Finding Magic in a Teacup by Cheryl Turner

Finding Magic

by Cheryl Turner

Watching the dark amber liquid cascade from the spout of her grandmother’s teapot, Rebecca was nearly hypnotized. Her vision cleared at the movement of a hand. She blinked. She waited patiently as her grandmother added a little sugar and a splash of milk to the dainty teacup. Rebecca was fascinated by the way the creamy white and golden-amber liquid swirled together. Her grandmother silently stirred the concoction with a small silver spoon, then offered Rebecca the cup and saucer with experienced grace. No clinking. No clatter. Praying silently that she would not spill, Rebecca tenderly caressed the saucer. with her small hands. She carefully raised the saucer and lifted the cup to her lips. Glancing down into the cup, she could see herself looking back in a cloudy reflection. ‘It is just like a magic mirror,’ she thought to herself.

Rebecca savored the delicious fluid as it passed over her tongue—she was suddenly transported. She had entered a space with no time. There was no worry in this place. She allowed herself to relax, and she drifted away for a short time. Before she even knew it, she had finished her cup of magical tea. She was aware that her grip on the cup had loosened. She gingerly sat the cup down in front of her and smiled at her grandmother who was watching from across the table. Marion smiled back at her and said, “You never even spilt a drop. Well done, Becca. I believe there will be many more teatimes for you and me.”

in a Teacup

Throughout Rebecca’s childhood there were indeed many more tea times with Gram. With each visit, Rebecca was allowed entry to her grandmother’s past through stories shared during their time together. It was as if visiting another realm. Her grandmother was proving to be more than just the woman who had raised her mother. She was witty and smart. She had a humorous side. She was adventurous and well-traveled. She was well-educated. She had a taste for fine things like beautiful crystal and china. At many of these visits, Rebecca arrived to find the table formally set with beautiful gold-veined stemware, delicate china place settings, gold plated flatware, and of course, linen napkins. These were her grandmother’s treasured possessions; each piece had a story behind it, and she was sharing them with Rebecca. These visits were magical. Without her being aware, Rebecca was being transformed, trained, and prepared for things to come.

As Rebecca got older, her visits to her grandmother’s house were fewer. Was she just getting too grown up for teatime? Try as she might, she couldn't get her friends to share the same enthusiasm for sipping tea. Their interests were in things like riding horses at the local stables, going to movies, shopping, and boys.

‘These things are good too,’ Rebecca thought. ‘I can visit with Gram anytime.’ But, always, in the very bottom of heart she felt a pang. ‘Maybe it’s guilt.’

She was still drawn to pretty things, like chintz teacups and sparkling crystal. Sometimes she would see things like her Gram had in antique and thrift stores. She had an inexplicable longing to buy them. ‘Someday, yes someday,’ she promised herself. She still found magic in a cup of tea, but usually she was alone with her tea. Nothing formal. Just her, her tea, and her dreams. She worried she would lose the enchantment she found in tea. Could the spell that was cast over her at age five be wearing off?

When she went away to college, Rebecca found she was drawn to courses in business, banking, and marketing. She had no idea why, but she just had an aptitude for these things. Something nagged at her. Was it something her mom or dad had said? Then the light bulb came on. It was her grandmother!

It was then that she realized how far ahead of her time Gram was. After all, she had been an executive of a small chain of grocery stores in the 1950s and 60s. She was a single mother raising a child in the 1930s and ’50s. She owned property and made her own way in life. Her influence on Rebecca’s life was undeniable. Her Gram had always dreamed of owning her own tearoom. This was a dream Rebecca shared. Rebecca reached out to her grandmother many times during her college years. She found her to be a great source of support and an amazing listener during the tough times. And of course, she found solace in a good cup of tea, even if it was in a chipped mug. To ease her guilty conscience over not seeing her grandmother as often as she should have, Rebecca promised herself she would have a proper teatime with Gram as soon as she graduated. They could discuss their dreams over a magical cup of tea. But was the magic waning?

After graduation, Rebecca found work in a bank. Her grandmother’s teachings over tea came of great value as Rebecca worked her way up the corporate ladder to a management position. During numerous phone conversations,

Rebecca and her grandmother talked about the future. She appreciated her Gram sharing her experience with her. There were times during these conversations that Rebecca felt as though her grandmother was holding back, not sharing possibly all there was to every story. Rebecca always felt there was more to Gram than what was being imparted, but never had the nerve to ask. Even in conversations with her mom, Rebecca felt something was off. ‘What is it they were not telling me?’ she wondered.

“Perhaps I’ll have time soon to share a pot of tea and spend some much-needed quality time with Gram,” Rebecca said out loud to herself. There was certainly more to Marion Brighttour than meets the eye, she just knew it. “Mental note to self; set up a tea date with Gram,” she said to herself as she pulled into a space in the bank’s parking lot. Now she was feeling better about not seeing her Gram often enough. She had satisfied her nagging conscience. She would satisfy her soul with a nice cup of tea and a quick call to Gram, as soon as she got inside.

Rebecca stopped her car at the curb in front of her grandmother’s house. Marion Brighttour had lived in this charming little early California, Spanish-style cottage for as long as Rebecca could remember. Nothing much had changed. A few more plants maybe, and the trees had certainly grown. Even the little fishpond in the fenced front yard was still there. Rebecca wondered if her grandmother still employed the same gardener. Someone was certainly taking good care of it. It looked lovely to Rebecca. And there it was, that pang of guilt! Seeing this home, unchanged, had caused Rebecca to regret the times she had put other things before her Gram. Gosh, how she had missed it. Shame overtook her, and she almost broke into tears. Thankfully, her melancholy was interrupted by the creaking of the front door.

Marion Brighttour, looking quite grandmotherly now, stepped out from behind the heavy, wooden front door. Memories came flooding back to Rebecca. “That front door! How could I forget about that?” she thought. “I was sure this cottage was enchanted when I was a kid”

The door had a peep hole with a little door over it on the inside. A large black iron door handle and latch, well-worn with age, dominated the left side. Even though the door squeaked in protest with every opening and closure, the black iron hinges held it securely in place. Rebecca shook herself out of her reverie and hurried to greet her grandmother who was now standing on the terra cotta tile that covered the porch and courtyard. Her Gram gathered her up in her arms and Rebecca began to weep.

They were inside now, seated at her grandmother’s beautiful table. The table was covered in a fine lace tablecloth and was set with all the finery Marion had collected over the years. Her grandmother was pouring from a teapot decorated with violets. Rebecca watched as the dark amber liquid flowed over the spout and into her favorite teacup. She was hypnotized. She had drifted off. She blinked to clear her vision. How long was I? …

Marion was smiling at her. Her eyes twinkled. For a moment, just for a moment, Rebecca believed she had been under a spell. Could there really be magic in that teacup? Or was that my imagination?

Some questions are best left unanswered.