Page 16 of The Messengers of Magic

Chapter Twelve

A fter telling Carolyn the long, painful story of Jeff’s infidelity, Adelaide slumped back in the chair.

As the words left her lips, they sounded distant, as if she were recounting someone else’s story, not her own.

She stared down at her hands, unsure when they had started trembling.

How had it come to this? How had this become her life in less than seventy-two hours?

Carolyn had been a patient listener, never interrupting with opinions or questions. She simply let Adelaide speak, because sometimes the only way through heartbreak was to name it out loud. To say plainly, that Jeff had truly left her.

“You look exhausted. Why don’t you rest your head while I cook us some dinner,” Carolyn suggested, as she stood up, giving Adelaide a pat on the shoulder before she headed to the kitchen.

Adelaide sank deeper into the overstuffed armchair, letting out a deep breath. She wasn’t sure if talking about it had helped, but there was a lighter feeling in her chest. Not quite relief, but maybe a little more space to breathe.

She looked around the room. It hadn’t changed a bit since she was a child, still dressed in its wild mix of colors and styles.

The blue-striped wallpaper, scattered with tiny roses, gave it a quaint, lived-in charm.

By the fireplace, two armchairs in bold green-and-blue tartan stood like old friends, their sturdy frames grounded by a Persian rug woven with reds and golds.

To the right of the hearth, a couch with a long, rounded back, shaped like a half-open clamshell, rested in rich olive-green velvet.

It looked like it belonged in a castle, not a modest cottage.

On the side table beside the couch sat a vase, but instead of flowers, it held a curious collection of feathers, each one different in size and color, fanning out like the plumage of an exotic bird. It was eclectic, but beautiful, just like Carolyn.

Adelaide smiled, longing to possess even a fraction of her great-aunt’s free-spiritedness.

Life with Jeff had been the opposite, a realm of bland conformity.

Their living room, dining room, and bedroom sets had all been chosen straight from the Argos catalog, the most predictable base models in shades of brown and cream.

He had allowed her to select the wallpaper, but only from a narrow range of pre-approved styles he brought home.

Now, with distance, she saw just how little control she’d truly had.

Jeff had been the ultimate decision-maker on everything, from the color of her hair to the clothes she wore.

How had she not seen it sooner? He’d kept her in a gilded cage, just enough space to stretch her wings, but never enough to truly fly.

Adelaide noticed the absence of a television; instead, a small radio perched on the mantel, and a record player sat on the side table next to the vase of feathers.

Yet, there was no shortage of entertainment.

The wall facing the stairs was dominated by a towering bookcase, packed from floor to ceiling with books.

Carolyn’s life, it seemed, was serene but full, unburdened by the distractions of modern life.

Jeff had always insisted on having the TV on, sports blaring, the news droning, always some kind of noise.

Even when he was at work and she was home alone, the constant hum of the busy road outside their house left no room for quiet.

But here, in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but the soft sounds of the wild, Adelaide felt a calm she hadn’t known in a long time.

Standing, she wandered over to the wall of books as Carolyn continued bustling in the kitchen.

She tipped a few volumes forward, inspecting their covers, her fingers tracing the worn spines.

Like everything in the house, the collection was a vibrant, slightly chaotic mix.

Half a row dedicated to gardening, a handful of history books from around the globe, a section devoted to religious books, and an extensive range of fiction and fantasy.

Tucked among them was a surprisingly large selection of romance novels.

Adelaide smiled. Even Great-Aunt Carolyn had a soft spot for a little romance, it seemed.

It made her wonder why she had never married.

As far as Adelaide remembered, Carolyn had always lived alone.

She glanced over at her now, stirring something fragrant on the stove.

Still striking, and surely even more so in her youth.

There seemed to be no reason why men wouldn’t have sought her company.

Yet, despite the curiosity gnawing at her, Adelaide felt it would be impolite to ask.

“Dinner’s on,” Carolyn announced a few minutes later, setting a large casserole dish down on a hot pad.

Adelaide walked over and took a seat at the small kitchen table. Once painted a deep teal, the table’s surface was now worn down to bare wood in places, its edges softened by countless meals and conversations.

Carolyn scooped a generous serving of bubbling homemade macaroni and cheese onto Adelaide’s plate. “I’ve got just the thing to mend a broken heart,” she said with a warm smile. “This is my go-to comfort food.”

Adelaide smiled back, accepting the plate with appreciation. “It’s my favorite, too.”

Carolyn sat down and reached across the table, resting her hand lightly on Adelaide’s. “I think you should stay here for a little while, at least until things settle. There’s no need to rush back,” she added, giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I really don’t want to impose. I just showed up out of nowhere after all these years. It doesn’t seem fair to you.”

“Nonsense,” Carolyn replied with a smile. “I’d be thrilled to have you here.”

They ate in shared silence for a while, the comfort of the meal and the simple presence of one another filling the space.

Adelaide found herself wondering how long it had been since Carolyn had last shared a meal with someone.

A pang of regret settled in her chest. She should have visited sooner, especially knowing how close Carolyn and her father had been.

But life had gotten away from her, and she’d spent most of it preoccupied with whether she was doing adulthood right.

Still, she was here now, and she would do her best to make up for lost time.

“Well, this old lady is ready for the land of nod,” Carolyn stated, glancing at the clock on the stove that read 7:22.

Adelaide followed her gaze, surprised at how the day had slipped away so quickly. Carolyn got to her feet and started to clear the table. Adelaide followed, washing their two plates at the sink while Carolyn put away the leftovers.

“I’ll make you up a bed on the couch for the night.

There’s an extra blanket in the hallway cupboard if you get cold.

Now, you get some rest, we’ve work to do in the morning,” she said with a mischievous smile.

She walked over to the small cupboard beneath the stairs and pulled out a blanket and pillow, placing them neatly on the sofa.

“Thank you, Carolyn. Good night,” Adelaide called out to her as she disappeared up the stairs.

For a moment, Adelaide wondered why Carolyn had her sleeping on the sofa when she had a guest room. Maybe it was just the surprise of her showing up unannounced, and the room wasn’t clean.

Standing alone in the warm kitchen with a belly full of food, she should have felt tired, but instead, she felt quite the opposite.

The idea of trying to sleep this early seemed futile.

She turned toward the front door, drawn by the hush of the countryside and the coolness of the night, and walked to her car.

The sun had just dipped below the mountains, leaving their edges traced in a rim of deep gold.

A light breeze carried the sweet melody of night birds, along with a symphony of insects.

Out here, the dark was complete, no city glow, just stars beginning to pepper the sky.

Adelaide stood, head tilted, breathing in the stillness.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen the night like this, without the hazy veil of light pollution.

At home, or what used to be her home, the streetlights never slept, always casting a faint glow that made it almost impossible to see the night sky.

After a long breath, she opened the car door. The warm glow of the interior light spilled into the darkness. She reached in, grabbed her bag and the box of hair dye off the front seat.

Just as she was about to close the door, a large moth flew into the car, drawn to the light.

It dove at it again and again, wings tapping the bulb in a frantic motion.

Adelaide watched, heart tightening, as it thudded against the plastic dome.

She’d once read that moths use the moon to navigate, and when they mistake artificial lights for it, they become disoriented, chasing it in dizzying circles, until they eventually burn out.

Was that what she’d done with Jeff? Chased something that looked like love, only to find herself lost in the glow of something false.

Feeling a pang of sympathy for the creature, she reached up and turned off the light.

Darkness folded back in. She waited, watching the moth hover for a moment before it drifted out of the car and into the night.

Then she reached in and gently closed the door.

The moth glided above her as she walked back to the house, its wings brushing the air as it veered toward the kitchen window, chasing a new light.

Adelaide knew then. She had spent too long chasing someone else’s light.

Jeff’s ambitions, Jeff’s desires, Jeff’s vision of who she should be.

No more. The only light she was willing to follow now was her own.

Carolyn seemed content in her solitude, perhaps even happy.

Maybe peace didn’t come from being loved, but from learning to love your own company.

The thought didn’t seem so bad, and the idea no longer felt lonely.

Back inside, she made her way into the bathroom and opened the box of hair dye.

It was time to find herself again, to strip away what wasn’t hers, buried deep beneath layers of who she had become.

She looked down at the box in her hands.

Tonight, she would start by reclaiming a piece of herself, one strand at a time.