Hearts Cursed, page 6
She was glad to see that Jules had left the catalogue reference book on the desk in front of the shelves – she’d obviously added more to it yesterday; it seemed even thicker than before. She still had a lot of work to do to include links and references to every book, grimoire and magical object in the library, but she was well on her way. And it was easier to use than the online system, or poring through drawers and drawers of card catalogues.
But it could still be a bit tricky as she’d learned the hard way. If she didn’t pose her question just right, or make certain her thoughts were concentrated on the one thing, then it sent her to grimoires and journals that were completely unhelpful.
The difference today was that she had what she thought was a current image of Triptolemus in her head. All she had to do was open the book, place her hands on the pages, and bring that image to mind with the right question that would lead her to him.
It shouldn’t be difficult to think about him. She seemed to think of him more and more these last few weeks and now, after having astral travelled to him with Dawn’s help, it took nothing at all to picture his handsome face. Or hear the sound of his voice. Or see the leaf-green of his long-lashed eyes.
Whoa, was it getting hot in here?
She wiped her hand across her brow and then reached for the reference book. Her hand trembled, fumbling on the latch.
She shifted her shoulders, trying to rid herself of the itch that chased between her shoulder blades and ran down her back, prickling and tightening between her legs. She squeezed her legs together and clenched her fingers hard against her palms until the biting sting of her fingernails digging into flesh helped to push away the unwanted sensations sliding through her.
Ridiculous to have that reaction for a man she’d never even met in the flesh. She’d long ago vowed never to give into that kind of need again; the consequences of the one and only time she had were just too high.
Never again.
So, stop being stupid and just open the damned book.
The sting of where her fingernails had bitten into her palm helped to keep the frisson of want at bay as she flipped open the reference book and put her hands on the pages. She filled her mind with his image – the one she’d seen only a short time ago – and posed a question as she had every day since coming here. Although, rather than the question being, “Where is Triptolemus?” this time it was, “The man in my vision, is it Triptolemus?”
The page under her hands warmed.
It had never done that before.
She snatched her hand back as a crawling sensation brushed across her palm and fingers.
Oh! The page was filling with writing – the names of treatises and pieces of information and the grimoire or book she’d find them in.
And every single one of them held the same name within the descriptive line:
Triptolemus.
Then her eyes caught on a particular section she’d never seen before.
Triptolemus: Golden God of the Harvest. He who made the Garden Gems from his tears mixed with a piece of Demeter’s heart. Servant and partner of Demeter and Persephone here on Earth. Instigator of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Holder of the sacred blood.
The sacred blood? So she’d been right. It had been a property of the blood that enabled him to grow things, not blood magic.
Her knees dipped as relief rushed through her.
She forced herself to read on but then stopped as her gaze hit the words a few lines down:
Triptolemus – he and his line forever destined to be God Killers.
What? There was a prophecy about them being God Killers? But hadn’t Tiberinus said she was tied to a prophecy about God Killers? She’d always assumed that was why her sons had been taken from her; and why Tiberinus had chosen her rather than another witch with far more power than she had, to power the HBG?
There couldn’t be two prophecies about God Killers, could there? Or was it the same prophecy?
How entwined were they? She thought she was involved in this because Korinna and Tamuel were the only ones who could have freed her from the gem. But what if it was so much more than that? What if …
Her mouth dried.
No. Those feelings for the man in her dreams she’d been drowning in, the reason she kept dreaming about him – it was nothing but lust and the need to find him. Nothing more. Nothing deeper. Because she couldn’t do deeper. Not now. Not ever.
How could she ever be a part of this amazing group of people and their close-knit family? No matter how much she might long for it, she couldn’t have it. She was too broken. Too unworthy. The need for revenge that drove her too much a part of her. She didn’t want to let it go; not for them, not for anything. It gave her purpose. But she wasn’t so gone not to understand that if she stayed with them, that darkness inside her would mar their love, their friendship, their family.
She couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t destroy something so good.
Which was just another reason why she had to separate herself from Dawn. Why she had to leave them, no matter what they said.
But if they found out about this connection, they’d be unlikely ever to let her go. They’d keep trying to bring her back to them because that’s who they were. So she couldn’t show this to them. She didn’t want them to start to believe things that just couldn’t be. It was already going to be difficult enough to leave given they already treated her like family. It would be so much worse if they thought her connected to them, to Triptolemus, in some deeper way.
But how could she hide this?
She slammed the book shut, losing the page with the words that caused the hairs on her nape and arms to stand up.
Closing her eyes, she intoned a spell:
“Hide this entry where no one can see.
Hide it away, show no one but me.
Three time three times three times three,
By the power of dawn light, so mote it be.”
The power spiralled up, ruffling her hair, then fell to wind around the book. Something tightened, there was a pop and the spell fizzed away.
It was done.
She blew out a slow breath. She wished she could empty the knowledge from her own brain. But she couldn’t. Damn the Gods and Goddesses and their machinations, tying her into them once again.
Eyes prickling with tears that had more to do with anger than anything else, she took in a shuddering breath, looked up at the ceiling and shouted, “Fuck you, whoever is responsible for messing with me like this. Fuck you and all your children. I don’t know how, but somehow I will make you regret using me like this. I swear it.”
Three rolling knocks sounded in the distance.
She stilled.
Shit.
Fuck.
But she hadn’t used the word ‘vow’. So why had the Eternal Well treated her rash statement like a sacred vow?
Bloody fucking Hells. Why did the universe seem to have it in for her?
Hot tears poured down her face, heated rage bubbled in her chest, the glow of her power shining through her skin once more. She wished she could just let it go, let it lash out at those who’d caused this pain, but she didn’t know exactly who was involved beside Tiberinus – and she knew there were others involved. So no taking her revenge yet.
Besides, she had things to do first.
It took her longer this time to push the power back, to stop the glow in her chest, but once done, she whispered harshly, “Fine. I said I’d find him and I will. But then I’m done.”
She opened the book again and put her hands on it, filling her mind’s-eye with Triptolemus’ image once more. “Just show me where he is.”
Chapter
Seven
The woman smiled at Trip, her eyes, like the darkest purple-blue of the night sky, glinted at him with something secret and knowing. Her smile widened as she opened her mouth and licked the apple juice from her lips – the action gripped him in the groin and tightened his balls.
He groaned at the memory, hand tightening around his erect cock – a cock that seemed to spend more of its time erect than not, ever since he’d seen the woman in his field a few days ago.
Day or night, she was there, with him, the long gown that looked like something from Roman times draped over her, hugging in all the right places and showing off the shadow between her pert breasts.
In these daydreams – the ones that kept coming to him whether he wanted them or not – this was the moment she dropped the apple core to the ground and reached for the clips on her shoulders holding her gown together.
She didn’t disappoint now.
With that knowing look, she slowly – so slowly and sensually it stole his breath – undid those butterfly-like clips and let the gown fall, showing off skin the colour of rich cream and nipples swollen and softly pink.
Still smiling, she reached out her hand and said, “Triptolemus. I am here for you. Come. Drink of me and all will be well.”
Even the pained dissonance that strange name – so like his, but not – caused every time she said it did nothing to rid him of the desire that heated his blood and made him want to touch, to take. And to want things he’d always stopped himself from wanting.
Connection. Belonging. Love.
Impossible things, but within these dreams, the impossible seemed to be within his grasp.
He rose to his feet, reaching for her and—
There was a loud bang and then a voice said excitedly, “Oh my God. Trip! Have you seen the field? Oh, God ... My eyes! My eyes!”
Trip snapped out of his daydream with a horrible jolt to see Daphne standing before him. She’d turned around and had her hands clasped to her head. There was a sound coming from her that sounded suspiciously like smothered laughter.
He quickly tried to tuck himself back into his pants – a difficult task given how swollen his cock was. Although, with her sudden entry – not to mention the laughter – it was quickly deflating. “Umm, well, it wasn’t … I mean … I wasn’t …” His eyes lit on the box with the inflatable Santa and his reindeers that he was supposed to be working on for the Winter Wonderland in time for their first customers this weekend. He had been reading the instructions when the daydream had taken over and … He coughed. “I was about to erect the inflatable.”
“I think you were doing a good job of it too,” she said on a definite snort. “Is your inflatable tucked away yet? It’s rather awkward to talk to you like this.” She turned before he could answer, her eyes alight with laughter.
“I didn’t mean for you to see—”
“Well, obviously you didn’t. Nothing to be embarrassed about though, as I tell the boys. Masturbation is a healthy part of life. I’m kind of glad to see you do it too.”
“What? Really?” He blinked completely taken aback before his mind zeroed in on the last part of her statement. “What do you mean ‘do it too’?”
She snort laughed. “Well, I think that would be obvious.”
Oh, Gods! He didn’t want to hear that. Daphne was like a sister. The last thing he wanted to think about was her doing that! Face as red as his Santa suit, he stammered, “I … Umm … Wh-what did you come racing in here for? Is something wrong?”
Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh. Yes. That’s why I barged in rather than knocking.” She began to pace, excitement in every step. He’d never seen her this way before. “It’s just so wonderful. I can’t believe it really, even though I saw it with my own eyes.”
She looked at him expectantly. A sinking feeling gripped his stomach and tightened his chest. Oh no! Even so, he couldn’t help but ask, “Saw what?”
“The boys saw it this morning and came to get me. It’s a … It’s a …”
“Christmas miracle?” Trip groaned inside as the words fell from his lips. They sounded lamer than he’d imagined. There was no way she would believe—
“Yes! It’s a Christmas miracle. A true Christmas miracle!”
“Really?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Well, you’ve obviously seen it if you’re calling it that – and don’t think that we won’t have a conversation later about why you didn’t tell us when you first saw it. But for now, I’m too excited to be mad at you. All that growth in that destroyed field. Trees and plants I’ve never seen before. And endangered South Esk Pines too! Plus there’s fruit trees and other produce springing up everywhere. All grown in only a few days. It’s our own Christmas miracle! Who would have imagined?”
“Umm …”
“Isn’t it exciting?” she asked, hands on hips, hair uncharacteristically dishevelled, brown eyes glowing with excitement and … jubilation?
Exciting wasn’t the word he had in mind. Terrifying was more to the point. “I just … didn’t think you believed in such things.”
“As miracles?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I do. I know you, after all.”
Shivers prickled down his spin and he stilled, his breath once again caught in his chest. Oh Hells. What did she know? “I … Wh-what do you mean by that?”
She walked over to him and cupped his cheeks – her hands warm against the sudden chill in his skin. “You came into our lives like a miracle. Everything was lost and I didn’t know how I was going to keep feeding the boys, let alone clothe them and get them to school. There wasn’t enough work around here and I had no money to pick up and move elsewhere. I’d been sitting there crying after the boys were asleep, when my contractions started and I had no idea what to do or where to go and then … you appeared. I was so afraid you were going to kick me and the boys out regardless of the fact I was about to drop a baby, but you didn’t. You took control and got me to the hospital and looked after the boys and then, the biggest miracle, you offered us all jobs and a place to stay, then took us in while you fixed the stockman’s cottage up so it was not only liveable but lovely. What do you call that if not a miracle?”
“Umm, being neighbourly?”
She choked on a laugh as she blinked tears from her eyes. “I had neighbours, and not one of them did anything for us when we were tossed out after my husband left and took all our money. You were the only one who helped, and you did so without even knowing us at all.” Her hand dropped to his chest as she smiled up at him and said softly, “You made me believe in miracles that day and every day since.”
“Well …” What did a person say to that? He took her hand and held it in his. “You were a miracle for me too. I never knew how badly I needed a frie— an assistant like you. You take care of all the things I didn’t like doing – housework, bookkeeping, managing the shop and helping with the cooking and baking of the goods we sell. And Charlie, well, he’s taken to farming like one born to it. And without Harry and how savvy he is with computers and social media and the like, the business would not be what it is today. And Gideon, well … I never knew how much joy a baby would bring.”
Daphne chuckled. “Don’t let him catch you calling him a baby. He’s a big ten-year-old now.”
“He sure is. And a born salesman to boot. I think we sold more in the shop last Christmas than we’ve ever sold before, and that’s mainly up to him working there alongside you for the first time.”
She smiled, wide and proud. “It was pretty special. But it would never have happened if you hadn’t taken us in and treated us like family.” She touched his cheek. “And we are, family.”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.” They were. And he couldn’t ask for a better one. Even though in a few years, he’d have to say goodbye to them forever. But he didn’t want to think about that now.
She cleared her throat and patted his hand. “Now, what are we going to do about this Christmas miracle?”
Hells. He’d hoped she’d got so side-tracked by their trip along memory lane that she’d forgotten. No such luck. “Umm … What is there to do about it?”
She gestured expansively. “Get the word out, that’s what! We can’t keep this miracle to ourselves.”
“Can’t we?”
She gave him that look that made him feel like he was living on an entirely different planet to her. Although, maybe he had been – it would explain a lot.
“Of course not! Miracles like this need to be shared with the world.”
“But do they?”
More of that look. “Are you serious?”
Like a cyclone bearing down on land was serious. He nodded slowly. “I just … don’t see how it will be of benefit to us.”
“Of benefit to us?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, landing on the ‘s’ with an uptick that turned it into a question. “I mean, if we let people know, won’t it bring reporters and tourists and … attention.” Attention he’d spent his life running away from.
“Well, that’s the point.”
“It is?”
“Yes. To spread the goodness of the miracle.” She nudged his arm. “You of all people should understand. You’re Mr Christmas.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You love spreading the Christmas cheer and good will. I mean, look what you do for our ticket holders every year when they come to cut their trees. They get an experience here that they don’t get at other farms, with the tractor ride and costumes and the food and drinks you serve and the goodies we sell, not to mention the Christmas Wonderland decorations you set up from the carpark to the shop and inside the shop and the fake snow you spray around. It’s a proper outing and puts people in the true spirit of Christmas.”
“Yes, well, I like doing that.”
“And letting people know about this Christmas miracle is just an extension of what you already do.”
Except, it had giant, sticky strings attached. Namely, all the questions about how it happened and the scientists and government folk who would come down with legal documents and insist on doing tests. He just knew they would somehow end up tying it to him, and that would lead to him being carted away by army people or the Men in Black and locked away in a dark room to be experimented on.
Okay, maybe he’d watched too many sci-fi shows with Charlie, Harry and Gideon, but there would be consequences. Not little consequences but CONSEQUENCES. Not least of which would be he’d lose this little idyll and the family that was his even faster than he planned.
But it could still be a bit tricky as she’d learned the hard way. If she didn’t pose her question just right, or make certain her thoughts were concentrated on the one thing, then it sent her to grimoires and journals that were completely unhelpful.
The difference today was that she had what she thought was a current image of Triptolemus in her head. All she had to do was open the book, place her hands on the pages, and bring that image to mind with the right question that would lead her to him.
It shouldn’t be difficult to think about him. She seemed to think of him more and more these last few weeks and now, after having astral travelled to him with Dawn’s help, it took nothing at all to picture his handsome face. Or hear the sound of his voice. Or see the leaf-green of his long-lashed eyes.
Whoa, was it getting hot in here?
She wiped her hand across her brow and then reached for the reference book. Her hand trembled, fumbling on the latch.
She shifted her shoulders, trying to rid herself of the itch that chased between her shoulder blades and ran down her back, prickling and tightening between her legs. She squeezed her legs together and clenched her fingers hard against her palms until the biting sting of her fingernails digging into flesh helped to push away the unwanted sensations sliding through her.
Ridiculous to have that reaction for a man she’d never even met in the flesh. She’d long ago vowed never to give into that kind of need again; the consequences of the one and only time she had were just too high.
Never again.
So, stop being stupid and just open the damned book.
The sting of where her fingernails had bitten into her palm helped to keep the frisson of want at bay as she flipped open the reference book and put her hands on the pages. She filled her mind with his image – the one she’d seen only a short time ago – and posed a question as she had every day since coming here. Although, rather than the question being, “Where is Triptolemus?” this time it was, “The man in my vision, is it Triptolemus?”
The page under her hands warmed.
It had never done that before.
She snatched her hand back as a crawling sensation brushed across her palm and fingers.
Oh! The page was filling with writing – the names of treatises and pieces of information and the grimoire or book she’d find them in.
And every single one of them held the same name within the descriptive line:
Triptolemus.
Then her eyes caught on a particular section she’d never seen before.
Triptolemus: Golden God of the Harvest. He who made the Garden Gems from his tears mixed with a piece of Demeter’s heart. Servant and partner of Demeter and Persephone here on Earth. Instigator of the Eleusinian Mysteries. Holder of the sacred blood.
The sacred blood? So she’d been right. It had been a property of the blood that enabled him to grow things, not blood magic.
Her knees dipped as relief rushed through her.
She forced herself to read on but then stopped as her gaze hit the words a few lines down:
Triptolemus – he and his line forever destined to be God Killers.
What? There was a prophecy about them being God Killers? But hadn’t Tiberinus said she was tied to a prophecy about God Killers? She’d always assumed that was why her sons had been taken from her; and why Tiberinus had chosen her rather than another witch with far more power than she had, to power the HBG?
There couldn’t be two prophecies about God Killers, could there? Or was it the same prophecy?
How entwined were they? She thought she was involved in this because Korinna and Tamuel were the only ones who could have freed her from the gem. But what if it was so much more than that? What if …
Her mouth dried.
No. Those feelings for the man in her dreams she’d been drowning in, the reason she kept dreaming about him – it was nothing but lust and the need to find him. Nothing more. Nothing deeper. Because she couldn’t do deeper. Not now. Not ever.
How could she ever be a part of this amazing group of people and their close-knit family? No matter how much she might long for it, she couldn’t have it. She was too broken. Too unworthy. The need for revenge that drove her too much a part of her. She didn’t want to let it go; not for them, not for anything. It gave her purpose. But she wasn’t so gone not to understand that if she stayed with them, that darkness inside her would mar their love, their friendship, their family.
She couldn’t do that to them. She couldn’t destroy something so good.
Which was just another reason why she had to separate herself from Dawn. Why she had to leave them, no matter what they said.
But if they found out about this connection, they’d be unlikely ever to let her go. They’d keep trying to bring her back to them because that’s who they were. So she couldn’t show this to them. She didn’t want them to start to believe things that just couldn’t be. It was already going to be difficult enough to leave given they already treated her like family. It would be so much worse if they thought her connected to them, to Triptolemus, in some deeper way.
But how could she hide this?
She slammed the book shut, losing the page with the words that caused the hairs on her nape and arms to stand up.
Closing her eyes, she intoned a spell:
“Hide this entry where no one can see.
Hide it away, show no one but me.
Three time three times three times three,
By the power of dawn light, so mote it be.”
The power spiralled up, ruffling her hair, then fell to wind around the book. Something tightened, there was a pop and the spell fizzed away.
It was done.
She blew out a slow breath. She wished she could empty the knowledge from her own brain. But she couldn’t. Damn the Gods and Goddesses and their machinations, tying her into them once again.
Eyes prickling with tears that had more to do with anger than anything else, she took in a shuddering breath, looked up at the ceiling and shouted, “Fuck you, whoever is responsible for messing with me like this. Fuck you and all your children. I don’t know how, but somehow I will make you regret using me like this. I swear it.”
Three rolling knocks sounded in the distance.
She stilled.
Shit.
Fuck.
But she hadn’t used the word ‘vow’. So why had the Eternal Well treated her rash statement like a sacred vow?
Bloody fucking Hells. Why did the universe seem to have it in for her?
Hot tears poured down her face, heated rage bubbled in her chest, the glow of her power shining through her skin once more. She wished she could just let it go, let it lash out at those who’d caused this pain, but she didn’t know exactly who was involved beside Tiberinus – and she knew there were others involved. So no taking her revenge yet.
Besides, she had things to do first.
It took her longer this time to push the power back, to stop the glow in her chest, but once done, she whispered harshly, “Fine. I said I’d find him and I will. But then I’m done.”
She opened the book again and put her hands on it, filling her mind’s-eye with Triptolemus’ image once more. “Just show me where he is.”
Chapter
Seven
The woman smiled at Trip, her eyes, like the darkest purple-blue of the night sky, glinted at him with something secret and knowing. Her smile widened as she opened her mouth and licked the apple juice from her lips – the action gripped him in the groin and tightened his balls.
He groaned at the memory, hand tightening around his erect cock – a cock that seemed to spend more of its time erect than not, ever since he’d seen the woman in his field a few days ago.
Day or night, she was there, with him, the long gown that looked like something from Roman times draped over her, hugging in all the right places and showing off the shadow between her pert breasts.
In these daydreams – the ones that kept coming to him whether he wanted them or not – this was the moment she dropped the apple core to the ground and reached for the clips on her shoulders holding her gown together.
She didn’t disappoint now.
With that knowing look, she slowly – so slowly and sensually it stole his breath – undid those butterfly-like clips and let the gown fall, showing off skin the colour of rich cream and nipples swollen and softly pink.
Still smiling, she reached out her hand and said, “Triptolemus. I am here for you. Come. Drink of me and all will be well.”
Even the pained dissonance that strange name – so like his, but not – caused every time she said it did nothing to rid him of the desire that heated his blood and made him want to touch, to take. And to want things he’d always stopped himself from wanting.
Connection. Belonging. Love.
Impossible things, but within these dreams, the impossible seemed to be within his grasp.
He rose to his feet, reaching for her and—
There was a loud bang and then a voice said excitedly, “Oh my God. Trip! Have you seen the field? Oh, God ... My eyes! My eyes!”
Trip snapped out of his daydream with a horrible jolt to see Daphne standing before him. She’d turned around and had her hands clasped to her head. There was a sound coming from her that sounded suspiciously like smothered laughter.
He quickly tried to tuck himself back into his pants – a difficult task given how swollen his cock was. Although, with her sudden entry – not to mention the laughter – it was quickly deflating. “Umm, well, it wasn’t … I mean … I wasn’t …” His eyes lit on the box with the inflatable Santa and his reindeers that he was supposed to be working on for the Winter Wonderland in time for their first customers this weekend. He had been reading the instructions when the daydream had taken over and … He coughed. “I was about to erect the inflatable.”
“I think you were doing a good job of it too,” she said on a definite snort. “Is your inflatable tucked away yet? It’s rather awkward to talk to you like this.” She turned before he could answer, her eyes alight with laughter.
“I didn’t mean for you to see—”
“Well, obviously you didn’t. Nothing to be embarrassed about though, as I tell the boys. Masturbation is a healthy part of life. I’m kind of glad to see you do it too.”
“What? Really?” He blinked completely taken aback before his mind zeroed in on the last part of her statement. “What do you mean ‘do it too’?”
She snort laughed. “Well, I think that would be obvious.”
Oh, Gods! He didn’t want to hear that. Daphne was like a sister. The last thing he wanted to think about was her doing that! Face as red as his Santa suit, he stammered, “I … Umm … Wh-what did you come racing in here for? Is something wrong?”
Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Oh. Yes. That’s why I barged in rather than knocking.” She began to pace, excitement in every step. He’d never seen her this way before. “It’s just so wonderful. I can’t believe it really, even though I saw it with my own eyes.”
She looked at him expectantly. A sinking feeling gripped his stomach and tightened his chest. Oh no! Even so, he couldn’t help but ask, “Saw what?”
“The boys saw it this morning and came to get me. It’s a … It’s a …”
“Christmas miracle?” Trip groaned inside as the words fell from his lips. They sounded lamer than he’d imagined. There was no way she would believe—
“Yes! It’s a Christmas miracle. A true Christmas miracle!”
“Really?” he asked before he could stop himself.
“Well, you’ve obviously seen it if you’re calling it that – and don’t think that we won’t have a conversation later about why you didn’t tell us when you first saw it. But for now, I’m too excited to be mad at you. All that growth in that destroyed field. Trees and plants I’ve never seen before. And endangered South Esk Pines too! Plus there’s fruit trees and other produce springing up everywhere. All grown in only a few days. It’s our own Christmas miracle! Who would have imagined?”
“Umm …”
“Isn’t it exciting?” she asked, hands on hips, hair uncharacteristically dishevelled, brown eyes glowing with excitement and … jubilation?
Exciting wasn’t the word he had in mind. Terrifying was more to the point. “I just … didn’t think you believed in such things.”
“As miracles?” Her eyes widened in surprise. “Of course I do. I know you, after all.”
Shivers prickled down his spin and he stilled, his breath once again caught in his chest. Oh Hells. What did she know? “I … Wh-what do you mean by that?”
She walked over to him and cupped his cheeks – her hands warm against the sudden chill in his skin. “You came into our lives like a miracle. Everything was lost and I didn’t know how I was going to keep feeding the boys, let alone clothe them and get them to school. There wasn’t enough work around here and I had no money to pick up and move elsewhere. I’d been sitting there crying after the boys were asleep, when my contractions started and I had no idea what to do or where to go and then … you appeared. I was so afraid you were going to kick me and the boys out regardless of the fact I was about to drop a baby, but you didn’t. You took control and got me to the hospital and looked after the boys and then, the biggest miracle, you offered us all jobs and a place to stay, then took us in while you fixed the stockman’s cottage up so it was not only liveable but lovely. What do you call that if not a miracle?”
“Umm, being neighbourly?”
She choked on a laugh as she blinked tears from her eyes. “I had neighbours, and not one of them did anything for us when we were tossed out after my husband left and took all our money. You were the only one who helped, and you did so without even knowing us at all.” Her hand dropped to his chest as she smiled up at him and said softly, “You made me believe in miracles that day and every day since.”
“Well …” What did a person say to that? He took her hand and held it in his. “You were a miracle for me too. I never knew how badly I needed a frie— an assistant like you. You take care of all the things I didn’t like doing – housework, bookkeeping, managing the shop and helping with the cooking and baking of the goods we sell. And Charlie, well, he’s taken to farming like one born to it. And without Harry and how savvy he is with computers and social media and the like, the business would not be what it is today. And Gideon, well … I never knew how much joy a baby would bring.”
Daphne chuckled. “Don’t let him catch you calling him a baby. He’s a big ten-year-old now.”
“He sure is. And a born salesman to boot. I think we sold more in the shop last Christmas than we’ve ever sold before, and that’s mainly up to him working there alongside you for the first time.”
She smiled, wide and proud. “It was pretty special. But it would never have happened if you hadn’t taken us in and treated us like family.” She touched his cheek. “And we are, family.”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.” They were. And he couldn’t ask for a better one. Even though in a few years, he’d have to say goodbye to them forever. But he didn’t want to think about that now.
She cleared her throat and patted his hand. “Now, what are we going to do about this Christmas miracle?”
Hells. He’d hoped she’d got so side-tracked by their trip along memory lane that she’d forgotten. No such luck. “Umm … What is there to do about it?”
She gestured expansively. “Get the word out, that’s what! We can’t keep this miracle to ourselves.”
“Can’t we?”
She gave him that look that made him feel like he was living on an entirely different planet to her. Although, maybe he had been – it would explain a lot.
“Of course not! Miracles like this need to be shared with the world.”
“But do they?”
More of that look. “Are you serious?”
Like a cyclone bearing down on land was serious. He nodded slowly. “I just … don’t see how it will be of benefit to us.”
“Of benefit to us?”
“Yes,” he said slowly, landing on the ‘s’ with an uptick that turned it into a question. “I mean, if we let people know, won’t it bring reporters and tourists and … attention.” Attention he’d spent his life running away from.
“Well, that’s the point.”
“It is?”
“Yes. To spread the goodness of the miracle.” She nudged his arm. “You of all people should understand. You’re Mr Christmas.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You love spreading the Christmas cheer and good will. I mean, look what you do for our ticket holders every year when they come to cut their trees. They get an experience here that they don’t get at other farms, with the tractor ride and costumes and the food and drinks you serve and the goodies we sell, not to mention the Christmas Wonderland decorations you set up from the carpark to the shop and inside the shop and the fake snow you spray around. It’s a proper outing and puts people in the true spirit of Christmas.”
“Yes, well, I like doing that.”
“And letting people know about this Christmas miracle is just an extension of what you already do.”
Except, it had giant, sticky strings attached. Namely, all the questions about how it happened and the scientists and government folk who would come down with legal documents and insist on doing tests. He just knew they would somehow end up tying it to him, and that would lead to him being carted away by army people or the Men in Black and locked away in a dark room to be experimented on.
Okay, maybe he’d watched too many sci-fi shows with Charlie, Harry and Gideon, but there would be consequences. Not little consequences but CONSEQUENCES. Not least of which would be he’d lose this little idyll and the family that was his even faster than he planned.
