The Village Witch

“It’s getting so very damp lately… I worry about my little man’s lungs in this kinda weather.”

“I know, Maggie; this wet, cold, miserable nastiness is just awful!” There was a companionable silence between the lifelong friends for several minutes before Lara cleared her throat and added, “You know you could always go see… well… I mean, go out to the cottage. You know what everyone says. They haven’t turned anybody away yet.”

The color slowly drained out of Maggie’s already pale complexion as Lara spoke, leaving her friend wondering if Maggie was going to faint.

“O-oh. Oh, I don’t know about that, Lara. The cottage? That seems… I dunno… a little extreme, doesn’t it?”

Lara barely contained her eye-roll at her best friend’s pearl-clutching. Clearly Maggie had been listening to all the wrong rumors about the cottage’s inhabitant. “Mags. I love you, but you’re a fool.”

Maggie’s jaw dropped open at the bluntness of Lara’s statement, leaving her sputtering and floundering about for a response until she finally managed to spit out a reply. “LARA! Why’d you say that? I’m nothing of the sort!”

“Ya are, and obviously you’re not going to believe what I say until you learn for yourself, so here,” Lara sighed and reached into her bag of crochet supplies that sat next to her on the couch. She rummaged around for a moment and then pulled out a brand new skein of forest green yarn, handing it to a rather confused Maggie. “Go to the cottage, talk to Rayne, and I promise you’ll leave with something to help your little boy. Have I ever lied to you, Mags?”

That seemed to be the nail in the coffin of Maggie’s resolve. In all the long years of her friendship with Lara, the other woman never had lied to her and, as Eric’s godmother, there was no reason for her to start now. Maggie took the skein of yarn from Lara and grabbed her coat from the back of her chair. “Alright, I’m going. Just remember, if something happens to me, you’ll be Eric’s guardian and he’ll be a teenager in a couple years. So, you’ve that to look forward to,” Maggie said, shooting her best friend a pointed look and an affectionate smirk. She turned and headed out the front door before her resolve waivered again.

The cottage itself wasn’t what one would expect when going to see a witch, but then again, living in a run-down, leaking place with broken windows, cracked woodwork, and missing roof shingles was probably an unrealistic expectation. No, this cottage was… quaint, thought Maggie as she walked up the dirt lane towards it. Cream-colored wooden siding trimmed in lavender along the window sashes and porch banisters and a deep, royal purple front door made the little house seem quite cozy and inviting. The porch swing to the left of the front door with its floral throw pillows called visitors to have a seat and make themselves at home. Bees, butterflies, and hummingbirds all flitted around the somewhat unkempt garden of wildflowers and herbs, and a large Elder tree to the right of the cobblestone path gave just the right amount of shade to the porch and the garden.

“Hello there,” came a friendly voice, startling Maggie, “I was expecting company today. I thought you’d be earlier so I was just tending the bees. Do come in.”

Maggie squinted into the shade of the Elder tree and took note of the tidy little beehive nestled near the tree and the rather fetching person that she hadn’t noticed upon first glance. “Oh, um. Thank you? Are… are you Mx. Rayne? M-my friend Lara sent me to talk to you about my son’s asthma?”

“Yes, that’s me, love,” Rayne answered and held out their hand to shake, their handsome face illuminated with a warm smile. “Would you like some tea while we talk? I have a nice chamomile and a fresh batch of elderberry honey to sweeten it, too. You look like you could use a good cuppa and a nice swing on the porch, love,” Rayne added, linking their arm with Maggie’s and leading them inside the cottage.

Maggie followed along, enchanted by but still unsure of the “village witch” she had heard the other moms talk so much about. Once inside Rayne’s cottage, Maggie couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her as she took in the interior of the cottage.

The curved purple front door (that reminded her of a cozy hobbit-hole!) opened into an enormous kitchen with a butcher’s block worktop in the middle and an inviting stone cooking hearth that took up the entire left wall of the room. A pot rack filled with copper pots of various sizes hung over the worktop, along with drying bundles of herbs from the garden hanging on either end of it. Wooden cutting boards stained green in places - presumably from cutting herbs and vegetables - and canisters of dried herbs, seeds, and spices were arrayed across most of the counters that Maggie could see. The bright copper tea kettle that Rayne filled and placed on the rack in the hearth looked as though there were etched designs all along the bottom edge and trailing up and around the spout, but Maggie couldn’t quite make out what they were as the hearthfire reflected off the copper and obscured the designs. Looking around again, she noticed that all of the tools - particularly the wooden ones - had similar designs burned, carved, or painted upon them. Finally, her gaze fell upon a canvas basket of yarn much like the one Lara herself had at home, and a pair of wooden crochet hooks, also inscribed with runes and a floral-vine pattern.

“So, tell me about your Eric, lovey,” Rayne said, abruptly bringing Maggie out of her interior design reverie.

“Oh! Um. Well, you see…” Maggie began, slowly spinning the tale of her little boy, his weakened lungs, and how he had such trouble playing sports with his friends and how sick he became in the damp weather of autumn all the way through the early spring.

When the kettle whistled its readiness, Rayne poured the water into their cups and placed them on a tray to carry outside to the porch while Maggie talked about her little boy. For her part, Maggie seemed barely to register that they had moved back outside, and she settled on the swing with her tea next to Rayne without missing a beat of what she was saying. It seemed that now that she had let the floodgates open in regard to how worried she was for her child that nothing would disturb her. Rayne smiled, tutted, and sympathized with the story in all the right places, further putting their guest at ease as they gently rocked on the swing together.

“...and so Lara told me to come see you, and I’m so very sorry that I was afraid at first! Some of the ladies in my book club told me some absurd rumors about what you were and what you do and I’m afraid that I just got so wrapped up in their nonsense… Oh dear; I’m rambling now, aren’t I?” Maggie stammered, quite embarrassed with herself. A pretty pink blush crept up her neck and colored her cheeks, much to her annoyance.

Rayne’s musical laughter rang out and they patted Maggie’s hand gently. “No, no, love. You’re doing just fine. This is a safe place to let out all your troubles! Don’t be embarrassed for your feelings. Everyone gets wrapped up in someone else’s nonsense now and then,” they chuckled, “Tis the nature of humans, I’m afraid.”

Maggie laughed and squeezed Rayne’s hand tenderly for a moment, her shoulders relaxing and a bright smile creeping over her face. “Yes, I’m afraid you’re quite right!” she agreed. She noticed that Rayne had started to crochet at some point during their chat and remembered the yarn Lara had given her.

“Oh, I forgot!” Maggie scrambled in her purse for a moment and pulled out the soft, green yarn, offering it to Rayne with a shy smile. “Lara told me to bring this for you! Please take it, if for nothing else then for letting me vent about my troubles and my son for - goodness! - almost three hours!”

The crochet hooks clacked quietly together as Rayne finished the last few stitches and slipped them into the pocket of their apron. They held up the finished scarf for Maggie to see. A subtle pattern of knots ran down the edges of the scarf, four on one side and five on the other to make what had to be a deliberate total of nine. The blue of the yarn was the precise color of her son’s eyes, Maggie thought. She took the scarf with reverence, caressing the soft wool with a gentle touch as grateful tears formed along her lower lashes.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed softly. “Thank you.”

Rayne beamed at her knowingly and patted her hand again. “It’s my pleasure to help those who need it, love. You give that to little Eric and I’m certain you’ll notice a difference in his asthma within the fortnight.”

Maggie tucked the beautiful gift in her bag and helped Rayne bring in the dishes from their tea before hugging the wonderful person and heading back home. She even promised to come back to visit the next week when the batch of lavender honey would be ready, surprising nobody more than herself!

It didn’t occur to Maggie until she opened her own front door and draped the unique blue scarf around Eric’s neck that she had never told Rayne her son’s name or the color of his eyes.

Maggie found herself taking that realization much more in-stride than she might have just a scant few hours earlier, however. Despite what the ladies in her book club whispered and gossiped about… rather than buying into the old-fashioned, Inquisition-like rumors of witchcraft and sorcery, Maggie found that she was quite looking forward to her next visit with Rayne. A love of gardening, knowledge of herbal medicines, and belief in manifestation by positive intention didn’t hardly seem like something to call the Templars out for and surely not in this enlightened age, Maggie thought matter-of-factly.

She smiled, kissed the top of her son’s head as she walked past, and put a skein of woolen yarn on the shopping list that she kept by the front door.