Four Signs

Four Signs

I sat at the small kitchen table, overlooking my friend’s small herb garden. Pansy was just taking some cinnamon rolls out of the oven and the aroma was heavenly. “I still think you just need to embrace your inner witch,” Pansy fussed as she sat down the rolls in the middle of the table.

“I’m not a witch. At least not the kind you’re referring to.”

Pansy wrinkled her nose and started unwinding her cinnamon roll, stuffing it into her mouth with gusto. “Just be open to the signs.”

“You sound like a nut job. You know that, right?” Years of being best friends allowed an easy intimacy. “The only sign I see says: You’re an idiot,” followed by me licking my fingers and adding, “And a great cook”. We both grinned and proceeded to inhale the rolls.

The rest of the day was dedicated to me visiting the local home improvement store and loading down my aging pickup. I was mentally checking off the items I still had to get, as I was slamming the tailgate shut. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and jerked my head to see an industrial size buggy heading for my truck. It was coming at a good clip and I had to sprint to catch it before yet another dent was added to my only ride. I managed to get my body in front of it about the same time 6 feet 3 inches of manly muscle caught the buggy from the back.

“I am so sorry! Are you ok?!” Manly man had the bluest eyes, and prettiest face I had seen in a while.

Not to brag, but I could usually speak in coherent and complete sentences. So I could feel my face heating up with embarrassment when I found myself unable to do more than smile and nod. Studly collected his buggy and I climbed in my truck, slowly shaking my head as my heart rate started to approach something more like normal.

The ride home was uneventful with my mind full of things I needed to do. I pulled onto the long gravel drive and began to question my life choices for the thousandth time. The 1880’s farmhouse slowly came into view through the trees and I simultaneously saw its former grandeur and its current dilapidated state. What had I been thinking? I parked the truck and sighed with my forehead pressed to the steering wheel. Tears threatened to spill. Widowed almost a year ago, kids out of college and moved away, fifty years old, still teaching school, moved to a new place to be near my childhood best friend, and remodeling a money pit; I felt certifiably crazy. I sniffled twice and adjusted my big girl panties and got out of the truck and started unloading my supplies.

The night ended like the others of the past week, since I had closed on my mini farm. Pansy showed up at 6 sharp and we made dinner together in my makeshift kitchen. It was then wine for her and grape juice for me on the wrap around porch as we watched the lightning bugs come out. The rocking chairs had been left by the previous owners and they had the perfect shape and creaking noises. I was telling Pansy about my buggy incident when she sat up straight and smiled mischievously. “That’s your first sign,” she squealed.

“What do you mean that was a sign?”

“Cindy, I saw a big change in your reading yesterday. It’s time things turned around for you. It’s time you open your eyes and enjoy life again.” Pansy was looking at me, willing me to understand.

“I don’t believe in tarot cards or signs and I have had enough change in my life to get to feel overwhelmed.” I don’t usually enjoy pity parties, but after all the turns my life had taken recently I felt entitled.

“Things are going to start happening rapidly now. You might as well be prepared.” Pansy sat back in her chair and started rocking again, slowly sipping her wine.

I sat back too and started mumbling about crazy friends and mosquitos, as I squashed one full of my own blood on my thigh.

The next day promised to be a scorcher and as much as I loved summer and being out of school for two months, I didn’t always enjoy sweating through my shirt by ten in the morning. Getting the house in shape was the first task, but that required me hiring a contractor. He wasn’t due to show up until Friday. Today was Wednesday and I was going to start cleaning out and inspecting my barn. It was dirty work but the structure was sound and I could envision a small menagerie giving me enjoyment and something to love. The nesting boxes for chickens were intact and I was excited to get some hens and start gathering my own eggs. Hours later, it was lunch and a quick shower followed by another trip into town. This time, it was to the local Co-Op.

After getting someone to help me sex the chicks, I had six females and 1 male in a box. I then added a large galvanized tub, heat lamp, bedding, feeding trough, feed and water containers. A young man that said he would probably be in my biology class in the Fall helped carry everything to my truck. I was again closing my tailgate when I noticed something dart behind my tire. I got down on my knees and peeked around. Two big yellow eyes blinked back at me, As I watched a tiny scrawny kitten ventured toward my feet. The black ball of fur started swatting at my shoe laces. I quickly picked it up and loud purring ensued. It looked healthy but flea infested. I peered around for a possible owner or a momma cat. Upon seeing neither I took the fluff ball back into the store, making inquiries to see if it belonged to anyone. Long story short, I added a litter box, litter, flea shampoo and cat food to the truckbed.

Pansy was ecstatic when she met Marvin. After his bath and a full tummy, he was running through the house and attacking my feet and ankles with his tiny murder mittens. “He’s your familiar,” she declared.

“I have no idea what that means,” I remarked smugly as the kitten pounced in my lap and proceeded to bite my finger.

“He’s your spiritual protector. You should really read a book sometime.” Pansy waggled her finger at Marvin causing him to leap onto her lap and start kneading her shorts.

“I read books,” I protested “Just not books on witchcraft and familiars.”

“You need to expand your reading list then. And he’s sign number 2.”

I silently rolled my eyes and listened to the creak of our chairs, the purr of my kitten and the crickets.

I was slowly getting into a routine at my new old house and I had actually slept well with Marvin snuggled against my chest for most of the night. The day was filled with taking care of baby chicks and tackling more of the barn. Pansy arrived for dinner and she asked about my day. I relayed the boring details and she frowned.

“That’s all? Nothing else happened?”

“That’s it. I guess your signs have stopped.”

“The day isn’t over,” she quipped.

We took our usual seats on the porch and I was supremely relaxed petting Marvin and listening to the night sounds. The lightning bugs were out in force and my bug candles were doing a passable job of keeping the mosquitoes away. The peaceful scene was quickly interrupted by a high pitched scream. I froze mid rock, expecting Marvin to have dug in his claws. He was still sound asleep.

Pansy immediately sat up. “Go get your flashlight!”

I ran into the house with Marvin protectively cradled against my chest. “What in the world was that?” I hissed as I passed Pansy. She had a huge grin on her face. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know. Luckily I had organized a kitchen drawer and withdrew the flashlight quickly. Back on the porch I handed it to Pansy who immediately headed for the barn. I trailed in her wake, not exactly sure she wasn’t leading us to our death. I was imagining bobcats, mountain lions, ghosts, banshees and serial killers. She swept the light around and finally aimed it at the open loft. I had left the small door open when I had been up there cleaning to allow a breeze. At first I saw nothing and then a pale shape emerged into the opening.

“It’s a barn owl,” Pansy whispered.

“That’s what made that hideous sound?”

“Yeah, they make a couple of others too.” At that point another pale flyer silently swooped from overhead and landed beside the first. “Let’s head back to the porch, we don’t want to scare them away.”

We sat back in our chairs and Pansy couldn’t contain her glee. “I told you there would be another sign.”

“You call a screaming owl a sign?” I was still a little unnerved by the sound it had made.

“Oh, most definitely. Everyday this week when I have done your reading, the death card has appeared.”

I audibly gasped. Death was not something I wanted to talk or think about. My mind was racing with questions. Was I the next one death was targeting? Was it one of my kids? A friend? I must have looked pretty scared because Pansy jumped up and grabbed my hands and squatted in front of me.

“No, Cindy. It doesn’t mean an actual death. It most often means change and a death to old ways of thinking or living. Just like the owls. Some people think they bring messages of death, and they can. But most of the time they are omens of a metaphorical death, just like the death card in tarot. They are a good thing “

“So, you’re glad they are here?”

“Oh yes!! It looks like you have a nesting pair. Not only are they a good omen of new things to come, they will keep your rodent population down. I doubt Marvin will stray much past the house. And they are sign number three.”

“How many more signs am I supposed to get? This is getting a little scary.”

“Just one more. You will be fine.”

I didn’t put much stock in Pansy’s predictions, but I was glad there was only one more in my future.

The next day dawned beautiful and hot and after getting all of my new animal friends fed and ready for the day I was fixing my own breakfast when I heard a car drive up. It was only 8:00 am and I smiled to myself glad that the contractor was on time. I waited for the knock before heading to open the door. The guy was looking at some paper work and started asking, “Are you Cindy Johnson?” before he even looked up. When I didn’t answer right away he glanced up. I watched as recognition flashed across his handsome features. “Hey! You’re the girl I tried to squash with a buggy!”

“Guilty,” I smiled. “And yes, I’m Cindy Johnson. Won’t you come in?”