by Liz Schulte
She produced a throw pillow out of nothing and threw it at my head, but I caught it easily. “Had she needed something as simple as her dad to stop drinking or to be free of her boyfriend, I could have sent anyone. But that isn’t what she needed. That isn’t what I told you to do. I told you to make yourself visible. I told you to talk to her. But you know what I never said you should do?” Anger sizzled in her normally kind eyes. “Fix things. Stop trying to fix things.”
I stood up. “Then why am I here?”
“To help her see things clearly on her own. This is her life and she can make her own choices. You know that. Why are you trying to control everything?”
“So I don’t mess up again.” I paced the room, my own irritation running just as high as hers.
She leaned back against the couch. “Ah. So that’s the problem.”
“Yes. Okay. I failed you. You ended up with a jinni. Your life was destroyed. I don’t want that to happen to Parker.”
Olivia came over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder until I met her eyes. “You never failed me, Quintus. You let me make my own choices. I may not have always loved the options I had, but they were mine and no matter what path I chose, you always walked beside me. You were my friend and you stood by me until the very end, even when you thought it meant your death. I may not have said this because I thought you knew: I’m beyond lucky to have you in my life. I’ve never been happier than I am right now—and that is, in no small part, due to you.” She put her arms around me and hugged tight.
I hugged her back, though it tore open the wounds in my own heart that had just started to heal. She was happy and she belonged with Holden. There was no outcome that would have allowed me to win the girl. I was and always would be just a friend, but—Olivia pulled back and wiped her eyes with a sheepish laugh—that was enough.
She placed a hand on my cheek. “You will find love, Quintus.”
I smiled and nodded though I didn’t believe her. I had been alive too long. My time had passed somewhere along the way and I’d missed it because I wasn’t paying attention. Somewhere in learning to be a better observer, I forgot to live and now I didn’t know how. I cleared my throat. “What are we going to do about Parker? How am I supposed to figure out what crossroads she’s at?”
“Have you tried asking her? Right now, more than anything else, Parker needs a friend. Be that person. Just a thought.” She lit the living room with her own white light then was gone.
I looked out my front window. The light in Parker’s bedroom was still on and the storm was beginning to clear. Talking to her could probably wait until morning, but I didn’t want to wait. I had done that enough in my life. I shut the door behind me and crossed the street.
I gently tossed a snowball at her window, waited a couple seconds, then did it again. Finally on the third attempt, she peeked out through the frosty glass. She gave me a little wave then disappeared from my sight. Parker stepped out onto the front porch in her kitten pajamas and snow boots, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered loudly.
“Get dressed. I’ll wait.” I grinned at her.
She shook her head, but smiled all the same. “You’ve lost your mind.” She disappeared into the house and returned wearing what she had worn on our walk. “This had better be good.” She eased herself down the snowy steps and trudged over to me.
I took her mittened hand and led her to the center of the yard and stopped.
She looked around. “What?”
“It stopped snowing.”
“I can see that.”
I let go of her hand, turned around, and held out my arms as I fell backwards into the freshly fallen snow. “Snow angels.”
She laughed. “Seriously? It’s one a.m.”
“It’s never too late or too early for an angel.” I moved my arms and legs in unison. “Try it.”
Parker pulled her scarf tight and joined me in the snow. When the angels were deep and defined she took my hand again. “I’m glad I met you today, Quintus.”
“I’m glad too,” I said, helping her to her feet. We stood back and looked at the two perfect angels on the ground.
“Why does it make you sad to come home?”
She squeezed my hand tighter. “My dad wasn’t around a lot when I was growing up. He traveled with his business and was gone months at a time. When Mom got sick, he seemed to stay away even more, so I took care of her the best I could.”
“How old were you?”
“Sixteen when she got sick and eighteen when she died.”
“That’s a lot for someone so young.”
She swallowed a few times and closed her eyes. “I was just so tired and resentful. I wanted to be able to go out with my friends. I wanted to be normal so bad. When she told me to go camping for the weekend and she would be fine, I did. I knew I shouldn’t, but I did it anyway.” Her voice came out strangled but no tears came to her eyes. “When I got back on Sunday night, she was gone. My mother died alone because I wanted to go camping. That’s all I see in that house. That’s all I can think about when I’m there.”
“Does your father know?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think anyone knows. I told everyone she died overnight. I couldn’t admit that I was just like him. I left her when she needed me most.” Her voice cracked and I pulled her into my arms. Parker wrapped her arms around me and rested her cheek against my chest. “I don’t know why I tell you everything.”
In that moment I made a decision that went against everything I had ever known as a guardian. “I have something I need to tell you.”
She pulled back and looked up at me. “Can we go back to your house?”
I nodded and we walked over, giving me just enough time to doubt my decision, but I went with my instinct anyway. She had a right to know. Parker sat facing me on the couch.
“Your dad isn’t well,” I said as gently as possible. “He’s dying.”
Her mouth fell open, then her forehead wrinkled and her eyebrows knit together. “That’s not funny.”
I shook my head and took her hand, holding it firmly even when she tried to pull away. I needed her to be calm enough to listen to me. “He’s dying. I can see it.”
“How?”
“You know that I am not like you, like any of you, right? You sense that.”
She nodded slowly. “That’s why you’re so easy to talk to.”
“Exactly. Only I’m more like you than you think. You have a gift. A warm heart that loves without reserve. Your life will make a bigger impact than you ever dreamed possible, like mine. But with that, also comes hard things. Your dad is sick. I don’t know if he even knows it yet, but…”
“It’s bad,” she filled in and I nodded. “That’s why you think I should stay here.”
“I think if you’re not here when you lose another parent, you may not recover.”
She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, but nodded. Her thumb brushed against the back of my hand. “If I stay, will you be here?”
“I’ll always be around if you need me.”
We sat together with only the crackling of the dying fire, staring out the window with her head resting against my shoulder until the sun began to break against the dark sky. She didn’t ask me any of the many questions she probably had and I didn’t interrupt her thoughts, whatever they were. She had the choice now. She could either stay or leave.
“I should go home.” Parker stood and I walked with her out to the porch. “Thank you for telling me,” she said, looking up. A corner of her mouth twitched. “Did you do that?”
I followed her gaze. Mistletoe hung just above the steps. I shook my head. “I swear I didn’t.”
She stood on her tiptoes and curled her fingers into my jacket as she pulled me down to meet her soft, pink lips. Warmth swirled around us and ran down my spine like water as her cold nose pressed into my cheek. She pulled back less than an inch and held steady for a momen
t before taking a step back. “I really should go.”
I nodded, not finding any words.
She skipped down the steps and started along the sidewalk, then stopped and swung around to face me again. “You know that girl you used to love,” she called, grinning. Her aura was bright again, the dark lines almost completely faded. “She’s a complete idiot.”
Half of me knew it was time to return. I had helped Parker as much as I could and there were too many others in need not to go back to work, but I sat in my chair anyway. The fire was out and a new day was starting. Technically, Olivia said I had the week.
I looked down at the package still waiting beneath the tree. I picked it up and untied the red ribbon. I took the lid off the top, then dug through the tissue paper. My hand met something smooth and round, a snow globe. An odd gift, but it’s the thought that counts.
I sat the box to one side and placed the globe on the table. Then something caught my eye. The house inside the globe looked very much like the one across the street. I picked it up again and looked close. The house was exactly like the one across the street, and in the front yard two people stood hand in hand in front of two snow angels on the ground.
I looked up to the ceiling, then back to the miniature house. She had known.
“You told her,” Olivia said.
“I did. Are you going to yell at me?”
She laughed. “No. I’m glad you did.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You told me not to.”
She nodded. “Yes, and instead of following orders you used your own judgment. That’s growth.”
I smiled back at her. “You know I can’t be in a relationship with a human, right?”
She shrugged. “She won’t always be human. You have a week, Quintus. Make it count. Merry Christmas.”
I watched her go and for the first time in a long time, I wasn’t sad to see her leave.
The end.
MANY AUTHORS CLAIM to have known their calling from a young age. Liz Schulte, however, didn’t always want to be an author. In fact, she had no clue. Liz wanted to be a veterinarian, then she wanted to be a lawyer, then she wanted to be a criminal profiler. In a valiant effort to keep from becoming Walter Mitty, Liz put pen to paper and began writing her first novel. It was at that moment she realized this is what she was meant to do. As a scribe she could be all of those things and so much more.
When Liz isn’t writing or on social networks she is inflicting movie quotes and trivia on people, reading, traveling, and hanging out with friends and family. Liz is a Midwest girl through and through, though she would be perfectly happy never having to shovel her driveway again. She has a love for all things spooky, supernatural, and snarky. Her favorite authors range from Edgar Allen Poe to Joseph Heller to Jane Austen to Jim Butcher and everything in between.
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Check out more books by Liz:
URBAN FANTASY/PARANORMAL ROMANCE
The Guardian Trilogy: Secrets
Choices
Consequences
Easy Bake Coven
Hungry, Hungry Hoodoo
Pickup Styx
Tiddly Jinx
MYSTERY
Dark Corners
Dark Passing
The Ninth Floor
ANTHOLOGIES
Naughty or Nice Christmas Anthology (Ella Reynolds Christmas short story)
Christmas Yet to Come (Baker Christmas short story)
SHORT STORIES
Be Light (A Guardian Trilogy Short Story)
Sweet Little Lies (A Sekhmet Short Story)