Chapter 19 Where’s Wallace?

Aphra pushed open the old, weathered door of Sometimes a Great Notion, and Scarlett followed her inside. She still wasn't certain she really knew this person, even though Nate said she did. But if someone—anyone—was inclined to be kind to Scarlett, this was not a moment she was inclined to say no.

Muted light spilled over shelves, casting long shadows that played across the floorboards. Like every shop in downtown Oak Haven, Aphra's place was decorated with a collection of scarecrows—but hers were far better-dressed than most, in velvet dresses with billowing sleeves, floppy hats and an impressive array of silk scarves.

"Why don't you have a seat by the window," Aphra said. "I'll fetch some tea."

Scarlett's footsteps fell softly on the worn wooden floorboards as she wove her way past aisles crammed with baskets overflowing with yarn, from the softest merino to the rustiest tweed. Over there were quilting fabrics in seemingly endless varieties; over here sat every color of thread imaginable. But in the very center of the shop was something curious: a thrown-together collection of basic-looking sacks, boxes, and what appeared to be cages. Both the objects and the display itself looked hastily made—very out of character with the effortless charm and perfection of the rest of the shop. But the sign beside them made sense of the mishmash: "Hand-Woven Magic-Dampeners: Safely Contain All Errant Magic."

Aha, Scarlett thought. I expect there's been a run on those today, what with the grove in the state that it's in. A pang of that same old guilt rose in her chest, but then she thought, Well, at least my fuck-ups are good for business.

She settled in an old chair, made welcoming by a collection of hand-stitched pillows. Looking around the store, she found it impossible to imagine the "hectic day" that Aphra had described at the town meeting—everything seemed so soothing and relaxed. You'd never know that just hours earlier, the store had been awash with wrongly colored yarn, broken-hearted needles, and a very confused sheep.

"That you, babe?" A woman's voice echoed from somewhere deep in the shop. "How'd the meeting go?"

"Yes, I'm home," Aphra responded. "I brought a friend back for tea."

Aphra returned from the back room, carrying a tray with a teapot, two well-loved mugs, a plate of cookies, and a half-pint bottle of whiskey. Accompanying her was a Black woman, her braided hair pulled back in a scarf. She wore sweatpants and a Stanford sweatshirt, yet still managed to look stylish.

"This is Scarlett," Aphra told her. "Scarlett, this is my wife, Dayo."

"You're one of the famous Melroses," Dayo said.

"I am," Scarlett replied. "More like infamous , at this point."

Dayo grinned. "Yeahhh, I was trying to be polite. Well, welcome home? I guess? Do you feel welcome?"

"At this precise moment, I do. But in general? Not so much."

"Have faith, I'm sure things will improve. Okay, I'll let you two catch up." Dayo turned and gave Aphra a kiss. "Don't be too long, babe."

"I won't, I promise," Aphra said.

Dayo went back upstairs, and Aphra settled in a chair opposite Scarlett. "We'll let that tea steep for a minute. Dayo is a bit impatient because tonight is usually the night we watch The Wire . I know, I know, that puts us way behind the times. But things move slowly in Oak Haven, as you probably recall. And we're very concerned about Wallace."

"You should be," Scarlett replied.

"Hey, no spoilers!"

"Sorry. Say, I couldn't help but notice your display of magic dampeners. I take it you don't just knit with yarn around here."

Aphra met her gaze with an amused smile. "With all due respect to yarn, it's one of the least interesting materials I use."

"You know, Aphra . . . I feel like Oak Haven has gotten a lot more interesting since I left."

"We have a speakeasy in town now."

Scarlett gasped, her eyes wide with disbelief. "We DO NOT."

"No word of a lie. Dayo runs it, in fact!"

"Really?! That's fantastic."

"Yeah . . . actually she and Zahir are talking about opening a real place. The speakeasy is really just a shack in the Chatterjees' back garden. But they want to do craft cocktails and pub food, that kind of thing. They're just having trouble finding the right location. But it'll happen. Hey—you stick around long enough, maybe Dayo will hire you."

"Well, all right." Scarlett grinned. "I will take that under advisement. Although, I think my mother would be pretty scandalized by a Melrose girl waiting tables. But my mother is down on pretty much everything."

"Right." Aphra smiled. "Tough old Kelly Melrose. Some things never change."

"Yeah, some don't . . ." She knew she had to ask Aphra how they knew each other. Still, Scarlett wasn't sure how to raise the issue without sounding as self-involved and forgetful as she apparently was. "But speaking of things changing . . . you . . . have changed? I guess?"

"Do you want a hint?" Aphra's eyes twinkled as she seemingly read Scarlett's mind. "I'll give you a hint if you like."

"I'm so embarrassed . . ."

"Don't be, I look a lot different. Your hint is: captain, Oak Haven High rugby team."

"Well, sure . . ." Scarlett's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "I remember the team, but our school didn't have a women's rugby team, so how could you have been . . . oh. Ohh! That was you?"

Aphra threw her head back and laughed. "That was me."

"You do look different! By which I mean fantastic. At the meeting tonight, I was like, who's the knock-out ? ! "

"Aww, shucks. Here, let me offer you some of this nectar." Aphra poured two cups of tea and then picked up the whiskey bottle, holding it in a sort of questioning way. "Yes?"

"Hell, yes."

"Excellent." She added a generous dollop to each teacup. "So, here's the short version. One day, shortly after graduation, I made a significant discovery: I am fundamentally a klutz. I have no natural athletic ability whatsoever. Zero. Turned out, I was subconsciously using magic to make myself into the sports star my parents wanted me to be."

"You were casting spells without realizing it," Scarlett said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I mean . . . does that sound weird?"

Scarlett grinned. "Not only does it not sound weird, but my mother recently informed me I apparently do the same thing. She says that back in San Francisco, I was not living ‘magic-free,' as I told myself I was. But that in fact, I have been subconsciously casting all over the place."

"Whoa." Aphra laughed and lifted a closed fist. "Sisterhood of the Subconscious! Yeah, I was so desperate to fit in? The magic just happened, totally out of my control. Once I figured myself out, started presenting myself to the world the way I truly am on the inside? Suddenly I could cast spells or not cast them, as I wanted. You know, the way magic is supposed to work."

"The way it used to work," Scarlett grumbled, "until I came to town."

"Oh, bosh—we were having magic problems before you got here."

"Aphra, what's all this I hear about Jacksonville? At the meeting tonight. What's-her-name, the time witch, said something about Oak Haven turning into Jacksonville."

"Bah, don't listen to her. She was being mean."

"No, come on," Scarlett urged. "What was she talking about?"

Aphra sighed. "Ahhh, well. Jacksonville, Florida, used to be home to some very very old oak trees. Old enough to support a whole lot of magic. There was a very powerful coven down there. And then the city came along and took out all the trees out to build— Oh, who knows? A shopping mall? Parking lots? Whatever, I have no idea. The point is, magic died out, the Jacksonville coven disappeared, and now that part of north Florida is mainly known for strip malls and traffic jams. But listen, don't let those town-hall biddies make you feel bad. That won't happen here. We'll fix this, don't worry."

Scarlett nodded. "Nate suggested that you might be a good person to ask about these flies?"

" Nate suggested that, did he? And how are Nate and Scarlett doing these days? The inquiring minds of Oak Haven long to know."

"Nothing to tell."

"Mmhm. Well, that sounds like a fib to me. And as far as the insects go . . . The scuttlebutt around town today was it's some sort of dangerous dragonfly?"

"They're shaped like dragonflies, but much smaller. And they glow bright red."

Aphra shuddered. "I don't like the sound of that. Have you looked them up in the Myrmex Arcana ?"

"Was that a double album by King Crimson?"

"Ha, no. It's a reference work about all sorts of magical creepy-crawlies from across time. If there's any known information about those flies, the Myrmex Arcana will have it. I'm sure Polly has a copy over at the bookstore."

"Ohh, goody." Scarlett sighed. "A trip to the bookstore . . ."

Aphra tilted her head, curious. "I thought you and Polly were friends. No?"

"We are, it's just . . . Nothing. Forget it."

Aphra made a face. "Not nothing."

"Yeah it's . . . I mean . . . Argh! Okay. Fine. I'm just gonna ask you. Polly and Nate. Are they a thing or what? He says they aren't, and when he's with me , he sure acts like they aren't. But they looked very thing-like at the town meeting tonight. What do you think?"

"Aha! At last, we have arrived at the root of the matter." Aphra added a bit more whiskey to their teacups. "Well, since you asked what I think, I shall tell you. I think that Polly is a charming woman in the prime of life who was left in the lurch by her blockhead of an ex and forced to raise a troubled teen on her own. I think that Nate is a handsome, capable, and highly eligible bachelor with a good heart and an appropriate level of respect for women. And so, I think it's quite natural that Nate is absolute fucking catnip to Ms. Triple P, and honestly, who can blame her."

Scarlett stared down at her tea-and-whiskey concoction, wishing it were made entirely of whiskey.

"I also think . . ." Aphra leaned across the table to take Scarlett's hand in hers "...that Nate has only ever really loved one person. Then and now. But she left him . Remember that bit? If she came back—and I mean came back to stay—I think that Nate would no longer be able to so much as remember Polly's name."

Scarlett looked up to find Aphra's emerald green eyes staring straight into hers.

"What I'm saying is: it's in your court, my friend."

***

Over a little more tea and whiskey, the old friends reminisced and joked and made the world feel right again. But then came an impatient call from upstairs.

"Babe! I am pushing play on this episode in five minutes! With or without you."

Aphra chuckled. "Duty calls, I'm afraid . . ."

"Perfectly okay." Scarlett stood. "I should go before it gets any later. Maybe Polly will open the bookstore for me, to get a look at that . . . what was it called?"

" Myrmex Arcana ."

"That's the one. You never know: if I go back to the inn with some actionable information? Maybe my sisters will cut me some slack."

"Worth a shot," Aphra smiled. "C'mon, let me walk you out."

"Bye, Dayo—nice to meet you!" Scarlett hollered upstairs. "I'm giving you your wife back now."

"Thank you kindly," came the reply.

Aphra unlocked the door, and the old friends embraced. "It's so good to have you back. I hope you'll consider staying. San Francisco doesn't deserve you."

Scarlett had to laugh. "Right now, Oak Haven wants me to get what I deserve, so we'll have to see. And listen . . . Aphra . . . I just want to say . . ."

"What's up, hon?"

She paused, not sure how to find the words. "I guess I just wanted to say . . . I'm sorry."

Aphra frowned. "Not the magic thing again! We've covered that."

"No, I mean, about when we were growing up. Like . . . you and I used to hang out and . . . . and you must have been struggling. Right? You were dealing with this huge identity issue, and it must have been hard. And I had no clue. I never thought for a second what might have been going on with you."

"Oh, Scarlett. Look, first of all—as far as me being a struggling teenager, show me one who isn't. Right? We all had stuff to deal with. We were just kids—it wasn't your job to figure me out any more than the other way around. And anyway, what were you supposed to say? Hey, have you considered that maybe you are miserable living as a boy, and all that spellcasting is just subconscious overcompensation? Come on! That was my journey to go on. Mine. Okay?"

"Okay." Scarlett impulsively hugged Aphra again.

"Now go, find that book. And be nice to Polly when you see her. She's had a rough time. I mean, talk about struggling teens! Have you tried to have a conversation with her daughter Violet?"

"I have yet to successfully make eye contact with Violet. Much less conversation."

"That's what I'm talking about."

Scarlett left Aphra standing in the doorway, but she only walked a few steps down the sidewalk before turning back. "Hey, Aphra! I thought of something else to apologize for."

Aphra shook her head and laughed. "I'm going to need you to stop saying I'm sorry about every damn thing, Scar."

"No, you'll like this one. You're a good friend, and I'm sorry I've stayed away so long."

"Aha . . ." she said with a warm smile. "Now that apology, I will accept."