The Bog Witch's Legacy

I blinked only to see wisps of white cotton candy clouds swirling above me. The sky so lovely and blue it could cure a broken heart. Well, almost anyway. Sitting up I realized I must have fallen asleep after the funeral. Everyone appeared to have already vacated the cemetery, which allowed for some of my dignity to remain in tact. All things considered it was a gorgeous Autumn day. Had I not just laid my favorite relative to rest, it might have been enjoyable. I ran my hands through my mess of curly, tangled auburn hair. Oh, if my Granny Sea could see me now! She'd laugh saying, “Jordan! Child, that head is a mess!” How is it possible just a week ago, we were together, laughing and picking herbs in her garden? This deep ache and sorrow was nothing new. I'd first felt it at age ten when I'd come to live with Granny Sea. My Mother dropped me off there in the heat of summer, promising she'd be back in a few weeks, before driving off to California to “try her hand at acting”. At first she'd sent postcards with sunny beaches, but they became fewer and fewer, until stopping altogether. Granny kindly tried to explain saying, “Some people weren't meant to be Mothers, especially when they's only good at wanderin' and leavin'.” I guess my Mother was a wandering woman, I didn't blame her for that. After all, I was happy to have been raised by Granny. We spoke the same language. The language of nature. We'd spend long days hiking through her woods, foraging for wild mushrooms, or planting seeds and pulling weeds in her enormous garden.

No clue how long I'd been napping, and reminiscing in the old cemetery, I rummaged through the pockets of my leather satchel in search of my cellphone. It was nearly five O'clock, no wonder I was starving. I placed my phone back into my bag but as I did, my hand grazed a foreign object. How curious? I pulled out a small black notebook. Had someone thrown it in without me realizing it? No, surely not. I had never seen this little book before, at least not that I could remember. Turning it over, and examining the soft, worn edges, and the intricate symbol etched on the front cover. How odd?

Hunger urged me to make my way into town. Some folks in town thought I was strange, partly because of my wild mess of hair, and all black wardrobe, but mostly because I lived with “that old bog witch” as most people called Granny. Living on the edge of town referred to as the bog, made the name a little obvious. They say before she lived there nothing would grow, the land was barren and cursed. But when Granny bought the property it came to life. With her gloriously green thumb she managed to cultivate every color, variety, and species of plant. It was practically a wildlife sanctuary. Her yard had no shortage of woodland creatures; hummingbirds, little green ones with emerald sparkling wings, gray squirrels, rabbits, and a big ground hog, fattened on scraps from the garden. It was as if a spell of tranquility had restored the land.

The lights glowing red and green above the Tavern welcomed me. As I entered the dank, dimly lit establishment, the immediate smell of sour whiskey hit me. I grabbed an empty stool at the bar and swiftly Doug came to greet me. “Hiya Jordan! What'll it be tonight? Perhaps I can tempt you with the special?” He gestured to an enormous jar filled with pickled eggs. I suppressed a giggle. Doug was a charming barkeeper, devilishly handsome and marvelously kind. “No...I'll pass, just fish-n-chips and a whiskey, neat.” At first Doug didn't reply, he just stood thoughtfully stroking his tawny beard, “You know you're in my thoughts Jordy,” he said finally. I briefly meet his sparkling green eyes, with flecks of gold, before looking away, “Thank you.” Granny had always been fond of Doug. He was one of the few towns folks who hadn't been afraid of her. On many occasions he'd helped repair a hole in our roof, or leaky faucet. Granny's eyes would brighten when he'd show up. She'd cheekily say, “Lordy, that boy is handsome as the day is long. You know he aint comin' round fixin' things on my account. You better snag him, Jordy!” My cheeks blushed at the thought. Doug set a glass in front of me, and eagerly I took an oblivion seeking slurp of the amber colored liquid. “Hey, I was thinking,” he began, “I'm developing a roll of film that has some really nice photographs I snapped of you and your Gran. I could show you, if you'd like?” My cheeks felt hot and flush, I wasn't sure if it was the whiskey or his kindness that had moved me to blushing. “Sure, that'd be really nice,” I replied with a shy smile, “Great! How about I swing by around noon tomorrow?” “Sounds wonderful!” I said as he turned to walk away, “Wait a sec.” I dug through my bag, revealing the book, “Have you ever seen anything like this? I know your into antique books.” Doug gently took the book and for a moment his fingers brushed mine. I felt a tingle curl down my spine. He examined the book, cover to cover, fingering the engravement, but he seemed especially curious about the leather clasp and lock. “This is a really nice little piece. Where did you find it?” Nervously tucking a loose curl behind my ear, “Would you believe me if I told you it just appeared in my bag? Sounds crazy, right?” He smiled that beautiful smile, saying, “It's doesn't sound crazy at all, it sounds mysterious. Magical even.”

I ate quickly and devoured several drinks, which only slightly numbed the pain of the day, before heading home. On the walk home my phone rang. It was nearly ten O' Clock at night, who could be calling this late?” I hit answer to a number I didn't recognize, “Hi, yes, this is Gabriel Dalton of Dalton Law Offices, I'm looking for Miss Jordan Crow?” “Yes, it's just Jordan, what can I help you with?” “I'm calling in regard to your Grandmother, Miss Sierra Crow. She's left a last will and testament. I'd like to go over it with you. Can you come to the office tomorrow?” My hands felt clammy, and suddenly Granny's death felt so looming and permanent. I could feel the weight of her passing. “Are you still there?” realizing I'd been silent I replied, “Yes, tomorrow. I'll be there.” “Great, I'll send you the address.”

I awoke with a headache. The clock beside my bed told me it was already half past eleven. CRAP! I'd overslept! Doug would be on his way over soon! Hastily, I attempted to make myself presentable. My eyes still puffy from crying, I dabbed on a little red lipstick and tugged a black chiffon dress over my head, as I heard Doug's truck pulling up. He was painfully punctual. I answered the door and he raised his eyebrows, “Wow, you look incredible! What's the occasion?” feeling my face flushing again, “Uh, I have to meet with an attorney about Granny's will today. Help yourself to some tea, it's on the stove.” Scrolling through my phone I found the message from the attorney. The office was in a nearby town and I was due in an hour! Doug was heaping entirely too much honey into a dainty tea cup, which by comparison made his hands look comically huge. “The office is about 40 miles away in Middleton...” I began, but before I could finish, he said, “Well, that's entirely too far to walk, especially in your nice dress. Why don't I give you a lift?” Ever the gentleman. “Really? Sure you don't mind?” And with that we loaded up in his rusty red truck, which was a little rough around the edges but reliable, not unlike himself. The ride was enjoyable, Doug sang every single song that came on the radio; the sound of his voice calming.

I walked in, taking a look at the office, which appeared to be frozen in the nineteen-eighties with stripped, green and maroon wallpaper, and old dusty fake ferns. A woman at the front desk with frizzled fried blond hair led me to the back. Mr. Dalton was sharply dressed, and when he offered his hand I shook it. “Thank you for coming in on such short notice. Awful sorry about your Granny but I do have good news...” Good news? How could losing my Beloved Granny be considered good news? He continued, “In her last will and Testament Sierra Crow, left you, as the sole proprietor of her land, home, and the contents of her banking account.” The rage was seething, I practically shouted, “Bank account?! Granny didn't believe in money and hated banks, she paid everything with cash from odd jobs, reading tarot cards, selling her herbal remedies and tinctures. There must be some mistake.” Despite my outburst he continued, “No mistake Jordan, your Grandmother left you, her only listed heir, all her possession and the contents of her account which comes out to twenty-thousand dollars. It's all here, and now I need you to sign, here and here.” Hastily he handed me a pen, gesturing to the “X”. Dazed, I scribbled my signature. He shook my hand again, telling me he'd be in touch when the account was settled and the check for twenty-thousand was mailed. I turned to leave, desperately wanting to exit his office as quickly as possible, “One more thing! Your Granny wanted me to tell you to be sure to read the black book she left you!” My feet felt clumsy as I ran from the office. I must have looked drunk. Doug got out and opened the passenger side door of his truck for me. Ever the Gentleman. The drive was quiet, he sang softly and I appreciated him not pressing me for details. As we pulled into my driveway we starred at one another for a long time; I found comfort in his green mossy colored eyes. Feeling a little lost and yet hopeful, I blurted out, “MY GRANNY LEFT ME TWENTY-THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!” and I kissed him! I was nervous and awkward, but he didn't pull away, softly he touched my cheek. I ran towards the house, looking back at him still smiling and waved.

Sitting at the kitchen table staring at the mysterious book, it occurred to me to look for the key. Feverishly I searched, emptying every drawer, rummaging through old jewelry boxes...still nothing. The book was tiny, so the key must be tiny. It was four o'clock and the sun still shone through the kitchen window. Exhausted from searching I resigned and poured myself a drink, tipping the bottle, when suddenly something shinny caught my eye. There, in the whiskey bottle, was a tiny thumb nail sized key. I fell into a fit of hysterical laughter, realizing Granny's final joke from beyond the grave. I could hear her saying, “You won't find the answer in the bottom of that bottle!” Managing to fish out the key, I clumsily unlocked the book! In it was written a date from twelve-years ago, and an inscription that read, “My Life began again, when I came to have you.” My eyes welled with tears; in that moment I felt so loved. The rest of the night was spent drinking whiskey and reading her scrawled handwriting, finding myself lost in waves of laughter and bittersweet tears. The book was filled with recipes, poems, quotes she liked, but it also contained all of her knowledge of herbs, noting which could heal. In essence this little black note book was her legacy, her knowledge, her spirit, and she left it to me. That was worth more than twenty-thousand dollars.