Chapter 32
VANNA
I ’m not sure I’d consider last night’s conversation about Legion progress, but at least it didn’t spiral into another heated argument with my husband.
This morning, Dean is already outside working through a few chores on his cabin winterization to-do list . We’ve already had breakfast, and Ace has just finished brushing his teeth with me in the nearly too-small-for-the-both-of-us bathroom.
“Okay, sweetie,” I say, handing him a towel to wipe his mouth now that he’s finished rinsing. “Go get your backpack and bring it into the bedroom so we can get you ready for today’s adventures!”
“Yeah!” he says excitedly, throwing the hand-towel in the sink before bolting down the short hallway to the front of the cabin.
I finish rinsing our toothbrushes and clipping them into their travel cases, then place them in the little mirrored cabinet above the sink.
I grab my toiletry travel bag and unzip it, only to realize there’s something I forgot to bring with me…
“ Shit…”
I must have put the little blue disc of contraceptives back in the bathroom drawer at home after taking it yesterday morning. Nothing I can do about it now… What’s one dose? We’ll be home tomorrow, anyway.
W e spend the majority of the day exploring a little town not too far from the cabin, but it feels like we stepped into a giant Christmas snow globe or a Hallmark movie.
The air is perfectly crisp with the scent of pine trees and cinnamon from the little shops.
The freshness of the mountain air makes my lungs feel alive with every chilly breath, but there’s a warmth radiating from my heart as I hold hands with both Ace and Dean, strolling along the snow-powdered sidewalks.
Ace is still practically bouncing with unbridled excitement, eyes wide, drinking in the sight of every twinkling light and frosted shop window.
He points to every snowman, every Christmas tree, and every gingerbread house on display.
His cheeks are flushed from the cold, but it doesn’t deter the constant smile on his little face.
Whenever I glance up at Dean, he’s smiling too, watching Ace with a gentle pride, knowing our son will remember this trip to the mountains and ask to return.
The irresistible aroma of freshly baked cinnamon rolls and hot cocoa draws us into a little cafe, and we sit down to enjoy a treat and a short reprieve from the cold.
“We needed this,” Dean quietly says on our journey back to his truck. Ace is walking a few paces ahead of us. “To just slow down and appreciate what matters…realize how lucky we are to have this.” He hugs me a little tighter against his side.
“Wow!” Ace shouts and darts off the sidewalk, onto the snow-covered lawn. He bends to pick up a pinecone in his mittened hands, holding it up for us to see. It’s bigger than his entire face. “Can I keep it?”
“You sure can,” Dean chuckles, then leans into me and whispers, “All these fancy decorations and he’s most excited by a pinecone.”
I frown up at him, ready to stick up for Ace. “So?”
“You think he takes after me… but he’s impressed by trees , too.” Dean smiles lovingly, and I can’t help but smile back.
“ Funny… But that pinecone just reminded me of something we can do with him back at the cabin after dinner.”
“Oh?”
“You wanted more pagan traditions to do with Ace,” I say, reaching up to pat his chest. “And you’re going to participate, too.”
“ Devil shit?” He smirks.
I roll my eyes at him and slip out of his embrace. “Come on, Ace,” I say, “We need to find another special pinecone for later.”
He peers up at me curiously. “A special one?”
“That’s right… We’re going to do some pinecone magic!”
His eyes light up with renewed excitement, and he shoves the pinecone into Dean’s hands, then scurries back into the snow to find another.
“ W e all get to make three wishes,” Vanna explains, now that we’ve finished the baked ziti she made for dinner and washed and dried the dishes.
She’s got the materials needed for this Yule pinecone wish spell , which includes little slips of paper, Ace’s colored pencils, and a white candle burning in the center of the table.
“Now, how this works is, we each write our wishes on the slips of paper first. And each color matches your wish. For example, and to keep this as simple as possible ,” Vanna says, holding up the green pencil.
“Green is for health and abundance.” She places that one down and picks up the others one at a time to explain.
“Red is for love, black is for protection, and blue is for peace and trust.”
“What’s a bun dance?” Ace asks, watching me pick up the green pencil first.
“ Abundance,” Vanna chuckles. “It means having lots and lots of something really good!”
“What is yellow for?” Ace asks.
“Yellow is for happiness,” Vanna explains.
Ace stares at the pencils contemplatively. “I want to wish for a moto-cycle,” he announces.
“That’s my boy!” I say with pride.
Vanna shakes her head at me, but her smile doesn’t falter. “What color motorcycle, Ace?”
“Black like S’reen!” he declares, and Vanna hands him the black pencil.
“I don’t want to overcomplicate the whole color idea, but you can also match your colors to your wishes that way, too. Whatever color reminds you of your wish, that’s the one you use.”
We both help Ace write his wishes down, which also include a Hot-Wheels spiral racetrack tower toy of some sort, and new books for bedtime stories, in the bun-dance category.
Vanna is quick to jot her three wishes down, and I’m content with my three wishes centering around the ability to keep my family happy, healthy, safe, and provided for.
“Now, we roll the wishes up, like this,” Vanna instructs, using her fingers to roll one of her papers on the table into a cylinder. “We roll the paper toward us to represent bringing our wishes to us.”
Ace is determined to do this part for himself, and he manages to, pretty well. At least well enough to move forward to the next step.
“And now we carefully dip the end into the candle wax, like this.” Vanna slowly dips an end of one of her wishes into the pool of melted wax on the candle, then brings it to the pinecone, “And we tuck our wishes into the magic pinecone, so they stick inside between the crevices. See? Mommy will help you do yours, sweetie,” she says, scooting closer to assist Ace.
“It sticks!” he smiles, grabbing for another one. They both seem to be enjoying this, and that’s all I care about.
Once all of our wishes have been placed inside the pinecone, Ace spins it around to inspect our handiwork. “What happens now?” he asks.
“Well, now we put it in the fire so our wishes can float up into the universe and work on coming true,” Vanna explains.
“Can I put it in?” Ace eagerly asks.
“Daddy can help you,” she says.
Keeping him a safe distance from the fire, I help him with the iron tongs to place it on top of the logs, and we watch our magic pinecone burn together. Vanna slips her hand into mine, gently giving it a little squeeze as she peers up at me with a slight, hopeful smile.
I didn’t get a chance to read her wishes, though I did notice she used a pink pencil. I have a sneaky suspicion she also used all three of her slips on the same wish.
A wish I’m still not sure I can grant.
T he dull ache in my ribs stirs me from a restless sleep.
But it isn’t solely the physical pain disrupting my slumber.
Sleep eludes me in her absence… Though it’s just as well.
When she isn’t dominating my conscious thoughts, she’s haunting my dreams. I suppose I’ve brought that upon myself as well…
Working magic on her subconscious has backfired on my own…
Mr. Complicated… A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
Her friend, Ethan, called me that…whistled a song as if to playfully provoke her in my presence…
So, she’s dreamed of me, at least once…and his taunting words and telling smirk led me to believe it was a dream worth telling her friends about…
What I wouldn’t do for a peep show in her cerebral cortex…
My own fantasies swirl to the forefront of my mind as I remember what it felt like to pin her against the stone wall of that wine cellar and kiss her…
What her hands felt like on my bare skin as she tended to my wounds…
Like the devious prick I am, I pretended to be asleep a bit longer the last time she came to tend to my injuries. I wanted her to feel at ease in my presence…to prolong the duration of her visit…to feel her cautious, nurturing touches, and savor them.
The fond memories turn bitter as self-loathing creeps back in…
I’ve brought every shred of misery upon myself. She is my one comfort…but she isn’t mine…and Keegan dragged her away.
Though even as I wonder if she wanted to remain at my side, even by some minuscule, subconscious fraction, I also wonder if I’m being delusional.
I thought I saw a hesitance in her eyes when he spoke of their cabin getaway…
But like the cards laid out on her table depicted… am I only seeing what I want to see?
The moment plays over in my mind, analyzing her words and actions before she left me behind…
I’m not sure if it’s my cracked ribs or the weight of her departure, but it’s hard to breathe…
I feel like I’m suffocating under the weight of things I never asked for or ever wanted to feel.
I tried not to love her… I tried so fucking hard…
But I fell, and the torment of affection is more painful than any of the wounds canvasing my body.
Pain and I have always been intimately acquainted, often visiting uninvited, manifesting in cruel and twisted ways. Yet no form has quite compared to the bitter, tormenting sting of unrequited love.
The tremors are starting… Just breathe, you fucking fool! You’re not hers to choose! These circumstances are not congruent!
My heart hammers in my chest so hard it might fracture another fucking rib… I can hear it thudding… Can anyone else?