The Old Weather Vane

We cruise through town in no particular hurry. Along the way I point out a trio of back alley goblins to show Trixie that I had been working on my focus.

“Have you talked to anyone outside the family yet? Any monsters I mean.” She asks.

“Not…yet.” Flashes of a dark memory come violently into my mind. Cold water around my legs, the damp smell of the night forest, angelic beauty before my eyes, her pure voice gurgling and struggling, a quiet peace granted to my heart, my resistance, the weight of the weapon, hot blood rushing over my hand…I shake my head to rid myself of the unwelcome thoughts. I focus on the warm love of Mom’s invaluable soothing presence when I got home that day and, later on, the patient non-judgmental ear of Devany as I worked through the trauma.

Picking up on my pain Trixie squeezes my arm. “I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” I give her a little smile. “I knew what you meant.”

She smiles back and it hits me that she too had helped me in so many ways without even realizing it. Her bright spark was like a star peeking through a cloudy sky. She gave me hope and let me know there was a big wonderful universe out there beyond my own miasma of worries and fears.

I continue with a lighter heart. “No, I haven’t had the opportunity or the nerve really. So far it’s just been the goblins I’ve seen. I thought I saw something at the greenhouse but it was gone before I could get a good look.”

“Neato! Soon you’ll have the sight, you’ll see.”

It is not long before we are pulling up to the Old Weather Vane. I park along a row of parking spots that faced out toward the lake. We take a moment just to enjoy the nice view, made even nicer by the slating orange evening light that brushed across the calm lake. In front of us was an open park area with benches, trees, and a winding boardwalk that followed the shore of the lake. Off to our left was the town’s small marina, a place we knew well as our own few watercraft were stored there on a private dock. I get out first and hurry around to help my sister out of the car, not only to be gentlemanly but also to genuinely give her hand as she was still adjusting to wearing clothes and sandals. She accepts the aid gratefully. Arm in arm we press into each other and enjoy the fresh breeze blowing in off the lake.

We turn back. With Trix half shuffling and half walking and using my arm for support we cross the street toward our destination. While the Old Weather Vane cafe might be new the ivy clad building it was in was anything but. The simple gray stone house had stood here for as long as the town had existed, it was nearly as old as Devlin Manor. For the vast majority of its long life it had been a dwelling but earlier this year the new owners, a couple of newcomers from Boston seeking the quiet rural life, had converted the ground floor into a quaint little coffee shop and the upstairs into a suite for themselves. Given its prime location right by the lake I’d always thought it surprising something like this hadn’t been done to it years ago. The front yard was now an extension of the cafe within, table and chairs placed here and there among the colorful flower garden. And, true to its name, a large black wrought iron weather vane rose up from the peak of the tiled roof. The shape of a great raven sat atop it.

I pause at the sidewalk a moment and look over the place closely. Trixie looks up at me curiously. I look back toward the lake and feel the breeze caress my face then back again to the house.

“The vane isn’t pointing the right way.” I say. The weather vane pointed generally West despite the wind coming in from North. As I watch it I can see it move every so slightly, it was free to rotate yet it did so completely independent of the natural wind.

“You see that, huh?” Trix grins. “You’re getting good at this.”

“How did I never notice that?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs.

“What is it pointing at?”

My little sister thinks a moment. “I dunno that either. Grandma would know. Want me to call her?”

“Nah. Just curious.” I look at it a few more seconds then shake my head. “Cool.”

We start through the outdoor seating area toward the front door, there was an older couple sitting in one corner of the yard. I catch the old guy check out my sister and hide my smile as I knew he wouldn’t be the first, she was a feast for the eyes tonight. Trix whispers as we reach the door. “Okay big brother. Keep paying attention now. See if you can spot the pooka.”

“Ahhh, a pooka is something supernatural.”

“Mmm hmm.” She nods.

I open the door and let her pass through then follow close behind. The place had all the quirky charm one would expect in a cozy bakery cafe yet with a refreshing vibe of authenticity. Nothing about this place was fake. The stone was real stone, the wood furniture proper hardwood made by a local craftsman, the antiques weren’t replicas, everything about this place felt right. It was a bit too warm but the type of rich homey warmth that came up from the floor and in from the walls and roof like an all encompassing hug and the fresh bread smells wafting out from the back immediately set my mouth to watering. Squinting my eyes ever so slightly I begin to really take a close look around for anything out of place.

The stout brunette wife of the couple who ran the place stood behind a counter loaded with breads, pastries, and baked desserts of all kinds. Three of the seven tables were occupied, only one of which had someone I knew sitting at it. I give a little nod to our local head librarian and smiles a greeting back without breaking her conversation. Like so many of these cafes with the this relaxed type of atmosphere they had a cat, a medium haired orange and white tabby that was currently curled up on one of the chairs. Nothing seemed off or weird here, quite the opposite in fact. A more down to earth genuine atmosphere I could not imagine.

With the place only half full we are able to grab a good table right in the corner near the front picture window. With only one brief stumble from Trixie we are able to greet the owner, chat her up a little, then make our order. I order a German chocolate flavored coffee and a big slice of Black Forest cake while my sister orders a dairy free mango smoothie. I pay the bill and we make our way to our table and settle in. Despite the table being big enough for 5 Trix sat right next to me as she always did.

She bends down and beckons the cat with cute little noises. “Here Kaiser. Kitty, kitty, kitty.” The cat lazily cracks its eyes, stretches out, then casually hops down to trot across to sniff Trixie’s outstretched hand. Meanwhile I am still taking a hard look around for any sign of this pooka she talked about. Eventually my focus lands on the woman we had just been talking to. She and her husband were new to town. They come in and buy one of the oldest places in town. What did anybody really know about them? Were her eyes set too wide apart or was that my imagination?

The cat hops up onto my sister’s lap to which she giggles merrily. “How ya doin ya old furball?” Trixie peeps, petting the big house cat’s soft fur.

I am just bringing my hot coffee to my mouth, my focus still locked on the brunette behind the counter, when between meows and trills the cat actually answers her! “Furball!? How rude!” Kaiser says with playful offense as I splurt out coffee onto the table.