Chapter 9
What would a world look like were I to have a
chance to actually live in it?
It takes us two weeks of nearly full-time researching to find an answer.
Well, a half-answer. A maybe-answer.
Sanders and I have fallen into somewhat of a routine over the last few weeks.
He wakes up and does some sort of knightly exercise routine in the living room—this involves lots of complicated sword movements and, once, an explosion of feathers when he accidentally slashed through a pillow.
I sleep in and pretend like I don’t sneak peeks of his glistening abs post workout while I make us coffee and breakfast.
Sanders has successfully taste-tested fifteen different cereals. So far, the clear winner is Reese’s Puffs with Cinnamon Toast Crunch coming in a close second.
We eat breakfast and discuss any new findings from our research, occasionally venturing into conversations about our personal lives.
I learn that Sanders had four younger sisters and was the first knight from his small village in over a century.
He asks thoughtful questions about growing up as an only child in a matriarchal family.
The string grows tauter.
I continue to ignore it.
After breakfast and coffee, we walk to my family home and pick up where we left off the day before in our readings.
We eat lunch and dinner with my mom and grandmother before heading back home where I attempt to get some sewing done before going to sleep.
Fortunately or unfortunately, the pillow wall between us is still firmly intact.
We haven’t cuddled again since that first day and I…
crave it. But most days I’m too exhausted, and frankly too nervous, to bring it back up.
Every day is the same, until today. The four of us are quietly reading when Grandmother suddenly shouts, “Solstice!”
“Grandmother! You scared me half to death.”
“No,” Mom chimes in. “Sanders is the one half to death, dear.” She winks at him and he winks back; the pair having formed quite the bond in the last few weeks.
“Hush, both of you,” Grandmother admonishes. “It says here, ‘Winter Solstice is a celebration of rebirth. A time to reset. This could be applied to the physical, spiritual, or emotional realms. Observe Winter Solstice especially if you seek clarity and newness in your life.’”
“What book is that?” I ask.
“The Complete Guide to Using the Witches’ Calendar.”
“And your thought process is…?”
She looks at me like the answer is obvious. “Sanders died on Samhain. It would make sense that he would be able to pass through the veil on other important dates as well, he’s just never been around to test that theory out.”
“It is an interesting theory,” Mom adds. “We’ve been so focused on spells for rebirth, return, and peace, I didn’t think about looking closer at when Sanders was coming and going.”
“But when it does come, do I simply push him through or…?” I ask.
Grandmother pauses, one finger tapping idly at her nose. “I’m sure that will become apparent in time.”
“When is the Winter Solstice?” Sanders asks, looking contemplative with his elbows propped on his thighs and his hands folded under his chin.
My heart sinks. “December 21st. Which is over a month from now.”
He’s quiet, processing through our discovery.
I stand up and move to the table he’s occupying, sitting close enough to have a conversation without prying ears.
“We can keep looking in the meantime,” I suggest. “There’s no guarantee that the solstice idea will work, and I’m sure there’s more spells or potions or something we can try if we keep researching. ”
I feel that all too familiar tug, hating that we’ve disappointed Sanders in some way. Finally, he shakes his head. “I do not wish to keep researching.”
“You don’t?” I’m so surprised, I speak louder than I intend to. Both Mom and Grandmother look our way, obviously eavesdropping on our conversation.
“I do not. If I only have a month left, I would rather live a full life outside of these walls.” He looks toward my mom.
“Though I do love spending time with you both, I want to experience a bit more than researching. It has been so long since I have truly lived. Let me spend my last few weeks experiencing all life has to offer.”
“Of course, dear,” Mom says, tears in her eyes. “You deserve all of that and more.”
Sanders stands, offering me his hand. “Lady Penelope. Let us go live.”
The first order of business in his new mission to live?
The grocery store to get more cereal. “What if we combined Reese’s Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch in a bowl with the milk that is chocolate?
” Sanders asks, excitement reminiscent of a child who has been allowed to have sugar for the first time.
“Honestly, that sounds disgusting. But your wish is my command,” I tease.
And I don’t correct him on his wording for chocolate milk because honestly I think it’s adorable.
“We should make a list of all of the things you want to do in the next month. Just to make sure we don’t miss anything important. ”
“An excellent idea, Penelope. Make sure to add the cereal thing.”
“Of course I’m going to add the cereal thing. What do you take me for?”
He throws a look of confusion my way. “Is that another one of your sayings?”
“You’ll catch on eventually,” I reply.
A sudden wave of sadness hits me, and I realize it’s coming from our thread. I stop, sidestepping in front of him so he has to stop too. “You’re sad.”
It’s not a question. It’s a fact. I can feel his sadness, viscerally.
“I am. How can you tell?” he asks as if he knows the answer but wants to make sure I’m understanding as well.
My hand floats up to the center of my chest. “Here. I can feel it here.”
He nods, his own hand rising to meet mine—hovering but not quite touching. He raises an eyebrow in question and I nod. “Here?” he confirms, a strong hand encompassing my delicate one.
“Can… does that happen to you?” I ask, mortified as I realize all of the incredibly inappropriate feelings I’ve been projecting toward him and even more so as I realize this is the first time I’ve ever felt any feelings through my thread.
“It does. Mostly when your emotions are incredibly strong. I have learned I can almost… retract my thread so it is not as connected. To give you time to get used to it.” He pauses, his eyes meeting mine.
Bright blue with flecks of navy—they remind me of an aerial view of the ocean, shadows of fish swimming around.
“You said I would catch on to your phrases eventually, but I do not have time for that, do I?”
It’s a rhetorical question. He does not and we both know it.
“Should we add ‘Learn some common phrases’ to the list?” I suggest, beginning to walk down the cereal aisle again—my attempt at lightening the mood.
He nods, still a bit solemn. “Yes, that is a good idea. I would also like to be on your television box.”
My eyebrows shoot so far up my forehead that my glasses fall down my nose. “You want to be on TV?”
“Mmhmm. I do not understand how those can be real people inside the box. I want to try.”
“Right… that might be a bit complicated.” That pang of his sadness hits me again. “But I’m sure we can figure it out,” I quickly add.
Sanders takes hold of my hand, spinning me toward him. “You are amazing, Penelope Graves. I am glad to know you.”
I want to kiss him. I want to do more than that, if I’m being honest.
When we get home, we write everything he wants to do down on a Post-it note. In the morning I see he’s added something else to the bottom.
Kiss Penelope Graves.