“We’ll be right back,” Luna says.
“What’s up?” I step onto the front porch, and Luna closes the door, separating us from my friends and coven.
“I want to apologize for leaving so suddenly the other day. It was rude of me, and I owe you not only an apology but an explanation.” She bows her head.
“You don’t owe me anything.” I shove my hands in my pockets and press hard against the lining.
“I disagree, so I’m going to give you one anyway.” She rubs her arms, be it against the chill of the air or the chill of the current state, I couldn’t say. “When that guy ambushed me outside of the girls’ restroom at the café, I got a bit freaked out.” I nod, recalling the man I saw her talking to right before she split. “He’s some sort of work associate of my dad’s, and he can be a creepy dude. I don’t like him and sense he is capable of nasty things.” She shifts her weight. “Anyway, I didn’t want anything to come back on you, either from that guy or my dad… and I was a bit scared for myself, so I left.”
“Are you in danger?” I lean into my question.
“No. I don’t think so.” She heaves and her shoulders drop. “But I honestly don’t know what is going on in my family situation. My dad drinks too much and hangs around sketchy people. I don’t know what’s going on or how dark it is or isn’t.”
I reach out and rub her arm. “We’ll help you figure it out. James’s brother works in the Quarter and knows people. Maybe he’ll be able to help us figure out what’s going on.”
“Really?” Her head lifts, her gaze meeting mine. She blinks.
“Really,” I comfort.
The front door flies open, and Jeanna pops her head out. “What’s going on out here?”
“That’s what I’d like to know.” James peeks over Jeanna’s shoulder.
I turn toward my friends and push them back into the house, motion Luna to follow. “In addition to trying to solve my mom’s problem,” I say and shed my coat, toss it to the sofa. “We need to help Luna figure out what’s going on with her dad.”
“A new mission,” James pipes.
“Cool,” Jeanna adds. “Is it medical?”
Luna shakes her head. “No. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s medical.”
James fills a bowl with chips and places it in the center of the table. Once more, we gather to troubleshoot, using junk food to fuel our minds and discussion.
Luna tells James and Jeanna what she had told me previously, about her parents’ reconciliation, and her move to the area. Her dad’s recent decline into alcoholism, her mother’s distress, and the recent unpleasant visitors her father has been receiving.
James agrees to talk to his brother, again, to see if he knows anything about Luna’s father, Adolfo Flores. And since Luna’s mom, Camila, works in the assisted living medical field, Jeanna agrees to try and get her mom, who is a nurse at the medical center, to reach out to Camila Flores.
It’s a place to start. A place from which hope can shine, no matter how slight the glimmer.
After our coven gathering wraps for the day, Luna walks with me back to my house. The light of day has started to fade, and I’d rather her not take the ferry or travel through the Quarter alone. Mom has yet to get home from work, so we have the place to ourselves and I am saved the embarrassment of explaining any of my mom’s odd moods. After giving Luna the tour of my tight and crowded garden, I heat us a couple of hot chocolates, and I call my brother, beg him to pick Luna up and drive her home. After much ho-humming, and bribery on my part, he agrees.
I slip on my many-pocketed apron, stocked with my favorite herbs and spices, and make her dinner while we wait. To my delight, she doesn’t sit back, idly, and watch me cook. She jumps up and gets involved pulling the meal together.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen an apron with so many pockets,” she says.
“I added the pockets using a whole lot of fabric glue.” I pull a dash of rosemary from one of the pockets and toss it into the sizzling pan.
“Glue? You didn’t sew them on?” She gives my apron a closer appraisal.
“Sewing isn’t so much my thing.” I shimmy the pan, savor the hiss.
“Why did you want so many pockets?” she asks.
“I like having everything close at hand. It makes me feel empowered.” I smile, realizing how silly that must sound to her.
“Spices and herbs make you feel empowered?” Her head torques a tad to the side.
“Not so much the ingredients themselves, but what I am able to do with them,” I say. “I channel my magick through the use of them.”
“Interesting.” Her face scrunches with thought.
“The food is just about done,” I say, in a clear change of subject. “Are there any spices I missed that you’d like to add?”
“Did you use any cayenne pepper?” she asks.
“I did not. Why don’t you grab some off the wall there?” I point to the many herbs and spices crowding my shelves.
She moves to shake the pepper directly from the jar into the pan. I grab her hand, stopping her. Her gaze snaps to me and she stares.
“Not like that,” I say and take the pepper from her care, unscrew the lid. “Let me show you.” I take her hand in mine, cupping it ever slightly, and pour the cayenne pepper into her palm. “Pinch and toss it into the pan, a dash at a time. Easier to control the amount this way.”
Luna looks from our hands to me. “Okay.” Her voice is soft like a whisper. “Like this?” She pinches some of the pepper between her fingers and tosses it into the pan.
“Perfect.” I mix the ingredients with the spatula. “And now it’s finished.” I scoop our completed meal
