"Of course she's deaf," said the other, oblivious to my condition. "Look at her. She's a deaf-mute."

"Do you think she can read lips?" The wicked-looking woman asked.

"She's just a kid. I certainly doubt it."

"But she seemed to respond to our speaking of her."

Another lady spoke up. "I read in the Women's Home Journal that when a person loses one sense, they get stronger in another. Perhaps the girl just noticed us all looking at her." 

Thankfully, they all agreed it was a coincidence. The room moved on to other conversation. I sighed. But I couldn't escape the feeling that the wicked looking one kept looking over at me for the rest of the day; sizing me up. 

By February, the garden club was meeting twice weekly. By then, I was a stalwart, wandering around the room with petit fours, or tea. I was allowed to come and go with my little tea tray.

The Carter twins, Nancy, and Betty Laverne, were noticeable absent during these meetings. I would soon learn why.

One afternoon, Mrs. Carter's mother stood, and cleared her throat to the group.

"Hmm. Ladies. These past few weeks in getting to know you have indeed been a pleasure. You may have noticed our group has thinned out over the weeks, which is intentional. I'm pleased to announce the group here today will henceforth be our sisterhood."

Applause rang up around the room. Thankfully, I was walking back down the hallway at the time, else they might have noticed my head gesture in response to the sound. I began to listen with purpose.

"Each of you come from those families who established our fine city. Much like the Daughters of the Confederacy, we are united in our families, and our history. That being said, the Order of which you are about to be admitted into is highly secretive. Indeed, The Hecatian Order of the Foxglove has not met in more than four decades, and as such, we must adhere to the old ways even more than our predecessors did, as we bring forth the power of Hecate."

Of course, this meant nothing to a girl my age, but I listened anyway. The old lady barked at her daughter, Mrs. Carter, to bring forth the Book of Hecate, and I distinctly recognized the thud of the huge book whose pictures I had previously seen. Regrettably, I was to be made painfully aware of what those pictures meant as the old lady continued to speak.

"The Book of Hecate is the source of all. It is our bible in a sense; the true path to illumination. In these pages, your families will find wealth, health, and great power. But know this- if any of you should share these secrets outside of these walls; she will be met with a wrath of fire and brimstone from your sisterhood, and the goddess herself."

By now, I was clinging to the wall just beyond the doorway, and just out of sight.

"The Foxglove Queen will be our offering to the goddess. It is this sacrificial lamb that we must place all of our faith in. As is our tradition, her day is coming. We seek a fair maiden, ripe with life to be the Foxglove Queen. As we are in the Age of Pisces, she too must be a Pisces, whose birthday falls, in February to March. Closest to the Spring Equinox is best. This sacrifice will please the goddess, and hence bestow upon us all a great bounty. Call upon your daughters, each one of you, to find her, this Foxglove Queen, for she will give us new life."

Although I couldn't see them, I could tell the room was giddy. All but one of them. A lone voice burst out in tears. It was Mrs. Carter.

I ran to the kitchen, pretending to be busy. I was just in time to take a spot at the sink when Mrs. Carter came running in crying. I turned to her, with a concerned look. When she saw me, she burst out further, and ran into the garden. I knew what it meant. Betty and Nancy celebrated their birthdays in March. They were eligible for the Foxglove nomination.

That night, long after Daddy came to take me home, I dreamed of the Foxglove Queen. She was beautiful, and powerful. She offered me her hand, but I wouldn't take it. Without moving her lips, she promised to make me speak again, if only I would let her take over. I woke up in a fright to the sound of crickets outside. Then I heard it. A faint chanting rose up through the night. Compelled, I got out of bed to inspect. Outside was a cool, clear evening. A light in the Carter's garden next door caught my attention. It was a lantern, seemingly waving in the breeze until I caught the white nightgown of a woman beside it. Looking through the tiny opening between the curtains, I watched Mrs. Carter's mother walking around the garden; pacing; chanting. There was no way on Earth anyone could see me poking a single eye between the narrow slot of the curtains. It was exciting to be a voyeur. But then, she turned and looked up at our house, impossibly staring directly at me. She smiled.