“I guess you’ll never know,” she responded, her wedding dress swishing in the October breeze as we walked arm in arm.
In the morning, the kitchen erupted with sounds of teacups tinkering on the tabletops and cat meows. I must have just missed Lunette, I realized, as I paused at the kettle that was just beginning to boil. Pouring hot water into a mug, I fished a teabag from the cabinet when I heard a scream from the backyard. Dropping my mug and jumping over three cats, I raced outside. Lune held a garden hose as it whirled and sprayed a harsh and uncontrollable shower of water.
“This stupid thing!” she complained when she noticed me jogging over.
“Here, let me see.” The water was already soaking my shirt.
“No,” she protested. “I can manage it on my own.”
I put my hands on my hips, taking in her wet hair and soaked dress. “Don’t need help from anyone, huh? Miss Independent over here? Well, your garden might disagree when it’s over-watered and dies.”
With a loud and frustrated groan, Lunette handed me the hose. “You won’t figure it out. This thing is possessed. It has a mind of its own.”
Following the hose to the source, I turned the stuck nozzle and shut off the water. “It just needs some oil and the holes repaired. Stay here, I’ll fix it.”
After rifling around in her tool shed, I found what I needed and returned to Lunette picking sprigs of rosemary. Finally, after pouring oil and mending punctures, I was sure it was fixed.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I’ve been doing everything alone here for so long, sometimes I forget what it means to have help.”
“The grounds and house are immaculate, though. How do you do it all alone?” I picked a strawberry and plopped it in my mouth.
Lunette watched my lips for a fraction of a second too long before replying. “My home is heavily bewitched. It’s why the cats find me, it’s why you found me, too. The dust evaporates, the kitchen sweeps itself, the trash is converted to compost, and the gardens are blessed. I’ve put a lot of work into it. All that magic doesn’t just enchant a place overnight. It took a lot of time.”
“That’s really cool,” I awed. “And you’ve always lived here alone?”
“Yes, always. This was my grandmother’s house before it was mine, and I lived with her as a child. These gardens are her doing. The magic that keeps them alive is partly from her and partly from me. I’m really not a great gardener, but I try to keep them alive in order to serve her memory. I miss her. She died four years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” I offered her a strawberry. “Sounds like she was special, just like you.”
Lunette smiled a half smile and took the berry. “Thank you, and yes, she was. There is a long history of Selene Witches. Sometimes I wonder what I can add to our legacy. You know, aside from a house full of cats.”
I chuckled softly. “I think you add a lot by just being yourself. These berries are quite tasty, too.”
“They are, aren’t they? More witch magic. You see, strawberries are a summer berry. They aren’t in season right now.” She took my hand and led me down, deeper into the garden. “Neither are watermelons or oranges. All are out-of-season fruit. But Granny Selene’s magic has gifted us with berries and fruit all year. No matter the season, they always grow, and no matter the weather, the flowers always bloom.”
I awed at a patch of watermelon and gestured to a ripe one. “Breakfast? May I?”
Lunette laughed. “Sure, go ahead.”
I plucked the watermelon from the ground and balanced it on my shoulder, offering her my other hand. “Come on, sad girl. Let’s eat. That’ll help you be less grumpy.”
A small giggle left her throat. “I’m not grumpy. Okay, maybe a little bit. But I’m wet and actually terrified of the bees that hover all over the flora out here.”
My laugh burst from my chest at that. “The big bad witch is terrified of bees and can’t defeat a garden hose, huh?”
“You shush!” She elbowed my ribs.
“I won’t tell anyone,” I promised. “Your secrets are safe with me.”
Lunette Selene was a beautiful, rare, solitary creature. Alone in this big house with nothing but cats and magic. Much like her garden, she was enchanted to bloom and give no matter thecircumstances surrounding her. But what about Lunette? Who gave to her? Who tended to the white witch?
It was becoming increasingly and uncomfortably apparent that I was eagerly up for that task.
The next week was much of the same. We fed cats out of teacups, visited Hollow’s graveyard at night, and returned to the manor. No more sex, minimal flirting, and nary a single memory jogged in my brain. My life was being a shadow to the white witch, and I can’t say I minded. Watching her play with her cats, tend the garden, and harvest herbs, before chanting her spell at her late fiancé’s grave every night, wasn’t too bad. Except for the last part, I could do without the constant reminders that she was head over heels in love and heartsick over someone else.
One sunny but chilly afternoon, Lunette went to town to fetch more yarn for the cats. She left me with a task of fixing a wobbly guardrail on the stairs. It was an easy fix, and beforelong, I was bored and exploring the grand house. Passing by Mr. Handlebar Mustache, I noticed a door ajar that had always been closed before. Maybe a cat opened it. It was a study that looked as if it didn’t belong in this house: mahogany woods, globes, a wide desk, and bookshelves filled with hundreds of titles. Taking a fountain pen from the desk, I twirled it in my palm, noting the stationery hadn’t been used and everything smelt of leather and wood. A stark contrast to the marble white and delicately posh furnishings of the rest of the house.
Just as I was thumbing through a book, the floor creaked, and I startled. Lunette hovered at the entryway. “I thought I’d locked this room.”
