something
you’d only do if you missed someone very much and my mother had always warned
me that when a Greene woman fell in love, it was always hard.
With a sigh, I reign in my runaway
thoughts and turn back to glance around the room. My gaze falls on the two
suitcases standing by the door. I consider unpacking them but decide they can
wait. I rummage in my back-pack for the spare set of clothes I always travel
with, just in case my luggage goes astray, and head for the bathroom.
When I enter the kitchen, Nan is
sitting at the granite kitchen counter, staring out the back window that
overlooks her stone-walled herb garden. She turns at the sound of my footsteps
on the tiled floor, smiles and gestures to a stool on the opposite side of the
counter. In between us, on the counter-top, stands a clear glass vase with a
handful of bluebells. Beside the vase are two plates with two iced chocolate
cupcakes, one of which sports a single, lit candle. Nan has gone to such
thoughtful lengths to welcome me that I am filled with guilt and cannot stop
the tears from pooling in my eyes.
‘I missed your birthday,’ she says as
she pushes a porcelain cup and saucer toward me.
‘I hope you still drink mint tea?’ she
asks. ‘It was always your favorite.’
I don’t have the heart to tell her
that the only tea I’ve had for the past ten years is Rooibos, so I nod and pull
the cup in front of me. The steam rising from my mug smells fresh and fragrant.
I take a tentative sip and decide it’s a decent enough substitute to replace my
staple Rooibos, at least until I’m able to find one of those South African
shops Jenne told me about.
‘Make your wish,’ Nan prompts.
I glance up at her expectant face, then
at the candle-lit cupcake. I close my eyes, think of home, lean forward, and
blow out the candle. When I open my eyes, Nan is holding out a small box to me
and I’m flooded with guilt again.
‘Happy birthday, Bluebell,’ she says.
‘But I already got your cheque, Nan -’
‘I know, but this is a special
birthday.’
The words remind me of the day before
my birthday, when I was sitting in the car with my mother. I push the memory
aside as I take the box from Nan and lift the lid. Inside, is a silver locket.
It looks like a family heirloom that has been passed down reverently through
many generations.
‘It was your mother’s,’ Nan says, ‘and
mine before that, and my mother’s before that.’
I lift the piece carefully from the
box and hold it up to the light. The locket is oval-shaped, but instead of the
photo I expect to see inside it, between the fine, cage-like twirls, I can see
something that looks like dried herbs. I bring the silver to my nose, take a
sniff and give Nan a quizzical look.
‘It’s sage,’ she explains, ‘for
protection.’
When I raise my eyebrows further, she
sighs, takes the locket from me and lowers it gently back into its box. She
reaches across the grey counter top to place her cool hand over mine.
‘I know you have a lot of questions
Bluebell,’ she says, ‘but first, I must see it.’
I know immediately what she is
referring to, so I stand, lift the soft hem of my sweater and shirt and reveal
the grey butterfly marking on my belly.
‘ Tofa ,’
Nan breathes, ‘I never thought I would live to see the prophecy fulfilled.’
She stands and comes round the
counter, to peer closely at the marking. Her expression is intense as she
studies it, her fingers move in the air before me, tracing the curves of the
marking without touching me, then she frowns.
‘Interesting…’ she mumbles.
‘What is it, Nan?’ I ask, but she
appears to be so deep in thought, I don’t think she hears me.
‘A five-fold,’ she says, more to
herself that to me. Her frown deepens and she turns her emerald gaze up to
mine. Something in her expression makes me draw in a quick breath.
‘What does it mean?’
Nan opens her mouth, stops and
considers me for a moment before
you’d only do if you missed someone very much and my mother had always warned
me that when a Greene woman fell in love, it was always hard.
With a sigh, I reign in my runaway
thoughts and turn back to glance around the room. My gaze falls on the two
suitcases standing by the door. I consider unpacking them but decide they can
wait. I rummage in my back-pack for the spare set of clothes I always travel
with, just in case my luggage goes astray, and head for the bathroom.
When I enter the kitchen, Nan is
sitting at the granite kitchen counter, staring out the back window that
overlooks her stone-walled herb garden. She turns at the sound of my footsteps
on the tiled floor, smiles and gestures to a stool on the opposite side of the
counter. In between us, on the counter-top, stands a clear glass vase with a
handful of bluebells. Beside the vase are two plates with two iced chocolate
cupcakes, one of which sports a single, lit candle. Nan has gone to such
thoughtful lengths to welcome me that I am filled with guilt and cannot stop
the tears from pooling in my eyes.
‘I missed your birthday,’ she says as
she pushes a porcelain cup and saucer toward me.
‘I hope you still drink mint tea?’ she
asks. ‘It was always your favorite.’
I don’t have the heart to tell her
that the only tea I’ve had for the past ten years is Rooibos, so I nod and pull
the cup in front of me. The steam rising from my mug smells fresh and fragrant.
I take a tentative sip and decide it’s a decent enough substitute to replace my
staple Rooibos, at least until I’m able to find one of those South African
shops Jenne told me about.
‘Make your wish,’ Nan prompts.
I glance up at her expectant face, then
at the candle-lit cupcake. I close my eyes, think of home, lean forward, and
blow out the candle. When I open my eyes, Nan is holding out a small box to me
and I’m flooded with guilt again.
‘Happy birthday, Bluebell,’ she says.
‘But I already got your cheque, Nan -’
‘I know, but this is a special
birthday.’
The words remind me of the day before
my birthday, when I was sitting in the car with my mother. I push the memory
aside as I take the box from Nan and lift the lid. Inside, is a silver locket.
It looks like a family heirloom that has been passed down reverently through
many generations.
‘It was your mother’s,’ Nan says, ‘and
mine before that, and my mother’s before that.’
I lift the piece carefully from the
box and hold it up to the light. The locket is oval-shaped, but instead of the
photo I expect to see inside it, between the fine, cage-like twirls, I can see
something that looks like dried herbs. I bring the silver to my nose, take a
sniff and give Nan a quizzical look.
‘It’s sage,’ she explains, ‘for
protection.’
When I raise my eyebrows further, she
sighs, takes the locket from me and lowers it gently back into its box. She
reaches across the grey counter top to place her cool hand over mine.
‘I know you have a lot of questions
Bluebell,’ she says, ‘but first, I must see it.’
I know immediately what she is
referring to, so I stand, lift the soft hem of my sweater and shirt and reveal
the grey butterfly marking on my belly.
‘ Tofa ,’
Nan breathes, ‘I never thought I would live to see the prophecy fulfilled.’
She stands and comes round the
counter, to peer closely at the marking. Her expression is intense as she
studies it, her fingers move in the air before me, tracing the curves of the
marking without touching me, then she frowns.
‘Interesting…’ she mumbles.
‘What is it, Nan?’ I ask, but she
appears to be so deep in thought, I don’t think she hears me.
‘A five-fold,’ she says, more to
herself that to me. Her frown deepens and she turns her emerald gaze up to
mine. Something in her expression makes me draw in a quick breath.
‘What does it mean?’
Nan opens her mouth, stops and
considers me for a moment before
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