“You drank dirt, Rachel. Surely you can drink a flower. Tear them up, then say: In the night I sleep and there shall I glean, he who steals my heart from his image in my dreams.”
Rachel’s wine buzz was definitely wearing off, and she shook her head. “The first one was better. Simple, to the point. This one isn’t even proper English. And besides, I think you’re going overboard.”
“You can’t compare them—they are different spells.”
“I don’t care. The first one will do the trick and I don’t want to drink flowers.”
“Come on, Rachel!”
“No. This is stupid and I am not going to glean anything from my dreams.”
“Yes, you are, because I put a dream spell on you. So do it,” Dagne said, thrusting the flower stem at her.
“Make me,” Rachel shot back, folding her arms across her middle.
“Thanks a lot, Rachel! Thanks a whole helluva lot! This is my first real attempt at beneficial magic and you are screwing everything up. Would it kill you to try a spell? Would it kill you to help me out?”
The drama queen had arrived. “Fine,” Rachel sighed, and snatched the flower and the chalice, and ripped the petals of the alstromeria apart, put them in the water, and picked up the chalice, holding it before her. In a stage voice worthy of a Tony Award, she said dramatically, “In the night I sleep and there shall I dream—”
“Glean! Shall I glean!” Dagne corrected her. “Start over!”
“Bossy much? In the night I sleep and there shall I GLEAN,” she repeated loudly and clearly, “he who steals my heart from his image in my dreams.” She tossed the water and the alstromeria petals down her throat, and slapped down the chalice.
Dagne indicated she had a part of a flower on her lip; Rachel brushed it off and said, “That may have been the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. And that is saying a lot.”
“Have another glass of wine,” Dagne said blithely.
After that, she needed one.
That night, Rachel had an extremely vivid dream of a knight, who rode a purple horse with a pink mane that vaguely resembled a toy pony, and who was very much in love with her.
Chapter Three
The next morning, Rachel awoke with an uncharacteristically enthusiastic mind-set about her new diet and exercise program. She showered, donned the requisite spandex for the gym, and checked her horoscope. People who respect your power are in short supply. You may need to step up . . .
Not exactly the auspicious beginning she was looking for, so she checked the other water signs, Pisces and Scorpio (Focus on accepting your faults; recent financial risks might not get the return you hoped for), and gave up on that idea. She checked her e-mail instead. There were two.
Subject: Grandpa’s Irregularity
From: Lillian Stanton <[email protected]>
To: Rachel Ellen Lear <[email protected]>
Hi Little Angel! This is your grandma. Is it cold in Providence yet it was 90 degrees yesterday and I damn near had a heatstroke working in the garden. Your grandpa hasn’t been regular in two weeks and if something doesn’t unplug that pipe I might kill him. You ain’t never seen him so grumpy but I remember at Blue Cross you told me about some natural something I could give him to help loosen him up. What was the name of it again? Thanks, angel. Luv U. Grandma. P.S. I almost forgot I am sending you this seaweed diet from the Internet because I know how much you like things like seaweed.
Rachel quickly dispatched a response to Grandma that did not invite any discussion about Grandpa’s problem, nor did she correct Grandma’s misinterpretation that a seaweed wrap was edible. The next e-mail was from her oldest sister, Robin.
Subject: Hey
From: <[email protected]>
To: Rach <[email protected]>
Yo, whassup dawg? Ha HAAA. Coming home for Christmas? Hope so. Listen, remember that night out at Blue Cross when we drank the bottle of tequila and you tried to explain the theory behind the universe or something equally boring, and Bec and I were laughing at you? Not to be confused with all the other times we’ve laughed at you, but the tequila night in particular. One thing you said sorta stuck with me—the tantric sex thing, remember? I was just wondering if there’s a website or a video or someplace like that where inquiring minds could go nose around. Some people in Houston might be interested.
Subject: Re: Hey
FROM: <[email protected]>
To: <[email protected]>
Dear God, could there be trouble in PARADISE? Didn’t you say once that you had the best sex life of any woman under the sun? WHAT HAPPENED??? So what, you have a baby and the spark is suddenly gone? As in kaput, snuffed out, drowned? I’ll look around and see if there is a website, but most of what I was TRYING to tell you came from books. I’m amazed anything stuck with you at all after all the tequila you drank. You and Jake should make a date for the library some evening. You may be delighted and titillated by what you find there.
Rachel, who thinks it’s funny you need a little spice in the boudoir.