Sweet Shadows

The woman smiled, her expression warm and welcoming. She handed a small box to the young lady who stood across the counter. With a thank you and a grin, the customer left, clutching the matte brown package carefully so as not to disturb its bright red bow.

The woman’s gaze followed her customer’s departure, her eyes settling beyond the threshold to the street just outside her shop window. Muted orange sunlight streamed sideways between buildings, casting long, lean shadows on the cobblestones and harkening nightfall.

He’d be there soon.

And so, the afternoon proceeded. A steady stream of shoppers entered, some alone, some with friends, and some with the object of their affection. They perused, they sampled, they savored. Giddily and high with anticipation, they made their purchases, leaving in their wake a heady haze that only the woman could sense; a thick karmic brume redolent with hope, love, passion, and desire.

“This is the shop Mama told us about,” whispered one guest, her bright eyes bright with excitement as they darted this way and that.

“Shh! That lady will hear you,” replied her more sedate companion, casting a furtive glance toward the shopkeeper.

The woman had, in fact, heard the exchange, but she pretended she hadn’t. If you had been watching the woman closely, you would have seen the corners of her lips curl up ever so slightly—a single, subtle acknowledgment.

And the afternoon pushed on.

Outside the shop, the sun dipped below the unseen horizon. One by one, dozens of gaslit globes flickered to life, flames expanding into the glass before contracting to hold steady—staid sentinels between each building.

The day had been exceptionally busy, and the woman had lost track of time, only realizing how late it already was when the grandfather clock in the corner struck six. Her smile strained as a young couple lingered, but she wouldn’t rush them. That wasn’t her way.

The stragglers, a bubbly blonde and her gangly companion, perused the displays. The blonde oohed at regular intervals. Her companion would ahh in reply.

Finally, they settled on a dozen liqueur-filled chocolates and a selection of colorful marzipan flowers. For a moment, the woman considered telling them of the hidden meaning behind each candy blossom, but she decided against it. They’d enjoy the effects of the confections regardless, and besides, it was almost time.

The couple left with their arms entwined and heads together, youthful accomplices in the pastime of budding romance. She waved them goodbye and hurried to the front of the shop, where she turned the Open sign to the Closed side. The woman locked the door and slipped the key into her pocket, and then she resumed her place behind the counter. She closed her eyes, squeezing them tightly as she slowly breathed in, drawing in the residual aura from the space around her.

The air crackled, and a fuzzy cloud of warmth permeated the air, and expectant glee swept the woman from head to toe. The balmy scent of lilacs filled her nose. She opened her eyes and came face to face with a mass of white flowers.

The woman looked up, and her heart filled with joy. Her mouth curled into a delighted smile as she met her visitor’s adoring stare.

“Are these for me?”

“I certainly couldn’t buy you chocolates, now, could I?”

She laughed and took the bouquet, burying her face in them to inhale the sweet fragrance. The man regarded her with a crooked smile and an earnest gaze.

“Now, I know you’ve said no to me twice before, but….” He paused dramatically. “Third time’s a charm. Can I see you tomorrow?” He leaned on the counter, and his eyes—one green, one brown—twinkled with roguish expectation.

The woman laughed, her voice throaty and inviting. “Me?” she responded, the husky, flirtatious tone of her voice familiar yet foreign to her ears.

Even as she played coy and fluttered her lashes, her heart pulsed nervously, so loud she could hear it. Ba-dump. Ba-da-dump. The man held her gaze, captivating her with his charm and determination.

Somewhere beyond the low hum of firelight and limbo, a muffled voice called out. But for the woman, the world had at once fallen away, her senses beset by this moment with her suitor.

“What do you say?” The man’s toothsome voice wrapped around her heart like honey drizzled on a warm bun, fresh from the oven. His mouth tilted in a half-smile as he anticipated her response.

“I—”

“Grandma?” This time, the force of the intrusion knocked the woman back, yanking the air out of her lungs and forcing her eyes shut.

The woman coughed, struggling to catch her breath. She blinked to focus, but she could not see clearly, only discern the hazy edges of her vision melting, morphing before her. Tendrils of warmth and scent and memory teased her, but when she clutched the space in front of her, she came away with nothing but air and the emptiness of a bond broken.

The fog that had enveloped the moment quickly dissipated under the bright yellow lights that cascaded through the shop from sconces along the walls. The woman’s vision cleared, and she saw what she already knew: the man with the curious eyes who stood before her just a moment before was no longer. A sharp pang of anguish clutched the woman’s heart, and she bit down a strangled cry.

“No,” she whispered.

Her eyes darted around the room as she searched for something, someone, and then the woman saw her reflection in the shop window. Aged and gray, she was well past the wistful prelude conjured with magic and love. The spell had broken, and there would not be a next time.

She was getting old, and her energy waned. The woman feared, no, she knew she wouldn’t be able to meet him again. Tears pricked her rheumy eyes, and she blinked them back, pushing against the grief that threatened to engulf her lungs. She inhaled deeply, her raspy breaths rattling her chest as she swallowed her sorrow.

“Grandma, what are you looking at?” The woman turned to the voice and squinted to focus. Her granddaughter peered at her with curiosity, her eyes—one green, one brown—alight with concern.

“Umbra,” the woman uttered.

The young girl tilted her head, brow furrowed in confusion.

The woman shook her head and pulled a pestle, mortar, bowl, and two wooden spoons from a cabinet below the counter.

“Shadows, my dear,” she explained. “Nothing more.”

She turned to her granddaughter and motioned for her to come.

The young girl joined her, and the woman placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead. The girl hugged her grandmother in response. When she turned her attention to the counter, her eyes lit up with delight.

“What beautiful flowers!” she gushed. “Aren’t lilacs your favorite?”

 “Yes, my love. They are,” the woman replied, a secret smile on her lips. “Now, are you ready for your first lesson?”