Family Secrets

“Granny, child. Call me Granny. Here, won’t you have a seat?”
A light flickered, then held, allowing Talia to get her bearings.
Penelope Bartholomew had huge china blue eyes, a pixie expression, and milk-white, lined-by-time skin. She sat in a comforter-covered rocking chair, and extended a shaky hand toward a Queen Anne style chair opposite her.
Talia smiled. “Thank you, Granny. It’s so very good to meet you.”
Once Talia was seated, Penelope laughed. She seemed disinclined to stop.
Then, as suddenly as she’d started, she fell quiet. “You’re going to marry my grandson.”
“Yes, I’m Talia, Talia Fanetti, Edmund’s--”
“Edmund didn’t tell you about me, did he?” Penelope leaned forward and peered into Talia’s face as if she needed a pair of eyeglasses to see.
Talia curbed her impulse to move further back in her chair. She considered her reply. What Penelope said was true. Edmund hadn’t mentioned her. But how could she tell that to his grandmother?
The rocking chair went back and forth. “Naughty boy. Edmund always was a naughty boy. Not like...”
Talia waited. Not like whom?
Perhaps Penelope forgot what she was going to say for she changed the subject. “She told you about me, though. Didn’t she? Told you I had a few screws loose, eh?”
There could be no doubt as to whom Penelope referred--Celeste, Edmund’s mother. Talia hedged on her answer. “Celeste did mention that your bedroom is right next to mine. This is such a lovely house. And your room is so interesting.”
Truth be told, she couldn’t see much other than Penelope, the tiny lamp, and the shuttered window to her right.
Penelope nodded, a sullen look on her face. “Secrets,” she crooned. “Everyone has secrets. She has a secret. I have a secret.” A crafty expression crept into her eyes. “And so do you!”
“Oh!” Talia didn’t expect that remark. Somehow it perturbed her. She moved to the edge of the seat. “I should get back now, Granny. Edmund is bringing up my--”
“Here.” Penelope thrust something at her.
Without thinking, Talia took the object. It was a book. A brown paper covered book smaller than the length of her open hand.
The title on the front was all but worn away. She couldn’t read the words in this dim light.
“What’s this, Granny?”
“It’s a book,” Penelope snapped, probably thinking Talia was an imbecile.
“I mean, what’s it for, Granny?”
Penelope nodded. For several seconds, she continued to bob her weary head. “Spells and potions. Rituals and ceremonies. It’s my secret. One of my secrets. Use the book as the need strikes you.”
“You mean it’s magic?”
“Perhaps,” Penelope purred. “You go now. You’ll see your true love soon.”
This was a little too crazy even for Talia’s open-minded upbringing. She couldn’t wait to escape.
She stood abruptly. “Thank you, Granny. Will I see you at dinner?”
Edmund’s grandmother closed her eyes. Still rocking, she hummed instead of answering. By the sound of things, she had no intention of replying.
Finding the door took a little doing, but finally, Talia was back from the other side of the looking glass. Phew! Penelope Bartholomew was not only off the charts, but off the planet.
Edmund’s grandmother was a practicing witch.