I’d give anything to be able to go back in time and kiss her just once more. To feel her soft, supple lips upon mine, to hear her whisper my name…
Oh, but that was impossible.
Everything went so wrong. There was so much pain, so much grief, and decades have passed without it lessening to any significant degree.
Now, I settle.
I settle for the lingering moments I am gifted now, I settle for the grace with each raise of Evie’s wine glass to her lips, the soft smile that spreads across her gorgeous face, the way her eyes light up as she raises her head from the book of poetry she’s reading, as if to savor each word.
I long to hold her. To touch her. To taste her…
I take one step forward. Then another.
My boots are heavy on my feet, my fingers trembling as I consider just how close I can get to her.
One more bold step forward, but I stop in my tracks as the owls descend from the trees and land in front of her.
Someday, my sweet, I tell her now, even though she can’t hear me.
Someday I will come to you, show myself to you.
Someday, maybe you will love me back.
But for now, I’ll just stay here in the darkness.
Silent, lingering, watching…
CHAPTER NINE
EVIE
Oliver and Olivia kept me company, staying close by in the trees as I read a book of Diana’s poetry. The wine kept me warm and the moonlight overhead provided just enough light, coupled with the amber glow of the porch light, to keep me from letting the tiny ripple of fear grow any worse than it was.
All day, I’d been unable to shake this feeling. It started with the pile of rocks and twigs at the door. Even now, I had the underlying feeling I was being watched.
“Don’t be silly,” I murmured to myself. “It’s just the owls.”
As if to reassure me, the two of them swooped down and landed on the porch railing in front of me.
“Hey guys,” I whispered with a smile. Slowly, I stood up, the book falling onto the swing, as I closed the distance between us. Gingerly, I lifted a hand and Oliver bent his head. My fingers floated over his silky soft feathers and I caressed the top of his head. He blinked up at me, his orange eyes bright, the moonlight reflected in them. Olivia yelped and hopped over to me and I reached over to pet her, too.
“Did you two find dinner?” I said. I stared back at them, wishing they could talk back to me. I could use a little bit of adult conversation at this point, I thought. I wondered what they’d say, the tales they might tell me. I wondered how long they’d been around here, unsure of what the lifespan of an owl is. Perhaps they came from a long lineage of generations of other owls, their wisdom passed on through their ancestors.
Oliver surprised me by hopping up onto my shoulder. I turned my head to look at him, his sharp beak mere inches from my nose. Ignoring the thoughts of all the damage he could do to my face if he chose to, I smiled at him.
“Hello, my friend,” I whispered, my voice filled with awe. I couldn’t believe he would get so close. He leaned his head down, rubbing his cheek against mine gently. My eyes widened in surprise as he snuggled up against me. “Wow,” I whispered, my heart melting.
After a few seconds, he lifted his head and I felt his weight shift on my shoulder before he lifted into the air, spreading his wings and swooshing up into the black sky. Olivia followed him, her wings shining magnificently in the glowing moonlight.
A long sigh escaped from my lips, as I stared up at the moon.
Living here could become addictive. No wonder Diana had advocated so strongly to renovate this house. Who wouldn’t want to live here?
I grabbed my wine glass and turned to go inside, locking up after closing the door. I walked to the guest room and undressed before bed, the little chunk of amber falling to the floor.
I leaned down to pick it up and smiled.
Of course it was the owls who’d left the gifts.
Who else could it have been?
I left the rock on the nightstand as I turned off the light and closed my eyes, the smile still lingering, the moon’s lullaby singing me to sleep.
CHAPTER TEN
HAWK
I sat on the porch swing all night, enjoying my favorite lines of poetry from the book Evie had left behind. It was an old book I’d found myself, in a dusty bookstore years ago and brought home to Catherine. Published in 1852, by the time I found it in 1927 in the back of that bookstore, it was already almost seventy years old. Now, it was more than twice that.
Beautifully bound, with an embossed, teal leather cover, the edges fraying at the spine, it was a masterpiece on its own.
But the contents were enough to make a strong man swoon. Entitled, The Floral Offering: The Language of Flowers, it was a collection of poems about individual flowers and herbs and plants, ranging far and wide, with poems about Lily-of-the-Valley, Marigold, Juniper and Holly. I was so pleased to see Evie had chosen this book, of all the others, to spend her evening with.
I knew we had a connection.
Comforted by the fact that Evie and Jeremiah were sleeping peacefully inside, while the moon rose over the cabin, I made myself comfortable on the swing.
I’d built this swing myself right after I’d built the house, many moons ago.
Catherine begged for one, and I spent weeks working on it in secret so I could surprise her for her birthday. Before Slade decided to renovate this place, I spent most of my time perched here, watching the trees sway to the constant birdsong rippling through the forest.
I’d kept my distance while watching them gut the place, repaint the exterior, mend all the little things that had fallen into disrepair over the years. Seeing it now, restored to its full glory, a rush of pride came over me, along with a hefty dose of nostalgia.
Everything was so much different back then.
The world, my life, this place…
Now, I could go anywhere I wanted, and yet I never seemed to leave the premises for very long. I’ve wandered for weeks, exploring this new life, testing the limits that I’m bound to. I’ve spent years away, languishing in foreign lands.
But I always came back to the warm comfort of this forest. The peacefulness of its isolation was addictive.
It’s home.
It’s all I have.
It’s all I’ve ever had.
Besides Catherine, this place was my entire life.
If only I’d valued it as much then, as I do now. I had no idea how much I’d miss my old life after it was all gone.
I made such huge mistakes. I took it all for granted.
I gambled and lost it all, hurting everyone who cared about me along the way. I was careless and cruel and selfish.
If I’d known I would pay for my mistakes for all of eternity with this aching regret, I may not have made them.
Oh, who am I fooling? Of course, I would have.
I was stubborn and foolish, and even if you played my whole life back to me and showed me the torture of my future, I wouldn’t have believed you.
In fact, I’d probably have killed you, just for pissing me off.
That’s the kind of man I was — that I still am.
I’m not proud of it.
Shame fills my soul with each new dawn.
A deep sigh escapes my lips and I lose myself in the poems once more.
I choose my favorite, a gorgeous sonnet called ‘Cactus’ that spoke to me so strongly the first time I read it, it was the reason I bought the book in the first place. I’d found it on a dusty shelf in the back of a rundown bookstore on the coast and then run home and read this poem to Catherine — which quickly became her favorite, too. Oh, how I longed to read it to her just one more time.
I’ll share it with you instead:
Thou’rt like a star; for when my way was cheerless and forlorn,
And all was blackness like the sky before a coming storm,
Thy beaming smile and words of love, thy heart of kindness free,
Illumed my path, then cheered my soul, and bade its sorrows flee.
Thou’rt like a star—when sad and lone I wander forth to view
The lamps of night, beneath their rays my spirit’s nerved anew,
And thus I love to gaze on thee, and then I think thou’st power
To mix the cup of joy for me, even in life’s darkest hour.
Thou’rt like a star—whene’er my eye is upward turned to gaze
Upon those orbs, I mark with awe their clear celestial blaze;
And then thou seem’s so pure, so high, so beautifully bright,
I almost feel as if it were an angel met my sight.
Isn’t it divine? The book doesn’t say who wrote it, which drives me mad. The memory of Catherine reading it to me aloud by the fire washes over me and I shudder from the wave of yearning that fills my heart.
As the sun begins to peek out over the horizon, I finally rise from the swing and go inside the house. Doors and locks are not barriers for me anymore. I easily slide through the heavy wooden door and leave a gift for my beloved Evie.
I can’t wait for her to find it.
Maybe today is the day that I can summon the courage to show myself to her. Until then, may these exquisite lines of poetry I selected for her bring a smile to her captivating lips…
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EVIE
The incessant chirping of a chick-a-dee woke me up. Slowly, I stretched, reveling in the effects of waking from the best sleep I’ve ever had. Padding to the bathroom, I looked at my reflection, my sleepy eyes staring back at me.
“Peace looks good on you,” I said to myself with a smile.
I dressed slowly, taking my time, the quiet of the house telling me that Jeremiah was still asleep. I walked out of the bathroom and checked on him, his little head sticking out of the covers, his blonde hair flopped over his eyes. I smiled and left him there, not wanting to wake him just yet.
Coffee was first on my list of chores. After getting it going, I pulled out a mug and stood at the kitchen counter, waiting a little impatiently for the liquid gold to appear. Opening the fridge, I pondered what to make for breakfast and decided on pancakes again, but I’d wait until Jeremiah woke up to start them.
I poured a cup of coffee and headed for my favorite spot — the front porch swing. To get there, I had to pass by the dining room and I paused when I noticed something on the table.
Perched like an offering from the gods, the book I was reading last night laid open, with a red-tail hawk feather resting on the open pages.
Last night’s actions ran through my head like a movie, as I retraced my steps. I distinctly remembered leaving the book on the swing.
Running to the front door, I checked the lock and saw the it was still firmly in place. I ran around the house, checking every single window, too. Nothing was left open
“What the hell?” I whispered to myself.
Slowly, I walked over to the book, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I picked up the feather, turning it around in my trembling fingers, shaking my head. I put it down on the table and picked up the book, reading the poem out loud.
It took a few moments and as I recited each line, I almost felt hypnotized by the enchanting words.
“…and then thou seem’s so pure, so high, so beautifully bright,
I almost feel as if it were an angel met my sight.”
“Wow,” I said, putting it back down. I looked around the cabin once more, checking in all the closets and under the beds, even the one Jeremiah was sleeping in.
Nothing was disturbed, nobody was hiding in the closets, and yet.
Someone had been inside the house.
“That’s impossible,” I said out loud. I walked out onto the porch, my gaze raking over the property, looking for any sign of life.
I saw nothing. No footprints. Certainly no people.
“Nothing but trees and birds,” I said, the fear now thundering through my body.
“Good morning!”
I jumped three feet in the air and turned around to see Jeremiah standing in the doorway, a wide smile stretched across his sleepy face.
“Oh! Jeremiah!” I said, grabbing him and hugging him a little too hard. “Good morning, honey.”
“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.
I took a deep breath, doing my best to calm my racing heart.
“Pancakes,” I answered, my voice shaking.
“Awesome!” he replied. I let him go and knelt down, looking into his eyes. “Jeremiah, did you wake up last night?”
“Nope,” he shook his head. “Why?”
“Are you sure? Not at all?”
“I don’t think so,” he said, looking at me curiously. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong, babe,” I said, not wanting to worry him. “Let’s go back inside.”
We walked back and I closed and locked the door behind us, staring out the window again.
“Aunt Evie?” Jeremiah asked, looking up at me with concern. I turned to him and went back to the table and picked up the book.
“Jeremiah, did you put this book of poetry on the table last night?” I was convinced there was a reasonable explanation.
“Nope, never seen it before,” he said. “Hey, is that a red-tailed hawk feather?”
He grabbed it and I cringed, almost afraid for him to touch it.
“I guess so,” I said.
“Cool, I have a few of these,” he said. “Can I have this one?”
“Sure, babe,” I said, forcing myself to breathe.
“Awesome, I’ll go put it in my room with the rest.”
“I’ll get started on those pancakes.” I set to making them, hoping if I kept my hands busy, they would stop shaking.
How did someone get in the cabin?
The doors were locked, the windows were shut, and none of this made any sense at all. We ate in near-silence, my head racing, trying to come up with an explanation. No matter what I did, I came up empty.
The rest of my morning was spent contemplating if I should tell Diana and Slade about this. I hated to worry them. Maybe I would just wait.
After all, it wasn’t as if we were hurt or injured. And what would I tell them anyway? That nobody actually broke in, but a book magically appeared on the table?
I’m sure Slade would get a good laugh at my expense with that bit of news.
“Jeremiah, do you mind if we just stay close to the cabin today?” I asked, as he settled onto the couch after breakfast to watch cartoons.
“Sounds good to me,” he said. “Can I stay in my pajamas all day?”
“Sure,” I laughed.
“And can I watch whatever I want?”
“Within reason, sure,” I replied.
“Cool!” he exclaimed with a huge smile. I left him there, snuggled under a blanket on the couch, as I wandered outside again.
This time, I threw on my boots and walked the entire perimeter of the house, staring as deeply into the woods as I could without actually going in.
Still, I saw nothing.
All was quiet and peaceful, everything pointing to the fact that we were all alone out here. Before he’d left, Slade had shown me how to get into his gun safe, just in case. I’d thought it was a bit much at the time, but now I was happy to know I had access to protection, should we need it.
Oh, how I hoped we wouldn’t need it…
CHAPTER TWELVE
HAWK
“Thou’rt like a star, for when my way was cheerless and forlorn, and all was blackness like the sky before a coming storm,” Evie recited under her breath, as she wandered around the cabin. “Thou’rt like a star—when sad and lone I wander forth to view, the lamps of night, beneath their rays my spirit’s nerved anew…"
My heart soared as I heard her reciting the poem I’d left for her.
Blissfully, I watched from the shadows as she walked around the house, peering into the woods, probably looking for me. I saw the
worry in her eyes, and wondered if I’d made a mistake.
The last thing I meant to do was scare her.
I should have thought my actions through a little better.
Of course, all of this fear could be obliterated if I showed my face to her. Then, she’d see I was harmless. She’d see I just wanted nothing but happiness for her.
Could that happen?
Was it possible for me to love again?
“Thy beaming smile and words of love, thy heart of kindness free, illumed my path, then cheered my soul, and bade its sorrows flee.” She was almost singing it now, clearly as entranced with the words as I was.
She walked closer to me, her blue eyes inquisitive and searching before she turned away. My eyes raked over her body, her curves exquisite and inviting. My fingers twitched, yearning to touch her, to slide over every inch of her skin.
How I longed to memorize the lines on her face the way she’d memorized that poem. I wanted to etch the flash of her smile into my brain.
It wasn’t the first time I’d fantasized about her. Imagining her head thrown back in ecstasy, her skin flush with desire, her lips calling my name, left me shaking in my boots.
I remembered wanting Catherine this much.
I remembered how it felt when I finally was able to show her just how much I loved her.
Would it feel the same with Evie?
Would she welcome me inside of her with the same eagerness as Catherine did?
“And thus I love to gaze on thee, and then I think thou’st power, to mix the cup of joy for me, even in life’s darkest hour, thou’rt like a star—whene’er my eye is upward turned to gaze, upon those orbs, I mark with awe their clear celestial blaze…”
Evie wandered back in the cabin, leaving me alone with this painful yearning that I feared would only grow in time, her voice mingling with mine as we finished the poem together.
“And then thou seem’s so pure, so high, so beautifully bright, I almost feel as if it were an angel met my sight.” I watched her close the door, convinced beyond any doubt that fate had brought us together. Within a few days, all the Gods would return from their vacation and Evie would be gone.
GHOST OF CHAOS: GODS OF CHAOS MC (BOOK TWELVE) Page 3
