by Cindy Stark
Peter parked and assisted her from his truck, once again tossing her backpack filled with their lunch and a soft blanket over his shoulder.
As they began walking, he took her hand without asking. She smiled at the gesture and appreciated that they had grown more comfortable with each other.
The quote from her grandmother’s book of spells popped into her mind. Better to follow your heart, or you’re already dead.
Once again, she pondered her grandmother’s thoughts behind those words. Had that been an encouragement for her grandmother to be bold, to not be afraid to use dark magic? Even though Clarabelle had used spells Hazel would never touch, she’d decided to believe it wasn’t out of malice, but for her protection instead.
Better to follow your heart. Hmm…
Was that what she was doing here with Peter? Following her heart? Would dating him lead her down a similar dangerous path toward a bad ending?
She found it hard to believe such a thing while walking on a peaceful dirt trail that disappeared into a cluster of elegant trees and while holding the warm, strong hand of a man she liked. She remembered the promise she’d made before she’d come to Stonebridge to not allow her fears or her mother’s fears to stop her from living.
If she did, she might as well be dead, too.
Maybe that’s what Clarabelle had meant.
Peter squeezed her hand, drawing her thoughts to him. “Thanks for the invite today. I don’t know if Bartles likes working the Sunday shift, but he’s the one always telling me I need to relax more and enjoy life. So, here I am.”
She smiled up at him, enjoying the sparks of electrified attraction coursing between their clasped hands. “Well, either way he’s right. Everyone needs to take time away from work and the hassles of life. Otherwise, we become unbalanced and no longer happy.”
He exhaled and gave a thoughtful nod. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s something I’m definitely guilty of since my wife died.”
She wanted to say murdered, because his wife had died by nefarious means, a hit-and-run accident where the culprit was never found, but she couldn’t. Did losing someone that way make grieving impossible to complete?
She wanted to know so much about him, but it was hard to ask a man about his past life when it involved tragedy. Still, if they were to become good friends, then they would have to learn to be open with each other.
She hoped her question wouldn’t ruin their beautiful day, but he had been the one to bring her up, so maybe it was okay. “Can I ask about her? Your wife?”
The air between them tightened, and he gripped her hand tighter in response. His pain was present, but she didn’t feel it was unbearably so. More like a heaviness, without being too burdensome. He’d obviously experienced a fair amount of healing in the time since his wife had been stolen from him.
“What do you want to know?”
She hesitated not sure what she wanted to ask about this woman Peter had loved so deeply. “I don’t know. Maybe what was her name? What did she look like? What made you fall in love with her, if that’s not too hard to answer.”
The tension between them eased slightly, and she was grateful. “Her name was Sarah. She had long auburn hair like yours, though hers was straight. In some ways, you remind me a lot of her.”
“Is that why you always flirt with me?”
He turned his gaze toward her, his beautiful green eyes piercing deep into her soul. “No, I don’t think so. You have some similarities, but you are two separate, distinct people in my mind.”
Hazel’s heart lightened. She had needed to know that he was interested in her for herself and that she wasn’t a ghost of his previous life. “What do you find similar about us?”
He smiled then, and the gesture was like a burst of sunshine through the dappled shade from the overhead trees. “You both love the outdoors, and you’re quick to smile. And you both care about others.”
She nodded. She supposed that did sound like her. “She seems like she was a great lady.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “She was.”
They emerged from the trees onto a peaceful meadow. A soft breeze blew over the grass, causing a wave of greens and yellows. The area didn’t hold the same magical quality as Clarabelle’s sacred grove, but it was beyond beautiful all the same. “This is breathtaking.”
It was hard to imagine the travesty that had taken place there over three hundred years ago. But she supposed time really did heal all things. Those who’d let their fears keep them from coming to such a lovely place were really missing out.
“It is a beautiful spot,” he said. “I tried to leave Stonebridge behind when I was younger, but I’ve never found any place that compares. I haven’t been out here in a while other than patrols around the outer perimeter. I forget how amazing it is.”
“Cora said a lot people don’t want to come out here because of past tragedies.”
He caught her gaze and held. “Past tragedies? I guess you could call them that.”
An unwelcome reminder of their differences pinched her. She ignored the sting in her heart. “I find it hard to believe people today still cling to those superstitions.”
He shrugged. “Some people can be crazy in their thinking.”
He slowed, stopped, and turned around. “Will you look at that?” He pointed off to the side of her.
She followed his gaze. A five-dollar bill fluttered beneath a rock several steps away, and her jaw dropped in surprise.
Peter released her hand long enough to retrieve it, and he handed it to her. “A memento of our first date.”
“Oh, thanks.” A small thrill skittered through her. Then, as she pondered her ability to draw money to her, she realized the joke was on her. A drop of blood on a penny generated five dollars. If she wanted millions, she’d be looking at a bank robbery and a massacre.
As they neared the pond, which seemed big enough to be called a lake in her estimation, they crossed a trail of dirt tire tracks. “I thought cars couldn’t get back here.”
He chuckled. “There’s a private access road the town put in a few years ago, but they keep it closed to the public to maintain the serenity of the area. Motorized vehicles of any kind are prohibited unless authorized.”
She grinned. “You sound so official. Is that coming from the police chief or my date?”
He smiled but didn’t reply and slipped the backpack from his shoulder. He gestured toward the grassy spot before them that offered a beautiful view of the pond. “How about here?”
“Looks perfect to me.”
A sparkle twinkled in his eyes. “Me, too.” But he wasn’t looking at the pond, and her heart did a little flip in response. She should have known she couldn’t have resisted such a man. She needed to face the fact that she was in deep enough she couldn’t leave him without incurring a great deal of heartbreak.
Six
Peter handed the backpack to Hazel and spread the turquoise and green quilt her grandmother had handstitched for her on the fresh grass. Together, they sat, both facing the pond. A delicious hum coursed through her veins, and she appreciated her happiness despite their unknown future.
He inhaled deeply. “Dang if it’s not as beautiful as a fresh peach pie today.”
Peach pie? She held back a snicker. She supposed pies could be beautiful, but she’d never heard anyone compare them to beautiful scenery before.
He dragged the backpack toward him and unzipped it. “Let’s see what you brought us. I’ve been wondering ever since you pulled it out of the fridge.”
His excitement was infectious. “I’m not sure, either. Cora wanted to surprise us. Though I think you will like her choice of sandwiches.”
He widened his eyes, pleased. “That can only mean roast beef.” He pulled out a closed white box and handed it to her before he removed a second one. He proceeded to open his, inspecting the offerings one by one.
Hazel opened hers, too, but watched what he laid in front of him.
He opene
d the sandwich wrapper. “Just as I suspected. Roast beef, my favorite.” He lifted plastic lids from two short Styrofoam cups. “Grapes, and heaven help me, Cora’s potato salad.”
He opened a small brown sack and peeked inside. “Cherry macaroons for dessert.”
She groaned in delight. “Oh, yum. Now, those are my favorite.”
He pulled half of his sandwich from its wrapper. “It looks like she packed us a heck of a lunch. I say we dig in.”
She had absolutely no problem with that.
They ate their food in companionable peace, and she gave him a brief recounting of the incidents with Belinda at Cora’s diner, including what happened with Charlie and Quentin.
Peter stuck his fork into the potato salad. “Cora should just fire her.”
“That’s what I said, but she doesn’t want to. She feels sorry for Belinda and seems protective. Cora thinks if she stays in her life, she can have a greater influence over her and maybe help her.”
Peter shrugged but seemed dubious. “I guess it doesn’t hurt to try, but I’ve seen people who sacrificed their happiness repeatedly to help those who don’t want help and who refuse to change.”
She pondered his words for a moment. “Sounds like you think people can’t change their thoughts or actions.”
He gave her a doubtful look. “Some can, if they really want to. But most people either don’t want to or aren’t willing to give it the effort.”
She paused and uncertainty rolled through her. “What about you?” she asked as innocently as she could. “Are you the kind of guy who’s open to listening to other points of view? Or are you pretty certain about your view of the world?”
He trapped her gaze as he swallowed and then took a drink of his bottled ice tea. “I like to think I have an open mind.” He watched her with interested eyes for another few seconds. “Are you referring to anything in particular?”
She widened her eyes into innocent ovals and shook her head. “No. Just curious.”
He tilted his head. “What about you?”
She had no problem answering that. “I’m accepting of anyone and anything as long as others aren’t harmed.”
“Hmm…” He nodded with what seemed like approval. “It’s good to have an open mind, I guess.”
She lifted a cherry macaroon. “I like to think so.” Then she sank her teeth into its deliciousness. “Oh, my goodness. These are heaven.”
He chuckled. “You like them that much?”
She nodded as she stuffed the other half into her mouth. “I would kill for these.”
He lifted a sexy brow. “Don’t do that, or I’ll have to arrest you.”
She laughed. “It would be worth it.”
He glanced at his bag of cookies and then the other half of her uneaten sandwich. “I’ll trade you my cookies for the rest of your sandwich.”
She didn’t hesitate for a second. “Deal.”
They chatted and flirted as they finished their meal. When they’d piled the remains of the lunch into the backpack, he stretched out on his back, glancing up toward the birds squawking overhead. “We need to do this more often.”
Her heart squeezed in agreement and shut down the voice that said it might not be a good idea. “We should.”
He shifted his gaze to her but only smiled. And dang if it wasn’t a smile that melted her ever-loving heart. Blessed Mother help her.
“That cloud looks like an elephant, don’t you think?” he asked.
Not yet comfortable lying right beside him, she rested on one elbow and turned her gaze upward. “Where?”
He snorted. “You can’t really watch the clouds from that position.” He patted his stomach. “Lay down and put your head here. I promise I won’t bite.”
She acted like what he’d asked didn’t make her pulse race, and she laid perpendicular to him, resting her head on his rock-solid abs.
His fingers grazed her cheek, trailing toward her chin, sending shivers racing through her. With a gentle touch, he turned her head to the right. “Straight up there. Four thick legs, and you can see his trunk.”
White, fluffy clouds danced across the brilliant blue sky, and she searched them for what he described. “I can’t…wait, I see it.”
“Good.” He chuckled, the act causing her head to bounce with him. “See anything else?”
She flicked her gaze from one puff of white to another, looking for familiar shapes as his chest expanded and contracted with each breath. The feel of his fingers brushing her hair distracted her, and when he tugged on several strands, she could no longer focus on the sky. Only the sensation of his soft touch.
She couldn’t be sure, but she imagined he twined one of her curls around and around his finger. The act was tender and endearing, and by slow degrees, she relaxed against him. This man who didn’t approve of witches made her feel the safest she ever had.
By now, Victor, would have ignored the clouds and her desires, and gone straight for what made him feel good. Funny how she’d thought she’d loved him so much. She couldn’t deny their energy had been potent. But where Victor had been a white-hot flash in the pan, what she experienced with Peter was more a delicious sensation that she knew could deepen into something strong, sexy and wonderful if she could allow it.
Which she couldn’t, but it was nice to think about.
And no one said she couldn’t enjoy this time with him right now.
“Your hair is really soft.” His voice sounded distant, almost sleepy. She wanted to turn to check his expression, but her highly-sensitized emotions kept her from looking.
So, she remained quiet, allowing his steady breaths to lull her into a relaxed state. She closed her eyes for a moment, reveling in the feel of his fingers in her hair.
The sound of a bird squawking woke her with a start. She opened her eyes and cast a glance toward the pond. A duck lifted from the water and flapped higher into the air, heading for grass on the opposite side of the pond from where she and Peter lay.
His breaths remained steady and deep, and she was sure he’d fallen asleep, too. She carefully sat up and turned to face him. His features were relaxed, and the hand that had played with her hair now rested against his chest.
She found it impossible to not visually trace the curve of his pecs beneath his light gray cotton Henley. Even in sleep, he was imposing. And irresistible.
She sat for a few moments watching him, studying the dark fan of eyelashes resting near his cheekbones. She drew an imaginary finger over the curve of his lips and shivered when she remembered how she’d felt the last time he’d kissed her.
This thing between them was strong. Strong enough it should scare her. And, well, it did. But not enough to make her run the other direction. Part of her believed she could handle things and maintain her secrets. Another part desperately wanted to trust Clarabelle’s approval of him. She didn’t want to consider any negative thoughts she harbored.
She wasn’t sure if that made her smart…or stupid.
After staring long enough to make her feel like a creeper, she opted for a walk along the edge of the pond. She’d come to this place to learn more or at least see if she could sense any residual energy from the past. She knew she would have had a harder time if Peter was awake, but his restful slumber provided her the perfect opportunity.
She carefully stood and inched her way from him, opting for soft footsteps until she was sure she wouldn’t wake him. She wouldn’t go far. He’d be able to see her if he woke. But for now, she’d allow him the rest he obviously needed. The man worked too hard.
Not far from where she approached the edge of the water was a short wooden dock. She couldn’t imagine what it might be used for, other than maybe fishing.
She tested the strength of the weathered wood before she put her full weight on it and walked forward. The last thing she wanted was a dip in the green-tinted water fully dressed.
At the end of the dock, she stopped and allowed her senses to drink in the beauty of life di
splayed before her. Dragonflies swooped and dipped above the smooth surface of the water, while beneath, quick flashes of small fish darted by. She imagined some of the less fortunate dragonflies would become lunch for the fish. Such was the circle of life.
Hazel smiled, silently thanking the Blessed Mother for the beauty she’d created. She opened her hands outward as far as she could without seeming awkward or suspicious. Inhaling a cleansing breath, she closed her eyes and tipped her face toward the sun. Warmth caressed her skin, and she opened her senses.
Calm serenity greeted her with a loving embrace. The essence of life buzzed around her, and she accepted the incredible energy that cleansed her soul.
When her spirit was considerably lighter, she allowed her memories to drift to the historical accounts of what had happened so many years ago. She thought of Clarabelle and what she must have felt as villagers rowed her and her friends to the center of the lake.
Fear. Anger. Likely hatred.
She searched the atmosphere for signs of those dark, powerful emotions.
Nothing.
She remained vigilant for several more minutes, understanding that something that old might require more time and more energy.
Finally, she opened her eyes and exhaled a deep breath.
Nothing of the past remained. At least nothing she could sense, and she had powerful abilities in that area. Thankfully, there was nothing left but beauty and serenity.
Her grandmother and her friends had the capability to evaporate this amount of water. The idea of it blew her mind.
Then again, her mother had always told her dark magic should never be underestimated. Still, if she didn’t have proof otherwise, she’d never believe it could happen.
Several fishermen dotted the edges of the placid pond, and she imagined this was where they chose to reconnect with spirit, even if they didn’t realize it. On the far edge of the pond, two teenagers paddled across the surface, their laughs reaching out to Hazel.
Time and the Blessed Mother must have worked their magic and erased all traces of that long-ago tragedy. If only Clarabelle could do the same and find her peace.