Love and Other Calamities

by Virginia Nelson

  She went a little more limp in his arms, and he realized he didn’t want to waste time looking for help.

  He would help her.

  “Whatever is out there listening—take me instead! I don’t care if it is God or Death or whatever… take me instead. Don’t take her. She’s done so much, saved the world again and again… it isn’t fair! Take me. Don’t take her, not like this. She deserves better than to die at the hands of the person she loves. Take me; I’ll go in her place!”

  Bobsy’s hand touched his face again, a butterfly light touch because she was so weak. “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered. Her breaths were so short, so faint. “Words and intent have power. Don’t—”

  He shook his head, intent-ing with all his might. “I know. You taught me that. And I intend for you to survive, Bobsy Blatherskite. The universe owes you one—more than one.”

  A crack that sounded like thunder echoed through the park, then a woman that looked like Madonna—the singer, not the virgin—appeared standing over them. His eyes tracked from her white, heeled boots, up lace covered legs under a flowing white skirt, and up to her curly hair held back with a large, lacy headband.

  “Are you God?” he asked her. “Or are you an angel?”

  The figure snorted. “Neither, but I can act pretty angelic if you catch me on the right day, hot stuff. What did you do to my little witch?”

  He glanced back at Bobsy only to realize she was no longer breathing in those panting little breaths. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t breathing at all. “Bobsy!” he shouted frantically, tucking her closer to his body. “Come back to me, babe. Don’t leave me like this!”

  “Yeah, you did her dirty, boy. Gonna have to do a lot of really nice things to make it up to her, when this is all over,” the Madonna lookalike said, her tone amused.

  “Can you save her?” he asked, because nothing else mattered, not really.

  “I can, but I heard you say something about going in her place?”

  Ambrose swallowed hard. If he died, who would be there for her? Who would hold her in the darkness, and make her laugh on the days when life was hard?

  But it didn’t matter, he decided. What mattered was that she survived. If she was with anyone, anyone at all, it would be better than a world without Bobsy in it.

  “Yes,” he said closing his eyes and tilting his head back as if to allow the killing blow. “Take me instead. Just make sure she’s okay, please.”

  “Okie dokie,” replied the woman and her hand closed on his throat.

  He waited, but nothing happened. He cracked open one eye, to see if he could guess her intent.

  Her laugh again chimed through the park. “Silly man. Magic doesn’t work like that.”

  Then she bent and removed the knife from Bobsy’s chest as easily as he’d remove a broken chip he’d dropped from his shirt. Another wave of her hand and the wound on Bobsy’s chest vanished, all traces of blood gone as if they never were.

  “Breathe, child,” the woman uttered, and no sooner did she say it than Bobsy’s chest rose with a ragged breath.

  “Bobsy!” he shouted, and she blinked her eyes open in confusion.

  “Why are you yelling?” she asked. “It is a Saturday, and we agreed we’d sleep in on Saturdays.”

  It was such a normal thing for her to say—normal in the lives they’d led before their memories were stolen—that tears flowed from his eyes like water released from a dam. “Babe, I thought I lost you.”

  He hugged her close, but this time her arms returned his embrace. It felt so good, so right to have her back in his arms, he just cried a little harder.

  “Heroes in romance novels never cry,” she told him. “You’re breaking all the rules.”

  He buried his face in her hair. “You don’t like rules, anyway.”

  Epilogue

  Bobsy’s sides ached as she ran full throttle toward screams in the distance. Trees and underbrush occluded her view, making it impossible to see anything in the forest beyond what was in her immediate path.

  “We’ve got to go faster,” she muttered, and her companion raced alongside her.

  “I’m trying,” he replied. “I’m just not used to running with spell enhanced speed. There’s a learning curve.”

  Bobsy shot Ambrose a smile. He looked good—damn good—in the khaki shorts and Hawaiian themed top. “You know we can do other things with spell enhanced speed, right? Have I mentioned that?”

  He tripped over a tree and she laughed, skipping ahead of him.

  “Most women,” he panted as he struggled to catch up, “Don’t want that sort of thing sped up. If anything, they want it to take longer.”

  “Mind in the gutter,” she joked. “Who said that was what I was talking about?”

  His arm snaked around her waist and his weight hit her, sending them both crashing to the forest floor. He rolled at the last second, taking the brunt of the fall, but his arms remained around her. “If you weren’t talking about it, I know you were thinking about it. You say my mind is in the gutter, but since we’ve conceived, it is you who has been the one dragging me to bed in the middle of the day.”

  She leaned up, kissing him before capturing his lip in her teeth. After a gentle nip, she met his eyes. “I’m glad I didn’t turn your junk into a banana, even if they do have… a peel.”

  His fingers dug into her sides and he tickled her unmercifully. “What did I tell you about bad jokes?” he asked.

  “Make more of them,” she sputtered between laughs.

  “No, that wasn’t quiiiite it,” he replied. He tickled with more enthusiasm, until she could barely breathe between laughs.

  “I surrender!” she yelled, laughing harder. “I surrender!”

  “Do you?” he asked with the sexy little growl he knew flat out did it for her. “Do you surrender to me, wife?”

  “Well, I surrender in the tickle war,” she hedged. When he poised his fingers to resume tickling, she punched his shoulder gently. “That’s the best you’re getting.”

  He kissed her, a long and luxurious meeting of their mouths that ended in tangled tongues and heavy breathing. “What if I want more?” he growled.

  “You can have it, my love,” she replied breathlessly, but then she heard the screams again and smacked his arm with a bit more enthusiasm. “Now get off me or we’re going to be late.”

  He gave her a final kiss—this one full of promise that they’d pick up where they left off later—and then got to his feet before offering her a hand to pull her up. “I can make it worth it, if you don’t mind being late. Spell enhanced speed, after all.”

  For a second, she considered it, because he wasn’t wrong. Ever since she’d gotten pregnant with their first child, she’d been pretty much constantly horny. But she had plans today, and they didn’t include playing naked Twister with her husband in the woods. “Maybe later,” she replied. “I want to see Tabby.”

  Together, they jogged the rest of the way on her shortcut to the little street faire the town was putting on that weekend. She’d talked to Tabby’s grandmother and agreed to meet at the bench near the duck pond before attending the faire set up in the park parking lot. As they broke through the trees and into the open green of the well mowed park, she scanned to the bench where they’d agreed to meet. She was late—partly due to their little encounter in the woods, partly because she’d spent too long horking down breakfast—but she was pleased to spot Tabby and her grandmother waiting on the bench.

  “Look, grumpy old guy is here, too,” she said, reaching for Ambrose’s hand.

  He took her palm in his and she looked up into his wonderful eyes. “Yeah, that guy… he’s a real sourpuss. Hope he doesn’t scare Tabby.”

  They’d made it a point to reconnect with the child, since Bobsy couldn’t get her out of her head. She kept worrying about her, wondering how she was doing with her grief, and once they’d made contact, they’d become friends of a sort.

  It was the little
connections, after all, that made life worth living.

  “I hate this place,” Ambrose said, squeezing her hand a bit tighter.

  A glance at his face showed him a bit paler than he had been only moments before. “I didn’t die,” she told him.

  “You sure looked dead,” he replied, tugging her into his arms. “I thought I lost you.”

  She hugged him back, understanding. She intended to take down the witch hunters—Jennet Salazar in particular—once they figured out how. But today wasn’t for revenge, nor was it for anything dark and painful. It wasn’t the day for living in past mistakes and fears…

  They were working on their happy ever after, after all.

  “You didn’t, but I’m late, and we need to get a move on,” she said briskly, but she peppered his face with small kisses. “I’m sorry that the memories of this place are dark for you, but I kind of like it still.”

  “Why?” he asked, his tone horrified. “I tried to kill you here, and almost succeeded.”

  “Because if it wasn’t for this place, we might not have met again. If it wasn’t for this place, those monsters would still have you. Yeah, bad things happened here… but it is just a place, and it holds good and bad ghosts, you know?”

  He kissed her temple gently, giving her a final squeeze before releasing her. “This is why the universe chose you to save the world. Only you would find something light in all that darkness.”

  She grinned up at him, feeling powerful, loved and strong. “Hey, it ain’t a great job, but someone’s gotta do it.”

  With that, she headed off again—not releasing her husband’s hand, of course, because although she’d made light of it, she understood his pain—toward the park bench.

  Once she arrived, she noticed grumpy old man’s face seemed redder than usual, especially right around his ears. “Good afternoon,” she said to him, and then turning to Tabby and her grandmother, she added, “Hiya, sorry I’m late.”

  “It is closer to morning than afternoon,” said the grumpy old man.

  “Oh, hush, Edgar,” Tabby’s grandmother replied. “He’s been a grouch since high school, don’t mind him.”

  With that, she elbowed the grumpy old man who rumpled his newspaper in response.

  “You know grumpy old guy?” Bobsy asked without thinking. Then she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I mean—”

  Tabby’s grandmother chortled with laughter. “She called you an old guy, Edgar!”

  “Hush your prattle, woman.” Grumpy old guy folded his newspaper indignantly. “You’ve had a mouth on you since we were children. Nice to see some things haven’t changed.”

  “We dated when we were in school, didn’t we, Edgar? Haven’t seen him in years, not until today. I didn’t even know you still lived around here,” Tabby’s grandmother said to grumpy old man.

  “I didn’t,” Edgar replied, but he stole a glance at Tabby’s grandmother. “I retired here after my wife passed. We used to come to this park and…”

  “Oh, I didn’t know Sally passed away.” Tabby’s grandmother said, placing a hand on the old man’s arm. “I’m so sorry to hear it.”

  Grumpy old man’s ears practically glowed red, they were so bright. He patted Tabby’s grandmother’s hand a little stiffly, but his gaze was soft as it rested on her face. “We had a good life together. Her death was peaceful, which is about all any of us can hope for.”

  “You’re not wrong,” Tabby’s grandmother agreed. “Do you have any paper?”

  Her gaze landed on Bobsy who shook her head. “No, sorry.”

  “I do,” Ambrose said, reaching into his pocket. “Need a pen, too?”

  “Yes, please. Such a nice young man, don’t you think, Edgar?” Tabby’s grandmother asked.

  Edgar grunted and stole another look at Tabby’s grandmother. His lips curled into the shadow of a smile. “He’s okay, I suppose, if you say so.”

  “I do,” Tabby’s grandmother replied. She scribbled on the paper for a few seconds, then handed it back to Edgar. “My number, you old fart. Give me a call sometime, and maybe we’ll go out walking together.”

  “I don’t like walking,” Edgar grumped, but he accepted the paper and put it in his breast pocket. “But I’ll call.” He shot a look at Bobsy. “You have good taste in friends, girl.”

  “Thanks,” she replied with a grin, then offered her free hand to Tabby. “Ready to go ride some rides? I can hear people screaming, so they must have at least one or two that will knock your socks off.”

  The child glanced at her feet then back up at Bobsy. “I’m wearing sandals.”

  Tabby’s grandmother stood, laughing. “Kids are so literal.”

  “You think kids are literal, you should get a cat,” Bobsy replied with a secretive snicker.

  They went into the park and, as promised, Bobsy took Tabby on all the rides, even a couple that knocked her socks off—or so the child claimed.

  Afterward, while they walked home hand in hand, she leaned her head on Ambrose’s shoulder. “Healing is hard,” she said with a jaw popping yawn.

  “You mean for Tabby?” he asked, tugging her closer to his side. “I can’t imagine being so stricken by grief that you’d tear the very fabric of reality, not to mention having that kind of pain inside and just being a little kid. Shoot, I remember not being able to eat broccoli because the flavor was so strong… I can’t imagine how bad losing someone as a kid must feel.”

  “Me either,” Bobsy agreed. “But I didn’t just mean for her. We’ve had to do a lot of healing, too.”

  “Yeah, it has been hard. There was a lot of trust lost because of what happened to us, not to mention the ramifications of everything we experienced…” For a couple of seconds, his expression went dark and lonely, and Bobsy wondered if he was remembering his time as a captive of the witch hunters.

  “But we got help. We’re working on healing together,” she said. “It is hard, but easier when you’re not alone.”

  “Tabby isn’t alone, either,” he pointed out. “And we’re making sure she has help to heal.”

  Bobsy nodded, enjoying having her husband back at her side and her memories restored. “Sometimes, you can save the world, but it is way harder to find a way to save yourself.”

  He nodded. “You’re not wrong.”

  “I’m never wrong,” she said slyly, looking away from him so he wouldn’t see her smile.

  He, as expected, scooped her into his arms, so she wrapped her legs around his hips to hold on. “Never?” he asked.

  “Nope,” she said laughing out loud before twining her arms around his neck. “After all, I knew I could trust you even while you were trying to kill me.”

  He groaned, burying his face in her neck. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t remind me.”

  “You pushed me in a pond, duckboy,” she reminded him. “I can let you live down the rock and the stabbing, but my nose is still assaulted by trauma every time I remember taking that swim in duck shit.”

  “How can I make it up to you?” he asked, but she could tell he wasn’t joking when he said it. He honestly wanted to find a way to make reparations for his actions while he was brainwashed, but she didn’t need that.

  She just needed him.

  But she wasn’t going to tell him that.

  “Well, to start with… I have this thing I wanted to try in bed,” she began, stroking a single fingernail down the slope of his neck while she seductively smiled at him.

  His grip on her waist tightened and one of his hands strayed down to stroke her ass. “Yeah?” he asked. “Is it kinky?”

  Her smile grew with all the lazy curl of the Grinch’s smile. “Very.”

  “Hmm,” he began. “Does it involve food?”

  She nipped his ear. “Nope.”

  “Does it involve handcuffs?” he asked, then used his lips to trace a line of open-mouthed kisses up the side of her neck.

  “Nope,” she said and then captured his mouth.

  When she came
up for air, he fixed his passion-glazed gaze on hers. “Okay, I’m done guessing, but whatever it is, I’m down.”

  She smiled beatifically at him. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  With that, he opened the front door of their home and headed to the bedroom. “Time for a happily ever after,” he said.

  As she took off his clothes with spell enhanced speed, she grinned up at him. “About damn time.”

  THE END

  About the Author

  USA Today Bestselling Author Virginia Nelson is the hybrid author best known for The Penthouse Prince. Aside from that, she’s the mother of three wonderful children and will soon become a grandmother (!!!!). Virginia earned her Associate in Science and Bachelor of English from Kent State University and her Master of Fine Arts in Writing from Seton Hill University. You can find out more—including where to find her on social media—on her website.

  Books for sale. Snark for free.

  virg-nelson.com

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