Then during their seven years, something changed. Shifted. At times Pru thought that she had grown up and Lisa just never did. Except things were never that simple. Lisa’s cantankerous nature started chipping away at everything Pru felt for her. And at everything Pru felt for herself. Grown up or not, Pru beganquestioning her own worth. Nothing she had ever done was good. Nothing was ever right. And nothing was ever enough.
“This oatmeal is cold. And has the consistency of cement.” Lisa hated Pru’s cooking. Granted, Pru hated her own cooking, but she had been the only one trying.
“This apartment is cramped. I don’t know how you live like this!” Lisa hated Pru’s studio above the shop. No, it wasn’t palatial by any means, and her father had a much larger three-story villa on the outskirts of town, the Fowler Place a staple in Crow’s Nest for generations. All stone arches and drafty hallways. Nobody needed five dining rooms. Well, nobody but Lisa, who really pushed for them to move there.
“You could be doing so much more with your life instead of staying here at the Nest in this quaint shop. I hate it here. Can’t we move to New York?” When it became clear that Pru was not going to move to the Big Apple, back into her father’s mansion, or anywhere else for that matter, Lisa decided that bigger and better things beckoned. And maybe they did, but not for Pru.
Prudence Fowler was happy in her little corner of the world. Her shop was thriving. Her life was settled. And so she and Lisa parted ways.
Except, Lisa hadn’t gotten the message, as she kept calling and coming over. Instead of pursuing those dreams of moving cross-country, Lisa had applied to one of the many positions that opened at the Dragons School For Girls. With the new regime, the school expanded and required an increased staff in almost all of its departments.
Headmistress Nox did not do things by half, and soon enough a lot of townies were traipsing daily up the cliffs to their new place of employment. It made for an interesting change of dynamic between the sleepy town and bustling school, always so apart and now suddenly dependent on each other for everything.Pru wondered and waited for this particular brew to show its true colors. No change ever went this smoothly.
In the meantime, the townies had more money and were gainfully employed close to their homes, the businesses on the island boomed, and the school boasted an increased number of students. A win-win?
Pru was not ready to draw a firm conclusion just yet. Especially when it came to Lisa and her new job. How she even managed to get that job was a mystery to Pru. Her only previous professional experience was working at the island flower shop. Maybe the owner put in a good word for her?
The owner. Well, that was Pru’s other visitor of the day: Ceridwen Crowhart, the proprietor of Crow’s Blossoms. A touch taller than her younger sister, her hair pulled into a simple knot at the base of her head, she was almost Rhiannon’s spitting image.
Almost. Not that Pru had looked that closely at Rhiannon Crowhart. So technically she didn’t allow herself to acknowledge that Ceridwen had lighter eyes the color of tormented sea or that her hair was darker, more mahogany than the fiery auburn of her sister. Nope. Pru had no way of noticing any of that, because she never paid Rhiannon Crowhart that much attention.
“My darling.”
And that was another distinct difference between the sisters. Ceridwen was tranquility to Rhiannon’s storm. Serene and friendly, she radiated a calm that was enviable even to Pru, who always thought herself a laid-back person. Yet Ceridwen Crowhart was on a level all by herself.
“I couldn’t not stop by, Pru. I was just at the Library Board meeting. Can you imagine we have another anonymous complaint about several queer books?”
Pru sighed. She loved her town, and she found it somewhat isolated from the world on the mainland, from the ugliness andthe despair that had been inching closer and closer to Dragons’s shores. Still, sometimes that ugliness and that prejudice did cross the Dragons strait and unleashed itself on the town. Book bans were something they had been seeing a lot of lately. Always anonymous. Always against queer or racial justice literature.
Ceridwen was a councilwoman and sat on the Library Board. Pru had no idea how the woman did it all.
“Did you manage to deflect the complaint? This whole anonymity thing is just wrong. If you’re going to challenge a book, show your face, let everyone see your bigotry!”
Pru heard the alarm in her own voice but didn’t care. Some things were too important.
“We’d need to change the library statutes to exclude anonymous challenges. I don’t even know when that whole thing started and who wrote it into the governing documents. But no, I didn’t have enough votes to overrule this particular challenge. I don’t know how these people who call me a colleague have the gal to look me in the eye every time they vote to ban queer literature.” Ceridwen’s smile was sad, frayed at the edges. “So, we lost two more books, Pru. Will you?—”
“Yes, I’ll order more copies, put them on sale. Freaking give them away, if it comes to that. Just send me the titles.”
Ceridwen nodded, and when the corners of her full mouth lifted this time, the smile reached her eyes, the faint crow’s feet giving her an ethereal air. Damn, those Crowharts really won all the genetic lotteries. Pru wanted to chastise herself for the objectification, but then she was simply being objective. The sisters were unfairly beautiful.
They hugged, and for a second, unlike any other dozens of hugs they had previously shared, Pru felt a distinct shock of electricity the moment their bodies connected. The spot, dead center of her chest where Rhiannon’s eyes had pierced her during the tempest, twisted with an almost painful pull.The ache was shades lesser than yesterday, but it was there nonetheless.
There was no thunder and no petrichor this time, simply a sudden slow turn of her heart, a recognition of sorts that she couldn’t name nor place.
Pru shook her head and adjusted her sweater.
“I’m so sorry, my clothes must’ve gotten some static during the wash.”
Pru finally lifted her eyes up only to catch Ceridwen giving her the strangest of looks. A long assessing one, as if seeing her for the very first time. It lasted for a good minute, the sea-green eyes penetrating, warm in their perusal, and Pru was just about to say something, anything to break the awkward silence, when the front door banged open loudly, making her jump. Elegant as ever, Ceridwen turned around, not a sign of fear in her calm features.
“This wind. It’s been strangely drafty here lately.” Pru hurried to close the door, the weather still rather moody after yesterday’s storm that had lasted until the early hours.
And that is when she noticed the absence. The pillow on the windowsill, always occupied at this hour, was empty.
“Patches?” Even to her own ears, her voice was shrill. “Patches!”
She darted to the back room where the possum would occasionally hide from rude customers, but her trusted companion was nowhere to be found.
