His hand tightened in mine, and I kissed his palm. “I love you Roark. Always have. Always will. Come to me when you can. I will be waiting.”
His kiss was that of a man in love. Slow, deep and achingly tender, his lips pulled my heart into his. It was the kind of kiss that would linger in memory and on my mouth, long after he and his whispered promise vanished into the dark.
“Wish for me. I will always come.”
One moment there.
The next, gone.
Chapter Seven
Dawn broke when I turned into the plantation’s dirt driveway. Angelina slept all the way home. Madame Katanga, Mama ChiChi, and Earl stood on the porch waiting. How they knew I was coming, I have no idea, but I had heard a crow’s caw in the dim morning light.
Madame K didn’t wait for me to stop the truck before she jerked the door open and threw her meaty arms around Angelina. Huge tears streamed down her face as she choked her words out through repeated sobs, “My Angelina. My most precious gift.”
Angelina, pale and sweaty, leaned on Madame K. Together, they hurried into the house and into the kitchen where Mama ChiChi was busy brewing up a soothing tonic of some sort.
Bone tired, I crawled up the stairs and fell into bed.
****
Mortimer woke me the next afternoon with a fat furry paw in my face. I smiled and tickled the spot under his chin that sent him into nirvana. Sunshine streaked through the windows. Mr. Mockingbird was in the middle of his daily repertoire. It was good to be home. Safe and sound.
The scent of mountain-grown coffee pulled me from bed but the house stood empty. I found Mama ChiChi’s note on the kitchen table:
“Sister, Cousin, and me take Angelina to heal. Please work shop till we return.”
Short. Sweet. And to the point.
For a month, I worked during the day. At night, I drove straight home to the welcoming arms of a house that had become my sanctuary. I didn’t sleep much. Most of the time I sat on the balcony, listened to the night creatures and lost myself in memory of Roark’s deep voice, musky scent, and burning kisses. But I never wished for him. I couldn’t. What if my wish pulled him away from someone in more need of him than me? He vowed he would return and that promise would have to do—no matter how long it took.
Madame Katanga came home one misty night and hugged me until my ribs screamed. She pushed back from me and looked hard into my face. “You not sleeping.” Not a question, but rather a statement of fact.
I ducked my head and changed the subject. “Where’s Angelina?”
“She is safe. It will take time to heal, but she will return home soon. Child. Look at me.”
I raised my gaze to hers. Tears gathering in the corner of her huge cow eyes surprised me. “What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Angelina tell me everything. How you and your Rook saved her. You brought my most precious gift home to me. Madame Katanga has a big debt to repay you.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” I sighed and turned toward the kitchen. “If it hadn’t been for you, I’d be as lost as Angelina was.”
Her large hand on my arm stopped me from taking another step. “Perhaps that is true but I do not think so. It is time for me to repay my debt. Come.”
Curious, I followed her to a closet door that had never been opened. Dank, musty air hit me in the face when she unlocked the door and pulled me up the steps to the attic. Cluttered to the walls with boxes, trunks, old furniture and just plain junk, I couldn’t help but think she’d lost her mind. What could possibly be of value here? She turned to face me.
“I have a confession to make. When you came to my shop many months ago, I think God sent you to ease the pain of losing Angelina. True, I ask you to stay because I did not want to anger the Rook, but also because I selfish.”
Dark eyes glistened with fresh tears and sparked the ones in mine. “There be no replacement for a granddaughter, but you stepped into her place and healed the hole in my heart. I come to love you like my own, and the thought of losing yet another precious gift made me lie. This was a bad thing to do. I know.”
She couldn’t look me in the eye and turned away.
“I told you there be no way to enter the Rook’s world. That is not true.”
She dropped my hand, walked behind an oak dresser, and carried out a long, rectangular object covered with a sheet. I gasped when she pulled the cover away.
A mirror.
I stared at her, not understanding. “A mirror? You said they were bad luck. That you would never have one. You said—”
“What I said was, if you fall through the looking glass and no one is on the other side to catch you, it is dangerous.” Her voice softened. “But little Raven bird, you have someone.”
Eyes wide, I gawked at her, then at my reflection. Could it be this easy? Just step through the glass? But how?
Her husky voice made me look away from the bewildered image in the shiny glass.
“One must only believe to make it so. I ask you, do you believe?”
My heart pounded like a kettle drum against my ribs and I nodded.
“With all my being.”
Bright eyes danced, and she laughed deep and loud.
“Then go, child. The Rook is waiting.”
I turned back to the mirror.
Took a deep breath.
Closed my eyes.
Wished his face back to me and took the step.
One moment there.
The next, gone.
I crossed over into waiting arms that had always and would, forever more, hold me safe and loved until the end of time.
A word about the author...
R. H. Burkett is not only a tarot card reader and a public speaker but an award-winning author, as well, with short stories in several anthologies and an impressive list of contest wins. She is a member of the Oklahoma Writers Federation, Inc., the Northwest Arkansas Writers Workshop, and Ozark Creative Writers. She also serves on the Board of Directors for the Ozark Writers League in Branson, MO. Her first novel, Soldiers From the Mist, was released in March 2011 and is available on Amazon.com. She lives in Rogers, Arkansas and is currently working on her third novel, The Legend of Dixie Dandelion.
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The Rook and The Raven Page 6
