Witch Wants Forever

by Victoria Danann

  He stood up in time to take most of Zane’s weight as his younger brother slammed into him with a bear hug.

  “Big brother.” Zane laughed. “Thought for sure you’d escaped for good.”

  Dash’s little brother had grown even more handsome, if that was possible. The planes of his face were more severe, more grown up, and masculine. He looked like somebody you wouldn’t want to cross. Somebody you’d be glad to have on your side.

  When he let go, Dash said, “So you’re going to be a papa?”

  Zane grinned big. “That’s what they say. But it can’t be true. Right? I mean. It’s me!”

  Dash smiled. “Yeah. It must be a mistake. Who’d have you for a dad?”

  “Somebody who didn’t really think things through.” Zane looked at the ceiling. “Oh, wait. I guess that means he’s one of us.”

  They heard their mother’s voice on the intercom say simply, “Dinner.”

  They both looked at the box on the wall.

  “Wow. I don’t miss that at all,” Dash said. “And I’m kind of surprised it still works. Being mid twentieth century technology and all.”

  Zane smiled at his brother. “There were plenty of times when we plotted destroying it at the source.”

  They both laughed, but Dash quieted and got a funny look on his face.

  “You know, what’s the point of being grown up if you don’t get to do some of the things you always dreamed of doing.” Zane looked confused. Until Dash walked over to the intercom, pushed the button and said, “We’re busy.”

  The emotions on Zane’s face went from shock to incredulity and finally settled in a solid open-mouthed gape before he broke into peals of laughter. “God. I did always want to do that.”

  Dash nodded then said, “We’d better not push it.”

  “Agreed.”

  As they made their way to the dining room, Zane asked about where Dash had been and what he’d been doing.

  “You know, this and that,” was all he said.

  Adrienne’s eyes slid to her boys. After fixing them with a cool look, she said, “Oh good. You decided to join us.”

  Grey Fonteneau grinned at Dash as Dash came forward and offered his hand. His dad shook it enthusiastically and gave him a couple of rough pats on the back. “Good to have you back, son. It’s been dull without you to keep things in a stew.”

  Dash decided to let that bit of passive aggression go unchallenged. “Thanks. I’m not really back though. Just here for two days. Thought I’d say hi.”

  As they sat, Grey said, “That’s right. You’re here for, what was it, city planning? Sounds impressive. Is that what you’re using your MBA for? What city are you planning?” He chuckled at what he believed was a respectable joke.

  “I’m working for a small outfit in Texas. My boss thought there might be something worthwhile in this, ah, conference.”

  “Uh-huh. What are they paying you?”

  “Grey!” Adrienne sounded scandalized.

  Grey made a motion with his hands that might have been a hand signal for ‘simmer down’. “There’s no reason why I can’t ask my own kid how he’s doing.”

  “Yes. There certainly is a reason. We’re going to treat our children with respect and courtesy just as we would people who deserve it.”

  She said it with such sober sincerity, the other three didn’t know how to respond. When she laughed, so did they all.

  “Right about now I’ll bet you’re beginning to recall why you turned out a little strange,” Zane said to Dash as he took a bite of tossed salad.

  They managed to make pleasant dinner conversation for a full fifteen minutes, talking about such things as sports, impending grandchildren, Shepherd’s pie, and dessert.

  “So you think you’ve had enough of knocking around?” Grey asked Dash. “Ready to come home and get serious?”

  Dash put his spoon down and got ready for the onslaught, reluctantly because he loved Shepherd’s pie. “First, this was a great place to grow up. And, obviously, I never wanted for anything. But it’s not home anymore. Second, I feel like I’m serious enough.”

  Grey sat back, took in a long disappointed breath, and let it out slowly through his nose.

  “Dashiell,” Adrienne interjected, “your father will be ready to retire soon. If you’re going to take over the business you need some on-the-job training while he’s still there to guide you. You can’t just walk into an enterprise with an economy the size of a small country.”

  Dash gave his mother the respect of listening to the speech, uninterrupted. When she was finished he turned to Grey. “Congratulations on retirement. I hope you get to play golf every day. As far as stepping in, I don’t have any intention of doing that. Ever. But Zane would be perfect. Why aren’t you having this conversation with him? As far as being serious? I’m as serious as I plan to get.”

  “Because you’re supposed to do it,” Grey said.

  “Supposed to? Like the eldest son of some medieval monarchy. What happened to forward thinking? That’s a phrase I heard often enough growing up.”

  “It doesn’t apply here,” Adrienne said.

  “Look,” Dash said. “I’m flattered. But I don’t want it. I’m just in town to attend a conference and say hi. That’s all.”

  Dash’s parents more or less pouted through key lime pie while he talked movies and video games with Zane. Finally he said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m calling it a night. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night?” No one said anything. “Or I can get dinner out.”

  Adrienne said, “As a matter of fact we did have a previous engagement we couldn’t get out of. Tonight was our only free time while you’re here.”

  “Oh. Well, no problem. Good to see you both.”

  Dash stood and made his way to the stairs, but Zane caught up with him. “Hold on a minute. Come over to my place tomorrow night. Adelaide would love to see you. She’ll make pasta primavera. What do you say?”

  “I say you shouldn’t volunteer your wife for company without talking to her first.“

  “Very wise. Which is why I got preapproval before I came tonight.”

  Dash grinned. “You mean permission.”

  “Don’t make it ugly,” Zane teased.

  With a chuckle, Dash said, “Text me the address and when you want me there. I’ll bring wine.”

  Zane shook his head. “Forget that. Just get an Uber. I’ve got blackberry whiskey.” He knew that blackberry whiskey was one of his brother’s weaknesses.

  Dash barked out a laugh. “I can’t get drunk, Zane. I’ve got business to attend to.”

  “Christ. You were serious about being serious.”

  Dash tried Rachel again. Hearing her answer was like a balm drifting down, coating his aura with calm and a sense of all being right with the world.

  “There are not words to describe how much I miss you.”

  “Well, then, in the future you are forbidden to leave.”

  “Agreed. If I ever suggest it again, you have permission to restrain me.”

  “Ooh,” she purred. “I like the sound of that. We can try that dialogue when you get home. I have this feather boa that…”

  “Stop! That is not playing fair.”

  She treated him to her deep throaty, sexy laugh. “I’m not about the fair. I’m about making sure the man remembers why he wants to stay here. With me.”

  “There is no way I could forget that.” He glanced at his bedroom door. “What are you wearing?”

  “I thought you didn’t want to go there.”

  “You’re right. Forget I asked.”

  “How is it going?”

  “Could be worse. Could be better. The only thing I care about is that the day after tomorrow, forty-eight hours from now, I’ll be home.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  With each hour that passed, Dash missed Rachel more. He administered half hourly self-recriminations like flagellations, if nothing else to be sure he’d never forget that being voluntarily se
parated from Rachel was as stupid as stupid gets.

  An evening with Zane and Adelaide was a good distraction, but as soon as he was back in his old room, the emptiness returned.

  By the time Friday arrived, he was jumping-out-of-his-skin excited.

  Grey had left early. So Dash had a quick breakfast with his mother and lied about his intention to come back soon. The relief he felt to have his bag in the car and be driving away could only be fully understood by children of narcissistic parents who were masters of imposition and manipulation.

  Though the relief was visceral, in many ways he felt like he’d gotten off easy. He’d thought they might make his visit unbearable. He’d take mildly uncomfortable and be glad about it.

  Throughout the morning his thoughts were continually drifting to Rachel. Eventually he gave up on paying attention and recognized that it was a hopeless cause. He was simply ready to be home.

  He wanted to press Rachel’s body close to his and revel in her warmth and the way her body felt like it had been custom made for his. He wanted to kiss her until her knees buckled. He wanted to smell the lavender in her hair. And he wanted to hear her giggle and feel the full body shiver response she’d make when he blew in her ear.

  With those images swirling in his mind, he stepped out to make a call and see if he could get out on an earlier flight. The answer was no. He even tried going returning to San Antonio instead of Austin, but it was no use. On Friday afternoon all the business travelers were trying to get home. He was stuck with the six thirty flight.

  Looking out the window toward the mountains, he made a decision on impulse. He wasn’t going to get anything else out of the conference. His concentration was shot. So he might as well do something worthwhile.

  He’d take a drive up into the mountains. The aspens would be turning and there was nothing more captivating than the sight of round yellow leaves stirring in the breeze. He remembered a trip to Central City from his boyhood and thought he might go that direction.

  Right after he stepped out on 16th Street to find a red scarf to take home to Rachel. She loved red. Being partial to solid colors, her closet looked red, black, gray, and white. But even when red wasn’t the garment of choice, she wore some kind of red accent, a scarf or earrings or a watch with a red band.

  He stepped into a boutique offering a range of BOHO items from furniture to jewelry. Within minutes he had his hands on a long silk crinkle scarf featuring a hem with beaded fringe. He clutched it like a treasure because he knew she was going to love it. Aside from the suggestion of gypsy, it was her favorite shade of red.

  When he reached the car in the parking garage, he packed the gift in his suitcase then pulled his wallet out of his back pocket so he wouldn’t have to sit on it and tossed it into the cup holder. He decided to do the same thing with his phone.

  Forty-five minutes later he was turning north, away from I70. He didn’t want to take the Parkway. That wasn’t the kind of drive he’d had in mind. Four-lane highways are excellent when a drive is about the destination, but not when the drive is about the journey.

  So he went past Idaho Springs and turned north on Virginia Canyon. The experience was everything he’d hoped it would be. A beautiful day far enough away from city emissions to be crystal clear. The creek water rushed over smooth round rocks. A little breeze ruffled the aspen leaves. It was perfect in every way except one.

  He kept hearing himself say, “I wish I could share this with Rachel.”

  It seemed nothing in life was complete or satisfying without Rachel. He was no longer Dash. He was half of a pair. Dash and Rachel. And he wouldn’t trade that for anything in the universe.

  He almost passed the sign that said Oh My God Road, but slowed and, with a chuckle, pulled out his phone for a quick search. Info said it was a graveled two-way road wide enough for one-and-three-quarters of a car. It got its name from that along with the switchbacks, twists, turns, steep and rocky climbs, incredibly deep drop offs, no guard rails, and dangerous when wet. They followed that up with a warning about washboard conditions so rough they could bounce a driver right off into nothingness if not extremely careful. Apparently the redeeming qualities were breathtaking scenery, two ghost towns, and a dozen closed gold mines.

  Like a true Colorado native, Dash’s thought was, “Sounds like fun.”

  The car he was borrowing was a four-wheel drive Tahoe. That turned out to be providential because, based on what he was reading, the eight-and-a-half-mile challenge was not suitable for anything less than all-wheel drive. Unless the ‘less’ was foot or mountain bike.

  Aiming the car up a forty-five-degree incline, he began the upward trek that would likely be his last mountain adventure for a long time, if not forever.

  The road was every bit as much of a challenge as advertised. By the time he’d gone through what was left of Russel Gulch, he realized that he’d been so focused on survival that he hadn’t enjoyed the scenery at all. Clearing the next bend he came upon a panoramic vista worth stopping for. So he pulled over and got out to see the view.

  He was walking back to the Tahoe to get his phone so he could take a photo to send to Rachel when he heard an engine coming around the tight bend to his right. He thought, “Too fast. They’re going too fast.”

  There wasn’t much he could do about that. There wasn’t time to get to the other side of the Tahoe, get behind the wheel, start the ignition and drive away. And, on that narrow road that fell off into an abyss, there was nowhere to go.

  The vehicle that more or less careened around the hairpin curve was an older model lightweight Toyota pickup that had been modified to sit on oversized all-terrain wheels. Clearly, the driver had not been expecting anyone else on the road. When he saw the Tahoe he swerved, but rammed the bumper hard enough to send it over the edge, but kept going without even slowing down.

  As if seeing the whole calamity in slow motion, Dash had tried to get out of the way, but there was no place to go but a straight up rock climb. Stumbling back he slipped and his head caught the edge of an outcropping.

  Dash came to hours later. It was raining hard and had turned cold. He looked both directions, trying to decide which way to turn, but he had no idea. He knew his head hurt like a motherfucker. He knew he was cold, wet, and miserable. What he didn’t know was who he was, where he was, or why he was there.

  He pulled the hood of his jacket up, for all the good that did, and decided to turn left. He walked for a mile that felt like fifty, skidding and falling twice because of slick mud, until he reached the Parkway. Not surprisingly cars passed without showing any interest in stopping, until a Gilpin County Sheriff pickup truck pulled onto the narrow shoulder and shined lights in his face. By that time Dash was shivering uncontrollably.

  The deputy got out of his vehicle and shined the flashlight in Dash’s face. “You’re looking the worse for wear. You in need of some help?”

  Being situated where they were, the Gilpin County Sheriff’s Department were often called on for search and rescue. It was as much a part of the job as making sure skiers didn’t have too much beer with their pizza in Idaho Springs at the end of a day of skiing and then try to drive back to Denver drunk.

  “I guess I could use a ride,” Dash said in understatement with chattering teeth.

  “You alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where’re you going?”

  Dash looked every bit as lost as he was. He glanced around nervously, not liking the answer he was forced to give. “I don’t know.”

  “Don’t know, huh? What’s your name?”

  Dash’s teeth were chattering. “I don’t know that either.”

  “You got some ID?”

  Dash’s hands came up to the zippered pockets of his leather hoodie. There was nothing there. He checked his jeans pockets, front and back. Nothing.

  “I, ah, guess not.”

  “You pulling my leg or do you really not know who you are?”

  Dash shook his head, but grabb
ed it with both hands because that movement hurt like hell.

  “You hit your head?”

  “I think so.”

  “Alright. Get in and let’s get you someplace where we can sort this out.”

  Jack Berry had been headed home for the night, but when his lost-looking passenger was settled in with seatbelt fastened, he headed back to the station at Black Hawk.

  The closest medical facility was too far. The guy needed dry clothes and a whiskey, but the sheriff’s office was not a bar. The dispatcher on duty microwaved some hot ramen. Jack loaned him a change of civvies he kept at the station just in case something non-work related turned up. A little shorter, with a bigger waist, Jack knew the clothes weren’t going to be a perfect fit, but something was better than nothing. In the not distant past Jack had been an extreme boarder with a six-pack worthy of a magazine cover. But that story ended the way that story always ends. Eventually adult responsibilities won out.

  He handed Dash the clothes along with a couple of blankets and gave the man some privacy to towel off and change.

  By the time Dash had gratefully consumed the hot soup, the shivering had subsided and he was feeling less wretched.

  While Dash was cleaning up and warming up, Jack had called the paramedics because of the gash in his scalp and his suspicion that the man might be telling the truth about his loss of memory.

  Jack was sitting with Dash near the pot belly stove they’d lit to make him more comfortable, when the paramedics arrived. Two bruisers who looked more like Saturday night bar bullies than angels of mercy. But looks can be deceiving.

  They walked back to where Jack and Dash were sitting.

  After nodding at Jack, one of them said, “Hey, man. Jack here says you took one on the noggin. Mind if I have a look?”

  Dash shook his head and bent his neck to give the guy a better look. The paramedic reached behind him and, as if he was communicating telepathically, the other one put a flashlight in his hand so he could see better.

  “Yep. You banged it pretty good. Gonna need stitches.”