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mistymidnight

Author's Notes: Okay, I'll be honest. I'm in a writing slump. I beg your forgiveness in advance if this chapter is crap-tastic. I was gonna put it off until an unspecified amount of time, but then I realized the Fourth is a week from tomorrow, so I figured I'd better get it done now because I am the world's greatest procrastinator.

            Tara looked up at her mother. "Pickles," she said.

            "Pickles?" Mommy asked, looking down at the expectant face of her almost-five-year-old daughter.

            "Yes," Tara said. "Pickles. I want them for our picnic."

            "I thought we made a list last night," Mommy said, clearing up the breakfast dishes.

            "We did," Tara said, "but I was tired then. Now that I'm not, I want pickles."

            "Okay," Mommy said. "But only because I love you so much, Tara-bear."

            Tara grinned. "And Jell-O," she said to herself. "Before it gets jiggly."

            Mommy smiled.

.

            "Why do we celebrate the Fourth of July?" Tara asked her mother as they walked down the aisle of the only grocery store in town.

            "Because that's when our country became a country," Mommy explained, checking the list and crossing off "mayonnaise".

            "It wasn't a country before?" Tara asked. "What was it? Did it just appear one day?"

            "No, it was a colony," Mommy said. "From England."

            "I'd like to meat an English person," Tara said thoughtfully. "Someday. Maybe even the Queen. And then we could have a tea party."

            Mommy smiled. "What would you say to the Queen of England, Tara?"

            Tara thought. "I would say, 'How do you do, your highness…Nice weather we've been having, your majesty…' You know, English things."

            "I see," Mommy said, crossing mustard off the list. "Well, if you ever meet an English person, you sure wil know what to say."

            "That I will," Tara said in her best grown-up tone of voice. "By Jove."

            Mommy laughed and the happy pair walked into the next aisle.

.

            "I wanna help," Tara said, resting her chin in her hands and her elbows on the counter.

            "Okay," Mommy said. "You can mix the egg yolks, mayonnaise, and mustard."

            "Okay," Tara agreed, sliding off the tall counter chair and skipping over to where Mommy was.

            "Mix it up real good, Tara," Mommy instructed. "I'll make the sandwiches. Peanut butter and jelly?"

            "Yes, please," Tara said, happily mixing the egg yolk with the seasonings and singing a little song she was making up as she went along: "Yellow, yellow, yellow, like the sun, like the sun. Mixing up the eggs is fun, very fun. Mayo, mayo, mayo, mayo, yummy, yummy, yum. I love Miss Kitty and my Mommy Mom Mom."

            "That's quite a song, Tara," Mommy said.

            "Thank you," Tara said primly. "I made it up just now."

            "You did a very nice job with the rhyming," Mommy said kindly, spreading jelly onto a slice of white bread. "Are you going to be a poet when you grow up?"

            "No," Tara said very certainly. "I am going to go to college and be very magical."

            "And how did you know this?" Mommy asked playfully.

            "The lake told me," Tara said in a very matter-of-fact sort of voice.

            One look at her face told Tara's mother that Tara was completely serious. "The lake?"

            "Yes," Tara replied, almost off-handedly. "When we were getting ready to go float in the kayak and you were getting it ready and told me not to go in the water, I looked into the water from the dock and I saw me. But not me now, me later." She frowned. "I'm not a beautiful princess."

            "You are to me, Tara-pooh-honey-bear," Mommy said proudly, sweeping Tara into a hug. So she did have the same…qualities…as her mother. Even though Tara's Mommy knew that the powers would cause Tara grief and trouble, she was happy to know that Tara was strong.

            "Mommy," Tara mumbled against her mother's shoulder, "I can't breathe."
            "I'm sorry, sweetheart," Mommy said, letting go of Tara and turning back to the sandwiches. "So what else did the lake show you?"

            "Not very much," Tara answered. "A man. He had black hair. I don't think he likes me very much."

            "Why not?" Mommy asked.

            Tara shrugged. "He just doesn't. I can tell. He doesn't like my friends, neither."

            "Oh?"

            "Nope."

            "Did he scare you?"

            "No," Tara said, pressing the fork into the deviled egg filling to make designs. "I'm more worried about trees."

            "Trees?"

            "Yes. This man makes trees very sad, makes them do bad things. Sad trees…weeping willows."

            "Does the man kill trees?"

            "No," Tara said. Then she abruptly changed the subject, not from discomfort or boredom, but simply on a whim. "The egg mush is done."

            "Thank you, sweetheart," Mommy said. If Tara wasn't worried about this awesome vision, Mommy wasn't going to worry either. You had to trust your heart when it came to power, because that was where power came from.

            She was jerked out of her thoughts by Tara's enthusiastic question:

            "Can we mix the Jell-O now?"

.

            "How about right here?" Mommy asked, stopping on the hillside.

            "No," Tara said. "I want to be near the water."

            Mommy sighed and readjusted her hold on the picnic basket and the blankets she had brought. Tara pranced happily down to the waterfront, Miss Kitty bouncing along in her hand. "Right here, Mommy!" Tara called, then shrank uncomfortably when so many pairs of eyes turned to look at her. When Mommy made her way through the growing crowd of spectators, Tara hid behind her as best she could, to be safe from all the eyes.

            "Very nice spot," Mommy complimented her, setting the basket and blankets down on the ground. She began to spread one blanket out. Suddenly a small figure went whizzing past. A girl, about Tara's age, with a pretty face and dark brown hair, and being quickly followed by another figure—an adult.

            "Come back, sweetheart!" it was calling. The fireworks will start soon!"

            Tara looked around, but the girl was nowhere to be seen. Then she heard someone behind her mutter, "Fireworks, schmireworks. I am not sitting on the ground if it's wet."

            Tara spun around and came face to face with the girl. "Shh!" the little girl commanded. "I'm hiding." She glowered at the near-frantic silhouette searching the hillside. Then she turned to Tara. "I'm Cordelia," she said. "Who are you?"

            Tara could only stare at the girl. Her shyness was creeping up on her.

            "Can't you talk?" Cordelia asked.

            Mommy walked over and saved the day. "This is Tara," she said to Cordelia.

            "Hi!" Cordelia said, smiling sweetly at Tara's mother. Then she turned her attention back to Tara. "How old are you?"

            Tara shyly held up four fingers.

            Cordelia let out a whoop. "I'm five," she informed them. "That means I'm older than you."

            "Cordelia! Pumpkin!" called the grown-up Cordelia had been running away from.

            "Oh. Mummy." Cordelia sounded far less than thrilled, even when the figure, whom Tara figured was Cordelia's mother, came up and hugged Cordelia. Her thoughts were confirmed when the woman exclaimed, "Oh, sweetheart, you had Mommy so worried! Come back and watch—"

            Cordelia stomped her little foot. "I am not going to sit on the ground," she informed her mother. "It's wet. I'll ruin my dress." She turned to Tara for a second and said, "It was very expensive."

            "I know, sweetheart," Cordelia's mother went on, ignoring the remark about the dress price. "Daddy went to the car. He's getting you a chair to sit on."

            "Is it a big chair?" Cordelia asked, allowing herself to be led away. She waved over her shoulder at Tara and Mommy and then was lost with the rest of the crowd.

            Tara watched her go and the tiptoed over to the water's edge. "Mommy," she whispered, staring into the lake, "I see it again."

            Mommy didn't have to ask what. She made her way over to Tara and looked over her shoulder.

            What she saw made her want to cry—with both joy and sadness. Her Tara was a beautiful young woman. Faces flickered in the reflection, winking in and out too fast for either Mommy or Tara to positively identify them. But somehow Mommy realized they were a part of Tara's life.

            Mommy's face didn't flicker.

            It wasn't there at all.

            "Mommy?" Tara asked.

            "What, sweetheart?" Mommy asked.

            "The fireworks are starting."

            Tara's Mommy looked up at the sky and watched some blue sparkles fizzle out overheard. She supposed she'd heard the boom of the fireworks, but it just hadn't registered. "Well," she said to Tara, "let's go watch." The two made their way back to blanket and laid down on it. Mommy handed Tara a devilled egg, which she bit into without ever taking her eyes off the beautiful splashes of color in the sky.

            This was the best kind of magic.

.

mistymidnight

I'm actually happy with how it turned out. More coming soon!