12. Natalie

12

NATALIE

M y weekend starts out with me getting startled by a minotaur tween in my storefront.

Again.

I'm just flipping on the lights when I hear a rustling sound coming from behind the counter. Instinctively, I freeze, my heart leaping into my throat. Is it a burglar? Some kind of magical creature that snuck in overnight? My mind races through increasingly dire possibilities before a sheepish Jessa pokes her head out from beneath the register, Thrasher sitting on her shoulder and burping bubbles at me.

“Hi, Natalie,” she says, her voice small. “Sorry if I scared you.”

I let out a breath, pressing a hand to my chest. “Jessa, sweetie, we've talked about this. You need to knock first.”

Jessa has been coming by the shop almost every day since I first discovered her here. Oftentimes, she just sits and watches me work, or plays quietly in the corner with her bubbledragon.

After the three instances of her letting herself in with Myrtle’s spare key, I very gently told her she was welcome anytime … but that she couldn’t just unlock the door anymore.

Really thought that conversation got through to her.

She clambers out from her hiding spot, ducking her head. “I know, I know. It's just...” She trails off, scuffing the toe of her sneaker against the hardwood floor. “Ugh, my dad and I have the second weekend of this family cooking competition today.”

I soften, seeing the distress on her face. “And you don't want to go?” I ask gently, coming around the counter.

Jessa shakes her head vehemently. “No way. So maybe I can just hide here all day and not?”

“What even is this competition?”

Jessa sighs dramatically and plops down on a stool. “It's this big thing the town does every year. Five weekends, five different challenges for families to compete in. Baking, stews, savory things, sweet things. The whole shebang.”

I raise an eyebrow. “To what end? What do you win?”

Shrugging, Jessa says, “Bragging rights?”

This town is so completely weird.

Jessa fidgets with the strings of her hoodie. “Dad and I have done it together for as long as I can remember. It was our thing, you know? But this year...”

“You don't want to do it anymore,” I finish for her.

“It's not that, exactly. I mean, I love cooking with Dad. But almost all the other kids who compete are little. Like, elementary school little. I'll be the only almost-teenager there and it'll be so embarrassing.”

I perch on the edge of the counter beside her, reaching out to stroke Thrasher's iridescent scales. The little bubbledragon coos happily, nuzzling into my palm. “Have you told your dad how you feel?”

“I tried,” Jessa mumbles. "But he just got all excited, talking about what a great bonding experience it is. And then last week, I sat on my phone the whole time and he told me I can’t bring it anymore! It’s so unfair!”

I nod, giving her a sympathetic smile. “I get it. Being the oldest can feel awkward sometimes. But it sounds like this competition means a lot to your dad. And to you too, even if you don't want to admit it right now.”

Jessa huffs, but I can see her resolve starting to crumble. “I guess. But what if everyone thinks I'm a baby for doing it with my dad still?”

“Jessa, let me tell you something. Anyone who judges you for spending quality time with your family isn't worth your energy. You know what's cool? Having a dad who wants to hang out with you and share something he loves. I wish I had been that lucky. Embrace it while you can.”

She looks up at me, still sort of frowning. “Okay. I guess you’re right. I’ll go. I can’t promise I’ll have fun though.”

She’s a tween, through and through.

I hold my hands up. “I’d never make you promise something so horrible.”

Jessa hops off the counter and heads toward the door, Thrasher’s bubbles trailing in her wake.

“And don’t forget to knock next time!” I shout at her back, the door slamming behind her.

My heart softens a bit for Rian… managing a hormonal twelve-year-old on your own seems like a heck of a lot of work.

The next day, the enchanted gardens sparkle with ethereal beauty as I follow Velda into a secluded corner, seemingly designed for the practice of plant magic. Luminescent flowers cast a soft glow, their petals shimmering in hues I’ve never seen in nature before. The air hums with a subtle vibration, the unmistakable tingle of magic permeating every inch of this verdant sanctuary.

“Take a seat, child,” Velda instructs, gesturing to a stone bench nestled between two towering ferns. Her weathered face radiates patience and wisdom as she settles beside me. “To tap into your abilities, you must first quiet your mind and focus inward.”

I nod, trying to push aside the doubts that have taken root since discovering my magical heritage.

Velda places a small potted plant before me, its leaves a vibrant green against the rich, dark soil.

“Picture the warmth of the sun, the nourishment of the earth, flowing through you and into the plant,” she guides, her voice soothing and hypnotic. “Just as in meditation, let go of your thoughts and embrace the energy within.”

Closing my eyes, I attempt to follow her instructions, but my mind rebels, a whirlwind of worries and insecurities. What if I can’t do this? What if I’m too human after growing up away from all this, and now I’ll never learn to control my powers?

The silence stretches, interrupted only by the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant trickle of a fountain.

“I… I can’t,” I admit, my frustration mounting. “It’s not working.”

Velda lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Patience, Natalie. Magic is a part of you, even if you can’t feel it yet. Trust in yourself and let go of the doubt.”

Taking a deep breath, I try again, focusing on the warmth Velda described, imagining it coursing through my veins.

Just as a flicker of something begins to stir inside me, a sensation unlike anything I’ve ever felt, a resounding chime shatters my concentration. The melodic tolling of a bell fills the garden.

Velda chuckles at my expression, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “That, my dear, is the town hall bell. It rings every day at noon, a charming little tradition here in Elderberry Falls.”

I blink, my mind still reeling from the unexpected interruption. Every other day I’ve been here, I must have tuned out the background noise, but of course now, right when I was on the verge of tapping into my powers, it broke through. The irony of finally reaching a meditative state, only to be jolted back to reality by the town’s quirks, is not lost on me.

Suddenly, a wave of panic washes over me as I realize the time.

“Oh no, Mariah’s baby shower! I completely forgot!”

In my flustered state, I feel a surge of energy coursing through me, and before I can regain control, the plant before us begins to grow at an alarming rate. Vines shoot out in every direction, wrapping around the nearby trellises and benches, while leaves unfurl at an impossible speed.

“Natalie, focus!” Velda urges, her voice cutting through my panic. “Breathe, and visualize the plant returning to its original state.”

Closing my eyes, I try to calm my racing heart, picturing the plant shrinking back to its initial size. Slowly, the rustling of leaves subsides, and when I open my eyes, the plant has returned to normal, though a few stray vines still cling to the surrounding structures, unattached to the unassuming little potted plant.

Velda places a reassuring hand on my arm. “Progress takes time, Natalie. Don’t be too hard on yourself. We’ll continue our lessons another day.”

Time . Well, thanks to my forced stay here, that’s one thing I’m not lacking.

With a grateful nod, I gather my things and hurry out of the garden, my mind already on the baby shower ahead.

I arrive at The Hungry Minotaur, slightly late and still frazzled from my magical mishap. A spark of irritation flames up inside of me at the venue choice.

Out of all the places in town, did the baby shower have to be here ?

It’s just my luck, given that my feelings about Rian are more complicated than ever. I haven’t been able to get his words out of my head, his gentle and kind plea that I consider other buyers. That, and his incredible basket of muffins… it certainly went a long way to softening my frustration with him.

Not to mention a certain dream, coupled with a certain extremely smutty minotaur romance novel, which has most definitely added to my confusion.

It was incredible that I was able to look him in the eye the other day.

As I step inside the cafe, I’m greeted by an explosion of pink and blue decorations, transforming the cozy space into a baby shower wonderland. Balloons float near the ceiling, some glowing or twirling in place, while streamers and banners adorn every wall. It’s almost comical how over-the-top it all is.

I can’t hold back a grin; I would expect nothing less than maximalism at any party thrown by my exuberant pop star friend.

“Natalie, you made it!” Ecco exclaims, rushing over to greet me with a warm hug. Her enthusiasm is infectious.

As Ecco returns to her hostess duties, fawning over Mariah, I watch their easy interaction with a pang of envy. Growing up, I never had the luxury of close female friendships. My constant work and the need to conceal my family’s true circumstances always kept me at arm’s length from my peers.

I navigate the room, smiling politely at the other guests, my mind still dwelling on my earlier magical mishap and the daunting task of mastering my newfound abilities.

Making my way through the crowd, I recognize some familiar faces. Gruna, Mariah’s orc sister-in-law; Rowan, the bookseller from Spellbound; an older elf woman who works at Mariah’s inn; the pixie barista from the café; and two older women who are clearly Mariah’s human mother and Thorak’s orc mother.

Gruna spots me and waves me over, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Natalie! Isn’t this just wonderful? I can’t wait to be an aunt!” she gushes, her voice booming over the chatter. “Thorak and Mariah are going to make such amazing parents. And who knows, maybe I’ll be next! I’ve always dreamed of having a big family.”

I nod along, trying to match her enthusiasm, but her words stir up a familiar ache in my chest. No one here knows about this, as it’s something I usually keep to myself, but I can’t have children.

It’s not that I desperately wish I could bear my own child. Even if the option were there, I’m not sure I’d choose to be a mother. It’s just… it would have been nice to have the choice, at least.

I politely excuse myself, claiming a sudden need for a drink, and make a beeline for the mimosa bar.

Sipping my drink, trying to quell the unease that churns in my stomach, a deep voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Everything alright, Natalie?” Rian asks, his brow furrowed with concern. I’m surprised to see him here, the sole male presence in the shower.

But of course, his business is hosting. Of course he’d be here.

I hesitate, weighing the option of brushing off his inquiry with a polite lie. But something in his gentle, understanding gaze compels me to be honest.

“Baby showers aren’t really my scene,” I confess, my voice barely audible over the laughter and chatter that fills the room. “And this one... it’s stirring up some personal issues.”

Rian nods, his expression sympathetic. He doesn’t pry further, seeming to sense my discomfort, but his simple act of concern provides me with a much-needed moment of relief. For a moment, I’m reminded of the words of my mystery pen pal: Sometimes, the most magical thing a person can offer another is a little bit of kindness and a listening ear.

Just as I’m about to thank him, Ecco’s voice cuts through the room, announcing the start of the first game: the diaper game.

I turn to Rian, my eyebrows raised in confusion, but he merely shakes his head, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. “Trust me,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, “you’re better off not knowing.”

I can’t help but chuckle.

Watching the game begin, I keep glancing at Rian out of the corner of my eye—his large, strong arms, lightly covered in golden fur; the laugh lines around his eyes and wide-set mouth; the imposing ivory horns on the top of his head that I would bet are softer than they look, just like him.

A heated shiver runs through me as I have to admit that I am very, very attracted to him.

How inconvenient.

Back in the apartment above Myrtle’s shop, I settle into bed, the enchanted journal resting on my lap. My fingers trace the intricate patterns etched into the leather cover, and I feel a sense of solace wash over me.

It strikes me just how much I’ve looked forward to opening this notebook up. Just how grateful I am for the anonymous, judgment-free haven this journal—and the person on the other side—provides.

I open to a fresh page, the weight of my thoughts already guiding my pen across the paper.

The words flow freely, my vulnerability laid bare on the page as I confess my struggles at the baby shower and my ongoing battle with mastering my magic. I pause, my pen hovering over the page, thinking…

The hysterectomy I underwent in my early twenties due to health issues. I haven’t told many people about it over the years, but something tells me my pen pal will understand.

My hand trembles slightly as I write.

I so rarely disclose this information to anyone that it feels terrifying to even put it down on a page, here in the comfort and solitude of my bedroom. I express my fear of pity, and the perception I’ve encountered before when I’ve shared this information—that I’m somehow defective, or not a real woman anymore.

I end my letter, my heart feeling lighter, as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I can feel tears brimming on the edges of my eyes—but they are tears of relief, not of sorrow.

One tear drop falls, splattering the page, and I wonder if only ink gets transferred to the other side.

I close the journal and set it aside on the pillow next to mine, not expecting an immediate response, but to my surprise, it begins to glow with an incoming message mere moments later.

Biting my lip in anticipation, I open the journal once more, the now-familiar handwriting of my mysterious stranger filling the page.

Thank you for sharing this with me, I understand how important and close to your heart this is.

You are a strong, intelligent woman, Natalie. You care greatly for your friends and family, anyone can see that. They’d be a fool to pity you for overcoming the hand fate has dealt you.

They continue on, offering support and encouragement.

As it happens, I understand maybe more than most. I don’t want any more children, myself. My family doesn’t understand it. It’s unusual for my kind, not having a big brood of kids running around.

Having more kids at this point just doesn’t feel right to me, though. That part of my life was wonderful, but also exhausting. I don’t think I could give my family the full attention it deserves if I suddenly had more little ones underfoot. I also don’t think I could emotionally handle a partner’s pregnancy again, after losing my wife in childbirth.

Try telling that to my father, however…

The final lines in particular pierce into my heart.

When he’s putting on the pressure, I remind myself that it’s not for others to decide what we want most in our lives. Remember, only you get to decide what your own happy ending looks like. Those who love you will only support that choice.

As I trace my fingers over their words, I find myself wondering, not for the first time, who might be on the other end of this magical connection. In my heart, I want to keep this anonymous. If I knew who was on the other end, I’m certain that I wouldn’t be able to open up the way that I do. Right now, I need that non-judgmental, vulnerable connection more than I need to know who’s on the other end.

Still, my mind wanders to who it could be.

And my mind gives the person fur and horns.