Chapter Sixteen #3
I approach the bassinet, and warmth swells through me at the sight of him.
New life is a special kind of magic, an act of creation beyond anything witches could ever achieve.
With careful fingers, I open the small sachet of crystals the hospital provided and pour them into my open hand, taking stock of what they’ve given me.
Prehnite to draw in unconditional love and inner peace.
Strawberry quartz to foster calm and emotional balance.
Trolleite to promote spiritual growth.
Orca agate to provide protection and resilience.
And finally a piece of green-and-purple fluorite to bring mental clarity.
With a deep breath, I call in magic and funnel additional power and strength into the crystals to fully charge and activate them.
I place the stones inside the bassinet, creating a ring around Rykelan.
Once everything is in place, I hold my hands over the bassinet and let magic flow through me.
I hold Jackie’s and Marisol’s love for their son in my heart and encourage the magic to protect him physically, mentally, and emotionally.
When the magic is at its peak, I trace a traditional protection sigil across his brow. His skin is soft against my magic-heated fingers. I place my hands over his swaddled chest, close my eyes, and funnel all the protection, love, joy, and magic I can into the tiny human.
Rykelan makes a grunting noise, and I open my eyes to find that he’s woken up. The brightest blue eyes stare back at me, and a stream of intuition races through not just my mind, but my entire body, too.
Marisol and Jackie watching him take his first steps.
The blondest, barely there hair growing from his head, sticking up at odd angles after a nap.
Clumsy fingers gripping a board book while he chews on the corner.
Then he’s older, two or three, playing with plastic dinosaurs. I hear his squeaky little voice echo in my head. This is a stegosaurus. Rawr! He stomps the dinosaur on the table until it knocks into a bowl, sending bits of dry cereal skittering across the surface.
Rykelan kicking a soccer ball.
Learning to write his name. Making friends. Fighting over toy cars. Sharing art supplies.
There are holidays with his moms. Surrounded by a huge family who loves him. Opening toys. Playing in the snow, dressed so warmly he can barely bend his arms or legs. Reading bedtime stories.
One more hug, Mommy. A giant one!
The images come faster, and I watch as he grows up inside my mind.
His moms are always there. Always loving him.
Always hugging him tight no matter what mischief he causes.
They put bandages on scraped knees. Cannonball into a pool with him.
The love they have for him is fierce beyond measure. All-consuming. Unconditional.
It opens something lonely and grieving and broken inside of me.
“Is everything okay?” Marisol’s voice draws me back to the present, where the newborn Rykelan is swaddled tightly, those blue eyes shining like beacons. “Pippa? You’re crying.”
I brush the tears from my face, disconnecting from the flow of magic. “Happy tears,” I lie, though I am happy for their family. I try to shove down the grief for my own turbulent childhood, but the feeling resists. Presses back against my attempt to quell it.
“Anything else we need to do?” Jackie asks, her new motherly concern trained on me as I collect the crystals from Rykelan’s bassinet.
“It’s not required, but you can keep these in his room for the next twelve months.” I pass the crystals over to her. “Rykelan is going to have a beautiful life. He’s so, so lucky to have you as his parents.”
The women share a look that I can’t read, but now that I’m fully disconnected from the cherished feeling I experienced moments ago, a fresh wave of grief rushes in. Even when I had my family, I never had their unconditional love. I never had a family like the one in this room.
My throat tightens, and I excuse myself before I lose the ability to speak completely.
Outside their room, the tears fall in earnest, and I’m left navigating the maze of hallways with only instinct and intuition to guide me.
The hurt is a crater in my chest, absorbing every good feeling I’ve ever experienced.
Leaving nothing but the disappointment and all the fucking conditions my parents put on me from the moment I drew my first breath.
From the moment I entered their five-year plan.
The horrible truth of it slams into me. I have never been loved as wholly and completely as Rykelan already is.
The way his mothers will continue to love him through all the ups and downs in his life.
The ache of it is overwhelming. The hospital is a blur of color as I try to find my way out, out, out.
Intuition urges me to turn right around the next corner, and I collide with someone warm and solid and a few inches shorter than me. An apology is already halfway past my lips before I recognize the cascade of red hair. The tired green eyes. My world tilts.
“Elle?”