On the next day, while I was trying not to ponder Sheila’s upcoming visit, Dr Stevens dropped by (probably to check if there was any more cake and ice cream, which he didn’t get.) However, he said he’d suddenly remembered that he hadn’t told Martha that her grandchildren wouldn’t be coming to Tinkle Town. They’d be staying in Tamehold with their father.
I wished my eyes hadn’t focused on Martha’s reaction when she heard the news. She slid down to a chair, limp with disappointment. Her carriage reminded me of the rubber ball out back that Frey held in his teeth while he tossed it up and down. The ball had once been full of air and rosy red, but was now worn down, flattened, and faded. That was poor Martha. Years without seeing her grandchildren, and then to hear that her daughter had decided not to bring them . . .
It meant that Sheila planned to arrive in town with the full force of a hurricane, or was it a tornado? Whichever one she chose to become, I was pretty sure that she planned some loud noises to accompany her upset. Maybe there’d be thunder and lightning.
Why did I believe that? What other reason would Sheila have to leave the children behind? Martha’s daughter wanted to freely express her outrage. That was obvious to me, and I’m sure Martha must have realized it, too. I wondered if Martha recognized, also, that her daughter might be a closeted witch? Would Sheila know her heritage; could she already be a practitioner?
Old Mother had told me that some witches were dark with evil. They focused their powers on black magic, the kind that produced damage — either to people or to their possessions. Old Mother and I were green witches, seeking only to help people. I would never be a match for someone warped by blackness. And even if Sheila didn’t practice such, not knowing what you were capable of doing when angry, that held its own dangers. When a dark witch was cornered by something she considered bad, even if she had no idea of her potential darkness, watch out!
But I couldn’t say those things to Martha. She was in mourning for the loss of her dream in seeing her grandchildren. I didn’t know why she never traveled to Tamehold or the reason why the mother and daughter seemed split up by something that had happened long ago. That wasn’t my business.
All I could do was give Martha a glass of cold water, take her hand, and tell her how sorry I was. Meanwhile, noticing how upset Martha had become, Dr. Stevens backed away and saw himself out.