The Night of Falling Stars
Freezing rain hammered the stone cottage, but inside, the fire and the echoes of Flo’s magic kept it warm and cozy. As he worked, Ben’s knuckles throbbed, but that was nothing new. Anyway, twinges of arthritis were less than nothing compared to the ache in his heart.
“Your eye’s red, Grandpa Ben,” Willa said. “Did it get hurt?”
“What? No, little one.” He dragged his sleeve over his face. “It’s only… only a wisp of smoke from the fire.”
He stirred cocoa powder into the hot milk. The trick was keeping it just shy of boiling. That’d dissolve the chocolate while keeping the milk film to a minimum. Flo’d had magic for that too, but he’d have to rely on more mundane skills. His and Flo’s talents had been complementary. He sighed, quietly, so as not to make little Willa fret.
“It’s almost ready, Granddaughter,” he said. “Hot chocolate on a winter’s night. Nothing quite like it.”
She nodded solemnly. “That’s what Grandma Flo says.”
He forced a smile. “You remember Grandma Flo, do you? I’m sure that would please her.”
“She talks to me. At night.”
“Ah, in your dreams. Good… I’m glad.”
“There’s smoke in your eye again, Grandpa.”
“So… there is,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I do believe this hot chocolate is ready. Would you like some?”
Willa’s face broke into a big grin. “Yes, please!”
Ben poured the chocolate into mugs. “Now take it slowly, Willa. It’s hot, so blow on it. Maybe spooning a bit out would work best.”
Left to his own devices, he’d prefer mulled wine or maybe some brandy. Still, hot chocolate with Willa was a treat not to be missed. Already, the five-year-old showed hints of magical ability. That would have delighted Flo. And it would be a comfort if Willa were to—
“There’s something in mine!” she said. “Floating on top.”
“What? Let me see. Perhaps Grandpa didn’t stir it properly.”
He pulled the mug close and peered inside. The chocolate looked perfectly fine. Perfectly ordinary, and Ben almost said so. But at the last instant, he caught Willa’s earnest expression.
“Hmmm. Grandpa’s eyes aren’t what they used to be. Suppose you tell me what you see.”
Willa dragged the mug back, slopping a little in the process. The five year old frowned at the mess.
“Don’t worry, little one; I’ll clean the table after we finish.”
“You cooked, Grandpa! You shouldn’t have to clean up. I can do it.”
“Really, dear. It’s no trouble…”
But Willa squinted at the puddle of chocolate. She clenched her little hand into a fist and flicked her fingers. The spilled liquid leaped into the hearth and, with the briefest of hisses, vanished.
Ben clamped his jaw shut to keep from gaping, but Willa seemed to think nothing of what she’d done. “Now stir it some more, Grandpa.”
He complied and asked, “What do you see, Granddaughter?”
“Well, it’s sparkly.”
“Sparkly?”
Willa nodded and tapped a grubby index finger on the rough tabletop. “Like little sparks in the fireplace. Lots of ‘em.”
“So these sparks… are they like fire?”
Her eyes filled with light, and for a moment, her voice lost its little-girl lilt. “No, Grandfather. These are all different colors. They remind me of those meadow flowers in springtime. Only brighter.”
Ben’s heart beat faster. He recalled that trip vividly, but how could Willa remember it? It had been two years previous, months before his wife had taken ill. It seemed that not only could his granddaughter, who was barely five, teach herself simple magic, she could also recall seasons past. If only Flo had lived to see this!
But he dare not let his excitement show. Brilliant and talented though she was, Willa was still a little girl. There would be plenty of time for serious things. He dredged up his best, grandfatherly chuckle. “Ah, yes. I understand,” he said, “at least I think I do.”
Childish innocence returned to her voice. “You see them too?”
“No. Not for a long time now.”
“Since before Grandma Flo died?”
“Yes. Though I remember them well.”
“What are they?”
“They are stardust, Willa. This is the night of falling stars, and magic is afoot. It seems that a few bits of stardust have found your hot chocolate.”
“Can I drink them up?”
“Definitely.”
She took a sip. A faint nimbus of light surrounded her, and power rippled the air. “Stars taste good, Grandpa Ben!”
Copyright © 2020, Michael C. Glaviano. All rights reserved.