Homemade Sin Read Online Free PDF Page B

can make a reluctant lover pop the question; make a thief return what he stole; make sick folks well or well folks sick. And I can talk to the spirits that live in the forest, all kinds of things. I can even raise the dead.”
    Nervous, Hussey had looked at her watch. It was near dinnertime and if she didn’t leave for home soon her parents would be worried.
    Mama had noticed Hussey look at her watch. “We’re fixing’ to have our St John’s Eve feast, if you can call a scrawny, badly cooked chicken a feast. You’re welcome to join us. But I do mean badly cooked. That old man could burn canned corn. I say he cooks religiously … everything he cooks is either a burnt offering or a bloody sacrifice.”
    â€œNo.” Hussey had eyed the door. “Thank you for the invitation, I have to be getting home.” She hadn’t been sure what to think of Mama Wati, becoming the old woman’s apprentice, or voodoo in general.
    Obadiah had entered the room carrying a large glass pitcher of ruby red liquid and a platter of cookies shaped like little voodoo dolls, with chocolate chips for eyes and little chocolate Xs across the mouth to simulate stitches. His progress across the room had been slow, as he poked a foot forward before each step so as not to trip. The sangria had sloshed around inside the pitcher.
    â€œAt least stay and have some cookies and punch,” Mama Wati had said.
    With shaking hands Obadiah had passed around glasses and poured the sangria into each glass, spilling a little over the side of Mama Wati’s glass. Mama Wati had grimaced as the sticky liquid rolled down her hand and left a crimson pool on the white marble table.
    â€œDamnit, old man! You clumsy clod, you spilled sangria all over me!”
    As Obadiah had turned back toward the kitchen, holding the pitcher of sangria straight out in front of him, Hussey thought she’d seen a slight smile flicker across his face.
    Mama had picked up her glass and taken a sip. “Drink up girl, the secret is I add a little brandy to the wine and fruit. It gives it a little extra kick.”
    â€œI thought you said it was punch.” Hussey had sniffed the liquid in her glass. “I’m only thirteen; I’m not supposed to be drinking alcohol.”
    â€œHell,” Mama Wati had said, “it’s just fruit juice with a little wine mixed in. Drink up, it’s good for you.”
    Hussey had taken a sip and smiled. “Tastes good,” she’d said. “I like it.”
    â€œNever be afraid to try new things. The buzzards of destiny knew what they were doing when they sent you to me. It’s time to start your education; first you are going to learn the finer points of charms, amulets and talismans.” Mama had picked up a spoon from a side table and held it toward Hussey. “Take this spoon over to the fireplace and bring me back a spoonful of ashes.”
    As Hussey bent to the fireplace to collect the ashes, Mama had hustled into the kitchen and returned with a large silver tray. In the center of the tray had been a marble mortar and pestle. Flanking the mortar and pestle on one side, had been an assortment of spice jars. On the other side of the tray, a tiny funnel and a small bowl filled with tiny, empty glass vials with equally miniscule cork stoppers.
    â€œNow put the ashes in this little mortar.” Mama had held out the marble bowl for Hussey to deposit the ashes. “Now,” Mama had said, adding a dash or a dollop from each of the spice jars and stirring the mixture, “we will mix in some salt and some red pepper powder and dried parsley for color and mix it all up. Then we take this little funnel and pour our charm powder into these little glass vials. And when we attach a little silver chain, we have love charms to be worn around the neck of the charmer. And we can sell each of these little ‘guaranteed to work’ love charms for about fifty