A Healer's Touch

Dropping her toast butter-side down on the aged linoleum
floor, Phoebe Penn bit her lip to keep the curse words from tumbling from her lips.  She cast a furtive glance at her three-year-old son Simon.  He was playing contently with his matchbox car running it over the scared surface of the second-hand kitchen table.  Simon’s lips reverberated adorably as he made little engine noises, his focus completely on his little imaginary world.  As usual, her heart melted just looking at him.  He made her life worth living.

Every time she looked at him, he took her
breath away.  She loved her son with every ounce of her heart and soul. She’d gotten pregnant at eighteen, and when things became tough she wondered if keeping him had been best for him.  Selfishly, she couldn’t imagine living without him in her life.

Christmas was only a month away and money was tight.  She knew they could live off the Thanksgiving leftovers for a few more days but she would have to buy groceries and she also had to pay rent, there was not enough money to do both.  Her heart sank while sh
e watched her son. 
If only I could give him a storybook Christmas.  He deserves so much more.

In
her mind, she saw a big beautiful tree with lights and sparkling decorations and a mountain of presents spilling out from under the branches.  Taking a deep breath, she could almost smell the evergreen. Longing for a fantasy Christmas made it so real in her imagination.  If love could build a castle and fill it with toys and food, they would be rich.

Looking up at the clock
, Phoebe sighed.  It was time for her shift at Margie’s Diner. She enjoyed waiting tables, it was one of the few places in town where she didn’t get the looks and stares because she was “one of those Penns” and she made more in tips than she would have made  working for minimum wage the same amount of hours anywhere else.  She knew she pretty, her hair was long, shiny, and so blonde it appeared to be silver.  Big blue eyes framed with thick black lashes gave her a striking look.  Phoebe’s angelic petite features made her appear much younger than she really was.  Several regular male customers tipped her far more than they should and she suspected they just wanted to get into her pants, little did they know she’d sworn off men.  The only man she cared about was three feet high and loved pancakes with jam on them. 

She spoke quietly to her son,
“It’s time to go to Ivory’s house, get your boots on, honey.”

“Will she have pancakes for me?”

Smiling, she smoothed his wild blonde hair.  “How could she
not
have pancakes when she knows you’re coming?” 

He smiled and she watched h
im tuck the car into his pocket, then run for his winter gear.  A lump formed in her throat.

She picked up her purse and was just about to grab her keys off the hook when a loud knock at
the door startled her.  Running to the door, Simon opened it before his mother could stop him and he looked up in awe at the tall stranger.  The man was built as if he lived in the gym.  This guy looked far too enormous for her tiny doorway.  His dark hair and bedroom eyes seemed out of place in a little town like Willow Lake. Because Phoebe was a lifer in Willow Lake, she thought she knew everyone in town, but she’d never seen the sexy visitor before.  He was far too hunk-a-luscious for her to have never noticed him.  If he’d come with the purpose of selling God and preaching vacuums, he had knocked on the wrong door, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy looking at him before she asked him to leave.

“M
ay I help you?  I’m just leaving for work so to save you some time, my souls been saved and I’m too broke to buy anything.”

He flinched as if she’d slapped him.  An offended expression darkened his face. 
Honesty didn’t always sit well with everyone.  Phoebe straightened her back ready for his rebuttal.  He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again.  Frowning at her, he cleared his throat. 

“Ms. Penn, I am certainly not here to sell yo
u anything or apostolate to you.  I’m here for the rent.”  His voice was as sexy as brandy and velvet but his words made her bristle.

Phoebe’s familial magic gave her a good sense of people and she instantly disliked this man to the marrow of her bones.  He
was fingernails on the chalkboard to her chakra.  Her rent was
not
late, it would be late at the end of the week but it was not late today.

“Mr
. Rent Collector, my money isn’t due until Friday so kindly get the hell out of my way so I can go make the money to pay it.  Do you work for my landlord?  Old Man Sterling never struck me as the type to pay a goon to shake up the tenants of his slums for money.”

“
Do
NOT
speak ill of my grandfather.  He is very ill and has turned over the operations of his businesses to me. My name is Fabian Sterling and it seems
I
am your new landlord.  I see my grandfather has been charging you a very generous rent and your lease is up in March.  Your rent will be increasing by one hundred and twenty dollars each month, if you decide to renew your lease.  I’ll be informing the other tenants of the same information as well.  Grandfather didn’t impose a late fee, that will also be changing when you renew you lease.”

She had enough trouble paying what his grandfather had milked her for
each month for the decrepit apartment.  The old man had a monopoly on rentals in Willow Lake so she was lucky to have found anything in her budget.  She decided to turn the whole landlord-renter-obligations-finger-pointing back at him.

“I sure hope this means you’
re going to shut the window that never shuts and replace the stove.  Only one burn has ever worked.  The bathroom faucet leaks and the carpet in the living room is horrible.  I noticed the refrigerator doesn’t seem to cool very well anymore, too.  When can I expect those repairs to be done?”

He glared.  She glared right back.

“You may submit a list of your repairs to my office.  Here is my card, bring the list in and I’ll have the items fixed within a week.”  There wasn’t any humanity in his tone.

“I’
m not late on my rent.  I personally paid for the pluming to be done last month, so your grandfather gave me an extension for my payment until Friday.  I’d have just preferred he reimburse me for the money I had to spend, but you Sterlings' aren’t exactly known for your fairness or generosity.”

“He didn’
t keep the record of this extension or repair.  I certainly can’t just accept your word.”

Greedy bastard
.
She knew it was no good arguing, not with a tight wad Sterling. Stomping over to her purse, she pulled out checkbook containing the receipt for the repair.  When she returned to the door, she noticed her son had his arms crossed over his little chest and he and her new landlord were staring each other down. 
Ha, the little man of the house doesn’t like you either.
  Phoebe handed him the receipt and her check registry.  He looked them both over carefully and finally when he spoke she was surprised.

“I see.  My grandfather was not in a very hale frame of mind these last weeks.  I certainly will honor
the extension for Friday and please take this bill off your rent.  I keep meticulous records so please photocopy those items and have them ready for me when you pay your rent short to cover our debt to you.  Good afternoon, Ms. Penn.”

He
left without another word.  She watched him walk over to her neighbor’s apartment. As she hurried outside, a smile lit her entire face.
It’ll be so worth being late to watch you meet the boys.
The men who lived next door were cable access superstars, in their own minds at least. J. T. Kirk and Joss McCoy
undoubtedly not the names on their driver’s licenses
operated their own late night public access cable show.
Tales of the Unexplained,
they exposed the paranormal hidden side of Willow Lake.  They’d moved to town after research into the paranormal had pointed a bright neon arrow at Willow Lake.  Shortly after they’d arrived, commercials for their unique business began, Unusual Extermination.  They exterminated ghosts, vampires, werewolves, demons, and of course her personal favorite, witches.  She thanked God every day they didn’t know the real thing lived two doors down.

Watching
from the sidewalk, she could see Joss opening the door.  He was wearing a tinfoil hat.  His Star Wars t-shirt was a size too small and he wasn’t wearing any pants.  Phoebe shivered.  It was a bit cold to be standing in the doorway in underwear.  Joss didn’t seem bothered, but Fabian's body language made it clear he was.  Phoebe tried not to giggle.  Sam tugged on her jacket.  She looked down at her son.  “Why does the silly man have a metal hat on?”

She couldn’t help it, she laughed.  “I’m not sure.”  She suspected it was his way of keeping aliens out of his head, but she wasn’t going to tell Simon anything about Joss’s odd beliefs. 

Looking back at the apartment complex, she noticed how upset Joss seemed.  “They’ve sent you haven’t they!”  Joss screamed loudly enough that she heard every word.  He slammed the door in Fabian’s face.  He stood for a moment looking a bit shocked.  Phoebe almost felt sorry for him, almost.   It seemed the show was over.  She grabbed Sam’s hand and hurried to the car, hoping the rust bucket would start.  To her relief it did.  She was late, but seeing the uppity man receive his comeuppance made it worth being behind schedule.

****

Pulling up to Ivory’s two-story Cape Cod, she saw her best friend wave to them from the large bay window.  Ivory’s home was also her business.  The lower story of the home served as her shop.  They'd remodeled the upstairs into a large loft efficiency apartment with the help of how-to books.  It had been a proud moment for womankind; no man had interfered with the creation of Ivory’s kick-ass place. Ivory had been her friend since they were foster sisters in high school.  They both had a strong connection to the unseen forces in the supernatural. Phoebe adopted her as an official Penn witch and the two were still very close.  Ivory thought having an ancestor burned at the stake and cursing the entire town was the coolest thing ever, but Phoebe knew how very uncool it was.  Even if Ivory hung around her and enjoyed the mystique cling to which Phoebe was Ivory, could still turn the corner, not endure the whispers, and finger pointing.

Ironically, a Sterling had condemned Mary Penn to burn at the
stake, fear of the Penn name lasted to the present day, and she was just “one of those Penns” without having earned the fearful looks. It irritated her how the town wouldn’t just get with the times, offering the Penn name some amnesty.