I wish I could tell you the actual origin of this story. I think it might have been for a prompt challenge about a year ago, but I wasn’t particularly happy with the first draft because it felt a little bit too much like Practical Magic to me. When I expressed my concerns about that, the response I got was, “Well, what’s wrong with Practical Magic?” And having contemplated that for nearly a year now, I decided to forge ahead, and to paraphrase the immortal words of Missy Elliot, I put my thing down, flipped it, and reversed it. Which is a complicated way of saying I changed the point of view and made an actual story out of it. I don’t usually dip my toes into magic and romance, so I’m still not entirely sure how to feel about this, but I hope you enjoy reading it. I’m very happy to present, The Coffee Witch.
~~~
Neveah Halloran always woke up just before her alarm went off. She had gone to bed early the evening prior, knowing that she would have to get up. She pushed herself upright in her bed and flung the covers off, even as her phone began squawking in the most obnoxious way possible. She reached over to her night table and, grabbing it, silenced the alarm. She didn’t bother to turn any lights on. She just held her phone up, its dim light illuminating her bedroom.
She had business to attend to.
Forty-five minutes later, she was outside a windowless storefront staring at an illuminated red door. Why did the new moon have to fall on a weekend this month? It was early Saturday morning and the place was going to be assholes to elbows with drunk people and if there was one thing Neveah did not like, it was drunk people.
The door opened and a group of giggling co-eds staggered out. One of them singing along to the music blaring from inside the bar. Another was shouting about some guy that she made out with and another-
“I like your outfit.” Her hair was red and curly and her eyes a piercing green. Neveah was surprised to feel a lot of power emanating from the girl and she smiled at her. “Thank you.”
“Wha… what’s your name?”
“Neveah,” she replied. “I run the coffee shop uptown.”
“Oh, I love that place.”
“Stop by tomorrow, if you remember and I’ll fix your hangover right up,” Neveah said.
“Awwwww, that’s so nice,” the girl replied. “I will, I-” one of her fellow co-eds bellowed at her to hurry up and she smiled. “Got to go.”
“So do I,” Neveah said returning the smile and caught the lip of the red door to hold it open and stepped into the bar.
Immediately she was assaulted with a bass line that thumped into her very bones and way too many people for her comfort. The song- more of an aural assault than an actual piece of music, seemed to be talking about lip gloss and had provoked a certain amount of gyration amongst the customers. She weaved her way through the crowd as best she could, scanning the bar to see if Morag was behind the bar. Morag saw her and waved from the far end of the bar. Neveah waved back and kept making her way through the crowd.
The vibration of her bones decreased as the song about lip gloss came to an abrupt end to be replaced with Morag’s traditional song to indicate that the bar’s operating hours were coming to an end: John Denver’s immortal hit, ‘Country Roads’.
Now Neveah did roll her eyes. Despite being labeled a ‘saloon’ there was nothing remotely country about this bar, but Morag insisted that at one time, the place had more of a definitively country western vibe and this was her way of acknowledging that. Besides getting a bar full of drunk people to have a sing-along at the end of the night tended to put them in a better mood when you started to shove them out the door.
Reaching Morag, she nodded a greeting. Morag held up a shot glass and passed it over to Neveah. “Dolores is already in the back,” she yelled over the sound of the singing. “Give me twenty minutes and we’ll get this lot cleared out and then we can talk.”
“Talk about what?” Neveah asked. “You called this meeting.”
Morag shook her head. “I didn’t call it, Dolores did.”
“Oh,” Neveah replied. “She’s in the back?”
Morag nodded. Neveah made her way through the crowd until she found the door at the back of the bar that opened to a set of stairs that led up to Morag’s office and what passed for her living quarters, where Dolores was waiting in her usual place on the couch.
“Neveah,” Dolores said in greeting, eyes intensely focused on the scarf she was crocheting.
“Dolores,” Neveah replied, settling into a green recliner that had seen better days but was still extremely comfortable. It was Neveah’s favorite chair whenever the three of them met here and over the years she had tried to figure out what it was about that chair that made it so comfortable, despite looking so raggedy and she hadn’t been able to do so yet. “Morag said you called the meeting.”
“I did,” Dolores replied. “It’s been a while since the three of us met and we have something to discuss.”
Neveah arched an eyebrow. “Uh-oh, are we in trouble?” She tried to keep her tone light and teasing as Dolores could be prickly sometimes. But Dolores merely shook her head. “No, not trouble, per se. But it’ll keep until Morag gets here.”
“All right,” Neveah said. “Who’s the scarf for?”
“You, I think,” Dolores replied with a grin. “I’ve got another one already done in my bag, I’ll have to get it out and see which one fits you best.”
“What about Morag?”
“She’ll get the other one.”
The two of them lapsed into silence and Neveah settled into the chair, shifting herself from side to side now and again to see if she could get to the bottom of the mystery of the green recliner. Dolores kept crocheting away, adding row after row to the scarf until the noise from below had faded to a low buzz and they heard footsteps on the stairs and then Morag emerged and flung herself into the other recliner.
“Phew, what a shift.”
“You all closed up?” Neveah asked.
Morag shrugged. “I got the crowd out. My bartenders can handle the rest.”
“Good,” Dolores said. She finished the row she was working on and then put her yarn to one side. “If we are all here, let’s begin.”
Neveah straightened in her chair and Morag pulled herself upright on the couch, reaching out to take each other's hands and together, they spoke the words they always spoke before the three of them met:
“Gather ‘round, witches of libations divine, by grape, by grain, by bean, let our powers entwine. With each sip, our magic flows, in every bottle, pot, and cup it grows.”
“Dolores, you said we had something to discuss?” Neveah asked.
“We do,” Dolores said, putting her yarn ball and scarf back into her usual oversized bag. “Morag, I hope you have proper wine glasses somewhere.”
“Of course,” Morag replied. She heaved herself up from the couch, walked over to her kitchen, and opened a cupboard. “Red or white?”
“Red,” Dolores replied. “And make sure they’re clean, please.”
“Hey!” Morag pouted in injured innocence. “All my glasses are clean!”
“Not always,” Dolores replied as Morag returned with the three glasses. She set them down on the coffee table between them all and Dolores reached into the oversized bag and pulled out a bottle of red wine. She held it for a moment and sighed. “I always wanted to save this bottle for something special, but I guess this will have to do.”
“What bottle is it?” Morag asked, curious.
“The Chateau Rosenborg 1949 Pinot Noir,” Dolores replied. There was a brief flare of light and a faint popping sound as she slid the cork out of the bottle with a twist of her wrist and set it on the table. “I might be inclined to decant it, but instead, I think we’ll have to let it breathe a moment.”
“The Rosenborg?” Neveah asked. “What’s going on?”
“Yeah,” Morag added. “We’ve all seen your collection and that’s got to be the most expensive bottle at the vineyard and your most prized possession.”
“Well,” Dolores took a deep breath. “I won’t beat around the bush about this. I’ve got cancer.”
Neveah and Morag exchanged a glance. “Are you… okay?” Morag hazarded.
“To be blunt,” Dolores replied. “No. It’s advanced too far for them to do anything about it. Oh, they might be able to slow it down some, but I’m an old lady and the last thing I want to do with my final months is to spend them in a hospital getting poked with needles or getting chemotherapy or radiation. No, I’m going.”
“Going where?”
“Naxos,” Dolores replied. “I’ve always wanted to go back to Greece and see the Temple of Dionysus one last time and this seems like the time to do it.”
“How much time do you have?” Morag asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” Dolores replied. “But, if I do kick the bucket there, I’ve got everything set up to have my ashes shipped back. I’ll trust the two of you to make sure they get scattered at the vineyard.”
“Who’s going to manage the vineyard?”
“I’ve closed it for a few months. The staff out there can manage the spring plantings and harvests, but I hope the two of you can handle it for a bit.”
“We’ll help, you know we will, Dolores,” Neveah said, her eyes full. “But… we can’t imagine-”
Dolores smiled and reached over to pat her hand. “Now, now dear. No tears tonight.” She picked up the bottle and poured a measure into each of their glasses. “No, tonight is going to be about happy goodbyes. You can both cry when I’m dead. Tonight is for laughter and wine and life.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Morag replied, wiping a tear away. “To life.”
The other two raised their glasses. “To life!”
~
A month later, Neveah woke in the darkness of her bedroom and wondered what was wrong. It was not the pleasant return to consciousness, where one could pull the blankets closer and return to slumber. No, she was wide awake and she didn’t know why.
She sat up, groping blindly for her phone in its usual position on the nightstand. It had to be three or four by now. Maybe even five. She had developed a habit over the years, of waking approximately fifteen minutes ahead of her alarm. She hoped it was that, but it wasn’t: She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and padded across the room to her window. She pulled the curtains open and moonlight flooded the room, only-
A sharp, profound sense of loss nearly made her knees buckle and unbidden, tears began to fill her eyes. She let them fall, not wanting to admit what she knew to be true. On the nightstand, her phone began to vibrate and she walked back over to it. It was Morag.
“You felt it too?” Neveah asked.
“Yeah,” Morag replied, sadness in her voice. “You know what it means, right?”
“I don’t want to believe it,” Neveah sank to the side of her bed. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“Dolores is gone, Neveah,” Morag’s voice broke. “You saw the moon?”
“Yeah,” Neveah said. “I’m a bad witch for not knowing it was a blood moon, right?”
“It’s not a blood moon, the color is different”
“Is it?” Neveah walked back over to the open window. Morag was right, it wasn’t the same as a blood moon. It was a deeper, richer hue and Neveah smiled through her tears. “It’s a wine moon?”
“Yeah,” Morag replied. “How appropriate.”
“Yes, it’s perfect,” Neveah wiped away the tears. “Couldn’t think of a better way for her to go.”
“Me either,” Morag replied. “Talk tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Neveah said. “Bye, Morag.”
“Bye, Neveah,” and then she ended the call.
Neveah stayed at the window for a long time, staring up at the wine moon, hanging low in the sky before she pulled the curtains closed. She got back into bed, and pulled the covers closer, trying to recapture the comforting warm feeling that spread over her that always heralded the coming of sleep..
The power of three is old indeed, but now they were two. Their powers would be diminished for a while unless they found another. Their magic was at its strongest when there were three of them and if Neveah had learned one thing in her years of being a witch, it was that the magic provided what was needed.
The power of three. Maiden, mother, and crone, that was the unspoken structure behind it. The first two weren’t bad, but who wanted to be a crone these days? Dolores had been the senior member of the coven, but now she was gone. Morag just buried her third husband last year because of cancer. Her last kid was out of the house.
But what about me? She had never married. She had no children. Neither seemed possible right now, though it wasn’t like she was against the idea. It was just… awkward. And that was dating today… a lot of apps, and even more frogs that she’d have to kiss to see if she would land her prince. And assuming she managed that, there was still the biggest, most awkward explanation of all: how to tell your Prince Charming that you are, in fact, a witch.
The power of three. She was getting sleepy now, that comforting warmth creeping over her. Now they were two, so their powers would be weaker. But the magic knows and it always provides. On that thought, Neveah drifted slowly back to sleep.
~
Months passed and Neveah and Morag met every Saturday at Dolores’ vineyard. The staff was as competent as Dolores promised and the harvest looked good for the year. There was nothing to worry about. They didn’t know where to scatter her ashes at first, but when Neveah asked where the weakest vines were, they found their answer. Tucked away in the furthest row from the house, at the far end, they had scattered her ashes and now, it seemed as if they couldn’t have picked a better spot. The weakest vines in the vineyard were now flourishing.
With spring, came the rains. Color bled back into the landscape and Neveah, though she missed Dolores dearly, grew happier. Her grief eased. The coffee shop was busy. Minutes became hours, hours became days, days became weeks, and then, on a Wednesday afternoon:
It was raining. It was not just any rain, it was one of the first real thunderstorms of the season and Neveah had turned down the music in the cafe so she could just sit and listen to it. It was mid-morning. The morning rush had passed and the lunch and afternoon crowd had yet to arrive. She sat in her chair behind the counter. Her back was to the window she had cracked open, her eyes were closed and she was taking deep breaths, just thoroughly enjoying the sound and the smell of the rain outside.
She barely heard the gentle ding of the bell above the door, but she did hear a string of curses that made her open her eyes and stand up.
He was soaking wet, but not… unattractive. Neveah blinked at the thought. What?
“Every time, every damn time… I should have known better than to trust that idiot weatherman and-”
He was well put together. His hair was short and his beard was well-trimmed. He wore a long, blue coat and looked… elegant. And he’s tall too. That’s nice, Nevean idly thought. She shook herself. What was she thinking? He also looked so miserably wet and annoyed that she couldn’t help herself, she laughed and he glanced up, noticing her for the first time. His eyes were grey.
“You get caught in the rain?” Neveah asked.
“Sadly, yes,” he replied. “I don’t know why I trust meteorologists, but I do and it always bites me in the ass, every time.”
“Storms this time of year are always unpredictable,” Neveah said, wrinkling her nose at the rapidly expanding puddle he was making on her floor. “Do you… need a towel?”
“If you have one, I’d love one,” he grimaced. “Otherwise, I’m afraid I will keep dripping all over your floor.”
“Let me see if I’ve got any in the back,” Neveah replied. She ducked into the back room, still feeling slightly distracted by the sight of him. She flipped open the cupboard and frowned, considering that. Why am I so distracted? I mean, he’s just a customer, right? She dealt with customers all the time. “What’s wrong with you?” She whispered to herself. With a sigh, she grabbed the towel and went back to the counter.
“Thank you,” he said, gratefully. “I appreciate this. My name’s Andrew, by the way. Andrew Macintosh.”
“You’re welcome,” Neveah replied, smiling at him. On an impulse, she extended a hand. “I’m Neveah Halloran. This is my coffee shop.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Andrew replied, meaning it. He looked down at his wet hand. “I’d shake your hand, but-”
“I get it, no worries. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure,” Andrew replied, unfolding the towel and throwing it over his face to vigorously dry his hair. After a moment, he slipped the towel around his shoulders. “I’d love one.”
He stomped his feet a few more times to shake the last of the rain off and then stepped forward into the coffee shop, looking around for the first time. Neveah felt a flush of pleasure at his expression of delight at the wall hangings and paintings scattered across the walls. He stepped over to one of her plants and gently reached out and touched a leaf, before turning back to her, his eyes wide. “Is this a coffee plant?”
“Yes, I’m impressed, Mr. Macintosh. Not many people recognize them.”
“Oh, call me Andrew,” he replied with a grin. “You got me a towel, let me drip all over your floor. The least I can do is release you from the ridiculous bonds of formality.”
“All right, Andrew,” Neveah smiled. Her eyes widened slightly as she saw the plant behind him straighten up and lean out towards him. What are they doing? She muttered a quick word under her breath and the plant jerked as if struck. Then it turned to her before subsiding back to its original position.
“You know what?” Andrew suddenly said. “Surprise me.”
Neveah blinked. “What?”
“The… coffee?” Andrew replied, somewhat hesitantly and Neveah smiled. “Oh, yes, I’ve got that… sorry, I got distracted. But, a surprise! I love surprises! I’ve got all kinds of surprises back-” she stopped herself. “You know what? Why don’t I go make that coffee for you.” Neveah nodded toward a booth in the corner. “Go take a seat over there. I’ll bring it over in a couple of minutes.”
Obediently, he walked over to the corner booth, and just before he slipped into it, she muttered a spell, drying his clothes and warming him up a bit. His hair was still a mess, but he looked less like a drowned rat and not bad-looking, almost handsome- she shook herself again. What is wrong with you, girl? Shaking her head, she set to work making Andrew his cup of coffee.
She felt the plants react as she came closer and smiling, she gently brushed her hand across the leaves of the closest one. “Good girl,” she whispered, noting that the coffee cherries were getting close to budding. If the harvest was good enough, she would have beans drying by summer and roasting by fall.
Her stocks were running low, but her eye fell on the jar of excelsa beans. Yes, she smiled to herself, excelsa was perfect. Maybe if he comes back, she could– she shook her head again. This man just stumbled into her shop! He seems nice enough and isn’t bad looking and-
“Shut up, Neveah and make the damn coffee,” she hissed to herself, cutting off her train of thought. As she prepared the beans she felt the plants stir again and watched them as they turned again toward the booth where Andrew was sitting. With Dolores gone her plants had been acting strange of late. She had never seen them react this way to another person though!
Satisfied with the grind, she loaded up the beans into the machine, selected a cup, and prepared the milk while the coffee brewed. Just as she was preparing to add the milk, she heard the bell above the door go again and glanced up. “Hi!”
Her new customer was a college-aged young woman with red, curly hair and piercing green eyes. She looked a little dazed. “Um, yeah… I… can I get a coffee?”
“Sure,” Neveah said. The girl looked familiar somehow as if Neveah had seen her before somewhere. “Let me just wrap up with this order and then I’ll get right to you, okay?”
Working quickly, she added the milk and the foam and passed her hand over the top of the steaming mug to impose a mandala on it then slipped it onto the saucer and carefully carried it around the counter and over to the booth where Andrew was sitting. He glanced up and smiled as she placed the coffee on the table in front of him. He looked down at it. Glanced up at the painting hanging over the booth and then glanced down at the cup again, before looking up at her, his eyes wide with astonishment.
“How did you do that?”
She smiled at him. “Practice, silly.”
“It looks so beautiful, it’s almost a shame to drink it,” Andrew replied, looking down at it for a moment before returning her smile.
“That’s just the decoration. The coffee is the second best part.”
“What’s the first best part?” Andrew asked.
“You’ll find out,” Neveah said. She nodded her head towards the counter. “I’ve got a customer though.”
“I can wait,” Andrew smiled back. “I feel like I’m going to enjoy this coffee.”
Still smiling, Neveah made her way back around the counter. The redhead (I swear I’ve seen this girl before, she thought to herself) wanted a caramel latte and then the customers came crowding in and she was hip-deep into a burst of activity, taking orders, making coffee and just when things slowed down enough for her to think about Andrew again, he was at the dish drop off, holding his cup and saucer.
She smiled as he placed the cup and saucer into the basin. “Well?”
“I’ve uh… I’ve got to get going, unfortunately,” Andrew began. “But…”
“It’s stopped raining,” Neveah said. “You should be safe.”
“That was the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted,” Andrew said in an awed tone of voice. “How did you do that?”
Neveah winked. “Magic.”
~
A week later, Neveah was cleaning a mug when she heard the bell above the door go. Not looking up, still absorbed in her task, she called, “Be with you in a minute!” There was just one tiny spot that she couldn’t quite get off. The scrubber hadn’t worked. The sponge hadn’t worked.
She felt a surge of power from the plants and shot bolt upright. What was that? What are they- she glanced around the shop and then realized with a shock that she hadn’t just felt the power, she heard it as well. Every plant in the place had moved, trying to get her attention. They’ve never done that before. What is wrong with them? A discreet cough interrupted her and she turned to the counter, where she saw-
“Andrew!” Neveah said. She set the mug down and went to greet him. “How nice to see you again!” She stepped back and gave him a frank appraisal with a smile. “I see that it’s not raining today.”
He blushed. “Lucky for me.”
“What can I get you?”
“I, uh would love a latte if you have one of those?”
“I sure do,” Neveah replied. “For here or to go?”
“Unfortunately, I’ll have to take it to go, I’ve got a meeting I need to get to.”
“I can make that work,” Neveah said. She moved down the counter, grabbed a to-go cup placed it under the brewer, and pressed the start button. “What do you do for a living, Andrew?”
He grimaced. “I have the most boring job in the world.”
“You’re going to make me guess?” Neveah grinned.
“No, I wouldn’t do that to you,” Andrew smiled. “I’m an accountant. I was always great with numbers as a kid.”
“Nothing wrong with being an accountant,” Neveah said. Coffee completed, she set the cup to one side and moved on to the milk. She ducked under the counter for a moment to grab the milk out of the fridge. “Do you have a milk preference?”
“Whole,” Andrew replied.
“Ah, a man after my heart,” Neveah said. “You like full-bodied, robust flavor?”
“Doesn’t everybody?”
Now it was Neveah’s turn to blush and she flipped the milk frother on and began steaming the milk. It took a good thirty seconds, but then it was done. She grabbed a spoon to block the jug spout and poured the milk into the coffee until it was almost near the top and then added the foam. She passed her hand over the top of the cup, arranging the foam into the pattern of a flower. Then she grabbed a lid and secured it to the top, slipped a carrying sleeve around the outside, and walked back to where Andrew was waiting.
To her surprise, he was holding a glass bottle of something.
“I had an agenda coming back here,” he began nervously. He held out the bottle to her. “Here.”
Neveah gently took the bottle and held it up to the light. “Um, thank… you?”
“I was fascinated by your coffee plants, but I noticed the leaves on a few of them weren’t as green as I thought they should be,” Andrew began in a rush. “So I spent all week doing the research and came up with that.” He nodded towards the glass bottle. “It’s a special nutrient mix I blend myself. I like to garden in my spare time, and so I just… I don’t know if there’s a problem with your plants, but if there is, this… might help?”
“Thank you,” Neveah said. She set the bottle down on the counter. There were some hidden qualities to the man because he had noticed what she worked very hard to hide: her powers were diminished at the moment, so there were plants that were suffering but…How did he know?
“Have dinner with me,” Andrew blurted out. “I mean, if you want to or if you’re not busy or have other things to do and-”
“I’d love to,” Neveah replied with a smile. “When?”
“Friday?”
“I close the shop at half past six on Fridays,” Neveah replied. “Meet me here?”
“So it’s a” he hesitated on the word, obviously not wanting to press his luck too much further.
“It’s a date,” Neveah smiled.
“Well, good,” Andrew replied. “Looking forward to it.” He picked up his coffee and was halfway to the door before he turned around. “I’m such an idiot. How much do I owe you for the coffee?” He came back to the counter, set his coffee down, and began to reach for his wallet when Neveah reached out and touched his hand. “Andrew,” she said.
“Yes?” Andrew said, staring down at her hand atop his.
“It’s on the house. My treat,” Neveah said.
“No, I have to pay. I couldn’t possibly-”
“If this nutrient mix of yours is half as good as you say it is, that’s payment enough,” Neveah said. “Besides, you’re taking me out for dinner, right? The least I can do is get you a cup of coffee.”
“Oh,” Andrew replied. “Well, thank you. I should probably get to my meeting now.”
“You probably should.” Neveah lifted her hand and he smiled at her as he picked up his coffee and headed for the door. The bell tinkled gently as he stepped out and Neveah sighed happily as she watched him go. “He’s not bad-looking,” she mused to herself. Her eyes turned to the glass bottle he had presented her with. “And he’s a gardener to boot. Let’s see if this works..”
She sprayed nearly all of her affected plants when the mid-morning rush began. Eight o’clock turned into ten o’clock and just when she thought things were starting to slow down, the bell above the door rang.
“Oh, it’s you again,” Neveah said. The redhead who had been in the week before was standing just inside the door.
“I’m having a really weird week,” the redhead replied. “I… I don’t even like coffee. I keep finding myself back here all the time.”
“What’s your name?” Neveah asked. Suddenly, she remembered the night Dolores had told them about her cancer and meeting the redhead outside the bar. She said she liked my outfit. Surely this isn’t the same girl. I wonder, though.
“Delilah,” the redhead replied. “And… I’m not a big drinker, but I keep having these dreams about vines, crawling all over me and…”
“You said you don’t like coffee,” Neveah said. “What about a cup of tea?”
“Oh that sounds amazing,” Delilah replied, her shoulders sagging in relief.
~
It was nearly summer, just over a year later on Beltane Eve and Neveah was nervous. Morag had been telling her to do this for months now, but she just… couldn’t quite bring herself to find the right moment to tell him and now, it was almost too late. “Don’t be stupid, Neveah,” she said to herself, smoothing out her wedding dress. “You can’t have secrets from this man. He’s going to be your husband, after all.” Part of her was terrified though. What if he didn’t take it well? What if called off the wedding? What if-
Neveah set her shoulders, took a deep breath opened the double doors to the reception hall of the vineyard, and stepped through. Andrew was standing at the far end, facing the window, looking down at the rows of grapes stretching away into the distance. She walked down the aisle, drinking in the sight of him. He was such a beautiful man. Kind, gentle, handsome, helpful… she had fallen deeply in love with him and could only hope that he would forgive her for keeping this one, last secret from him.
“Seems like a dream, doesn’t it?”
He jumped slightly at the sound of her voice coming from behind him. “I didn’t hear you there,” he said.
“No worries, my love,” Neveah replied.
“Can I turn around? I know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but– I just–”
“No, don’t turn around,” Neveah replied.
“Are you all right? Is it cold feet? Do you want to call the” A note of panic crept into his voice.
“No, no,” she reassured him. There was a long pause before she spoke again. “It’s just that if we’re going to be married. I have to be completely honest with you about something and it’s… you have a right to know.”
Andrew took a deep breath. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. There’s nothing we can’t fix as long as we do it together.”
“I love you.”
“I love you,” Andrew replied. “Now what is it? You can tell me.”
“I’ll have to show you first,” Neveah replied. “Go sit on the bench closest to the window– facing outward, of course.”
Andrew crossed over to the bench and sat down, one of his legs jiggling nervously. Neveah went over to the side table, grabbed a coffee cup, and placed it under the carafe, flipping the spout downward to release the liquid. She added a dollop of cream, placed the cup on the saucer, and then walked over to the bench turned, facing the opposite way, and sat down on the bench next to him. She placed the cup of coffee between them.
“Should I close my eyes?” Andrew asked.
“No,” Neveah replied. “I need you to watch this. Look down at the cup of coffee.” Neveah took a deep, shuddering breath. “Still watching the cup?”
“Yes?” Andrew made it a question. Neveah passed her hand over the cup, slowly and-
“How did you do that?” Andrew asked. The cup of coffee now featured a beautifully sculpted foam rose.
“It’s… hard to explain,” Neveah said. “But… I’m a witch.”
“A witch?”
“Not like, you know, a bad witch or anything,” Neveah added hurriedly. “I don’t have warts and I don’t ride around on a broom and I love kids, I want to have kids with you and…”
Andrew reached over and took her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “You want to have kids with me?”
“Yes,” Neveah replied. “I know we only kind of talked about it, but I want to and-”
“How many?”
“As many as you want!” Neveah squeezed his hand in return. “But I just… I had to tell you about this. I didn’t want to marry you and have you not know.”
“That… you’re a witch,” Andrew said.
‘Yeah, but…” Neveah sighed. “This is going to seem silly, but my… magic? Powers? Gift? I don’t know what to call it… whatever it is, I can only do it…”
“Do it where?”
“It only works on coffee.”
There was a long moment of silence between them before Andrew finally spoke. “So, you’re telling me that you’re not just any kind of witch, but you’re a coffee witch?”
“Yes.”
Andrew said nothing, but reached over and picked up the cup of coffee. Neveah stared fixedly at the back of the room, waiting, hoping he would say something. She heard him inhale, taking in the smell of the coffee, and then took a sip and set the cup down on the saucer.
“Well,” Andrew said. “I’m not going to lie, that cup of coffee is on another level, but it’s never going to be my favorite.”
“Really?” Neveah tried not to sound too heartbroken.
“Of course not, silly,” he said gently. “That cup of coffee you made me, the first day we met, when I got caught in that rainstorm? That will always be my favorite cup of coffee.”
“I love you,” Neveah said. She sniffed loudly. “But damn it, don’t make me cry! They’ll have to touch up my make-up and-”
Andrew chuckled. “I love you, Neveah Halloran. I love the way your hair falls into your face, no matter how many times you try and tuck it back behind your ear. I love your smile and the way you laugh. I love that you love me. I love that you want to have kids with me and I love that you make the best coffee I’ve ever tasted and I don’t care how you make it.”
“Really?” There was a maelstrom of emotion in her response: relief, happiness, joy, tears, all of it packed into a single, quiet word.
“Really,” Andrew replied. “Will you still marry me?”
“Yes.”
~
It was much later. The reception had reached that point in the night where the music slowed down and the guests were starting to drift away. Andrew was over talking shop with his work buddies and Neveah made her way across the dance floor to where Delilah was sitting, looking somewhat downcast. Morag was approaching from the bar, carrying two wine bottles in each hand and had a third tucked under her arm.
“Hey girl,” Neveah said as she reached the table. “Why the long face?”
“You look beautiful, Neveah!” Delilah said, with a wan smile. “I just…”
“Are we sure?” Morag asked Neveah as she arrived at the table. She placed the wine bottles on the table, facing the labels away from Delilah.
“She’s going to have to find out sometime,” Neveah said. She pulled out a chair and sat down next to Delilah. “Let me guess, you’ve had a really strange year. Something’s been bothering you can’t quite figure out what it is.”
“Sometimes, things just happen to you,” Morag added. “You can quite explain how they happen or why, but they just do.” She ducked over to the next table and grabbed three glasses.
“Yes!” Delilah said. “I just don’t know what’s been going on lately. I have strange dreams. I can’t go to the grocery store anymore– the grapes, I swear I make them grow! I don’t know what’s wrong with me and-” Neveah placed a reassuring hand on her arm.
“Don’t worry. We’ll explain it all.”
Morag unscrewed the first wine bottle and poured a measure into the first glass. Then she did the same to the second bottle and bit off a curse as she realized the third had a cork. Neveah rolled her eyes. “Just get on with it, Morag.”
“Fine,” Morag closed her fist over the third bottle and concentrated. There was a pop and the cork was in her hand. She added a third measure to the final glass. “All right, Delilah,” Morag said. “Take a sip.”
“Why?”
“Just trust us,” Neveah said.
With a shrug, Delilah reached out and picked up the glass. She took a sip and said. “That’s a Sangiovese, 2014 I think.”
Neveah and Morag exchanged a glance. “Should we even bother with the other two?” Morag grinned.
“That’s good enough for me,” Neveah said. “Show her.”
Morag slowly turned the bottle and Delilah’s mouth dropped open. “How… how did I know that? How-”
“Welcome, sister,” Neveah said, reaching out to hug Delilah. “It’s a long story, but we’re going to explain it all to you.”
“While we do that,” Morag said with a grin, “Have some more wine.”