"Can you hear me, Cora? Cora? Look, she's waking up."
Cora winced. Her head ached as she opened her eyes, meeting several or so expectant gazes huddled around her. "What... what just happened?"
"You fainted, dummy," said Willow, and it was a relief of sorts to hear the usual tone of her voice as if all was normal. As if...
Cora sat up, one hand on top of her bruised forehead. "Be easy," said Beau, reaching out for her and she almost wanted to listen, but something wasn't quite right, was it?
She struggled to her feet with help from him. Most of the crowd dispersed, seeing that she wasn't dead or having a fit. "We should get you some ice for that head," Beau said, looking at her as if she might take another tumble at any point.
"I don't need ice." She didn't mean to sound so snippy. Though the knot on her head throbbed with pain, there was a change she felt deep down but couldn't explain.
"Are you okay, sweetie?" a pink-cheeked woman asked. "Are you sure you don't want to sit?"
"No. I'm fine. I think I need to get home. Willow." She caught her sister's gaze. Willow watched her much like Beau, still in shock of what had happened. Could she feel it too, or maybe the sensation was an after effect of fainting? She couldn't tell. "Say goodbye to Oliver. It's time to go."
"Fine," said Willow, as if that wasn't strange enough because most people couldn't tell Willow what to do without a fight.
"I'd give you a ride home, but I took the train here. Hold on. I'll call you a cab." Beau had out his phone before Cora could respond, but she supposed taking the train after falling over wasn't wise in the least.
It took her some time to regain steadiness, even though she'd convinced everyone a proper homecooked meal was all she needed. "Don't worry about me. It's probably because I haven't eaten since breakfast," she reassured Beau, which wasn't a lie because she hadn't.
He didn't argue but saw her and Willow all the way to their cab, paid for it too. "Call me when you get home," he said, closing the door behind her. She didn't let herself think on it too much. It would take more than her fainting to make up for what she'd done to his grandmother. There was probably a lot more he wanted to say, she assured herself.
Sitting in the backseat beside her sister, Cora rested her head against the cool leather, hoping it would soothe her headache. The strangeness of what happened left her in a restless state of uncertainty and she still had no clue why.
"Mom's going to have a fit. She's called my phone ten times. See." Willow dangled the bright screen in front of Cora's face.
"Willow," said Cora, brushing the phone away.
"Don't look at me," Willow said. "You're the older one, the encourager." She jabbed Cora's arm with her elbow in jest.
"Willow, I feel strange," she admitted.
"Then why did you faint for?"
"You think I did it on purpose?"
"I don't know. Maybe you swooned hoping Beau would catch you."
"I'm being serious. Don't you feel it too?"
Willow went silent, staring out of the window. "It's nothing, Cora. Just nerves. I bet all we need is sleep and by tomorrow everything will be normal. We'll be back to ruining lives in no time. Wait and see."
She let her sister's words settle in her mind and could almost believe them until they made it home. Stella Emerson stood on the top step of 4443 Hemlock Avenue, her black terry cloth robe open, revealing plaid pajamas. She raced down the steps, house slippers thwacking, as Cora and Willow got out of the cab.
"Where have you been? I've called both of you and neither of you can answer your phone! I've been sick with worry, thinking someone's kidnapped you."
"It would've been their funeral if they had," Willow said with a laugh.
"It's nice that you're making jokes, Willow-Rose, after almost giving me a heart attack. Now come on inside. Your grandmother and granny are waiting," said Stella. Arms crossed, she led them into the house. "I know I raised you girls better than this," she complained.
In the kitchen, the Emersons crowded around the island. Agatha and Mariam nursed cups of chamomile tea, Cora and Willow sat, waiting on the grownups, and their mother paced the room. "Tell them what you told me," Stella said to Mariam.
Mariam gazed into her cup, completely undone. No makeup. No colorful ensemble, her hair tied away from her face in a messy bun. Cora had never seen her so ordinary. What a rare occasion to have her home on a Saturday night. She blew on her tea but didn't drink it. "There's been a shift in the ether. I know you girls must feel it too. It took me by surprise, that vision of our dear Elizabeth Emerson."
In the silence of the Emerson sorceresses, the ticking of their dining room clock had somehow gotten louder. Cora's chest grew tight. Had they all seen the same thing? She had assumed it'd been in her head alone, but her great-grandmother confirmed the truth. All of them had seen it, whatever it was. "What does it mean?" she asked.
"It means the curse is broken," said Willow. She braced her elbows on the island, gripping her cheeks. "Right, granny?"
Mariam nodded. "Looks so, my dear."
Cora slumped in her chair. Not that she wasn't happy to have the curse broken. She now had the grace that came with being without this misfortune that for so long had been a dark cloud over their heads. The Emersons were quiet again, the weight of what Mariam said churning in their minds. "What about the Grays?" Cora asked.
"I got a text from Blythe saying that Tilda is herself again, without a trace of the spell," said Stella who'd stopped pacing. At the cupboard, she took down her favorite mug, the one Cora and Willow had bought her for her fortieth birthday.
"That makes sense." Mariam took a sip of tea. "Every charm we've ever done because of the curse has been reversed."
"Every charm?" Cora echoed. Thinking of Mrs. Campbell, a spark of hope flourished in her belly. That might mean Mrs. Campbell would be okay. Better than okay in fact. Awake.
"All I know is," said Agatha, "our lives have gotten a lot simpler. No more worrying about losing our powers or hurting innocent people."
"But how else will we have fun?" Willow grumbled.
"I don't know, Willow, I'm sure you'll think of something in that big brain of yours," said Stella, steeping her tea. "I see how you and your sister love to scheme. Don't think I've forgotten you leaving the house without my permission."
"In the light of things, I think this outweighs everything, Stella," said Agatha.
"Yeah, Mom. Besides, the only reason you were upset with us was because of Tilda. But don't you see," Cora grinned, "she's no longer a mouse. The curse has been broken." A squeal of happiness was building in her throat. She hopped off the chair and hugged her mother. No more curse. No more reason to be ashamed of who she was.
She was free to be who or what she wanted. They all were. How long had she struggled with the curse? Now, without it, ruining lives wouldn't matter at all. It was the best thing to ever happen. It was cause for celebration. Cora couldn't have been more ecstatic.
She kissed her mother's cheek. "Don't be angry. Be glad."
Stella couldn't help herself and smiled. "I'll let it go for now but if you ever try it again, I won't need the curse to make your life miserable."
Cora didn't doubt her mother. "Whatever you say, Mom," she said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, there's a certain boy I need to call."
Beau picked up on the third ring. "Cora?" he said. "Cora, what did you do? She's awake. My grandmother's awake. Thank you for whatever you did because it worked."
Lying on her back on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, Cora couldn't stop smiling at the elation in his voice. The fact that she'd done it all on her own, break the curse that'd been part of everyday life for the Emersons for so long, made her want to shout for joy, sing, dance, twirl. "I'm so happy for you," she said because she was. If only she could reach through the phone and hug him. "Are you at the hospital now?"
"Yes, I'm here with my family."
"That's wonderful, Beau."
"Yeah," he said. "Listen, I'll talk to you later. There's a lot going on right now."
There was a lot going on indeed, so much so Cora couldn't quite tamp down her excitement. After getting off the phone with Beau, she spent the next few minutes gazing at the ceiling in a daze. This was a great time for the biggest slice of cake, which got her thinking about Mrs. Campbell again. Now that she'd awakened from her eternal slumber, did that mean she'd forgiven her?
Despite Cora's delight, after all the things Mrs. Campbell had said, she was in no rush to see her next-door neighbor. People didn't rouse so easily from their prejudices, did they? But there was a chance, however, during her long nap, Mrs. Campbell's feelings had changed. It would take time and maybe a nudge along the right path by Beau.
As her grandmother had said, their lives had changed for the better. No more complicated hexes for Cora. She'd traded it in for a pure, inexplicable happiness. It was so profound that she got up onto her bed and began to shake her hipsâreleasing her splendor. Much to the annoyance of Willow who hollered, "If you don't stop that, I swear, Cora, I'll curse you again and this time they'll be no getting out of it."
In spite of Willow's threat, she continued to dance until she'd tired herself out.
Life went on as usual for the Emerson sorceresses, even with the curse broken. Though they had more than one reason to celebrate on December 12th, Agatha's birthday. No one expected her to bake her own cake, so Cora set out to do it with help from Willow who was really there to micromanage, much to her frustration.
"Did you preheat the oven?" asked Willow. "You know you're supposed to grease the pan, right?" She eyed the mixing bowl, nose wrinkled. "That butter needs to be whisked until it's fluffy. Duh, Cora."
"Willow!" Cora had enough of her scrutinizing everything she did. "If you're not going to help, why don't you go watch TV in the living room."
"I am helping."
"No, you're judging."
"I wouldn't have to if you did it right."
It did look as if a bakery had exploded in their kitchen, her apron covered in flour, as well as the island. Wearing a streak of baking powder across her chin, Cora didn't understand how anyone baked or cooked without making a mess.
"I don't need you nitpicking me," she said, adding a dash of vanilla extract to the mixture she hoped would be a classic pound cake in the endâsimple, no fussâbut scrumptious.
"Fine." Willow marched out of the room, leaving Cora in peace to follow the recipe she'd scribbled in a notebook.
Without her sister around, she found she could concentrate at last, sliding the cake in the oven by mid-afternoon. When all was said and done, the pound cake chilling on the counter, slightly overbaked, but smelling delicious, Cora felt a new sense of appreciation for her grandmother who'd been preparing all their meals ever since she could remember. Agatha had never complained once. Despite the hard work, all her love went into feeding their family of five.
As the cake cooled, Cora tidied the kitchen, sans magic because she found it calming cleaning by hand, making sure to return every ingredient to their rightful places in the fridge and cupboards, knowing how much Agatha detested misplaced cooking supplies.
At five on the dot, Cora, carrying the cake lit with three candles, Willow, Stella, and Mariam, breezed into the living room to serenade Agatha for her sixty-seventh birthday. They were all off-key, Willow especially, but the merriment in their voices was unmistakable. Most sorceresses cherished their birthdays because they didn't live as long as the witches in storybooks. They finished singing Happy Birthday to You on a rather high-pitched note, and Agatha clapped.
"Happy birthday, Grandma," said Cora, settling down on the couch beside her so she could blow out the candles. Agatha did so in one big exhale. The Emersons cheered.
"May your sixty-seventh be your best year yet," said Mariam, striding over to hug her daughter.
Agatha held onto her tight. "Thank you, all of you. Now, where's my present," she said as Mariam pulled away. Everyone laughed. Agatha didn't have the lavish tastes of her mother, but she cherished every gift they'd ever given her, especially the ones handcrafted with uncooked macaroni and chenille stems from Cora and Willow when they were little.
"The girls picked this out for you." Stella stepped forward to hand Agatha a jewelry box and they all waited as she opened it. Agatha held up the antique gold locket to the light, turning it on either side which was engraved with a floral pattern. Inside, was a recent picture of Cora and Willow that Stella had taken, capturing Willow looking like she'd rather be anywhere else and Cora's big, silly grin.
"I love it," said Agatha, one hand on her chest, which they all knew was her standard response. She would've loved any gift picked out by her granddaughters.
"Cora forgot to get you a card," Willow said. because even during tender moments like this she couldn't help throwing Cora out with the witch's brew.
Agatha waved her hand. "That's all right." She pulled Cora closer, planting a kiss on her cheek.
"I think we should cut into this cake, don't you?" Not even Mariam would balk at the sight of cake, though whatever she did to keep her figure had worked for years.
"I'll get the knife and plates." Willow twirled on her heel.
"Bring the pretty China," Stella called after her.
The cake they found, despite its burnt edges, had a soft and spongy texture, delighting Cora who couldn't refuse a second slice.
"I guess I know who'll be taking over the baking from now on," Agatha joked.
This is what happiness feels like, Cora thought, pleased by the sight of her family enjoying each other's company. No one or anything could ever tear them apart.
Cursed or not.