Practical Magic

Sally always waits until her girls come inside the house before she crawls back into bed. The very next morning, she will make her excuses and take off a day or two earlier than scheduled. She will wake her daughters, and though they gripe about the early hour and the heat, and will surely be sullen all day, they'll pile into the car. Before she leaves, Sally will kiss the aunts and promise to phone often. Sometimes her throat closes up when she notices how the aunts are aging, when she sees all those weeds in the garden and the way the wisteria is drooping, since no one ever thinks to give it water or a bit of mulch. Still, she never feels as though she's made a mistake after she drives down Magnolia Street; she doesn't allow herself a single regret, not even when her daughters cry and complain. She knows where she's going, and what she has to do. She could, after all, find her way to Route 95 South blindfolded. She could do it in the dark, in fair weather or foul; she can do it even when it seems she will run out of gas. It doesn't matter what people tell you. It doesn't matter what they might say. Sometimes you have to leave home. Sometimes, ru

Premonitions

Crossed knives set out on the di

It makes sense that Antonia's little sister, Kylie, who will soon be thirteen, spends hours locked in the bathroom, crying over how ugly she is. Kylie is one inch short of six feet, a giant, in her book. She's as ski

Part of the problem is that Kylie can never think of a smart comeback when Antonia sweetly inquires whether she's considered sleeping with a brick on her head or thought about getting herself a wig. She's tried, she's even practiced various mean putdowns with her one and only friend, a thirteen-year-old boy named Gideon Barnes, who is a master at the art of grossing people out, and she still can't do it. Kylie is the sort of tender spirit who cries when someone steps on a spider; in her universe, hurting another creature is an u

These women in the neighborhood respect Sally Owens, and what's more, they truly like her. She has a serious expression even when she laughs, and long dark hair, and no idea of how pretty she is. Sally is always the first parent listed on the snow chain, since it's best to have someone responsible in charge of letting other parents know when school will be closed in stormy weather, rather than one of those ditsy mothers who are prone to believe life will work itself out just fine, without any intervention from somebody sensible. All over the neighborhood, Sally is well known for both her kindness and her prudent ways. If you really need her, she'll baby-sit for your toddler at a moment's notice on a Saturday afternoon; she'll pick your kids up at the high school or lend you sugar or eggs. She'll sit there with you on your back porch if you should find some woman's phone number written on a slip of paper in your husband's night-table drawer, and she'll be smart enough to listen rather than offer some half-baked advice. More important, she'll never mention your difficulties again or repeat a word you say. When you ask about her own marriage, she gets a dreamy look on her face that is completely unlike her usual expression. "That was ages ago," is all she'll say. "That was another lifetime."

Since leaving Massachusetts, Sally has worked as an assistant to the vice principal at the high school. In all this time, she has had fewer than a dozen dates, and those attempts at romance were set up by neighbors, fix-ups that went nowhere but back to her own front door, long before she was expected home. Sally now finds that she's often tired and cranky, and although she's still terrific looking, she's not getting any younger. Lately, she's been so tense that the muscles in her neck feel like strands of wire that someone has been twisting.

When her neck starts to go, when she wakes up from a deep sleep in a panic, and she gets so lonely the ancient janitor at the high school starts to look good, Sally reminds herself of how hard she has worked to make a good life for her girls. Antonia is so popular that for three years ru

Never look back, that's what she's told herself. Don't think about swans or being alone in the dark. Don't think of storms, or lightning and thunder, or the true love you won't ever have. Life is brushing your teeth and making breakfast for your children and not thinking about things, and as it turns out, Sally is first-rate at all of this. She gets things done, and done on time. Still, she often dreams of the aunts' garden. In the farthest corner there was lemon verbena, lemon thyme, and lemon balm. When Sally sat there cross-legged, and closed her eyes, the citrus scent was so rich she sometimes got dizzy. Everything in the garden had a purpose, even the lush peonies, which protect against bad weather and motion sickness and have been known to ward off evil. Sally isn't sure she can still name all the varieties of the herbs that grew there, although she thinks she could recognize coltsfoot and comfrey by sight, lavender and rosemary by their distinctive scents.