13. Cookies and Courtship

13

COOKIES AND COURTSHIP

The note was delivered by a different kid this time, a boy who looked younger than the one who’d brought the previous message from Seth. I had a feeling this child was a McAllister, since he was much better dressed, looking more like he’d come to Ruth and Timothy’s house straight from Sunday school rather than the mine…even though I doubted any McAllister child would have attended such an overtly Christian institution.

“A note for you, Miss Rowe,” the boy said. He had a mop of sandy blond hair and mischievous green eyes, and looked extremely amused by his errand. “Cousin Seth told me to wait so I could bring back your answer.”

Oh, really? My mouth curved in amusement as well, and I replied, “Of course. Give me a minute to look at this.”

The boy nodded, and I unfolded the piece of paper and scanned the several lines it contained.

Dear Miss Rowe,

The weather is so fine that I was hoping you might like to have a picnic lunch up on Mingus Mountain today. If that sounds agreeable, just tell Alan, and he’ll bring word back to me. Then I will pick you up at 12:30.

S

He was cutting things a little close, since it was already eleven o’clock in the morning. Luckily, even though the McAllisters certainly didn’t celebrate the Sabbath the way their civilian neighbors did, it seemed they were also inclined to take Sundays off from any heavy labor. That was why, after I helped Ruth with the breakfast dishes, she told me I had the rest of the day free.

Not that I had any real plans. Almost all the stores along Main Street were closed on Sunday, which meant I couldn’t do any real shopping, and while I supposed I could have taken a book out to the garden and read for a while under the shade of the big maple tree there, a picnic lunch with Seth sounded like a much better use of my time.

“You can tell Seth that a picnic would be wonderful,” I said to Alan, who’d been watching me the whole time, still with that glint in his eye that made me wonder if he had some mischief planned for his walk home, like stealing apples from someone’s tree or skipping a few rocks at the white-winged doves that seemed to congregate along the main drag, Jerome’s equivalent of a pigeon population. “And that I’ll see him at twelve-thirty.”

The boy gave me a salute, grinning the whole time. “Will do, miss.”

He hurried down the porch steps and practically ran the length of Paradise Lane, making me wonder if Seth had promised to pay him extra if he carried out his errand within a certain amount of time. Well, if he was waiting to get this picnic together until he heard from me, I could see why Seth might treasure even an extra five minutes.

I went back inside the house, where Ruth had just emerged from the front parlor, a feather duster in her hand.

So much for not doing any household chores on Sundays.

“Who was that?”

“A boy named Alan,” I said. “Seth had him bring me a note. We’re going on a picnic — I assume that’s all right?”

“It sounds like a lovely way to spend a Sunday afternoon,” Ruth replied, allaying any fears that I might have jumped the gun by replying yes to Seth’s invitation. “When is he coming to get you?”

“Twelve-thirty,” I said, and she practically beamed.

“That gives me enough time to bake some cookies for your picnic. Would you like chocolate, or some macaroons?”

Since I wasn’t a huge fan of coconut, I told her chocolate cookies sounded wonderful, and she hurried off to the kitchen, obviously thrilled that I’d given her some purpose on what would otherwise have been a quiet Sunday morning. I almost followed so I could ask her if she wanted any help, but I got the impression this was something she wanted to do for Seth and me.

That was why I headed up to my room instead and changed out of the floaty muslin frock I’d been wearing and into a more practical skirt and blouse, along with the flat shoes Molly McAllister had provided for me a few days earlier. Maybe it wasn’t quite as elegant an outfit, but I knew it would be much better suited to climbing over rough ground or sitting on a blanket, or whatever else Seth might have planned. While in my own time there was a picnic area with tables near the top of the pass that led through the mountains, I had no idea if it even existed in 1926.

Better to be safe.

Soon enough, the warm, rich aroma of baking cookies drifted up the stairs. I headed down to find Ruth pulling them out of the oven and setting them on racks to cool.

“That’s a lot of cookies for two people,” I said with a smile, and she shrugged.

“Oh, I’ll send a dozen with you and Seth,” she responded. “The rest I’ll keep here for Timothy — he does love a good chocolate cookie, even though he knows he shouldn’t eat too many of them.”

Probably not. Timothy stood out among the McAllisters because they generally tended to be slender, like most witches and warlocks. I had no idea why that was, although a few people had postulated that something about our witchy powers sped up our metabolisms, as though using our talents required an extra store of energy.

“Well,” I said, “I’m pretty sure I can help you with those, assuming Seth and I eat all the ones you’re sending with us.”

“I have a feeling you will,” she replied, blue eyes twinkling. “That boy can definitely eat.”

Maybe he could; he didn’t have much left on his plate except the bone when he was done with his steak Friday night, whereas I’d had to stop because I’d known I couldn’t eat another bite. The effects of his appetite didn’t show on his body, though, which was slim and well-muscled.

I probably shouldn’t have been thinking about his body in front of his aunt, not when the memory of how strong his arm had felt was enough to send a not-unpleasant wash of heat through me.

“He does have something of an appetite,” I agreed.

“I’ll go ahead and get these cookies wrapped up,” she told me. “You can wait for Seth in the front parlor, and I’ll bring them to you.”

This sounded like a good plan, so I headed for the room in question and sat down on one of the chairs that faced the front window, giving me an excellent vantage point for watching all the comings and goings on Paradise Lane. Of course, on that sunny Sunday morning, it was mostly quiet, except for a big, shiny black car that I thought belonged to the prima …Mabel…as it cruised by.

Going to Cottonwood for brunch?

Was brunch even a thing in 1926?

The car disappeared from view, and I found myself wondering whether the wan prima -in-waiting was accompanying her mother on this errand, or whether she had stayed home. She didn’t seem like the type to get out much. Did they have some other family member who lived at the house and acted as a governess of sorts? Abigail seemed a little too old for that, but I knew that witch clans tended to be protective of their primas -in-waiting, even before they turned twenty-one…when they became especially vulnerable. It was during that year that they had to find their consorts and marry them so their magic couldn’t be taken and controlled by someone who might wish them ill.

I only knew that because the former primus of the Wilcoxes, Damon, had kidnapped Angela right before her twenty-second birthday in an attempt to bind her to him. The plan had backfired spectacularly on him, but that made me think about how that hadn’t been the first time my clan had made such an underhanded attempt at seizing power. Sometime in the 1940s, the primus of that time, Jasper Wilcox, had tried much the same thing, only he’d been thwarted because the prima -in-waiting in Jerome, Ruby McAllister, had been a strong witch who’d been able to send out a mental call to her clan to save her.

Somehow I doubted that Abigail possessed those sorts of resources.

Seth hadn’t talked about my clan very much, which I supposed made sense. He thought I was a civilian, and would have no reason to give me any warnings about the Wilcox family. Had there been much contact between the two witch clans during this time? I couldn’t remember for sure, since anything that had happened before the 1990s felt like the Dark Ages to me.

Ruth came into the front parlor then and set a brown paper parcel down on the coffee table. “I thought it better not to send a plate, just in case,” she told me. “But I wrapped the cookies in two layers of paper, so they should be plenty secure.”

“Thank you so much for that,” I said. “I know the cookies will make our picnic even better.”

“Oh, you can be sure of that,” she replied. “As I have no idea what Seth might have rustled up for the two of you. I can only hope he went to his mother for help — she’s a very fine cook.”

Although I certainly didn’t want Seth to impinge on his mother too much by expecting her to provide a full picnic lunch, I had to admit my interest was piqued. Maybe our meal would turn out to be a bit more than some quickie sandwiches and a couple of apples.

Seth pulled up to the curb then and got out. Because the weather was so fine, he had his convertible’s top down again, and he wore a pale jacket I thought might be linen over his white shirt and brown trousers.

Just seeing him come up the front walk was enough to make my heart leap. How could he be so handsome, so absolutely wonderful, and still be interested in me? It wasn’t that I hadn’t dated at all in high school or college, but in general, I’d kept to myself, embarrassed and troubled by my unpredictable talent, and I knew my reticence had served to keep a lot of guys at a distance.

Seth wasn’t keeping his distance, that was for sure.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Ruth said, obviously spying her cousin’s progress up the front path as well. “Dinner’s at six, though, so don’t be late.”

“I won’t,” I promised as I got up from the sofa and leaned down to pick up the parcel of cookies. Her words warmed me even more; clearly, she expected me to spend the whole afternoon with Seth, and I was just fine with that.

Way more than fine, actually.

She left the parlor just as he knocked at the door, so I went to answer it.

“Good afternoon,” he said.

I supposed it was afternoon…just barely. “Afternoon,” I replied, and hefted the parcel I was carrying. “Ruth made us some chocolate cookies.”

“Perfect,” he said, taking them from me. “Shall we get going?”

“Absolutely.”

We walked down the stone path to the gate, and then he opened the car door for me so I could get in. I’d been hoping he would have the top down, which was why I once again had my straw cloche hat jammed down over my ears.

Not that I thought we’d be speeding too much. Even modern cars couldn’t go very fast along the switchbacks that cut their way up the face of Mingus Mountain, and I had to believe Seth would be careful, just as he’d been when he drove us to our dinner on Friday night.

He got in the driver’s seat and started up the engine. “How has your day been so far?” he asked as we pulled away from the curb.

“Quiet,” I said. “Yours?”

A smile tugged at a corner of his mouth. “Not as quiet, since I was busy getting our picnic together. But it was a good kind of busy.”

Now I really wondered what he had planned for us. Nothing he’d said to me so far had made me think he was a gifted cook or anything like that, but people did have their way of surprising me.

I supposed I’d find out in a few minutes.

He did seem a little less weighed down by whatever had been bothering him on Friday night, although I had no way of knowing whether that was because the problem had been resolved or whether he was just doing a better job of hiding his worries. Whatever might be going on, it seemed as if he wanted this outing to be a success, so I certainly wasn’t going to ask too many questions.

One of which was resolved as we pulled off the highway into a clearing I recognized well enough. True, I didn’t see the small building that housed the bathrooms in my day, but otherwise, the open area under the tall ponderosa pines was familiar enough. I’d eaten a few picnics of my own here since coming to Jerome, on those days when the weather was just hot enough that I wanted to take a break in a place that reminded me of my hometown of Flagstaff. Up here, the trees and terrain were similar enough, thanks to the nearly thousand feet of elevation we’d gained since looping our way out of the little mining town.

No picnic tables, but Seth got a basket and several heavy blankets out of the car’s trunk and spread them out on a patch of grass that would help to provide some cushioning. After setting down the basket, he reached out a hand.

“Do you need some help?”

I knew I could have lowered myself to the blankets on my own without any trouble, but I still took his hand anyway, happy to feel the strength of his fingers as they wrapped around mine and helped guide me to the ground. Sitting cross-legged in a skirt was out of the question, so I tucked my legs to one side and hoped the position wouldn’t get too uncomfortable after a while.

Seth seated himself as well, and started to pull all sorts of yummy things out of the basket — a plate of fried chicken, some apples, a bowl of luscious-looking potato salad.

“You made all this?” I asked, and he grinned.

“Not the fried chicken,” he said. “That’s my mother’s specialty. But I made the potato salad, even though it’s based on a recipe of hers.”

“Well, it all looks wonderful.”

“Here’s hoping.”

I shook my head to let him know I wasn’t about to take that comment seriously, and then he got out a pair of speckled blue tin plates so we could load them up without having to worry about breaking anything. Had he borrowed the plates from his mother as well?

Possibly, or maybe they were on temporary “loan” from the store. Either way, they were the perfect solution for a picnic, sturdy and much better than paper plates, which I wasn’t sure had even been invented yet. That was one of the crazy things about coming back to this particular decade — I knew a whole lot of modern conveniences had made their appearance in the twentieth century, but because I wasn’t a student of inventions or anything close to it, there was no way in the world I’d ever be able to pinpoint when certain items made their way into the mainstream, whether they were paper plates or aluminum foil or central air conditioning.

Well, A/C definitely wasn’t a thing yet in Jerome, that was for sure. I had the impression that ceiling fans, like the ones Ruth had in her parlors, were still something of a luxury, which might have been why I hadn’t spotted any in Seth’s bungalow. By the time the twenty-first century had rolled around, that same home had been upgraded with air conditioning in addition to built-in fans, but they didn’t seem to be a given the way they might have been in my own time.

He also poured some lemonade for us out of a flask that looked something like a Thermos, but not quite. Whatever it was, it had helped to keep the liquid cold. Although it was much cooler up here, thanks to both the elevation and the shade provided by the ponderosa pines that towered overhead, the nicely chilled lemonade still felt good on my throat, refreshing and tart and slightly sweet.

The fried chicken, although lukewarm by that point, was amazing, crisp and savory on the outside and succulent on the inside.

“This is the best fried chicken I’ve ever had,” I said, which was the simple truth.

Take that, Colonel Sanders.

Seth had just taken a bite of a drumstick, so he needed to finish chewing before he could reply. “Thank you,” he said after a moment. “I’ll let my mother know you liked it.”

“Like” seemed as though it was a pretty lackluster word to describe something so delicious. But I just nodded and had a bite of my own, one I followed up with some of the potato salad.

“And that’s also delicious,” I told him.

“My mother’s recipe,” he reminded me.

“Maybe,” I said, “but you’re the one who made it.”

His shoulders lifted, although it didn’t seem as if he wanted to protest further, since he also had some potato salad before returning to his half-eaten drumstick. We ate in silence for a moment, which was fine.

Actually, better than fine. Just having him seated there on the blanket a foot or so away from me made this moment feel more real, more vivid, than anything I’d ever experienced before. Maybe it was the gentle pine-scented breeze that washed over us, or the way his eyes were nearly the same color as the sapphire skies overhead, but it seemed then almost as if we’d managed to capture ourselves in a little bubble away from the world, away from time, where we could simply be and not have to worry about anything at all.

“More chicken?” he asked after I’d devoured my second drumstick.

The fried chicken was so good that I probably could have had a third piece. However, I reminded myself that we had Ruth’s chocolate cookies for dessert, so it was probably a good idea for me to leave a little room.

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“Then I’ll wrap all this up.”

Deftly, he gathered the oversized napkin that had protected the plate of chicken during the drive up here, then covered the dish once again and returned it to the picnic basket. Afterward, he did much the same thing with the half-eaten bowl of potato salad before bringing out the package of cookies.

“Dessert first, or would you rather walk for a while before we have the cookies?”

“Walk,” I said promptly. Although I wouldn’t have said I was uncomfortably full, it just seemed better to get a little exercise first and walk off some of our meal.

“Done,” Seth said as he got to his feet. “I’ll put the basket back in the trunk, just to be safe. Not too many people come up here, but it’s probably better not to leave the food out while we’re gone.” He paused there, blue eyes taking on an amused glint. “The last thing I want is someone to come along and steal Ruth’s cookies.”

“That would be a tragedy,” I agreed with a grin. Or have them taken by a raccoon or maybe even a bear, although I didn’t know for sure whether bears even roamed the pine forests here. No one had mentioned anything about them during my tenure in Jerome, but maybe that was only because they’d moved on to other areas by the time the twenty-first century rolled around.

Seth reached out a hand to help me to my feet, and I waited near the blankets — which he didn’t seem to be worried about — while he secured the basket in the trunk. Afterward, he came back over to me, saying, “There’s a little path that winds away from the picnic area and into the woods. It loops back around and comes out a hundred feet or so from where it starts, so you can’t really get lost.”

I reflected that getting lost in the woods with Seth didn’t seem like such a bad idea…especially since I guessed he probably knew this land well and we wouldn’t stay lost for very long. In the meantime, though, I’d be just fine with being alone with him out here, in a place where it felt as though the rest of the world was very far away.

“Lead on,” I said.

He offered me his arm, and I took it. As we went, I found myself glad that I’d switched over to my flat shoes; it wasn’t as though we were rock climbing or anything close to it, but still, the path was far from level and had stones and fallen branches strewn here and there, showing that, while someone might come along every once in a while to make sure the trees weren’t openly encroaching on the pathway, neither were they expending too much effort to go through on a daily or even weekly basis to make sure the way was clear.

And I was okay with that. I liked the wild feel of our surroundings, and with Seth providing a steady arm to lean on, I knew I didn’t have to worry about tripping and doing a face-plant in the middle of the path. Aspens grew here and there among the pines, as well as sycamores and oaks and a few other trees I didn’t recognize, and the soft rustle of their leaves made me think of home, and the way my family always made an effort to go on a hike in the San Francisco Peaks wilderness when the aspens were turning in the fall.

“It’s beautiful,” I said.

Seth’s head tilted up toward the canopy above us, and I caught a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. “I’m glad you like it out here. I used to come up here a lot when I was younger and just wanted a chance to walk among the trees and clear my head.”

That comment made me want to smile as well. I knew he was only twenty-four, so those “younger” days must have been when he was still a schoolboy.

All the same, I understood what he meant. Although I loved my family and we got along well, I’d still had those times when I needed to get away from the noise and chaos that always seemed to come along with being the middle child of three siblings, and up to a place where I could be alone for a while and let myself breathe.

Funny how Seth and I had been born more than a hundred years apart, and yet were so alike.

“It feels as though I used to do something like this, too,” I replied. Although I couldn’t tell him the truth about myself, I thought maybe it would be safe to share how this walk in the trees felt familiar to me as well.

“You’re remembering something?” he asked, a certain eager light showing in his eyes.

I couldn’t ignore the undercurrent of excitement…of hope…in his voice. “I’m not sure ‘remembering’ is the right way to describe it. More like…there’s something here that seems almost familiar. But it’s not something I can consciously recall.”

To my relief, he didn’t appear too disappointed by my reply. “Still, it might mean something is waking up in your mind…that even though your memories are buried, things about your past are beginning to surface.”

“I suppose it’s possible,” I allowed, and we walked a little further. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought we were plunging deeper and deeper into the woods, even though Seth had described this trail as one big loop, and therefore we couldn’t possibly get lost as long as we stuck to the path.

A moment passed, and another. Then he said, “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

His steps slowed to a stop, and I paused as well. Here, the rustle of the wind in the trees was a little louder, and from somewhere off in the distance came the impatient tap-tap-tap of a woodpecker, but otherwise, nothing seemed to move in the forest around us.

“There’s…something happening in my family right now,” he said. “It’s not something I can discuss with anyone who’s not a family member, not really. But because of that, I need to concentrate on being with them for a while. Not long, I hope. Maybe a week at the most. Until then, though….”

The words drifted off, caught by the breeze. Rather than look away, his gaze caught mine, pure azure, worried and somehow…ashamed?

No, that didn’t make any sense.

“Until then…?” I prompted, and he released a breath.

“We won’t be able to see each other.”

I might have been angry, except I could tell he was under a lot of strain. Whatever was going on, he was asking for this separation…a temporary one, from the way he was talking…only because he knew it was the right thing to do.

Was one of his parents sick? As soon as the question crossed my mind, though, I promptly dismissed it. A good healer could take care of any health issues that arose in a clan, whether a broken bone or brain cancer.

Except, as with all witches, skills varied from person to person. After meeting Helen O’Dowd, I had no reason to believe she wasn’t utterly competent, but what if she wasn’t? What if she was fine with handling sprained ankles and childhood fevers, but fell down on the job when it came to the really big stuff?

That worry made me ask, “Is someone ill?”

“No, no,” Seth said hastily. “Nothing like that. It’s just…family business. I can’t say more than that.” He stopped there and took my hands in his. As much as I loved the strength in his fingers, I was almost annoyed with him right then.

Didn’t he know how much his touch affected me? If he was trying to break things off, initiating physical contact didn’t seem like a very good idea right then.

No, I was being too hard on him. Whatever might be going on with the McAllisters, I could tell it was something Seth knew he should go along with, even if he was less than happy about the situation.

“It’s all right,” I said gently. “I know I shouldn’t pry.” I hesitated, wondering if I should leave it alone…or whether I should send a clear signal that I was willing to wait as long as necessary for his family to get things straightened out.

But that wasn’t a very smart stance to take, not when I knew I should be working a lot harder to get back to my own time. Instead, I’d given up after a couple of tries.

Would I have made much more of an attempt if Seth hadn’t been here?

Well, I already knew the answer to that question.

His fingers tightened on mine, just for a second, and then he let go. “It’s not a matter of prying. That was an honest question to ask. But I’m just not able to say anything else, except that I hope this won’t take very long.” A pause before he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” I assured him. If we’d kissed even once, then I might have been more comfortable going on my tiptoes so I could touch my lips to his cheek, just to reinforce the impression that I understood and wouldn’t press him on the matter.

But we hadn’t even hugged, and I found myself constrained by the time he lived in, by my limited understanding of interactions between men and women in this world. Somehow I knew that when we kissed, he would need to be the one to initiate the embrace, not me.

His expression cleared a little. “Thank you for being understanding.”

I offered him a smile that I hoped appeared at least halfway genuine, and we resumed our walk.

When we got back to the picnic area, Seth fetched the chocolate cookies from the trunk — they were a little warm and melty, but not too bad — and we shared one or two. However, I guessed we both could tell the magic had gone out of the afternoon, because afterward we immediately packed up and drove down the mountain.

As always, he walked me to the door, but I knew this time there was no chance of a goodbye kiss…and I knew the bright afternoon sunlight that did nothing to conceal us wasn’t the reason why.

Instead, I stood on the porch and waved as he drove off, then made myself go inside. Delicious aromas wafted through the house, telling me Ruth was cooking up something special for Sunday dinner.

Maybe by the time to sit down and eat rolled around, I’d actually have an appetite.

“I’m back,” I said, sticking my head in the kitchen.

Ruth half-turned away from the stove, where she was stirring some kind of sauce, and offered me a smile. “How was your picnic?”

“It was fine.” I hesitated there, wondering whether I should say anything else.

Then again, I wasn’t going to get any answers if I didn’t ask the questions.

“Seth is going to be busy this week with some family business,” I ventured. “Do you know anything about that?”

Something in Ruth’s expression went blank, almost as though she was doing her best to come up with a response that would provide some kind of answer to my question without giving too much away. “Oh,” she said, sounding a little too blithe, “his cousin Abigail is turning twenty-one tomorrow. That’s an important birthday for us McAllisters, so the whole family is gathering to wish her well.”

Those words made a cold shock run down my spine. On the surface, they sounded innocent enough, but I knew better.

Abigail had looked much younger than that to me, maybe as young as seventeen or eighteen, so her being the prima -in-waiting hadn’t seemed that big a deal. But if she was going to be twenty-one tomorrow, that meant…

…that meant the eligible men in the clan would have to meet with her, share the consort kiss, to see if they were the one.

And of course Seth would be eligible. He was the right age and wasn’t married or engaged. Having a tenuous connection to me certainly wouldn’t be enough to prevent him from doing his duty to the McAllisters.

My stomach churned. The mere thought of him kissing anyone else was bad enough, but the prima -in-waiting?

What if he turned out to be her consort?

“My dear, are you all right?” Ruth asked. She set her wooden spoon down on a ceramic rest near the stove and came closer to me. “You’ve gone terribly pale.”

“I’m — I’m fine,” I managed. Obviously, there was no way in the world I could tell her what was troubling me. Doing so would only let her know I possessed far more information about the McAllister clan — and witches in general — than any civilian possibly could. “I suppose being out in the sun all afternoon has caught up with me.”

Her brows pulled together. “Then I think you should go upstairs and lie down for a while. I’ll come fetch you when it’s time for dinner.”

At another time, I might have told her she didn’t need to go to all that effort. Right then, however, I could only seize the opportunity to be alone with my thoughts.

“Thank you,” I said faintly, then hurried out of the room.

Seth might be the next McAllister consort.

And there wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do about it.