even looking. Unfortunately, she wasn’t here at the moment.
The closest I had been able to come in the minute or so I had been looking was in fact bark, but it was cinnamon and not willow. Even though it would have tasted quite a bit better, I desperately needed the salicylic acid, not the flavor. I was dragging my finger slowly across the labeled tops of the myriad of bottles, wondering if I should just give up and take some aspirin, when the phone began ringing once again.
I tried to ignore it, but it wasn’t helping me concentrate, so I threw my hands up in a dismissive gesture and let out a heavy sigh. I took the few steps over to the phone and saw the same message as before blinking on the display of the caller ID. Now I was annoyed.
I snatched the phone up from the wall cradle and stuck it to my ear, then barked, “I don’t want any!”
I was just getting ready to slam the phone back down when I heard my wife’s stern voice issue from the earpiece in a quick stream, “Rowan Linden Gant, don’t you hang up on me again!”
I tucked the handset back up to my ear, “Felicity?”
“You don’t want any of what?” she demanded.
“Sorry, I thought you were a salesperson,” I apologized. “The caller ID is coming up with ‘out of area’ and no number.”
“Ahh,” she replied. I could almost see her nodding at the other end. “I forgot to charge my cell battery, so I’m using someone else’s. It’s an out of state number.”
“Oh, okay, makes sense,” I replied, then sighed and didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. “So what’s up?”
“That’s why I’m calling YOU.”
“Come again?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing that I’m aware of,” I told her.
“Don’t lie to me, Rowan,” she pressed.
I tried to circumvent answering the question by placing the burden back on her. “So what makes you think something is wrong?”
“Give me a break, Rowan. You aren’t the only Witch living under that roof.”
At times I forgot that my wife was prone to psuedo-empathic episodes where I was concerned. Much like I would experience someone else’s pain via an ethereal bond, she would see flashes of my torment within her mind’s eye. Due to the shifting and uncertain nature of the psychic realm, these images would at times be symbolic or incomplete. The first time it had happened to her, she thought that I was dead.
Thankfully, they didn’t happen to her all of the time, and she didn’t have to endure the same physical torture as I. If she did, I don’t think I would have been able to handle it. The fact that she faced mental pain because of me was enough to make me nauseous just by itself.
Realizing that she was going to get it out of me one way or another, I let out a resigned sigh.
“Remember those seizures I had back in January?” I asked.
There was a brief moment of silence at the other end, and then she spoke quietly, “Not again.”
Her comment had been couched as a statement rather than a question, but I answered it anyway, “Afraid so.”
“Why, Rowan?” There was almost a pleading tone in her voice. “Why you? Why does this keep happening to you?”
“I wish I knew, honey,” I said, reaching up with my free hand to rub my temple. “Seems like we both ask that question a lot every time this kind of thing happens.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Headache,” I grunted, then added, “Did a number on my tongue again. Broke my favorite coffee mug. But other than that, okay I guess.”
“I’m only half an hour away,” she informed me. “And we haven’t even set up yet. Let me see if we can re- schedule the shoot, and I’ll be home within an hour.”
“What for?” I returned. “I told you, I’m fine.”
“But, Rowan…”
“Really, Felicity, I’m fine,” I cut her off. “I’m a big boy, and I can take care of myself. I was just making some willow bark tea when you called.”
“You’re sure, then?”
“Absolutely. We can talk about it later,” I assured her. “Besides, they need you there to make pretty pictures for them.”
“I don’t know about pretty,” she replied. “I’m shooting automotive parts today.”
“What, no swimsuit models?” I asked her with a hint of good-natured sarcasm.
“No, but I’m doing a lingerie shoot for the Kathy’s Closet chain next week,” she answered and then added her own query. “You want to help set up and tear down the backdrops and lights?”
“Yeah, right,” I returned with a chuckle to what I thought was a facetious question.
“Actually, I’m serious,” she returned. “It’s going to be an all day shoot, so I could use the help.”
“Yeah, okay, if I don’t have a rush job or something for a client, sure,” I told her. Then I joked, “But are you sure you really want to get me around all those young models?”
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied. “I trust you. Besides, you’ll be working for me and you’ll have to do everything I say.”
“Everything?” I asked.
“Uh-huh,” she purred and then repeated the word with somewhat exaggerated pronunciation. “Ev-er-y- thing.”
“Sounds interesting.”
“And, of course, if you don’t, then I just might have to take some disciplinary action.”
“Again, sounds interesting.”
“You never know,” she answered with an amused giggle. “By the way, they also offered me a nice discount at their stores.”
“No kidding?”
“Uh-huh, so if you do a good job maybe I’ll let you take me shopping after we wrap it up.”
“That could be fun,” I said.
There was a period of silence following my comment and soon there was a palpable sense of seriousness creeping into the void between us. Our momentary lightheartedness disappeared in the wake of the recent verbal distraction.
“You’re certain you don’t want me to come home, then?” Felicity finally asked, the concern edging her voice once again.
“Positive sweetheart,” I told her. “We’ll talk when you get home.”
“Okay. If you’re sure,” she said.
“Go make some sexy pictures of carburetors,” I told her. “Gear heads need pinups too.”
I heard her laugh at the other end of the line, once again breaking through the mantle of seriousness that originally cloaked her.
“And, honey?” I added.
“Yes?”
“Thanks.”
“For what? Inviting you to a lingerie shoot?”
“No,” I returned. “For everything else.”
I could almost feel her smiling when I hung up the phone.
I absently took a sip from the coffee mug and screwed up my face in disgust. Willow bark tea was not the most pleasant drink one could ingest to begin with and being an hour cold didn’t help it at all. I suppose that would teach me to look first and then drink. I glared at the cup as if it were at fault, then set it aside and hooked my finger into the handle of the cup I’d been reaching for to begin with- the fresh cup of coffee I had just put on the corner of
