Mena did not talk much as they crossed the drawbridge back into the countryside, but her lips tingled with the urge to speak. She bit into them with her teeth to keep herself from spilling everything to her employer.

“Something the matter, honey bun?” Deidre asked. “It’s not like you to be so quiet. Especially after a job well done.”

Mena’s eyes opened a bit further. Deidre was right, she had finished her first job without any of the blunders she was known for. Deidre’s voice playfully teased Mena even further, “And I think someone should know they’ve got their own personal room waiting for them when we get back to the ranch.”

“R-really?” Mena asked. “I have my own room?”

“Hah, that got you talkin’” Deidre responded. “Of course. It’s on the second floor of our bakery.”

Mena put her hands to her cheeks and smiled. “Thank you so much Ms. Love.”

“Do I really have to tell you?” Deidre snapped with a smile. “Call me Deidre!”

For the rest of the ride, Mena almost forgot her encounter with the strange man; she was much too delighted to be getting her new room instead. She had not met many people, but Mena was already beginning to adore Deidre as much as her aunt. An even bigger plus was that Deidre never nagged her or called her lazy. Perhaps she could settle in this job for a while. As the afternoon sun began to sink towards the west, she basked in the evening rays.

After parking the horse in the barn, Deidre led Mena to the back door of the bakery. “Right through the backdoor, up the stairs and at the far end of the hallway…” Deidre said raising a gloved hand to the door. “Is where you’ll find your new abode.”

“You’re not going to show me?” Mena asked, more curious than hurt.

“I’ve got some things to attend to, honey bun,” Deidre said with a certain smile. “You get settled and I’ll see y’all for dinner.”

Deidre began to walk away from the bakery, but she turned around with a slightly more serious expression on her face. “Oh, and Mena?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t mind all the knick-knacks in there. I was usin’ that room as storage for a while.”

“Ok,” Mena nodded.

She thought nothing of Deidre’s words; she was much too excited to see her new bedroom. Entering the backdoor, she walked up the creaky, antique wooden steps to a hallway. Following Deidre’s directions to the end of it, Mena opened the door and was greeted with a truly strange sight.

The wallpaper of the room was filled with intertwining grass, purple tulips and white and yellow daffodils of a soft, muted color that would not overstimulate the eyes. The furniture filling the room was of a juvenile quality: a crib with a blanket of pale yellow, a bed with a pink and white comforter, a rocking horse, and a bird mobile, all carved out of fresh pine-wood. Creepiest of all, a doll with a frilly pink dress, white bonnet and a painted face sat on a stool. The face was painted in a smile, but age had caused it to fade in a sad fashion. This was a bedroom, indeed, but for someone much smaller than her. Deidre didn’t have any children, Mena thought, not that I know of, at least.

Walking carefully to avoid the doll’s gaze (she knew it was harmless, but it still creeped her out) Mena headed towards the actual bed, feeling thankful she didn’t have to sleep in the crib. “Miserable magicaps, these are some bizarro knick-knacks,” she said warily to herself. “But hey, a room is a room.”

She laid her knapsack on the bed, and casually flipped onto it, causing a cloud of dust to arise. She hacked and swatted it away as her eyes watered. Once her ordeal was over, she quickly reached into her bag. Surprisingly, still in a jovial mood, Mena removed the thirteenth volume of “Love In The Days of Magic.”

Mena lounged back, sliding off her boots and opening the book featuring Fabias wearing nothing but a blue wizard hat, a speedo and a shining grin. “Job well done, Mena,” she said to herself.

A few pages into the latest steamy affair, and a sudden thought interrupted Mena’s train of thought. Perhaps she could confide her secret in Deidre. They had only met, but Mena already knew Deidre adored her. The happiness practically brightened the forty-year-old woman’s face whenever Deidre saw her. Without another thought, Mena tossed her romance novel on the bed, slipped on her boots and headed outside.

Mena walked to the back of the barn when she saw Cletus shoveling a great heap of manure. Mena’s nose wrinkled, but she tried casually play off the fact she had openly mocked the man twice. “What do yeh want?” he growled.

“Uh…” Mena said, looking nervously from side to side, before giving an innocent glance. “Do you know where Deidre is?”

“What’s it to you?” Cletus responded, more interested in the manure than Mena.

“I wanted to ask her a question…” and she quickly added, “It’s important.”

Cletus pointed across the field. “Down at One Tree Hill. She goes there every evenin…”

Thanks!” Mena exclaimed and dashed off not wanting to see or smell Cletus anymore.

Mena made her way across the yellow field. The sun touched the highest hills on its way down, shading everything in a golden filter. She stopped halfway in the field where three scarecrows stood. Two had their arms raised menacingly, but the third’s arms were casually lowed. Her head tilted, before she cried out, “Mena! Thank the maker that you’re here. Can I finally leave yet?”

“Not yet,” Mena said, her face surprisingly stern. “Listen, Straw-Woman, you can’t kick the farmer in the rear—even if he deserves it.”

“Come on, Mena,” Straw-Woman whined. “Put yourself in my straw. It gets tiring standing around all day. I needed some entertainment—plus, I can’t even scratch my nose when he’s around, not even if a butterfly land on it.”

Mena raised one of her thick eyebrows. “Straw-Woman, you don’t have a nose.”

Straw-Woman grabbed ahold of Mena with both hands and begun shaking her frantically. “I need one!”

Mena stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “Well, if you promise not to mess things up at my job, I might consider getting you a nose.”

Straw-Woman’s stitched-on eyes expanded. “Really, Mena?”

Mena smiled. “Promise. The woman here really likes me. I can’t do wrong in her eyes.”

“That’s wonderful,” Straw-Woman responded, and added bashfully. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

“Excellent,” Mena responded. “I may not know divination yet, but I foresee a pair of nostrils in your future.”

Mena said goodbye to Straw-Woman and reached the end of the wheat field where an enormous tree stood proudly on top of a hill. Though the leaves were green, the color of the sunset made them resemble a crown of golden-brown. Mena climbed to the top of the hill with a few heavy breaths. Ignoring how out-of-shape she was, she looked around Deidre. On the other side of the hill, facing the sun, Mena saw the banana-yellow of Deidre’s sun hat. Before she could approach Deidre from behind the tree however, the forty-year-old woman spoke but not to Mena.

“I met someone today,” Deidre said, as if someone was beside her. “Y’all would’ve loved her. Like a lil buttercup sticking her head out of the grass, she’s the sweetest girl ever and…I…”

“Uh Deidre?” Mena said, peeking out from behind the tree. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.

Feeling startled, Deidre quickly turned around. “Mena…how long were you there?”

“Who were you talking to?” Mena asked bluntly, but before Deidre could answer, Mena saw Deidre was standing beside a small, snow-white grave.

“This is my husband,” Deidre said solemnly.

“Your…husband?”

“C’mere, if you wanna hear about him,” Deidre said, beckoning Mena over.

Mena hustled over and Deidre recounted on the man who lay beneath her. “14 years ago, I met a ravishing and handsome man by the name of George Love. He was so gorgeous; he was like one of those marble statues come to life…only with his clothes on most of the time!”

“He sounds amazing,” Mena gushed with starry eyes.

“But honestly,” Deidre said, surprisingly serious. “Handsome only gets you so far with me. He was also charming and sweet. He was a working-class man, but he knew more about manners and courtship than the whole royal family. George made them look like pigs rolling around in slop.”

Mena sighed. She wanted that kind of courtship too. Deidre continued, “You may ask, when did I fall for him? It was more a matter of where, and that place was here!”

“Wow!” Mena’s said, her eyes as wide as white teacups with pupils. “This place is so romantic.”

“Yep,” Deidre said, her brown eyes reflecting in the golden sunset. “Same place. Same time. A simple question: Will you?” And of course, y’all don’t have to be a master of the human brain to know what I said. But if you aren’t, I said, ‘Yes.’”

Mena sighed again with a tint of rose in her cheeks.

“A few weeks after the wedding, we built the Bakery of Love with our own bare hands. It was our first pride and joy. Our second came when our first and only child was delivered, and we held Flora Love in our hands. We had already prepared a room for her and everything was perfect…until you realize that nothing truly is.”

“But…what happened?” Mena asked. Deidre hesitated with a pale look on her face until Mena put her arm on her shoulder.

Deidre spoke tensely. “One night of endless rain—we heard a shriek and saw a blood-red flash. We heard word of the murders in the hills, but we didn’t want to believe them. Our lives were too perfect to drink an honest cup of reality.”

Mena face went white. She knew exactly what happened before Deidre spoke. “We may have kept our bakery and barn locked tight…but a simply lock and key are no match for the devil. In another blood red flash…she appeared.”

Mena wanted to name the evil Deidre spoke of, but she remained silent. “A witch with a face of frozen pink and thick purple hair like a gorgon’s locks appeared before us. George rose to protect me, but the woman summoned a portal from hell and it, Deidre whimpered, ”devoured him whole. I dropped to the floor like a miserable sobbing wretch. “Oh why must you do this?” I asked but the witch merely laughed coldly and said, ‘Anguish knows no purpose, but she shares a common bond with us all.’”

“But what happened to your child?”

The evening chill loomed around Deidre and Mena, making them shiver. Deidre’s voice lost its sweet drawl, becoming lifeless and still. “I ran to the nursery and she was gone. Much like our dreams, honey bun, some things vanish before our eyes.”

Deidre turned to Mena for the first time since mentioning Anguish. “My brother moved in a few days, later to protect me from those accursed witches. And I know Cletus means well, but to me, he represents my dead dreams. Dreams that will never come back…”

Tears trickled down Deidre’s eyes. “Oh my,” she whimpered. “Can I have another hug, Mena?”

Mena embraced Deidre as hard as she could. But even as she hugged the poor woman, Mena knew something had changed between them. She too had endured a loss at the hand of Anguish, but she could never speak of it with Deidre. As long as Mena called herself a witch, she shared something in common with the murderer that had stolen Deidre’s perfect life.

“George would have loved y’all,” Deidre sobbed. “He loved children as much as I. We were gonna raise a whole farm full of kids.”

Mena was silent but continued to cling to Deidre. “I must admit, Mena,” Deidre said to her. “I was so taken to you because it was like havin’ a child. I hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Mena said, trying her best to remain bubbly despite a knot in her stomach.

“Come,” Deidre said, releasing Mena at last. “Enough reminiscing about dark times. Let’s head back for some good old-fashioned cornbread.”

Deidre started to walk away, leaving Mena to stand on the hill for one brief moment. She no longer had anyone she could confide her secret in. Not only that, Mena was somehow feeling closer, and yet, even further away from Deidre, the moment she heard her story on the hill.