Tuesday, December 29, 2015

 It is sunny and chilly outside today. Taking Boba out the side door to potty I sense the icy fingers caressing my body through a heavy sweat shirt. The warmth of the house was welcome, but
I need to brace myself and go out once again to get material for writing second semester class schedules. So that is my goal once I post this.

 To be truthful Cabin fever is setting in. I have not been out in the world since Christmas Eve and need to contact with humans  though the fur babies are company. Still ice is not my favorite footing for trips far from home tomorrow. Tomorrow I have some annual tests at the clinic so will go out then if the snow being once again predicted does as it has the past few nights fails to come.

Being home has caused me to get somethings done----freezer and fridge purged, laundry caught up, etc. Oh yes, there are still  chores to get done .  One is writing donation checks and getting them mailed off by Thursday. Not as big this  year due to gutter replacement and less income cutting into them but still feel the need to give what I can.

Not much of import here but I have blogged.

Sunday, December 27, 2015

Fancy a trip to Ireland, Wales,Scotland andEngland. Follow the link. Sign on by 1/11/2016 and you can get monthly payments.
http://www.eftours.com/tour-website/1665525TX?utm_source=link&utm_medium=TourManagement&utm_campaign=sharetrip

Saturday, December 26, 2015

The sky is slate. no, That is not right. Slate is darker. It is pewter but again the color is not right. Pewter has a slight glow to its surface and there is no glow to this sky. It is simply  grey  dim dull grey . That sky along with cold winds are accurate predictors of coming winter weather. Now it is raining which will be ice and/or snow. No need for the scientific weather forecasts when this type of weather sign is so evident.  All they can say is how long and how much but the sky and the wind they tell us  the major changes.

All day I have been thinking of the song A Cold Winter's Night by Sting. It is mid-evil in its tone, and while I can not find it, my mind repeats its tone and the mood of quiet survival it speaks of. Winter is a season ,at least for me, of reflection of days spent inside doing solitary tasks. It is a time of the year I hate due to ice and snow, but one I love for its beauty and the solitude offers.Fall will always be my favorite, but this time of year( the starving moon of the Lakota) is dear to me also.

The dogs are aware of a coming change. Put outside for potty time, there is little playtime as they run out and soon are at the door to come into the warmth. They find warm spots; an old fleece robe or a heat vent will do for them to flop on and to sleep. It is 3:30 now ,but as dark as it usually is at 4:30 or 5.  They are ready to hunker down for the night. Winston paces to the bedroom door and back. Zoe  goes to her kennel and lays alone. Boba finds a spot and waits for me to kennel him. It is too early, but the darkness of the day has them befuddled.

They are content in the warmth of the house and, I think ,in my presence. I ,too, am content the quiet of a grey day and the simple tasks and the lack of rush it grants me. 



Saturday, December 12, 2015

Christmas and His faith

 It is cold windy and it is reminder that it is winter and not the false spring we have been enjoying. It is like forgetting one's age and overdoing an activity and the aches telling the body "hey hold on here." I need go out before the promised  rain comes. Christmas small presents need to be bought. Not much monetary value but reminding people I care is important to me.

Christmas has always been for me a time of family and friends--- a time of good memories and making new memories. It is a time for meditation and reflection on the good things the world we live and of the common humanity of all creeds and races. The word races bothers me if the truth is spoken, Skin color should not classify us. A person's actions define him  not his skin color.

Christmas is a time of faith but not While Christianity has named this period, we need to remember other faiths celebrate holidays of importance at this time of year---Jewish festival of lights, Kwanzaa and others. This year I have been saddened by the  sternest of "Christians"  who forget that Christ was a swarthy middle eastern man who looked like many of a faith now beginning demonized by narrow-minded people. Christ held his arms open to all men and accepted all. This new line of thinking, this idea of  being the chosen  brings images of ovens in prison camps and women made to be slaves to the men in their lives with no rights to property etc. It is a faith of exclusion and judgement: it is not the Fait that Jesus of Nazareth preached. I fear many of our leaders will not pass the eye of the needle test when their time comes.

But enough said this morning before i really get on my soap box as it  is Christmas and  I want it to be Christmas that Christ would be  happy with when he watches us celebrate his holiday.

Peace and live my readers.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Wednesday after the tough day

So yesterday  memories were foremost in my mind while the sun sent warmth to the earth and made the skies bright. Today is colder and the wind is is high. How high? To quote  a favorite weatherman it is a small dog warning day. That was true several years ago when I took my 4 lb. chihuahua for a necessary walk. She often chose to relieve herself by lifting both rear legs. She was in the process when the wind took her , lifted up and set her down a few feet forward. No camera was on hand but the memory vision is still crystal clear.

Today's wind may even be higher than that day's ,and it is sweeping the memories  of yesterday away. My mind is clearer  today---less pointed inward. I look around and see tasks to do. Research reports to grade  both online and hard copies surround me. At least the online ones do not litter my kitchen table desk as I write, and I have some bills to pay and medicine to collect, but they are not must do today items. Of course, there are household chores as they are eternal. But I have made a decision  which is if it happens, it happens as most of my high priority tasks were finished yesterday.

I am sneezing and that is a mild description of the extended fits of sneezing that are hitting me today. A gift of the wind I think, but not as welcome  as the one sweeping away the moodiness of yesterday. I am also tired and that is not usual for me. I shall work through it and I will not dwell on it.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and weeks ago my decision not to travel was made. Even with gas at at a &1.41 (Yes in Hutchinson,Ks) I have not changed my mind. Finding dog sitters, driving hours, and worrying about bad weather helped me decide  to stay at home. The wind today is a precursor of a predicted freezing rain blanket over my travel  route and makes me glad I am here typing and not on the road.'

Several invitations to join families came my way. I accepted the first as that I think was the fairest way as all were welcome and attractive. The warmth of these people is a gentle breeze of love that supports me. Then had none come the large Lutheran Church here makes a community Thanksgiving meal ( free will offering) that all can attend, and they serve hundreds each year. Another blessing for our city.

So have a happy holiday, and I hope the chill wind that blows today brings you blessings.

Tuesday, November 24, 2015

Tuesday before thanksgiving

This not the best day for me. It is not the best day of the year even if it is a good day on the actual day. Twenty-three years ago today I sat in a hospital as my Mother passed to another life. I was never sure if she knew I was there having driven from South Dakota or that my youngest and her husband  had made it there from Indiana. The important thing I was there to hold her hand one last time and that each of my daughters were to say good bye also. Some believe that even if not fully aware  person can hear and feel touch. If this is true, she knew and that thought comforts me.

One that day I became an orphan because my father had passed years early. Never again would I feel the love apparent can give. Love that is there, present always even though the parent knows you are not perfect. No more could I seek the comfort talking out problems with her, laugh with her over old television runs of British comedies such "Are You Being Served?", or just sit quietly coffee in hand soaking in the comfort of being with her. It is such a loss especially to an only child who has no siblings to turn too.  I take comfort in the fact that my girls do have siblings and I hope they know that I love them as my parents loved me.

I wil get through this day. I always do because life is what it is. However, it never comes that I do not recall Cecelia and her wicked sense of humor, her cooking, and most important her love. I still wish I could call her and say did you see that on...?. I cook her recipes and feel her presence helping me to do them correctly though to me the results are never as good as they should be. But that is as it should be. Mom I miss you and I miss Dad.

Saturday, November 21, 2015

holiday musing

  Tis the season-- for gifting, eating, decorating and memories.  For me  personally many of the seasons sights and sounds trigger memories both good and bad. What are those triggers?
 
  First cardinals and I have written about this before. Still it is worth revisiting. My Grandmother James loved these birds, and all the cardinal in the snow posts in social media and on the cards bring her to me. Even now I am drinking coffee from a cup with a cardinal one of may daughters bought me last hear at this time because she she knew what they meant to me. As I write, I can feel Flossie's spirit near me. She is dressed in a flowered house dress and apron, her hair pulled into a bunt the nape of her neck  smiling at me. Her support of me, her letters during my life, her quiet love gave me courage when I needed but it was not until after she passed that I realized how much that meant to me. So often this is when we realize what someone has quietly gifted us with while they lived.

Second  all the recipes that appear on television, in print and in my memory bring my mom to the foe front. Yes she was strong and possessed a wicked sense of humor but for some reason The recipes of the season have her behind me as I cook her recipes. She was a master candy maker--caramels, divinity, pecan log roll, even sugar eggs with dioramas inside. I can remember these but they off my list of possible edibles if I want to keep my A1c numbers low. Her bierocks, her gravy,  but especially her cranberry sauce are possible to put on my table. Though I will never reach the quality of her cooking magic she serves to inspire my efforts and her spirit is with me as I stir and mix.

Third  the smell of Old spice  or anything near that smell  invokes my father. Roy's large presence and comfort means so much to me. I actually believe he sits on the edge of my bed when I have a troubled night to say,"It  will be okay, katie." No, he was not perfect because no one is ,but he was to me. He gave me John  Wayne movies, a skeptic's view of life and in no small way the ethic that makes me face and go through trouble.( Mom did that also.)

Children during this season brings up the joys of Christmas past when my children were little. Their surprise and delight with gifts large and small --even clothes. The time BobAnderson dressed as Santa was knocked down and almost out when he woke Bud up abruptly. The girls were sure Santa would not bring them gifts that year. The year they bought their dad a shooting game, but it never did work. They were so disappointed but Bud made them feel happy that they had tried. Too may others are stored in my mind to put in this post, but they all enrich my life.

Not all the memories this time of year are happy. Mom passed the Tuesday before Thanksgiving in the midst of a snow storm. I  am not sure she knew it, but all her girls(Myself and my daughters)  were there before she left us. Every year this day,  though the date is not the actual one, is emotional to me.This year I do not have to work and do not have to keep the tears held back if they come. I can and will just honor her memory by recalling all that she did for me.

In December three of my grandparents passed.the one I recall the most ( My grandfathers died when I was very young)  was my Grandmother Shubert. She died on the 18th of December while I was in college and unable to go back to her funeral. This little lady(4"10" if she was an inch)  had been  the inspiration of my travels because she had come from Newcastle on the Tyne and I made a vow to go there. I did so not many years later and went on to visit Granddad's german homeland also.

So this season is one of memories and making new ones with descendants. It is the richest season of fellowship , food  and loving. Enjoy!




Monday, November 16, 2015

signs

Driving to my English Comp class this morning, suddenly a solid black cloud arose just ahead of me from the field on the left. A solid balloon of black billowed just barely in my side vision and made me shiver with the awe of it. Within seconds the solid form became small individual smidgens of black as the birds broke the cloud to build their flight formation. While  not an unusual event in this  rural area of Kansas, their number and ebony mass brought to mind the black moments of the weekend. Some would call it ominous-- a dire sign of bad things to come. Thankfully, those things did not enter my mind as I watched them. Instead to me they were the image of a collected group working together towards a goal and of how each individual bird played a role in creating this phenomena.

Returning to Hutchinson  I wondered if I would see it again. The answer was negative. No black balloon  caught my mind. However looking for it , I noticed how the birds were  perched on telephone lines that run  along  the side of the highway. The lines were full; bird after bird clung to the wires which were buffeted by strong winds.  Hitchock's film  The Birds  came to mind, but once again the negative did not claim my thoughts. Instead I found myself impressed by the tenacity of the flock. The wires were narrow and wavered to and fro in the wind but the small jet colored birds clung to the wires, beaks to the wind ,and they were staying there. We need this trait-- this ability  to face the wind which threatens us and hang on.

The world is windy with chaos and  dark with terror ,but we can be brave, We can hang on, work individually and as part of a group. We can carry our beliefs  and be true to them. We can work to erase the darkness, and calm the chaos. But we can not allow hate to dominate or the  chaos will destroy the humanity within us and even if we win the battles , we  will have lost the war.




Sunday, November 15, 2015

hope in the arts

Last night thanks to The Tuckers I was able to see their daughter and my ex -student Kylee dance at the Kansas Dance Festival. Such acts of kindness are a true gift, and I am delighted to watch this young woman study to perfect her passion.

But the gift last night was more than that. It was a chance to sit and watch people do what they love and in dong so put the concerns of the world aside for a few hours. During the evening of dance, I was reminded of how the arts allow us to relax, reflect and rebuild the shattered moments of lives or worlds. I left the darkness in the theater with a new hope in my life. As long as  music, dance, writing,  painting and sculpture exist, man can express his hopes, fears, loves to others in a way does not harm others.

Yesterday's events have spawned thousands of media posts which range from " Let's kill them all" to please understand that this is not the entire Muslim community. Some of them horrify me as they spew hatred with no true knowledge of the events and so often these are  exhibit  not only poor wisdom they exhibit a lack of basic education. But to be honest  they are also written by literate well educated people, this is even scarier. Is hatred the new tenet of the world? I hope and to put it in their words , I pray this is not the new mantra.

War may be coming. The events point that way. Remember however that in every war our nation has been the one that was humane. We fought but we helped the victims as well. We ran prison  camps but we did not starve or torture the inmates. Think of the pictures from the wars with GI's  holding children, feeding people and showing that even when we must fight,  we try to remain human.

Nay sayers will point out the Napalm of Nam and the A bombs of WWII as harming innocents as well as enemies. I can not deny these things but we only won one of those conflicts.  Now there are politicians saying lets bomb them and ignore the civilian casualties, and others who say let's kill all the gays, and still others who say rape is the victim's fault. Extreme positions on all fronts and these are statements that cause people to be come radicals because they fell marginalized.

Hungry people are won often by the hand that feeds them. Hitler came to power in Germany because he gave the people a scapegoat to focus on while he put his personal agenda of hate into power. The leninists helped lead the revolt in Russia because the peasants were hungry for choice in their lives. I fear that now  America  may be ripe for those who want their way to be the only way to use fear  to control reactions.

War is always a possible answer but other wars come from the scars left by the ones that came before. I am praying for a careful consideration of war ,and if it comes, that  those who lead us count the costs in lives  both military and civilian as they make battle plans. Humanity needs to be remembered, and hate must not lead.

So those dancers who gave me respite, to those artists who inspire me, to those writers who express the emotions of mankind and to the music that calms the beast, thank you for the gifts of passion and hope you give to us with every dance, sonata, poem or picture. To you who allow me to live with hope ,Thank you.

Saturday, November 14, 2015

last night and this morning.

Today, I awoke in my bed, in my own house and knowing my family is safe though not with me. What a sense of safety and blessing after watching the terror in Paris and feeling keenly the danger in a city I love to visit. My heart ached for those who have lost family or been injured. Insanity and hatred seem to rule the world, and their biggest weapon is fear.

Already people are saying attack; one of our American politicos has said to not calculate civilian non-combatant loss as importantly as we have in the past. In other words to become like the terrorists and kill the innocent in the hope of catching and stopping the guilty.  There are many who would side with him but becoming like them makes  us so much less than we are as a nation. Yes, we must act but we must do this in an honorable way. Reaction such as he is proposing is not a good thing.

People never cease to amaze me. French  resistance in the the last war is legendary, and last night as they left the soccer game  their fighting spirit came  forward once again. https://youtu.be/j_ohE1P4RCw . This video made  me proud to have studied the language and the history of the French. They moved calmly away from the stadium singing their national anthem. A proud people in a terrible moment showing courage and patriotism.

Hard as it may seem ISIS is not the entire Muslim world. Many here will disagree with that but stop and think we know that not all Germans were NAZIS.  Yes , we must be vigilant, we must be prepared but we must of all things be humans and not judge everyone by the  few who do these violent acts. In other words ,if we are indeed Christians in a Christian nation, we must practice the type of love Christ modeled for us. We can not  say we are Christian and deny the needs of the poor, disregard the needs of children or more importantly condemn an entire community because of the radicals who are part of it

The  extreme Christianity that I see  now in my country is not good. The type that wishes to kill those who do not live life as they do, who becomes distraught over  a coffee service's Christmas cup, who seek to limit freedoms of all who do not support them are  radicals also. While they do not as of yet attack other countries, they are slowly but surely dividing our nation. "A house divided against itself can not stand" to quote Abraham Lincoln, and due to latent racism, and a growing intolerance of those who do not march to the ultra conservative drum our nation is no longer truly united. This is not a good thing.

Do I have a cure for this? No, of course not. I am one human but I am determined to continue to look for the good in others. I will live my life proudly  helping those in need ,and I will hold firm in my belief that Jesus would not care about a paper cup, but he will care  about how we put into the practice the love he taught and modeled for us. If you can not accept me as I am, so be it.

So enough for this sadder by last night's losses morning. Stand Strong France, and know that I and many Americans feel your loss with heavy hearts.





Friday, November 13, 2015

No school Friday

 No School at HMS7  today for paras and students. I am relishing it that I no longer have to attend teacher work days. Thought I would sleep in but my second alarm went off and the dogs who had been out at five decided that was it. So quickly walked them out the back, fed them, and re-kenneled them. But the damage was done and I was and am awake. Life can not be planned.

 However I have  no real have to do's to get done  except for teaching speech for an hour this pm. So  gonna dean a bit( garbage is out, floors  wiped up already  so there is that). have some writing planned but that is never a chore even with a semi deadline. I am  working on my novel(s) for November Novel challenge(NANO) and have a short thing due for Carol Ziel and SCN. This weekend this is the target and also the syllabus for English 102 Spring 2015. Ambitious but not  impossible as the novel is half done and November still has a couple of weeks.

So Folks  that is it for now.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

NANO novel trying to get this done. Is it worth it. forgive errors this is rough


          Hanna pulled the bright yellow bug to the side of the road and checked her GPS once again. This was not a road; it was two ruts running through a wood.  The GPS still said turn here. Shrugging her shoulders, Hanna started the car and turned.
          Bumping along the trail, she kept   her eyes peeled for a simple cottage that was her new home. Once again she could not believe she had inherited a cottage and an annual income from an Aunt Tabby whose existence   was a secret her mother took with her to the grave.  Yet, it had come at the right moment to revive her after a bitter divorce, which had also cost her job as a librarian in the small Kansas town, which had been her lifelong home. Now she was the owner of a house in New England on the Atlantic coast near the Canadian border with an income, which meant she no longer had to work, plus an account to maintain the property.
          The male voice of GPS indicated another left turn, which broke her thoughts, as a break in the trees widened and a house came into view. It was two stories built of stone with attic dormer windows,
          Could this be the house? If so, it was not her idea of a stone cottage or the saltbox and cedar shingled home she expected.  It sat near a cliff and the Atlantic could be seen and heard hitting the grey stone at the beach below. Hanna stopped the car as the GPS announced ‘you are here”. 
            Hanna walked to the door. A brass next to the door read Seacliff cottage. Foundation laid in 1640.  This was indeed her new home.
          Hanna looked for the iron frog which held the house key and found it nearly hidden by the dried up sedum plantings. Lifting it she shook until the key fell into her hand and putting it in the lock opened the door to her new life. She expected cobwebs and dust as the lawyer had said Tabby had been ill for years, but the hall was pristine and furniture shone with recent polishing. Fresh flowers were in an aged crackled jug on the table and there was a note propped next to it.
                      Hanna,
                      Welcome to Sea Cliff. I am so glad that once again the house will live. My name is Mercy and I took the liberty of cleaning it and stocking the pantry and refrigerator once I knew you arrival date. Tabby taught me much about herbs and such and I feel I have repaid part of what I owe her by doing this.
          I have also brought you a house cat as Seacliff always has had one and there seemed to be a mousey invasion in progress. She is a calico and oh by the way she is expecting. Seacliff kittens are always in demand in the village so relax.
          The journals on the desk are the history of the house. I do hope you will read them. I will be over in a day or so to meet you.
          Mercy Good. 

Intrigued by the note and how this Mercy knew about her, Hanna was relieved not to have to hunt a grocer this first day. Another blessing was the house came fully furnished so no shopping until she wanted change and knew what it would be.  Before she brought in her baggage, she decided to walk through her new home. The lower rooms were large and lit by windows and showed their older roots as each held a large fireplace and broad planked floors of yellow pine. The staircase to the upper floors was wider than normal in an older home so it had to been added later as had the upper story. Each of the bedchambers again had a fireplace, but the windows were larger and the glass no longer had blowers’ marks. Hanna felt she had to read the journals to know the history of the house. Finally approaching the attic door, which she attempted to open, but it was locked. She made a mental note to ask this Mercy person for a key.
          Dusk was falling when she went downstairs and went to the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances looked odd in a room that still had a spitted fireplace and a brick oven, but somehow the result was pleasant. A huge red ware bowl on the counter held apples of all colors, and the refrigerator was stocked with milk, water, sliced meat and cheese.  Cupboards held cereals, spices, and other staples. Mercy had been efficient and Hanna was happy with the welcome the woman had prepared.
          Leaning back against the counter Hanna relaxed as she ate a quick sandwich and waited for coffee to brew, she once again wondered how an unknown aunt had found her and provided for her. Life had not been easy the past year. Patrick her love of her life partner had not shared the idea of eternal faithfulness as she found out when she caught him on top of his married assistant principal who was on top of his wide administrator ‘s desk, and he was bitter, mean and resentful of her decision not to be satisfied with the status quo. Popular in their small Kansas town where he was a homegrown leader, she became an outcast and a school board did not renew her teaching contract whose head was Patrick’s uncle? She had managed to keep the bug and half the money from the house sale but six months later the money was low and no job was in sight. Facing an unknown future, the telephone call from her Aunt’s lawyer three weeks ago had been a ray of sunshine breaking the gloom on her life. Now she was here and ready to move on.
          The sound of footfalls above her broke the reverie just as something jumped on her shoulder.  A meow announced the arrival of the house cat that proceeded to wrap her warm body around Hanna’s neck for a few minutes before she flew to the floor to pace in front of Hanna. Mewling as she walked the cat wen from Hanna to the door and back again.
          “What is it kitty? What do you want? Is something at the door?”
          The mewling went higher in pitch and louder. Hanna went to the door and opened it, and a huge silver tabby waited there. Walking in the tabby called to the smaller calico and the cats began a dance of sorts rubbing an entwining tails while purring loudly. Hanna had to laugh at their antics until tabby sat in front of her as if to assess her.
          “Okay, you are welcome here.”  Hanna announced and the two cats took off in a game of tag me that seemed fated to cover the entire house. Still smiling Hanna went to get her baggage from her car. She stepped outside and was stopped by a large man at the door with her bags in hand.  He walked into the house and turned.” You will be in the east room.” He announced and then went up the stairs. Hanna followed confused at this incident.
          “Who are you?  Why the east room? I rather like the one with the windows to the south,”
          “Owners always stay it the east room. It is the biggest.”
          “That makes sense, but just who are you?”
          “Barid. I live in the guesthouse in the rear. Did they not tell you about me?”
          “No. There was no mention of you or a woman called Mercy in the information given to me.”
          “Just as well. Too much is as dangerous as too little.” He offered as he turned, left the room, went down the stairs and out the door. Hanna followed asking questions, which were ignored. When the door closed, she shrugged and decided it could all wait until tomorrow, but she shot the lock on both doors. 
 . . .. 
The east room was large but dominated by a bed that looked as if it was from the earliest era of the house, but the sheets were clean an scented with lavender as indeed the entire room was. She walked to the deep welled window and knelt on the window seat to look at the night sky. The clouds were moving rapidly dark fluffs against the silver lit sky behind them. The trees stretched their barren limbs to scratch the air though there was no breeze. There was a golden light from the only guesthouse window she could see. Turning from the view she went to the bed and climbed under the down filled quilt, but sleep was not quick to come.
           Hanna awoke with a start. Something had touched her hair in a caress. She felt no threat but the sense of being touched filled her with curiosity. Looking around the room she noticed both cats curled on the bed near her feet. Perhaps it had been one of them as they settled in, but she doubted it, as the touch seemed made by long fingers gently stroking her hair.  Shaking her head she laid down dismissing it as a dream—a too real dream. This time sleep was quick and deep.
          The morning light and soft pawing of the cats woke her.  At her stirring the cats jumped off the bed, and tails in the air walked to the door. Stopping there they turned and yowled at her.  Hanna smiled at their plea for her to follow. ”Alright, I get the message. Breakfast for you; coffee for me”
          Pulling on a robe, Hanna became aware of someone in the house. Soft singing and dishes clattering   were coming from the kitchen. Now what Hanna thought as she went downstairs and went to the kitchen where a plump redhead was stirring something on the stove.  Both cats were weaving between her feet. She leaned forward to pat them.
          “Imp so you have decided. You will stay here. Well, it is the nature of you blacks. You choose your domain not us.  Call, you will be happy with him here, will you?”
          “Imp? Call?  They are named already?   And who the heck are you?”
          “Mercy Good. And the cats are not named; they choose their own names. It has been ever so, Hanna Proctor.”
          “Cats name themselves?” Hanna sat with a surprised thump on a stool near the table.
          “Oh yes. Have you not noticed they refuse to come until you say the right one?   I have coddled eggs here and toast. Coffee is done. “
           Thanks, I think.  Sorry, but why is you here making breakfast?”
          “It is what I do. Oh, they did not tell about me then.  I was a woman of all things for your Aunt. She asked me to stay on until you adjusted. “
          “Adjusted?”
          “To life at Sea cliff.”
          “What?”
          Mercy stopped stirring and looked at Hanna for a few moments and changed the subject as she plopped a plate of eggs, ham and toast. “You have met Barid then?”
          “Barid, well, he carried my bags up to the east room though I wanted the south. Then he gave me his name and not much more.”
          “That is our Barid. He is private but Miss Tabby liked him well enough?”
          “Enough for what? She was well over eighty and he is what? Early forties?”
          Mercy laughed. ”No not like you might think, but he is a local lad home from that Afghani war. It worked a bad magic on him; it did. Then he got home to find his Mother passed on while he traveled to get here. Not that they were close but still. Anyway he was in a bad way, and your aunt offered him the guesthouse. It has peace, quiet and no demands. She hoped it might heal what she knew was a wounded soul. Miss Tabby had a healing touch among other talents.”
          “So he pays rent?”
          “Of course not. Did you not hear me say no demands? He does do the odd chore or so.”
          Mercy turned to load a dishwasher ending the questions. Hanna attacked the plate of food lost in thought. Carrying her dish to Mercy, she ventures one more question.”  You said my aunt had talents. Did she paint, write or what?”
          “None of those. She, she. To tell the truth she made me promise to let the house teach you the truth of her life and of your family.”  Whipping off her apron Mercy walked to the door. ”I will be back after I go to the market for supper. Listen to the house. It is longing to bloom again.”
          Listen to the house now what does that mean Hanna wondered?  How could a house talk? Why would Mercy not share what she knew? Hanna went to the stack of journals.
          Determined to begin at the beginning Hanna searched through the stack looking for a journal from 1640 the earliest date of the house but the earliest journal found began in 1693. Taking it to a window for light she sat and began to decipher the faded ink’s feather y script.
                      Sept 30 1693
                      On this several relatives and friends moved to house I should call Seacliff, which has become my home.
                      The original hose is gone but some ten years ago longing for solitude and peace from misguided neighbors, my Uncle Endeavor bought the land and erected this house to which I have add a second story ad a smaller outbuilding of one story called the cottage. When he died some two years ago childless, my husband was his heir. Matthew was a Bishop from Salem but not of the more known Bishops still tis not a good name to have at this time. Never strong the recent happenings in Salem drained his strength, and he now lies in the parlor awaiting tomorrow’s burial. Jacob Proctor, Anne Good and her brother Timothy sit with his remains as I record the story of our exodus.
                      Last spring the word witchcraft became a scourge in Salem and it has recently been proven that many false accusations were made. Wrongs were done. Jacob had a brother John by his father’s second wife who was hung; Anne and timothy lost the aunt that had mothered them until her mind snapped with age. And even more. My family was spared but I do think had they looked closer at my practice of herbal cures and midwifery, I like my great aunt Rebecca Nurse who taught me was executed during the fire of the moment would have been called out.  Matthew sensing the passion of the silly girls began plans to move us to this house in the woods he had had from his uncle.
          We removed ourselves here in early June of this year. But selling his tannery, packing our goods and planning the move to this place while telling no one of its exact location sapped the savor of the man and never was he strong to begin with.  He sickened in July and naught that I brewed could revive his body or his spirit. He passed late last night and this this morning those that now sit with him knocked on our door. They asked asylum as he had promised them.
          So we will bide here away from the turmoil of the world and by the goddess we will prosper, as we must for I am with child. So mote it is. Mary Nurse Bishop, widow of Matthew.
          Mercy appeared at the door interrupting Hanna’s reading. She began to bustle around the room dusting things that need to be dusted. Finally she stopped beside Hanna waiting. Hanna recognized a busybody when she saw one and was tempted to leave the room but she did have questions.
          “Mercy, I could read these journals for a spotty history of the house as there gaps of years here. But I feel you can tell me what I should know about the house and the families that lived here.”
          “I can but I promised Tabby I’d not say a thing unless asked a direct question and there will be some things you need to learn by living here,”
          “Ok here is a direct question. Your name and my name and the people in the book are all tied to the Salem witchcraft trials, am I right?”
          “Yes, they were refugees from the trials. Those trials were so wrong and many innocents were put to death. You and I are descended from these families as is Braid.”
          “You are a Good, I am a Proctor and Barid is a”
          “Bishop.”
          “So what can you tell me now that I have asked a question?  Do not break your promise as that seems important.”
          “Yes an oath made to a  ...to Tabby is not given lightly and should be kept.  You read the first entry or two rights? So I feel I can tell you about your new home.”










          “ It was built around 1622 by a recluse who left the Bay colony as it was not to his taste .He lived here alone, but in following years it became as you have been reading a refuge of those whom the witch trials sought or whose families had been touched by the tragedy of the times.  Since then the house has passed down in your family but not everyone who held title to the house and land could live here. It was if the house rejected some people and welcomed others who once welcomed lived extraordinary long lives.”
“ The house chooses who lives here?” Hanna broke in. “just how does one know if the house has chosen them?”
           After a moment of thought, Mercy replied.” I really do not know how the house let its will be known, but Tabby was accepted before I was born so I have not seen it reject an owner. Nor before you ask, I do not know how long a person has to wait to know. I just know that the house chooses and those it chooses have powers.”
          “Powers, Mercy?”
           “Tabby was brilliant with herbs--- growing and using them. Her mother had the sight. I believe, but perhaps I am wrong, that it is those who have no power or who do not accept those they have, they are the ones, which are rejected. None who have lived here as you will read have been without power of some sort.”
    “And me?”  Hanna said “ power? Do I have Power?”
    Mercy stopped on her way out f the room and turned to Hanna. “ The house will know.”
CHAPTER 2

   During next few days, Mercy bustled in and out without taking much time to chat, and Barid just did not chat. So exploring the house and gardens filled Hanna’s days an the nights were devoted to the journals which not long after the first few entries become a listing of income and out go with no hints of power, acceptance or rejection.    The house had rooms and the rooms had crannies and nooks.  Hanna wondered through them marveling at furnishings still intact from its beginning until present day. An antique dealer would have a heyday here she thought touching an armoire in the east room as she hung her clothes in I, but she knew nothing would leave the house as long as she owned it.

The gardens were however her happy place. Ancient roses and patterned herb plots lived happily next to wild profusions of country garden staples such as hollyhocks, foxglove, daisies and lavender which was also an herb.  There was even a stone circle in the eastern near the cliff edge, which caught the light of the rising sun, but she was continually drawn to the small stone cottage near Braid’s guesthouse. Its rafters were hand hewn and hung with drying herbs.  Jars held dried raised petals, lavender buds, and various seeds all carefully labeled.  Mortars and pestles   stood ready to be used on a long worktable under the window.  The aromas and the snugness of the cottage called to Hanna, and once she discovered it, she found herself spending hours there memorizing the contents then spending the evenings researching the history and uses of the herbs it contained. She had nothing to do but what she wanted to do and for now that contented her for now though she knew that it would not last.

Monday of her third week she wondered down to the kitchen in search of wakeup coffee and one of Mercy’s bran muffins and found Mercy in serious conversation with the cats She stood at the doorway and eavesdropped in plain sight.
  “  Yes I know you two approve, but the house is not speaking yet, How will know when it does accept or reject? I took us two years to find Hanna what if she is not the one?” Low meows answered Mercy’s questions. Hanna was about to break into the conversation when Barid burst in.
 “ So Mercy, have the familiars weighed in and,” he stopped when he saw Hanna in the doorway.
 “Familiars? Like witches have?” Hanna asked stepping into the kitchen. Barid and Mercy exchanged glances.
“ Yes, the house always has two cats and they need to accept the owners or they leave. These two have been here longer than most with some new owners. Tabby was told me that there somewhere in the journal a list of cats and owners both accepted and rejected.”
“ So were these here with Aunt Tabby?”
 “No.”
“ She did not have familiars---err cats.”
“Oh she had cats, “Mercy broke in. “ But they … they”
Barid   broke in. “Tell her Mercy.”
“ They left when she passed.” Mercy finished.
Hanna walked out of the room without a backward glance. Mercy looked at Barid.” Well! Now she knows.”
Barid shrugged his shoulders and said “ but will she believe?

Chapter 3 
Hanna avoided Mercy and Barid for several days. Even tried to avoid the two cats, but that impossible. Even when she thought she had left them, they would suddenly appear to wrap themselves around her feet. She knew she avoiding facing the truth she felt in what Mercy and Barid had said in the kitchen that morning. Mercy sensed her need to be alone and meal trays arrived wherever she was with a small popping sound. That alone gave some reality to the magic powers.

On the fifth day since they had hinted at her powers, it rained. The grey, soft, cold New England rain shrouded the house in a veil of mist. Hanna wanted to go to the herb hut but the rain seemed designed to keep her inside. Pulling the curtains of the parlor’s bay window, she stared at the rain wishing it away.
“ Go ahead. Go out to the herbs. They need you. You will not get wet. I promise.”  A soft voice spoke to Hanna and an unseen hand, turned her way from the window towards the hallway. Hanna turned but no one was there. She paused at the doorway shaking her head. Then again she heard “Go on.”  
Without thinking Hanna went down the all and out the door. The mizzle fell all round her but not a drop fell on her hair or body. She walked to the herb house as if protected by a large umbrella while wondering why the word mizzle had sprung into her thoughts. Then she was there and once in the door, she felt welcomed and comforted.
 Without thinking about it she reached for the mortar and pestle ready make some tea.  Her mother had made herb teas, and now Hanna wanted a cup of the comfort tea her mother had blended when things seemed unsettled. What her mother used?
 “ Chamomile” The word seemed to come from nowhere. Hanna glanced around the room. No one was there. She reached for the jar labeled chamomile. ‘’ Lavender calms.” The voice suggested and this time Hanna did not survey the room as she added lavender to the mortar and began to blend the dried blossoms.
 Putting the water to boil on the electric burner, Hanna felt the cats winding around her ankles. She was sure she had shut the door against the rain. She glanced toward it.  It was closed. How had the furry companions come in? Had the door swung open with the wind gusts and then shut once again? Surely it would have banged and she would have heard it.

The whistling of the kettle broke into her thoughts. Lifting a cup from the shelf to make tea, the voice stopped her.  “ Not that one. I used it for toxic brews. The yellow color was the reminder.”  Hanna replaced the cup on another shelf to avoid selecting it again and reached for a bright blue one as the voice whispered, “ That was my favorite.” Without pausing she set the tea to brew and began for the first time to look more closely at what she thought of her haven in her new life.  Two cats tail swishing followed her as she walked around the room until suddenly both felines walked in front of her and sat.  Hanna stopped and was about to go around the living roadblock when Callie jumped up on the counter followed by Imp meowing loudly.
Hanna looked at the two cats and then realized they were directly in front of a cupboard that she had yet to open. Imp turned to her walked over and rubbed himself against her chest and then immediately went to set in front of the cupboard pawing t its doors. Intrigued by the feline antics, Hanna pulled the doors open to find leather bound books resting on the shelves.  The binding matched the journals she had been reading but these books were both larger in size and thicker. She pulled one toward her and opened it randomly. It was a recipe for a tisane and as she read Hanna realized it was a tea such as she had just brewed, but this was aimed at soothing a sore throat. Innocent herbal remedies, Hanna thought putting the book back. She turned to get her tea when Callie pawed a book from the shelf. It fell open on the counter. Hanna gasped when she saw the words; Spells to accompany tisanes. The spidery script was faded and hard to read but the words so mote it be and do harm to none stood out.
She snapped the book shut .It couldn’t be.  The pages had been yellowed the handwriting faded. Something from the past, she told herself from when people believed in such things.  She reached for her tea and holding with both hands she turned her back on the books. The aroma from the blue cup comforted her, as did the tea itself. But the yellow up had held toxic brews according the voice. The voice what was up with that?  This entire place was beginning to give her real shivers. What had Aunt Tabby been and what was up with the house. Putting down the cup she went out the door with cats twining between her feet and walked toward the house. It was time for answers.
Just as she reached the kitchen door, the voice spoke again.” Be careful. You are being challenged. Fear not I am with you but I have limited power to help.”  Hanna shook her head to banish the voice. It was not normal to have such a powerful voice from nowhere, and she wondered if she was imagining it to help cope with the questions she had about the house and her aunt.
Barid was leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands when she entered the kitchen. His long lean frame seemed totally relaxed. She walked over to the coffee pot to find it empty. “Great, empty and I want a cup.” she muttered.
“ Not empty—never used.” Barid said with amusement.
“ So did you use magic to brew yours?” she snapped.
“ Nope. French press and there is a cup left.” He answered and moved aside so she could see the press on the counter.  She reached for a mug and poured the coffee savoring the aroma. 
Several moments of silence followed. Hanna thought about all the events at the house and questions she wanted answered. Turning to Barid she asked, “ The house chooses but how does one know if they are chosen?”
“I am from here and Tabby was always in residence during my life. I only know what I have heard in tales. It boils down to two or three things and how they manifest themselves differ for each owner. First it is a question of power. Does the person have any and then does he accept it? Second, if power is there how will the person use it? It must be for the good of all and not for personal gain or revenge and third when challenged will the house help the person win the challenge?”
“Great. I have no answers for those things yet.”  Hanna responded looking at her nearly empty cup.
“ You must have power as the cats have accepted you and cats do not bond in this house with powerless people, you just have to find your talent and use it. “
“Mercy says she has power only to do domestic things. Do you have powers?”
“ My power is.”  but his response was interrupted by a knock on the door. The cats ran from the kitchen and satin the hall facing the door mewling loudly. Hanna and Barid followed.
“Hanna, do not trust what you see. Trouble comes in many forms. I feel this may be a challenge for you. Perhaps an answer is coming.”  Warned Barid as he turned and left her alone with the protesting cats.
Staring at the door and the cats, Hanna was puzzled at the arched backs and hissing form the pair. No one had knocked, again and no noise was coming from outside the door. Hanna stood on tiptoe to look out of a peephole to see what was on her doorstep. Just as she caught sight of a person going away from her yard, Imp and Callie relaxed their backs and became quiet.
Chapter  4

During the rest of the week Hanna found herself spending more time in the small herb filled shed. She mixed herbs for teas and extracted oils to refilled bottles.  None of these skills had been learned in her other life and she could not say she was learning now. She just knew what went with what and how to mix them. Something in her soul seemed to respond to the shed’s contents and wanted to put them to use. Once in awhile she looked at the old recipe book to guide her but she avoided the one that  alluded to magical uses  for the mixtures.
She was content   with the work in the shed, but somewhere in the back of her mind or was it her heart a  foreboding lurked. She felt something was about to challenge her in some way. Whenever the feeling surfaced, she would recall Barid’s warning only to shake it off. She was coming to love the old house and its lands. She felt herself taking root and changing. She worried less about her broken marriage and her lost career. Her legacy from Tabby had allowed her to be secure but the feeling of belonging went beyond living in the house and knowing money was not a problem.
Mercy and Barid watched her and sensed her growing bond.  They were waiting for her to realize that her powers were growing. They kept silent as words could not convince her. It would take some event that would create the final awakening. They felt it had to come soon for like Hanna they felt the sense of a challenge for the house and land was growing, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Imp and Callie would be quiet  purring cats only to jump up to prowl the house , backs humped and hissing. Mercy and Barid  watched the cats knowing they were signaling  danger , but Hanna  did not seem to notice.
The awakening came with an ordinary event one morning. Walking to the shed, Hanna heard a mewling in the thick lavender bordering the path. Leaning down she found a small dog with its golden fur blood stained and a leg at an odd angle.  Suddenly Imp and Callie were beside her and Barid came down the path as if he had been called.
“You called me?” he queried.
Hanna looked at him. She had not called, but she had thought he could help her. Had he heard her thoughts? She did not answer him but dipping her head she indicated the quivering pup at her knees. 
“ Help me. Can you bring him to the shed?”
Once there Hanna worked without thinking. Warm water appeared, and she washed the small wound and bound it with herbs.  She took the leg in her hands intending to set it but the voice prompted a chant in her mind. Hanna voiced it as she touched the broken limb:
    This bone please heal, As it was, let it be. Cure the harm done to thee. Do no harm. So mote it be. The bone moved under her hands which had become very warm and with a snap it was in place. The pup shook and stood up on its hind legs to lick Hanna’s chin.
“ Barid, did I ….?”
“ Yes.”
“How, how could I”
“ You know. Just think about it, Hanna. Accept it. You are a healer.”
Hanna held the pup who curled in her arms sleep. Her words came back to her as she reviewed the past few minutes and let the events sink in. She felt confused but aware of a new depth to her life. She did not notice Baird leaving or the cats curling to sleep at her feet. She just sat holding the sleeping dog replaying how she had worked with him. Not once had she doubted what she should do, she had just done it.
“That’s correct, Hanna. You have power and it is healing. Now  you must accept or reject it.”, the soft voice whispered in her ear. She could feel the breath of the speaker brush her cheek but turning toward the source no one was there. She, the pup, and two purring cats were the only ones in the herb shed.  Hanna shivered ,She knew  the voice was real and not just a mental image. “Who?”  she voiced not realizing she had spoken out loud.
“ The house. I am the house.” ,came the reply.
“ The house? Houses can not speak.”
“ But when you have found your power, you can hear me.  Accept your power to heal or reject it. I, the house, have accepted you, but you have the final choice. Yet, if you accept realize others wish to live with in me and you will be challenged.”
 Hanna started to rise but when she put the pup down it ran in circles as if it had not been hurt. She looked at the small bit of yellow fluff circling her feet and harassing the two cats. May be she did have power she thought walking to the kitchen door. “Power or not, I am happy here, and I choose to stay.” Her thought was no sooner voiced, and the house seemed to come alive. All the closed drapes opened, and doors opened to welcome Hanna , the cats and the pup.
Chapter five
Mercy  felt the change in the house the next morning as she entered the kitchen. It felt bigger ,more open, the way it had been when Tabby had lived there She knew at that moment Hanna  had accepted the house and her talent and the house had welcomed its new owner. Smiling at the change, she began  breakfast.
Hanna walked in moments later with Imp, Callie and a small yellow pup running between her feet.  Smiling as she avoided tripping or stepping on the animals she  walked to the table and sat down.  Mercy  filled a mug with coffee and plunked it down.
“So you are here to stay.” She stated with a smile at Hanna.
“Yes, it feels right, and I think I might …I might actually have some talent as a healer. But at the moment,  this pup needs a name.”
Mercy looked at the pup laying at Hanna’s feet. She realized the name was a ploy to avoid talking of powers and was content to play along. She watched his tail wagging happy attitude. The cats seemed to accept him as an equal and that indicated he had a place in the house for good.
“Well, Mercy, do you have any ideas?”,  Hanna asked.
“ He is happy, golden and male. I am not sure I have an idea . Do you?”
“ Yesterday, he was not well and had a broken limb. I …I healed him. Afterwards I  knew I belonged here; that I had power.  I decided to stay and the house changed. I saw it change. It seemed to come alive , to expand. I can not explain but the house changed. Lazarus? Shall we call him Lazarus?”
“ That would signal a return to life. Maybe but pretty serious for a pup. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe.  Golden  and beautiful. Adonis?”
“ Pretty classical. How about Oro, Spanish for gold.”
“Short and on point. Oro . You are now Oro.” Hanna spoke to the pup as she reached down to pet him.
Mercy watched Hanna and the pup. A third familiar was not unheard for a witch but it was rare for  a dog to bond with a witch. Cats, crows, and monkeys which were half imps were common but dogs. Still dogs were loyal creatures and not given to evil unless trained to be so. Still she was going to be on alert until she knew  the pup bode no evil to Hanna or the house. She would warn Barid also. Shaking the darkness from her mind, she thought about the fact that house had shown itself open even with the pup near Hanna and that was good thing.
 At the far edge of the  village  in a cottage overhung with vines and surrounded by a garden of  nettles and foxglove, Astrid  paced  in front of her mirror.  She was not happy and it showed in every step. The house had opened.  She sensed its acceptance of the intruder, Hanna. The house should be hers. Her lineage had been among the early residents of the house. Never mind that her ancestors had been sent away because they advocated revenge on those who were hanging witches. The silly words “ so harm none”  even today  were inane. Witches should use their powers in whatever way  benefitted them. A little dark arts could be a good thing.
Turning  quickly she went to her distillery where she could plan. It was easier to plan  amongst  her plants and herbs, and she needed to plan. She had to take  over the house. It was rightfully hers. She had almost convinced Tabby she was the choice , but Tabby had found out she made poppets for clients, brewed potions that made people ill and at times possibly more than ill though she never asked clients the intended use..  Asked to leave ,she had made the old fool promise not to tell anyone why. That ought to help ,as Barid and Mercy were unaware of her true nature. She actually cackled at the reassurance that fact gave her. She smiled at the sound. After all true witches cackled, everyone knew that.






.











  
          Hanna pulled the bright yellow bug to the side of the road and checked her GPS once again. This was not a road; it was two ruts running through a wood.  The GPS still said turn here. Shrugging her shoulders, Hanna started the car and turned.
          Bumping along the trail, she kept   her eyes peeled for a simple cottage that was her new home. Once again she could not believe she had inherited a cottage and an annual income from an Aunt Tabby whose existence   was a secret her mother took with her to the grave.  Yet, it had come at the right moment to revive her after a bitter divorce, which had also cost her job as a librarian in the small Kansas town, which had been her lifelong home. Now she was the owner of a house in New England on the Atlantic coast near the Canadian border with an income, which meant she no longer had to work, plus an account to maintain the property.
          The male voice of GPS indicated another left turn, which broke her thoughts, as a break in the trees widened and a house came into view. It was two stories built of stone with attic dormer windows,
          Could this be the house? If so, it was not her idea of a stone cottage or the saltbox and cedar shingled home she expected.  It sat near a cliff and the Atlantic could be seen and heard hitting the grey stone at the beach below. Hanna stopped the car as the GPS announced ‘you are here”. 
            Hanna walked to the door. A brass next to the door read Seacliff cottage. Foundation laid in 1640.  This was indeed her new home.
          Hanna looked for the iron frog which held the house key and found it nearly hidden by the dried up sedum plantings. Lifting it she shook until the key fell into her hand and putting it in the lock opened the door to her new life. She expected cobwebs and dust as the lawyer had said Tabby had been ill for years, but the hall was pristine and furniture shone with recent polishing. Fresh flowers were in an aged crackled jug on the table and there was a note propped next to it.
                      Hanna,
                      Welcome to Sea Cliff. I am so glad that once again the house will live. My name is Mercy and I took the liberty of cleaning it and stocking the pantry and refrigerator once I knew you arrival date. Tabby taught me much about herbs and such and I feel I have repaid part of what I owe her by doing this.
          I have also brought you a house cat as Seacliff always has had one and there seemed to be a mousey invasion in progress. She is a calico and oh by the way she is expecting. Seacliff kittens are always in demand in the village so relax.
          The journals on the desk are the history of the house. I do hope you will read them. I will be over in a day or so to meet you.
          Mercy Good. 

Intrigued by the note and how this Mercy knew about her, Hanna was relieved not to have to hunt a grocer this first day. Another blessing was the house came fully furnished so no shopping until she wanted change and knew what it would be.  Before she brought in her baggage, she decided to walk through her new home. The lower rooms were large and lit by windows and showed their older roots as each held a large fireplace and broad planked floors of yellow pine. The staircase to the upper floors was wider than normal in an older home so it had to been added later as had the upper story. Each of the bedchambers again had a fireplace, but the windows were larger and the glass no longer had blowers’ marks. Hanna felt she had to read the journals to know the history of the house. Finally approaching the attic door, which she attempted to open, but it was locked. She made a mental note to ask this Mercy person for a key.
          Dusk was falling when she went downstairs and went to the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances looked odd in a room that still had a spitted fireplace and a brick oven, but somehow the result was pleasant. A huge red ware bowl on the counter held apples of all colors, and the refrigerator was stocked with milk, water, sliced meat and cheese.  Cupboards held cereals, spices, and other staples. Mercy had been efficient and Hanna was happy with the welcome the woman had prepared.
          Leaning back against the counter Hanna relaxed as she ate a quick sandwich and waited for coffee to brew, she once again wondered how an unknown aunt had found her and provided for her. Life had not been easy the past year. Patrick her love of her life partner had not shared the idea of eternal faithfulness as she found out when she caught him on top of his married assistant principal who was on top of his wide administrator ‘s desk, and he was bitter, mean and resentful of her decision not to be satisfied with the status quo. Popular in their small Kansas town where he was a homegrown leader, she became an outcast and a school board did not renew her teaching contract whose head was Patrick’s uncle? She had managed to keep the bug and half the money from the house sale but six months later the money was low and no job was in sight. Facing an unknown future, the telephone call from her Aunt’s lawyer three weeks ago had been a ray of sunshine breaking the gloom on her life. Now she was here and ready to move on.
          The sound of footfalls above her broke the reverie just as something jumped on her shoulder.  A meow announced the arrival of the house cat that proceeded to wrap her warm body around Hanna’s neck for a few minutes before she flew to the floor to pace in front of Hanna. Mewling as she walked the cat wen from Hanna to the door and back again.
          “What is it kitty? What do you want? Is something at the door?”
          The mewling went higher in pitch and louder. Hanna went to the door and opened it, and a huge silver tabby waited there. Walking in the tabby called to the smaller calico and the cats began a dance of sorts rubbing an entwining tails while purring loudly. Hanna had to laugh at their antics until tabby sat in front of her as if to assess her.
          “Okay, you are welcome here.”  Hanna announced and the two cats took off in a game of tag me that seemed fated to cover the entire house. Still smiling Hanna went to get her baggage from her car. She stepped outside and was stopped by a large man at the door with her bags in hand.  He walked into the house and turned.” You will be in the east room.” He announced and then went up the stairs. Hanna followed confused at this incident.
          “Who are you?  Why the east room? I rather like the one with the windows to the south,”
          “Owners always stay it the east room. It is the biggest.”
          “That makes sense, but just who are you?”
          “Barid. I live in the guesthouse in the rear. Did they not tell you about me?”
          “No. There was no mention of you or a woman called Mercy in the information given to me.”
          “Just as well. Too much is as dangerous as too little.” He offered as he turned, left the room, went down the stairs and out the door. Hanna followed asking questions, which were ignored. When the door closed, she shrugged and decided it could all wait until tomorrow, but she shot the lock on both doors. 
 . . .. 
The east room was large but dominated by a bed that looked as if it was from the earliest era of the house, but the sheets were clean an scented with lavender as indeed the entire room was. She walked to the deep welled window and knelt on the window seat to look at the night sky. The clouds were moving rapidly dark fluffs against the silver lit sky behind them. The trees stretched their barren limbs to scratch the air though there was no breeze. There was a golden light from the only guesthouse window she could see. Turning from the view she went to the bed and climbed under the down filled quilt, but sleep was not quick to come.
           Hanna awoke with a start. Something had touched her hair in a caress. She felt no threat but the sense of being touched filled her with curiosity. Looking around the room she noticed both cats curled on the bed near her feet. Perhaps it had been one of them as they settled in, but she doubted it, as the touch seemed made by long fingers gently stroking her hair.  Shaking her head she laid down dismissing it as a dream—a too real dream. This time sleep was quick and deep.
          The morning light and soft pawing of the cats woke her.  At her stirring the cats jumped off the bed, and tails in the air walked to the door. Stopping there they turned and yowled at her.  Hanna smiled at their plea for her to follow. ”Alright, I get the message. Breakfast for you; coffee for me”
          Pulling on a robe, Hanna became aware of someone in the house. Soft singing and dishes clattering   were coming from the kitchen. Now what Hanna thought as she went downstairs and went to the kitchen where a plump redhead was stirring something on the stove.  Both cats were weaving between her feet. She leaned forward to pat them.
          “Imp so you have decided. You will stay here. Well, it is the nature of you blacks. You choose your domain not us.  Call, you will be happy with him here, will you?”
          “Imp? Call?  They are named already?   And who the heck are you?”
          “Mercy Good. And the cats are not named; they choose their own names. It has been ever so, Hanna Proctor.”
          “Cats name themselves?” Hanna sat with a surprised thump on a stool near the table.
          “Oh yes. Have you not noticed they refuse to come until you say the right one?   I have coddled eggs here and toast. Coffee is done. “
           Thanks, I think.  Sorry, but why is you here making breakfast?”
          “It is what I do. Oh, they did not tell about me then.  I was a woman of all things for your Aunt. She asked me to stay on until you adjusted. “
          “Adjusted?”
          “To life at Sea cliff.”
          “What?”
          Mercy stopped stirring and looked at Hanna for a few moments and changed the subject as she plopped a plate of eggs, ham and toast. “You have met Barid then?”
          “Barid, well, he carried my bags up to the east room though I wanted the south. Then he gave me his name and not much more.”
          “That is our Barid. He is private but Miss Tabby liked him well enough?”
          “Enough for what? She was well over eighty and he is what? Early forties?”
          Mercy laughed. ”No not like you might think, but he is a local lad home from that Afghani war. It worked a bad magic on him; it did. Then he got home to find his Mother passed on while he traveled to get here. Not that they were close but still. Anyway he was in a bad way, and your aunt offered him the guesthouse. It has peace, quiet and no demands. She hoped it might heal what she knew was a wounded soul. Miss Tabby had a healing touch among other talents.”
          “So he pays rent?”
          “Of course not. Did you not hear me say no demands? He does do the odd chore or so.”
          Mercy turned to load a dishwasher ending the questions. Hanna attacked the plate of food lost in thought. Carrying her dish to Mercy, she ventures one more question.”  You said my aunt had talents. Did she paint, write or what?”
          “None of those. She, she. To tell the truth she made me promise to let the house teach you the truth of her life and of your family.”  Whipping off her apron Mercy walked to the door. ”I will be back after I go to the market for supper. Listen to the house. It is longing to bloom again.”
          Listen to the house now what does that mean Hanna wondered?  How could a house talk? Why would Mercy not share what she knew? Hanna went to the stack of journals.
          Determined to begin at the beginning Hanna searched through the stack looking for a journal from 1640 the earliest date of the house but the earliest journal found began in 1693. Taking it to a window for light she sat and began to decipher the faded ink’s feather y script.
                      Sept 30 1693
                      On this several relatives and friends moved to house I should call Seacliff, which has become my home.
                      The original hose is gone but some ten years ago longing for solitude and peace from misguided neighbors, my Uncle Endeavor bought the land and erected this house to which I have add a second story ad a smaller outbuilding of one story called the cottage. When he died some two years ago childless, my husband was his heir. Matthew was a Bishop from Salem but not of the more known Bishops still tis not a good name to have at this time. Never strong the recent happenings in Salem drained his strength, and he now lies in the parlor awaiting tomorrow’s burial. Jacob Proctor, Anne Good and her brother Timothy sit with his remains as I record the story of our exodus.
                      Last spring the word witchcraft became a scourge in Salem and it has recently been proven that many false accusations were made. Wrongs were done. Jacob had a brother John by his father’s second wife who was hung; Anne and timothy lost the aunt that had mothered them until her mind snapped with age. And even more. My family was spared but I do think had they looked closer at my practice of herbal cures and midwifery, I like my great aunt Rebecca Nurse who taught me was executed during the fire of the moment would have been called out.  Matthew sensing the passion of the silly girls began plans to move us to this house in the woods he had had from his uncle.
          We removed ourselves here in early June of this year. But selling his tannery, packing our goods and planning the move to this place while telling no one of its exact location sapped the savor of the man and never was he strong to begin with.  He sickened in July and naught that I brewed could revive his body or his spirit. He passed late last night and this this morning those that now sit with him knocked on our door. They asked asylum as he had promised them.
          So we will bide here away from the turmoil of the world and by the goddess we will prosper, as we must for I am with child. So mote it is. Mary Nurse Bishop, widow of Matthew.
          Mercy appeared at the door interrupting Hanna’s reading. She began to bustle around the room dusting things that need to be dusted. Finally she stopped beside Hanna waiting. Hanna recognized a busybody when she saw one and was tempted to leave the room but she did have questions.
          “Mercy, I could read these journals for a spotty history of the house as there gaps of years here. But I feel you can tell me what I should know about the house and the families that lived here.”
          “I can but I promised Tabby I’d not say a thing unless asked a direct question and there will be some things you need to learn by living here,”
          “Ok here is a direct question. Your name and my name and the people in the book are all tied to the Salem witchcraft trials, am I right?”
          “Yes, they were refugees from the trials. Those trials were so wrong and many innocents were put to death. You and I are descended from these families as is Braid.”
          “You are a Good, I am a Proctor and Barid is a”
          “Bishop.”
          “So what can you tell me now that I have asked a question?  Do not break your promise as that seems important.”
          “Yes an oath made to a  ...to Tabby is not given lightly and should be kept.  You read the first entry or two rights? So I feel I can tell you about your new home.”










          “ It was built around 1622 by a recluse who left the Bay colony as it was not to his taste .He lived here alone, but in following years it became as you have been reading a refuge of those whom the witch trials sought or whose families had been touched by the tragedy of the times.  Since then the house has passed down in your family but not everyone who held title to the house and land could live here. It was if the house rejected some people and welcomed others who once welcomed lived extraordinary long lives.”
“ The house chooses who lives here?” Hanna broke in. “just how does one know if the house has chosen them?”
           After a moment of thought, Mercy replied.” I really do not know how the house let its will be known, but Tabby was accepted before I was born so I have not seen it reject an owner. Nor before you ask, I do not know how long a person has to wait to know. I just know that the house chooses and those it chooses have powers.”
          “Powers, Mercy?”
           “Tabby was brilliant with herbs--- growing and using them. Her mother had the sight. I believe, but perhaps I am wrong, that it is those who have no power or who do not accept those they have, they are the ones, which are rejected. None who have lived here as you will read have been without power of some sort.”
    “And me?”  Hanna said “ power? Do I have Power?”
    Mercy stopped on her way out f the room and turned to Hanna. “ The house will know.”
CHAPTER 2

   During next few days, Mercy bustled in and out without taking much time to chat, and Barid just did not chat. So exploring the house and gardens filled Hanna’s days an the nights were devoted to the journals which not long after the first few entries become a listing of income and out go with no hints of power, acceptance or rejection.    The house had rooms and the rooms had crannies and nooks.  Hanna wondered through them marveling at furnishings still intact from its beginning until present day. An antique dealer would have a heyday here she thought touching an armoire in the east room as she hung her clothes in I, but she knew nothing would leave the house as long as she owned it.

The gardens were however her happy place. Ancient roses and patterned herb plots lived happily next to wild profusions of country garden staples such as hollyhocks, foxglove, daisies and lavender which was also an herb.  There was even a stone circle in the eastern near the cliff edge, which caught the light of the rising sun, but she was continually drawn to the small stone cottage near Braid’s guesthouse. Its rafters were hand hewn and hung with drying herbs.  Jars held dried raised petals, lavender buds, and various seeds all carefully labeled.  Mortars and pestles   stood ready to be used on a long worktable under the window.  The aromas and the snugness of the cottage called to Hanna, and once she discovered it, she found herself spending hours there memorizing the contents then spending the evenings researching the history and uses of the herbs it contained. She had nothing to do but what she wanted to do and for now that contented her for now though she knew that it would not last.

Monday of her third week she wondered down to the kitchen in search of wakeup coffee and one of Mercy’s bran muffins and found Mercy in serious conversation with the cats She stood at the doorway and eavesdropped in plain sight.
  “  Yes I know you two approve, but the house is not speaking yet, How will know when it does accept or reject? I took us two years to find Hanna what if she is not the one?” Low meows answered Mercy’s questions. Hanna was about to break into the conversation when Barid burst in.
 “ So Mercy, have the familiars weighed in and,” he stopped when he saw Hanna in the doorway.
 “Familiars? Like witches have?” Hanna asked stepping into the kitchen. Barid and Mercy exchanged glances.
“ Yes, the house always has two cats and they need to accept the owners or they leave. These two have been here longer than most with some new owners. Tabby was told me that there somewhere in the journal a list of cats and owners both accepted and rejected.”
“ So were these here with Aunt Tabby?”
 “No.”
“ She did not have familiars---err cats.”
“Oh she had cats, “Mercy broke in. “ But they … they”
Barid   broke in. “Tell her Mercy.”
“ They left when she passed.” Mercy finished.
Hanna walked out of the room without a backward glance. Mercy looked at Barid.” Well! Now she knows.”
Barid shrugged his shoulders and said “ but will she believe?

Chapter 3 
Hanna avoided Mercy and Barid for several days. Even tried to avoid the two cats, but that impossible. Even when she thought she had left them, they would suddenly appear to wrap themselves around her feet. She knew she avoiding facing the truth she felt in what Mercy and Barid had said in the kitchen that morning. Mercy sensed her need to be alone and meal trays arrived wherever she was with a small popping sound. That alone gave some reality to the magic powers.

On the fifth day since they had hinted at her powers, it rained. The grey, soft, cold New England rain shrouded the house in a veil of mist. Hanna wanted to go to the herb hut but the rain seemed designed to keep her inside. Pulling the curtains of the parlor’s bay window, she stared at the rain wishing it away.
“ Go ahead. Go out to the herbs. They need you. You will not get wet. I promise.”  A soft voice spoke to Hanna and an unseen hand, turned her way from the window towards the hallway. Hanna turned but no one was there. She paused at the doorway shaking her head. Then again she heard “Go on.”  
Without thinking Hanna went down the all and out the door. The mizzle fell all round her but not a drop fell on her hair or body. She walked to the herb house as if protected by a large umbrella while wondering why the word mizzle had sprung into her thoughts. Then she was there and once in the door, she felt welcomed and comforted.
 Without thinking about it she reached for the mortar and pestle ready make some tea.  Her mother had made herb teas, and now Hanna wanted a cup of the comfort tea her mother had blended when things seemed unsettled. What her mother used?
 “ Chamomile” The word seemed to come from nowhere. Hanna glanced around the room. No one was there. She reached for the jar labeled chamomile. ‘’ Lavender calms.” The voice suggested and this time Hanna did not survey the room as she added lavender to the mortar and began to blend the dried blossoms.
 Putting the water to boil on the electric burner, Hanna felt the cats winding around her ankles. She was sure she had shut the door against the rain. She glanced toward it.  It was closed. How had the furry companions come in? Had the door swung open with the wind gusts and then shut once again? Surely it would have banged and she would have heard it.

The whistling of the kettle broke into her thoughts. Lifting a cup from the shelf to make tea, the voice stopped her.  “ Not that one. I used it for toxic brews. The yellow color was the reminder.”  Hanna replaced the cup on another shelf to avoid selecting it again and reached for a bright blue one as the voice whispered, “ That was my favorite.” Without pausing she set the tea to brew and began for the first time to look more closely at what she thought of her haven in her new life.  Two cats tail swishing followed her as she walked around the room until suddenly both felines walked in front of her and sat.  Hanna stopped and was about to go around the living roadblock when Callie jumped up on the counter followed by Imp meowing loudly.
Hanna looked at the two cats and then realized they were directly in front of a cupboard that she had yet to open. Imp turned to her walked over and rubbed himself against her chest and then immediately went to set in front of the cupboard pawing t its doors. Intrigued by the feline antics, Hanna pulled the doors open to find leather bound books resting on the shelves.  The binding matched the journals she had been reading but these books were both larger in size and thicker. She pulled one toward her and opened it randomly. It was a recipe for a tisane and as she read Hanna realized it was a tea such as she had just brewed, but this was aimed at soothing a sore throat. Innocent herbal remedies, Hanna thought putting the book back. She turned to get her tea when Callie pawed a book from the shelf. It fell open on the counter. Hanna gasped when she saw the words; Spells to accompany tisanes. The spidery script was faded and hard to read but the words so mote it be and do harm to none stood out.
She snapped the book shut .It couldn’t be.  The pages had been yellowed the handwriting faded. Something from the past, she told herself from when people believed in such things.  She reached for her tea and holding with both hands she turned her back on the books. The aroma from the blue cup comforted her, as did the tea itself. But the yellow up had held toxic brews according the voice. The voice what was up with that?  This entire place was beginning to give her real shivers. What had Aunt Tabby been and what was up with the house. Putting down the cup she went out the door with cats twining between her feet and walked toward the house. It was time for answers.
Just as she reached the kitchen door, the voice spoke again.” Be careful. You are being challenged. Fear not I am with you but I have limited power to help.”  Hanna shook her head to banish the voice. It was not normal to have such a powerful voice from nowhere, and she wondered if she was imagining it to help cope with the questions she had about the house and her aunt.
Barid was leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands when she entered the kitchen. His long lean frame seemed totally relaxed. She walked over to the coffee pot to find it empty. “Great, empty and I want a cup.” she muttered.
“ Not empty—never used.” Barid said with amusement.
“ So did you use magic to brew yours?” she snapped.
“ Nope. French press and there is a cup left.” He answered and moved aside so she could see the press on the counter.  She reached for a mug and poured the coffee savoring the aroma. 
Several moments of silence followed. Hanna thought about all the events at the house and questions she wanted answered. Turning to Barid she asked, “ The house chooses but how does one know if they are chosen?”
“I am from here and Tabby was always in residence during my life. I only know what I have heard in tales. It boils down to two or three things and how they manifest themselves differ for each owner. First it is a question of power. Does the person have any and then does he accept it? Second, if power is there how will the person use it? It must be for the good of all and not for personal gain or revenge and third when challenged will the house help the person win the challenge?”
“Great. I have no answers for those things yet.”  Hanna responded looking at her nearly empty cup.
“ You must have power as the cats have accepted you and cats do not bond in this house with powerless people, you just have to find your talent and use it. “
“Mercy says she has power only to do domestic things. Do you have powers?”
“ My power is.”  but his response was interrupted by a knock on the door. The cats ran from the kitchen and satin the hall facing the door mewling loudly. Hanna and Barid followed.
“Hanna, do not trust what you see. Trouble comes in many forms. I feel this may be a challenge for you. Perhaps an answer is coming.”  Warned Barid as he turned and left her alone with the protesting cats.
Staring at the door and the cats, Hanna was puzzled at the arched backs and hissing form the pair. No one had knocked, again and no noise was coming from outside the door. Hanna stood on tiptoe to look out of a peephole to see what was on her doorstep. Just as she caught sight of a person going away from her yard, Imp and Callie relaxed their backs and became quiet.
Chapter  4

During the rest of the week Hanna found herself spending more time in the small herb filled shed. She mixed herbs for teas and extracted oils to refilled bottles.  None of these skills had been learned in her other life and she could not say she was learning now. She just knew what went with what and how to mix them. Something in her soul seemed to respond to the shed’s contents and wanted to put them to use. Once in awhile she looked at the old recipe book to guide her but she avoided the one that  alluded to magical uses  for the mixtures.
She was content   with the work in the shed, but somewhere in the back of her mind or was it her heart a  foreboding lurked. She felt something was about to challenge her in some way. Whenever the feeling surfaced, she would recall Barid’s warning only to shake it off. She was coming to love the old house and its lands. She felt herself taking root and changing. She worried less about her broken marriage and her lost career. Her legacy from Tabby had allowed her to be secure but the feeling of belonging went beyond living in the house and knowing money was not a problem.
Mercy and Barid watched her and sensed her growing bond.  They were waiting for her to realize that her powers were growing. They kept silent as words could not convince her. It would take some event that would create the final awakening. They felt it had to come soon for like Hanna they felt the sense of a challenge for the house and land was growing, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Imp and Callie would be quiet  purring cats only to jump up to prowl the house , backs humped and hissing. Mercy and Barid  watched the cats knowing they were signaling  danger , but Hanna  did not seem to notice.
The awakening came with an ordinary event one morning. Walking to the shed, Hanna heard a mewling in the thick lavender bordering the path. Leaning down she found a small dog with its golden fur blood stained and a leg at an odd angle.  Suddenly Imp and Callie were beside her and Barid came down the path as if he had been called.
“You called me?” he queried.
Hanna looked at him. She had not called, but she had thought he could help her. Had he heard her thoughts? She did not answer him but dipping her head she indicated the quivering pup at her knees. 
“ Help me. Can you bring him to the shed?”
Once there Hanna worked without thinking. Warm water appeared, and she washed the small wound and bound it with herbs.  She took the leg in her hands intending to set it but the voice prompted a chant in her mind. Hanna voiced it as she touched the broken limb:
    This bone please heal, As it was, let it be. Cure the harm done to thee. Do no harm. So mote it be. The bone moved under her hands which had become very warm and with a snap it was in place. The pup shook and stood up on its hind legs to lick Hanna’s chin.
“ Barid, did I ….?”
“ Yes.”
“How, how could I”
“ You know. Just think about it, Hanna. Accept it. You are a healer.”
Hanna held the pup who curled in her arms sleep. Her words came back to her as she reviewed the past few minutes and let the events sink in. She felt confused but aware of a new depth to her life. She did not notice Baird leaving or the cats curling to sleep at her feet. She just sat holding the sleeping dog replaying how she had worked with him. Not once had she doubted what she should do, she had just done it.
“That’s correct, Hanna. You have power and it is healing. Now  you must accept or reject it.”, the soft voice whispered in her ear. She could feel the breath of the speaker brush her cheek but turning toward the source no one was there. She, the pup, and two purring cats were the only ones in the herb shed.  Hanna shivered ,She knew  the voice was real and not just a mental image. “Who?”  she voiced not realizing she had spoken out loud.
“ The house. I am the house.” ,came the reply.
“ The house? Houses can not speak.”
“ But when you have found your power, you can hear me.  Accept your power to heal or reject it. I, the house, have accepted you, but you have the final choice. Yet, if you accept realize others wish to live with in me and you will be challenged.”
 Hanna started to rise but when she put the pup down it ran in circles as if it had not been hurt. She looked at the small bit of yellow fluff circling her feet and harassing the two cats. May be she did have power she thought walking to the kitchen door. “Power or not, I am happy here, and I choose to stay.” Her thought was no sooner voiced, and the house seemed to come alive. All the closed drapes opened, and doors opened to welcome Hanna , the cats and the pup.
Chapter five
Mercy  felt the change in the house the next morning as she entered the kitchen. It felt bigger ,more open, the way it had been when Tabby had lived there She knew at that moment Hanna  had accepted the house and her talent and the house had welcomed its new owner. Smiling at the change, she began  breakfast.
Hanna walked in moments later with Imp, Callie and a small yellow pup running between her feet.  Smiling as she avoided tripping or stepping on the animals she  walked to the table and sat down.  Mercy  filled a mug with coffee and plunked it down.
“So you are here to stay.” She stated with a smile at Hanna.
“Yes, it feels right, and I think I might …I might actually have some talent as a healer. But at the moment,  this pup needs a name.”
Mercy looked at the pup laying at Hanna’s feet. She realized the name was a ploy to avoid talking of powers and was content to play along. She watched his tail wagging happy attitude. The cats seemed to accept him as an equal and that indicated he had a place in the house for good.
“Well, Mercy, do you have any ideas?”,  Hanna asked.
“ He is happy, golden and male. I am not sure I have an idea . Do you?”
“ Yesterday, he was not well and had a broken limb. I …I healed him. Afterwards I  knew I belonged here; that I had power.  I decided to stay and the house changed. I saw it change. It seemed to come alive , to expand. I can not explain but the house changed. Lazarus? Shall we call him Lazarus?”
“ That would signal a return to life. Maybe but pretty serious for a pup. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe.  Golden  and beautiful. Adonis?”
“ Pretty classical. How about Oro, Spanish for gold.”
“Short and on point. Oro . You are now Oro.” Hanna spoke to the pup as she reached down to pet him.
Mercy watched Hanna and the pup. A third familiar was not unheard for a witch but it was rare for  a dog to bond with a witch. Cats, crows, and monkeys which were half imps were common but dogs. Still dogs were loyal creatures and not given to evil unless trained to be so. Still she was going to be on alert until she knew  the pup bode no evil to Hanna or the house. She would warn Barid also. Shaking the darkness from her mind, she thought about the fact that house had shown itself open even with the pup near Hanna and that was good thing.
 At the far edge of the  village  in a cottage overhung with vines and surrounded by a garden of  nettles and foxglove, Astrid  paced  in front of her mirror.  She was not happy and it showed in every step. The house had opened.  She sensed its acceptance of the intruder, Hanna. The house should be hers. Her lineage had been among the early residents of the house. Never mind that her ancestors had been sent away because they advocated revenge on those who were hanging witches. The silly words “ so harm none”  even today  were inane. Witches should use their powers in whatever way  benefitted them. A little dark arts could be a good thing.
Turning  quickly she went to her distillery where she could plan. It was easier to plan  amongst  her plants and herbs, and she needed to plan. She had to take  over the house. It was rightfully hers. She had almost convinced Tabby she was the choice , but Tabby had found out she made poppets for clients, brewed potions that made people ill and at times possibly more than ill though she never asked clients the intended use..  Asked to leave ,she had made the old fool promise not to tell anyone why. That ought to help ,as Barid and Mercy were unaware of her true nature. She actually cackled at the reassurance that fact gave her. She smiled at the sound. After all true witches cackled, everyone knew that.






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          Hanna pulled the bright yellow bug to the side of the road and checked her GPS once again. This was not a road; it was two ruts running through a wood.  The GPS still said turn here. Shrugging her shoulders, Hanna started the car and turned.
          Bumping along the trail, she kept   her eyes peeled for a simple cottage that was her new home. Once again she could not believe she had inherited a cottage and an annual income from an Aunt Tabby whose existence   was a secret her mother took with her to the grave.  Yet, it had come at the right moment to revive her after a bitter divorce, which had also cost her job as a librarian in the small Kansas town, which had been her lifelong home. Now she was the owner of a house in New England on the Atlantic coast near the Canadian border with an income, which meant she no longer had to work, plus an account to maintain the property.
          The male voice of GPS indicated another left turn, which broke her thoughts, as a break in the trees widened and a house came into view. It was two stories built of stone with attic dormer windows,
          Could this be the house? If so, it was not her idea of a stone cottage or the saltbox and cedar shingled home she expected.  It sat near a cliff and the Atlantic could be seen and heard hitting the grey stone at the beach below. Hanna stopped the car as the GPS announced ‘you are here”. 
            Hanna walked to the door. A brass next to the door read Seacliff cottage. Foundation laid in 1640.  This was indeed her new home.
          Hanna looked for the iron frog which held the house key and found it nearly hidden by the dried up sedum plantings. Lifting it she shook until the key fell into her hand and putting it in the lock opened the door to her new life. She expected cobwebs and dust as the lawyer had said Tabby had been ill for years, but the hall was pristine and furniture shone with recent polishing. Fresh flowers were in an aged crackled jug on the table and there was a note propped next to it.
                      Hanna,
                      Welcome to Sea Cliff. I am so glad that once again the house will live. My name is Mercy and I took the liberty of cleaning it and stocking the pantry and refrigerator once I knew you arrival date. Tabby taught me much about herbs and such and I feel I have repaid part of what I owe her by doing this.
          I have also brought you a house cat as Seacliff always has had one and there seemed to be a mousey invasion in progress. She is a calico and oh by the way she is expecting. Seacliff kittens are always in demand in the village so relax.
          The journals on the desk are the history of the house. I do hope you will read them. I will be over in a day or so to meet you.
          Mercy Good. 

Intrigued by the note and how this Mercy knew about her, Hanna was relieved not to have to hunt a grocer this first day. Another blessing was the house came fully furnished so no shopping until she wanted change and knew what it would be.  Before she brought in her baggage, she decided to walk through her new home. The lower rooms were large and lit by windows and showed their older roots as each held a large fireplace and broad planked floors of yellow pine. The staircase to the upper floors was wider than normal in an older home so it had to been added later as had the upper story. Each of the bedchambers again had a fireplace, but the windows were larger and the glass no longer had blowers’ marks. Hanna felt she had to read the journals to know the history of the house. Finally approaching the attic door, which she attempted to open, but it was locked. She made a mental note to ask this Mercy person for a key.
          Dusk was falling when she went downstairs and went to the kitchen. The stainless steel appliances looked odd in a room that still had a spitted fireplace and a brick oven, but somehow the result was pleasant. A huge red ware bowl on the counter held apples of all colors, and the refrigerator was stocked with milk, water, sliced meat and cheese.  Cupboards held cereals, spices, and other staples. Mercy had been efficient and Hanna was happy with the welcome the woman had prepared.
          Leaning back against the counter Hanna relaxed as she ate a quick sandwich and waited for coffee to brew, she once again wondered how an unknown aunt had found her and provided for her. Life had not been easy the past year. Patrick her love of her life partner had not shared the idea of eternal faithfulness as she found out when she caught him on top of his married assistant principal who was on top of his wide administrator ‘s desk, and he was bitter, mean and resentful of her decision not to be satisfied with the status quo. Popular in their small Kansas town where he was a homegrown leader, she became an outcast and a school board did not renew her teaching contract whose head was Patrick’s uncle? She had managed to keep the bug and half the money from the house sale but six months later the money was low and no job was in sight. Facing an unknown future, the telephone call from her Aunt’s lawyer three weeks ago had been a ray of sunshine breaking the gloom on her life. Now she was here and ready to move on.
          The sound of footfalls above her broke the reverie just as something jumped on her shoulder.  A meow announced the arrival of the house cat that proceeded to wrap her warm body around Hanna’s neck for a few minutes before she flew to the floor to pace in front of Hanna. Mewling as she walked the cat wen from Hanna to the door and back again.
          “What is it kitty? What do you want? Is something at the door?”
          The mewling went higher in pitch and louder. Hanna went to the door and opened it, and a huge silver tabby waited there. Walking in the tabby called to the smaller calico and the cats began a dance of sorts rubbing an entwining tails while purring loudly. Hanna had to laugh at their antics until tabby sat in front of her as if to assess her.
          “Okay, you are welcome here.”  Hanna announced and the two cats took off in a game of tag me that seemed fated to cover the entire house. Still smiling Hanna went to get her baggage from her car. She stepped outside and was stopped by a large man at the door with her bags in hand.  He walked into the house and turned.” You will be in the east room.” He announced and then went up the stairs. Hanna followed confused at this incident.
          “Who are you?  Why the east room? I rather like the one with the windows to the south,”
          “Owners always stay it the east room. It is the biggest.”
          “That makes sense, but just who are you?”
          “Barid. I live in the guesthouse in the rear. Did they not tell you about me?”
          “No. There was no mention of you or a woman called Mercy in the information given to me.”
          “Just as well. Too much is as dangerous as too little.” He offered as he turned, left the room, went down the stairs and out the door. Hanna followed asking questions, which were ignored. When the door closed, she shrugged and decided it could all wait until tomorrow, but she shot the lock on both doors. 
 . . .. 
The east room was large but dominated by a bed that looked as if it was from the earliest era of the house, but the sheets were clean an scented with lavender as indeed the entire room was. She walked to the deep welled window and knelt on the window seat to look at the night sky. The clouds were moving rapidly dark fluffs against the silver lit sky behind them. The trees stretched their barren limbs to scratch the air though there was no breeze. There was a golden light from the only guesthouse window she could see. Turning from the view she went to the bed and climbed under the down filled quilt, but sleep was not quick to come.
           Hanna awoke with a start. Something had touched her hair in a caress. She felt no threat but the sense of being touched filled her with curiosity. Looking around the room she noticed both cats curled on the bed near her feet. Perhaps it had been one of them as they settled in, but she doubted it, as the touch seemed made by long fingers gently stroking her hair.  Shaking her head she laid down dismissing it as a dream—a too real dream. This time sleep was quick and deep.
          The morning light and soft pawing of the cats woke her.  At her stirring the cats jumped off the bed, and tails in the air walked to the door. Stopping there they turned and yowled at her.  Hanna smiled at their plea for her to follow. ”Alright, I get the message. Breakfast for you; coffee for me”
          Pulling on a robe, Hanna became aware of someone in the house. Soft singing and dishes clattering   were coming from the kitchen. Now what Hanna thought as she went downstairs and went to the kitchen where a plump redhead was stirring something on the stove.  Both cats were weaving between her feet. She leaned forward to pat them.
          “Imp so you have decided. You will stay here. Well, it is the nature of you blacks. You choose your domain not us.  Call, you will be happy with him here, will you?”
          “Imp? Call?  They are named already?   And who the heck are you?”
          “Mercy Good. And the cats are not named; they choose their own names. It has been ever so, Hanna Proctor.”
          “Cats name themselves?” Hanna sat with a surprised thump on a stool near the table.
          “Oh yes. Have you not noticed they refuse to come until you say the right one?   I have coddled eggs here and toast. Coffee is done. “
           Thanks, I think.  Sorry, but why is you here making breakfast?”
          “It is what I do. Oh, they did not tell about me then.  I was a woman of all things for your Aunt. She asked me to stay on until you adjusted. “
          “Adjusted?”
          “To life at Sea cliff.”
          “What?”
          Mercy stopped stirring and looked at Hanna for a few moments and changed the subject as she plopped a plate of eggs, ham and toast. “You have met Barid then?”
          “Barid, well, he carried my bags up to the east room though I wanted the south. Then he gave me his name and not much more.”
          “That is our Barid. He is private but Miss Tabby liked him well enough?”
          “Enough for what? She was well over eighty and he is what? Early forties?”
          Mercy laughed. ”No not like you might think, but he is a local lad home from that Afghani war. It worked a bad magic on him; it did. Then he got home to find his Mother passed on while he traveled to get here. Not that they were close but still. Anyway he was in a bad way, and your aunt offered him the guesthouse. It has peace, quiet and no demands. She hoped it might heal what she knew was a wounded soul. Miss Tabby had a healing touch among other talents.”
          “So he pays rent?”
          “Of course not. Did you not hear me say no demands? He does do the odd chore or so.”
          Mercy turned to load a dishwasher ending the questions. Hanna attacked the plate of food lost in thought. Carrying her dish to Mercy, she ventures one more question.”  You said my aunt had talents. Did she paint, write or what?”
          “None of those. She, she. To tell the truth she made me promise to let the house teach you the truth of her life and of your family.”  Whipping off her apron Mercy walked to the door. ”I will be back after I go to the market for supper. Listen to the house. It is longing to bloom again.”
          Listen to the house now what does that mean Hanna wondered?  How could a house talk? Why would Mercy not share what she knew? Hanna went to the stack of journals.
          Determined to begin at the beginning Hanna searched through the stack looking for a journal from 1640 the earliest date of the house but the earliest journal found began in 1693. Taking it to a window for light she sat and began to decipher the faded ink’s feather y script.
                      Sept 30 1693
                      On this several relatives and friends moved to house I should call Seacliff, which has become my home.
                      The original hose is gone but some ten years ago longing for solitude and peace from misguided neighbors, my Uncle Endeavor bought the land and erected this house to which I have add a second story ad a smaller outbuilding of one story called the cottage. When he died some two years ago childless, my husband was his heir. Matthew was a Bishop from Salem but not of the more known Bishops still tis not a good name to have at this time. Never strong the recent happenings in Salem drained his strength, and he now lies in the parlor awaiting tomorrow’s burial. Jacob Proctor, Anne Good and her brother Timothy sit with his remains as I record the story of our exodus.
                      Last spring the word witchcraft became a scourge in Salem and it has recently been proven that many false accusations were made. Wrongs were done. Jacob had a brother John by his father’s second wife who was hung; Anne and timothy lost the aunt that had mothered them until her mind snapped with age. And even more. My family was spared but I do think had they looked closer at my practice of herbal cures and midwifery, I like my great aunt Rebecca Nurse who taught me was executed during the fire of the moment would have been called out.  Matthew sensing the passion of the silly girls began plans to move us to this house in the woods he had had from his uncle.
          We removed ourselves here in early June of this year. But selling his tannery, packing our goods and planning the move to this place while telling no one of its exact location sapped the savor of the man and never was he strong to begin with.  He sickened in July and naught that I brewed could revive his body or his spirit. He passed late last night and this this morning those that now sit with him knocked on our door. They asked asylum as he had promised them.
          So we will bide here away from the turmoil of the world and by the goddess we will prosper, as we must for I am with child. So mote it is. Mary Nurse Bishop, widow of Matthew.
          Mercy appeared at the door interrupting Hanna’s reading. She began to bustle around the room dusting things that need to be dusted. Finally she stopped beside Hanna waiting. Hanna recognized a busybody when she saw one and was tempted to leave the room but she did have questions.
          “Mercy, I could read these journals for a spotty history of the house as there gaps of years here. But I feel you can tell me what I should know about the house and the families that lived here.”
          “I can but I promised Tabby I’d not say a thing unless asked a direct question and there will be some things you need to learn by living here,”
          “Ok here is a direct question. Your name and my name and the people in the book are all tied to the Salem witchcraft trials, am I right?”
          “Yes, they were refugees from the trials. Those trials were so wrong and many innocents were put to death. You and I are descended from these families as is Braid.”
          “You are a Good, I am a Proctor and Barid is a”
          “Bishop.”
          “So what can you tell me now that I have asked a question?  Do not break your promise as that seems important.”
          “Yes an oath made to a  ...to Tabby is not given lightly and should be kept.  You read the first entry or two rights? So I feel I can tell you about your new home.”










          “ It was built around 1622 by a recluse who left the Bay colony as it was not to his taste .He lived here alone, but in following years it became as you have been reading a refuge of those whom the witch trials sought or whose families had been touched by the tragedy of the times.  Since then the house has passed down in your family but not everyone who held title to the house and land could live here. It was if the house rejected some people and welcomed others who once welcomed lived extraordinary long lives.”
“ The house chooses who lives here?” Hanna broke in. “just how does one know if the house has chosen them?”
           After a moment of thought, Mercy replied.” I really do not know how the house let its will be known, but Tabby was accepted before I was born so I have not seen it reject an owner. Nor before you ask, I do not know how long a person has to wait to know. I just know that the house chooses and those it chooses have powers.”
          “Powers, Mercy?”
           “Tabby was brilliant with herbs--- growing and using them. Her mother had the sight. I believe, but perhaps I am wrong, that it is those who have no power or who do not accept those they have, they are the ones, which are rejected. None who have lived here as you will read have been without power of some sort.”
    “And me?”  Hanna said “ power? Do I have Power?”
    Mercy stopped on her way out f the room and turned to Hanna. “ The house will know.”
CHAPTER 2

   During next few days, Mercy bustled in and out without taking much time to chat, and Barid just did not chat. So exploring the house and gardens filled Hanna’s days an the nights were devoted to the journals which not long after the first few entries become a listing of income and out go with no hints of power, acceptance or rejection.    The house had rooms and the rooms had crannies and nooks.  Hanna wondered through them marveling at furnishings still intact from its beginning until present day. An antique dealer would have a heyday here she thought touching an armoire in the east room as she hung her clothes in I, but she knew nothing would leave the house as long as she owned it.

The gardens were however her happy place. Ancient roses and patterned herb plots lived happily next to wild profusions of country garden staples such as hollyhocks, foxglove, daisies and lavender which was also an herb.  There was even a stone circle in the eastern near the cliff edge, which caught the light of the rising sun, but she was continually drawn to the small stone cottage near Braid’s guesthouse. Its rafters were hand hewn and hung with drying herbs.  Jars held dried raised petals, lavender buds, and various seeds all carefully labeled.  Mortars and pestles   stood ready to be used on a long worktable under the window.  The aromas and the snugness of the cottage called to Hanna, and once she discovered it, she found herself spending hours there memorizing the contents then spending the evenings researching the history and uses of the herbs it contained. She had nothing to do but what she wanted to do and for now that contented her for now though she knew that it would not last.

Monday of her third week she wondered down to the kitchen in search of wakeup coffee and one of Mercy’s bran muffins and found Mercy in serious conversation with the cats She stood at the doorway and eavesdropped in plain sight.
  “  Yes I know you two approve, but the house is not speaking yet, How will know when it does accept or reject? I took us two years to find Hanna what if she is not the one?” Low meows answered Mercy’s questions. Hanna was about to break into the conversation when Barid burst in.
 “ So Mercy, have the familiars weighed in and,” he stopped when he saw Hanna in the doorway.
 “Familiars? Like witches have?” Hanna asked stepping into the kitchen. Barid and Mercy exchanged glances.
“ Yes, the house always has two cats and they need to accept the owners or they leave. These two have been here longer than most with some new owners. Tabby was told me that there somewhere in the journal a list of cats and owners both accepted and rejected.”
“ So were these here with Aunt Tabby?”
 “No.”
“ She did not have familiars---err cats.”
“Oh she had cats, “Mercy broke in. “ But they … they”
Barid   broke in. “Tell her Mercy.”
“ They left when she passed.” Mercy finished.
Hanna walked out of the room without a backward glance. Mercy looked at Barid.” Well! Now she knows.”
Barid shrugged his shoulders and said “ but will she believe?

Chapter 3 
Hanna avoided Mercy and Barid for several days. Even tried to avoid the two cats, but that impossible. Even when she thought she had left them, they would suddenly appear to wrap themselves around her feet. She knew she avoiding facing the truth she felt in what Mercy and Barid had said in the kitchen that morning. Mercy sensed her need to be alone and meal trays arrived wherever she was with a small popping sound. That alone gave some reality to the magic powers.

On the fifth day since they had hinted at her powers, it rained. The grey, soft, cold New England rain shrouded the house in a veil of mist. Hanna wanted to go to the herb hut but the rain seemed designed to keep her inside. Pulling the curtains of the parlor’s bay window, she stared at the rain wishing it away.
“ Go ahead. Go out to the herbs. They need you. You will not get wet. I promise.”  A soft voice spoke to Hanna and an unseen hand, turned her way from the window towards the hallway. Hanna turned but no one was there. She paused at the doorway shaking her head. Then again she heard “Go on.”  
Without thinking Hanna went down the all and out the door. The mizzle fell all round her but not a drop fell on her hair or body. She walked to the herb house as if protected by a large umbrella while wondering why the word mizzle had sprung into her thoughts. Then she was there and once in the door, she felt welcomed and comforted.
 Without thinking about it she reached for the mortar and pestle ready make some tea.  Her mother had made herb teas, and now Hanna wanted a cup of the comfort tea her mother had blended when things seemed unsettled. What her mother used?
 “ Chamomile” The word seemed to come from nowhere. Hanna glanced around the room. No one was there. She reached for the jar labeled chamomile. ‘’ Lavender calms.” The voice suggested and this time Hanna did not survey the room as she added lavender to the mortar and began to blend the dried blossoms.
 Putting the water to boil on the electric burner, Hanna felt the cats winding around her ankles. She was sure she had shut the door against the rain. She glanced toward it.  It was closed. How had the furry companions come in? Had the door swung open with the wind gusts and then shut once again? Surely it would have banged and she would have heard it.

The whistling of the kettle broke into her thoughts. Lifting a cup from the shelf to make tea, the voice stopped her.  “ Not that one. I used it for toxic brews. The yellow color was the reminder.”  Hanna replaced the cup on another shelf to avoid selecting it again and reached for a bright blue one as the voice whispered, “ That was my favorite.” Without pausing she set the tea to brew and began for the first time to look more closely at what she thought of her haven in her new life.  Two cats tail swishing followed her as she walked around the room until suddenly both felines walked in front of her and sat.  Hanna stopped and was about to go around the living roadblock when Callie jumped up on the counter followed by Imp meowing loudly.
Hanna looked at the two cats and then realized they were directly in front of a cupboard that she had yet to open. Imp turned to her walked over and rubbed himself against her chest and then immediately went to set in front of the cupboard pawing t its doors. Intrigued by the feline antics, Hanna pulled the doors open to find leather bound books resting on the shelves.  The binding matched the journals she had been reading but these books were both larger in size and thicker. She pulled one toward her and opened it randomly. It was a recipe for a tisane and as she read Hanna realized it was a tea such as she had just brewed, but this was aimed at soothing a sore throat. Innocent herbal remedies, Hanna thought putting the book back. She turned to get her tea when Callie pawed a book from the shelf. It fell open on the counter. Hanna gasped when she saw the words; Spells to accompany tisanes. The spidery script was faded and hard to read but the words so mote it be and do harm to none stood out.
She snapped the book shut .It couldn’t be.  The pages had been yellowed the handwriting faded. Something from the past, she told herself from when people believed in such things.  She reached for her tea and holding with both hands she turned her back on the books. The aroma from the blue cup comforted her, as did the tea itself. But the yellow up had held toxic brews according the voice. The voice what was up with that?  This entire place was beginning to give her real shivers. What had Aunt Tabby been and what was up with the house. Putting down the cup she went out the door with cats twining between her feet and walked toward the house. It was time for answers.
Just as she reached the kitchen door, the voice spoke again.” Be careful. You are being challenged. Fear not I am with you but I have limited power to help.”  Hanna shook her head to banish the voice. It was not normal to have such a powerful voice from nowhere, and she wondered if she was imagining it to help cope with the questions she had about the house and her aunt.
Barid was leaning against the counter with a mug of coffee in his hands when she entered the kitchen. His long lean frame seemed totally relaxed. She walked over to the coffee pot to find it empty. “Great, empty and I want a cup.” she muttered.
“ Not empty—never used.” Barid said with amusement.
“ So did you use magic to brew yours?” she snapped.
“ Nope. French press and there is a cup left.” He answered and moved aside so she could see the press on the counter.  She reached for a mug and poured the coffee savoring the aroma. 
Several moments of silence followed. Hanna thought about all the events at the house and questions she wanted answered. Turning to Barid she asked, “ The house chooses but how does one know if they are chosen?”
“I am from here and Tabby was always in residence during my life. I only know what I have heard in tales. It boils down to two or three things and how they manifest themselves differ for each owner. First it is a question of power. Does the person have any and then does he accept it? Second, if power is there how will the person use it? It must be for the good of all and not for personal gain or revenge and third when challenged will the house help the person win the challenge?”
“Great. I have no answers for those things yet.”  Hanna responded looking at her nearly empty cup.
“ You must have power as the cats have accepted you and cats do not bond in this house with powerless people, you just have to find your talent and use it. “
“Mercy says she has power only to do domestic things. Do you have powers?”
“ My power is.”  but his response was interrupted by a knock on the door. The cats ran from the kitchen and satin the hall facing the door mewling loudly. Hanna and Barid followed.
“Hanna, do not trust what you see. Trouble comes in many forms. I feel this may be a challenge for you. Perhaps an answer is coming.”  Warned Barid as he turned and left her alone with the protesting cats.
Staring at the door and the cats, Hanna was puzzled at the arched backs and hissing form the pair. No one had knocked, again and no noise was coming from outside the door. Hanna stood on tiptoe to look out of a peephole to see what was on her doorstep. Just as she caught sight of a person going away from her yard, Imp and Callie relaxed their backs and became quiet.
Chapter  4

During the rest of the week Hanna found herself spending more time in the small herb filled shed. She mixed herbs for teas and extracted oils to refilled bottles.  None of these skills had been learned in her other life and she could not say she was learning now. She just knew what went with what and how to mix them. Something in her soul seemed to respond to the shed’s contents and wanted to put them to use. Once in awhile she looked at the old recipe book to guide her but she avoided the one that  alluded to magical uses  for the mixtures.
She was content   with the work in the shed, but somewhere in the back of her mind or was it her heart a  foreboding lurked. She felt something was about to challenge her in some way. Whenever the feeling surfaced, she would recall Barid’s warning only to shake it off. She was coming to love the old house and its lands. She felt herself taking root and changing. She worried less about her broken marriage and her lost career. Her legacy from Tabby had allowed her to be secure but the feeling of belonging went beyond living in the house and knowing money was not a problem.
Mercy and Barid watched her and sensed her growing bond.  They were waiting for her to realize that her powers were growing. They kept silent as words could not convince her. It would take some event that would create the final awakening. They felt it had to come soon for like Hanna they felt the sense of a challenge for the house and land was growing, and it was not a pleasant feeling. Imp and Callie would be quiet  purring cats only to jump up to prowl the house , backs humped and hissing. Mercy and Barid  watched the cats knowing they were signaling  danger , but Hanna  did not seem to notice.
The awakening came with an ordinary event one morning. Walking to the shed, Hanna heard a mewling in the thick lavender bordering the path. Leaning down she found a small dog with its golden fur blood stained and a leg at an odd angle.  Suddenly Imp and Callie were beside her and Barid came down the path as if he had been called.
“You called me?” he queried.
Hanna looked at him. She had not called, but she had thought he could help her. Had he heard her thoughts? She did not answer him but dipping her head she indicated the quivering pup at her knees. 
“ Help me. Can you bring him to the shed?”
Once there Hanna worked without thinking. Warm water appeared, and she washed the small wound and bound it with herbs.  She took the leg in her hands intending to set it but the voice prompted a chant in her mind. Hanna voiced it as she touched the broken limb:
    This bone please heal, As it was, let it be. Cure the harm done to thee. Do no harm. So mote it be. The bone moved under her hands which had become very warm and with a snap it was in place. The pup shook and stood up on its hind legs to lick Hanna’s chin.
“ Barid, did I ….?”
“ Yes.”
“How, how could I”
“ You know. Just think about it, Hanna. Accept it. You are a healer.”
Hanna held the pup who curled in her arms sleep. Her words came back to her as she reviewed the past few minutes and let the events sink in. She felt confused but aware of a new depth to her life. She did not notice Baird leaving or the cats curling to sleep at her feet. She just sat holding the sleeping dog replaying how she had worked with him. Not once had she doubted what she should do, she had just done it.
“That’s correct, Hanna. You have power and it is healing. Now  you must accept or reject it.”, the soft voice whispered in her ear. She could feel the breath of the speaker brush her cheek but turning toward the source no one was there. She, the pup, and two purring cats were the only ones in the herb shed.  Hanna shivered ,She knew  the voice was real and not just a mental image. “Who?”  she voiced not realizing she had spoken out loud.
“ The house. I am the house.” ,came the reply.
“ The house? Houses can not speak.”
“ But when you have found your power, you can hear me.  Accept your power to heal or reject it. I, the house, have accepted you, but you have the final choice. Yet, if you accept realize others wish to live with in me and you will be challenged.”
 Hanna started to rise but when she put the pup down it ran in circles as if it had not been hurt. She looked at the small bit of yellow fluff circling her feet and harassing the two cats. May be she did have power she thought walking to the kitchen door. “Power or not, I am happy here, and I choose to stay.” Her thought was no sooner voiced, and the house seemed to come alive. All the closed drapes opened, and doors opened to welcome Hanna , the cats and the pup.
Chapter five
Mercy  felt the change in the house the next morning as she entered the kitchen. It felt bigger ,more open, the way it had been when Tabby had lived there She knew at that moment Hanna  had accepted the house and her talent and the house had welcomed its new owner. Smiling at the change, she began  breakfast.
Hanna walked in moments later with Imp, Callie and a small yellow pup running between her feet.  Smiling as she avoided tripping or stepping on the animals she  walked to the table and sat down.  Mercy  filled a mug with coffee and plunked it down.
“So you are here to stay.” She stated with a smile at Hanna.
“Yes, it feels right, and I think I might …I might actually have some talent as a healer. But at the moment,  this pup needs a name.”
Mercy looked at the pup laying at Hanna’s feet. She realized the name was a ploy to avoid talking of powers and was content to play along. She watched his tail wagging happy attitude. The cats seemed to accept him as an equal and that indicated he had a place in the house for good.
“Well, Mercy, do you have any ideas?”,  Hanna asked.
“ He is happy, golden and male. I am not sure I have an idea . Do you?”
“ Yesterday, he was not well and had a broken limb. I …I healed him. Afterwards I  knew I belonged here; that I had power.  I decided to stay and the house changed. I saw it change. It seemed to come alive , to expand. I can not explain but the house changed. Lazarus? Shall we call him Lazarus?”
“ That would signal a return to life. Maybe but pretty serious for a pup. Don’t you think?”
“Maybe.  Golden  and beautiful. Adonis?”
“ Pretty classical. How about Oro, Spanish for gold.”
“Short and on point. Oro . You are now Oro.” Hanna spoke to the pup as she reached down to pet him.
Mercy watched Hanna and the pup. A third familiar was not unheard for a witch but it was rare for  a dog to bond with a witch. Cats, crows, and monkeys which were half imps were common but dogs. Still dogs were loyal creatures and not given to evil unless trained to be so. Still she was going to be on alert until she knew  the pup bode no evil to Hanna or the house. She would warn Barid also. Shaking the darkness from her mind, she thought about the fact that house had shown itself open even with the pup near Hanna and that was good thing.
 At the far edge of the  village  in a cottage overhung with vines and surrounded by a garden of  nettles and foxglove, Astrid  paced  in front of her mirror.  She was not happy and it showed in every step. The house had opened.  She sensed its acceptance of the intruder, Hanna. The house should be hers. Her lineage had been among the early residents of the house. Never mind that her ancestors had been sent away because they advocated revenge on those who were hanging witches. The silly words “ so harm none”  even today  were inane. Witches should use their powers in whatever way  benefitted them. A little dark arts could be a good thing.
Turning  quickly she went to her distillery where she could plan. It was easier to plan  amongst  her plants and herbs, and she needed to plan. She had to take  over the house. It was rightfully hers. She had almost convinced Tabby she was the choice , but Tabby had found out she made poppets for clients, brewed potions that made people ill and at times possibly more than ill though she never asked clients the intended use..  Asked to leave ,she had made the old fool promise not to tell anyone why. That ought to help ,as Barid and Mercy were unaware of her true nature. She actually cackled at the reassurance that fact gave her. She smiled at the sound. After all true witches cackled, everyone knew that.






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