well, you’d have to find a way to break the binding spell that was put on you.” She sighed. “But I’m afraid that might be difficult, since it was your own mother who placed it. Oh, I remember how she and your Grandmother fought about it! Elvira was against binding you but your mother insisted it was for your own good.”