Chapter 9
It was nearly dusk when he finally found her again.
“She’s just been sitting there. Gave her a pack of Oreos we had left over from fellowship hour last week, but she hasn’t touched it.”
She could hear Pastor Matthews and Stephan discussing her in hushed voices at the back of the small Presbyterian church where she sat, back straight, gazing at the altar ahead.
The chancel was filled with yards and yards of blood-red poinsettias bound with white ribbons.
A cross hung overhead, made of simple, pale wood.
Elk Ridge Presbyterian reminded her of the church her family had gone to when she was a young child. Before her father had invested in and then moved them to Victorious Life. Before her family’s religion had become a roar instead of a pulse.
The truth was the second Victorious Life had sided with Grayson and pushed her out, she’d felt a strange sense of relief, though she’d felt wicked for it.
She still believed the teachings of Jesus, the kind she could see reflected in this room in front of her, but the more distance she’d gained from her old life, the more at odds she felt with the brand of faith that had been sold to her for so many years.
Who was in and who was out had less to do with scripture than politics, and she had observed more hypocrisy than she could ignore.
All of it had distanced her from something precious.
Coming here to this humble room decorated to remind congregants of the barest truth of Christmas—the essential gifts of hope, unconditional love, and promised peace—felt like a balm for a spiritual hurt she hadn’t even realized she’d been carrying.
Pastor Matthews’s voice drifted back into her mind. “I’m supposed to meet Mel for a pickleball game. You got this from here?”
“I do. Thanks, Ava.”
A few moments later, Stephan slipped into the pew a few feet away, folding his hands and propping his elbows on his knees. She acknowledged him only briefly and looked down at her hands, which she’d been picking again.
Filthy habit. Stop it.
She forced her hands to her sides, and they sat and enjoyed the quiet together for a few minutes before Stephan finally said, “You know, I’ve never been in a church other than some really old and totally touristy landmarks. I can see why people find it peaceful, though.”
She nodded quietly, and after a few long breaths she asked, “What does your religion say about forgiveness?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Nothing in particular. Divine judgment’s not really a concept we have.
Sometimes people will talk about ‘the universe’ like it’s an entity that might approve or disapprove, but some of us believe it’s more of a collective noun for everything that is and ever was, and we feel a sense of responsibility to leave the world better than we found it. ”
“That’s the Girl Scouts.”
“Well, it’s us too. We’ve got the Rule of Three, which helps guide our choices.
It basically says that what you put out, you get back threefold, and so if you’re putting out a lot of negative energy, expect negative energy right back.
You remember how last year, when Rowan cast the memory-wiping spell on you, she lost hers too? ”
Hayleigh frowned and considered the question, then nodded. She hadn’t really focused on that detail at the time, but knowing Rowan had put herself through that experience too made her feel slightly better about the whole thing. Slightly.
“It guides a lot of what we do. I mean, even if you don’t believe in the forces at work, it’s a pretty solid way of thinking about how to be a good member of a community. It’s kind of like the Golden Rule, right?”
“I guess so.” Quiet settled between them, until she finally whispered, “I’m not a bad person.”
He leaned in and nudged her with his elbow, causing her body to spring to attention. “Prove it, then.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“I don’t think you can blame anyone for not necessarily seeing all the possible consequences of their actions. What matters is what we do once we do know. How we repair whatever damage we did.”
“You mean like make amends?”
He shrugged and nodded. “Sure.”
She let out a short, frustrated noise. “If what we read back there is true, how could I possibly make amends for that?”
Stephan shrugged and leaned back in the pew with a stretch that lifted his fleece up high and briefly revealed his thick, muscular abdomen. The last rays of sunset hit his face through narrow lancet windows, highlighting his strong profile.
“I don’t know, but I bet the person who cursed you might have some ideas.”
Hayleigh scoffed. “The still-unknown person. Who maybe is in Eucharist, Idaho, which I have no way of getting to, unless…”
She didn’t want to finish the sentence. The possibility was there, dangling between them, but the question stayed lodged in her mouth.
If she called anyone from back home and asked them to drive her to Idaho to “break a curse,” they’d drive her straight to inpatient care instead. Not to mention, if she needed to find a witch, it would be helpful to have another in tow.
Stephan had been willing, eager even, to help up to this point. But this was his busy season. What were the chances he could take a few days off?
There was no good reason not to ask—Za spros, ne dayut noss, her grandmother was fond of saying. No one punches you in the nose for asking. But still, she hesitated.
And it had everything to do with the way his blue eyes cut into her at times, like she was a cold river on a hot day—something he wanted to fall right into. He would say yes if he was able—she was sure of it. Men had waged wars for women who inspired less; all she needed was a ride to Idaho.
The problem wasn’t that she expected a no.
It was that every time he looked at her that way, it got harder to ignore that her body wanted to open up and let him dive in.
Physical closeness would not make it easier to keep thoughts tucked away where they belonged, where the temptation couldn’t lead to her ruin.
She needed him. She had no one else. She had to take the risk.
“Unless…?” Stephan asked, and from the expression of amusement on his face, it seemed he could sense the nature of her struggle.
She wiggled in discomfort and forced it out. “Unless there’s any way you would drive me?”
His smile widened, as if he’d been expecting her to ask. “I think I could do that. I’ve got tomorrow off, and I can see about switching shifts with someone for the day after.”
With an equal rush of relief and trepidation, she said, “I will repay you every cent you spend on the trip. I’m sure you’ll want collateral…”
He held up a hand. “I don’t need that.”
“I insist.” She slipped a gold ring off her finger—a gift from her paternal grandmother, whom they’d lost some years back. “Take this.”
He eyed it. “Not sure that’ll even fit on my pinky.”
“Keep it in your wallet, then,” she said with a huff. “Just…keep it safe.”
“If it’s what you need.” His fingers closed around the ring, fingertips brushing hers and causing a zip-zip up her arms.
She stared at the ring as he tucked it away, feeling a tug of grief at potentially losing it. Still, she didn’t back out. This would keep their arrangement transactional, and Hayleigh understood and felt safest within the firmly defined boundaries of transactions.
“One more thing,” she added. “I’m asking the man for help, not the witch. No more spells.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Are you saying no magic at all for the next few days? Because I don’t think I can agree to that. That’d be like asking you not to use a phone, and a lot of it’s just instinct at this point. But I can promise to do my best to keep it away from you, deal?”
She supposed it was the best she was going to get. “Deal.”
He tipped up his chin and said, “I’ve got a condition of my own.”
She felt suddenly wary. “What is it?”
He pointed a finger at her. “You, Hayleigh Gray, are going to be my second in a snowsquatch building contest tonight.”