Cookies, Curses, and Kisses

by Jovee Winters

  Her look was as expectant as the hope burning through me. I didn’t think Zinnia could save me or Edward, but being with her felt good in a way so little had for so long. Most times, the pain was a great and consuming thing inside me, but whenever she was around, whenever she just smiled at me, I felt alive and comforted. I felt at peace again.

  “Yes,” I said without thinking twice. “I’ll stay.”

  For a second, I felt like the world had literally shuddered beneath my feet.

  Chapter 8

  Zinnia Rose

  I LOOKED AT MY AUNT Vi, who was holding tight to Edward’s thin shoulder. Aunt Prim had gone off in search of some herbs to steep in a tea for Edward later tonight. The boy, who acted more like a little man than the capricious and silly youth he should have been, stood very still and stared out at Meri’s waters, looking weary.

  I was worried, not just about Edward, but about his father too. I’d begun to suspect almost after first meeting them that something wasn’t right. I just hadn’t delved too deeply into their memories, wanting to respect their history as their own.

  But then they’d come into the tent and... well, I’d been unable to stop myself. I’d peeked, and what I’d seen had ripped my heart right out of me. I wanted to help them, and I aimed to do just that.

  “Aunty, maybe take the boy to my house, if you and Aunty Prim wouldn’t mind. Malachite and Lapis need feeding, anyhow. I baked some cookies yesterday. Give him a few and some milk, while you’re at it. I promise we won’t take long. Okay?”

  “What kind of cookies?” Edward asked, and I grinned because it was good to see him have a normal reaction for once.

  Aunt Vi’s eyes widened, and she held up her hands. “Och, Zinny makes the best biscuits you ever did see. Big and soft and full of everything—chocolate and candies and even nuts. You do eat nuts, don’cha boy?”

  “His name is Edward, Aunty.”

  My scatterbrained aunt nodded happily and rubbed her stomach. Her hair was a bright shade of fuchsia tonight, and she was wearing owl-rimmed glasses perched daintily on the tip of her thin nose. That was the only part of her that was thin, however. The rest of her was quite round. More fluff to love, she always said with a laugh, and I rather had to agree.

  I was glad it was Aunties Vi and Prim I’d run across tonight and not Aunt Cinth. She tended to be the more acerbic of the sisters. Not to say she wasn’t kind. She was—or could be, if so inclined. She just tended to be a bit more on the testy side. Aunt Violet had a way of putting everyone at ease in her presence.

  “I like nuts,” Edward said with a nod and a happy smile.

  “Well, good, then. It’s settled. We’ll eat ‘til we vomit.” Violet grinned.

  “Er, no.” I shook my head and wagged my finger. “Two cookies max, Aunty. I don’t think his father would thank us if we gave the young master a bellyache.”

  “Mugwart would fix him right up.”

  My smile was nothing but teeth as I hissed, “Ixnay on the ittchyway uffstay.”

  I wasn’t even sure I’d said it right, and judging by my aunt’s very blank look, I was rather sure I’d confused her. But Vi was also very good at charades. She was far smarter than she appeared to be.

  She flapped her wrist. “I’m sure I dinna ken what ye mean, darling.”

  I sighed and rolled my eyes. My aunt was no one’s fool. “One last thing, Aunty.” I smiled down at the boy before tugging on my aunt’s bright-orange sleeve to move her just out of earshot. “Speaking of witchy things, Mirror decided to act naughty tonight. I could have sworn I’d placed her in the padded chest, but it doesn’t matter now. Just make sure you put her safely away. She’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”

  I slid Mirror out from the hidden pocket sewn into my bell sleeve and covertly passed it to her.

  Vi’s eyes grew wide, and a gentle shudder rolled through her. “I keep telling Prim we should just burn the damn thing. It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “Yes, well, you know how Aunty Prim is. Anyway, would you mind?”

  “Not at all, dearie.” She plucked it out of my hands and vanished it into thin air, hopefully to a secure location. I wished I was half as good as Vi at telekinesis.

  I glanced over my shoulder. Edward was looking at us with bright-eyed wonder and curiosity.

  “Do try to be more discreet with your use of magick around the boy. Please.”

  Her smile was vague. “Aye, well, have fun on your date. May it be blessed, and make sure that you neck. A lot.”

  I growled. “Aunty, it’s not a date. Now, will you scamper off and leave be?”

  Turning with a loud chuckle, she walked toward Edward and said, “Cookies are in order, I think, young master. But first... how’s about we make ourselves green in the gills on a few rides, eh?”

  “Oh boy,” he said, rising high on tiptoes as he clapped his hands.

  “Oh boy is right,” I moaned, thinking that sending Edward off with my aunts wasn’t such a good idea after all. I grimaced, sensing I should call them back, but I watched them walk off instead.

  When they were nothing but vague shadows, I finally turned, walked around the tent, and tugged my wand free. My aunts could practice magick without the use of a wand. I wasn’t quite at their level of aptitude yet. With a gentle swish-flick, I materialized a small tray with a plate of four cookies, two glasses, and a bottle of wild plum wine I’d made last fall.

  Squaring my shoulders, I entered the tent. I’d blanketed the outside of it in a charm so that only another witch could find us. Otherwise, we were alone for a while, which I sensed he desperately needed.

  I wasn’t sure about my aunts’ magick. Calling Zane and his son to Blue Moon... I wasn’t sure it was the best thing. Yes, he was undeniably attractive, but he was also grieving, and I didn’t know if I was built to handle it.

  I still wasn’t sure I wanted any of this. Though I felt the same draw to him as he felt to me, was it right, what we were doing? What my aunts had inadvertently done to him?

  I’d been willing to let Zane and Edward leave, even knowing what it meant to me, to my future. And I still was. But the longer I was with him, the harder and harder it was becoming for me to remain impersonal.

  I wanted to help him.

  I needed to, in fact.

  He turned when he heard my approach. He’d been studying Princess again. My lips twitched, rather enjoying that, like me, he loved reptiles. I wouldn’t be any kind of witch if I didn’t.

  Then again, being a witch came with its own set of problems. I hadn’t failed to note Zane’s discomfort earlier. This day and age was, thankfully, far more comfortable with our mystic arts than any other period in history. But for many, the mystical would always be a source of great consternation.

  Being a witch was innate to me, to who I was. I could no more turn it off than I could ask him to stop being a father. It simply was.

  I forced a bright smile onto my face. “Little Edward will be just fine. I’ve set him in the care of my aunts, and trust me when I tell you he will have great fun with them. They’re more childlike than any person their age has a right to be.”

  He snorted.

  “Cookie?” I asked, lifting the small tray.

  “I’ll have one,” he said slowly, before sighing gravely. “Are you sure your aunts—”

  “I know I’m not a parent, and I also know the amount of trust you are placing in perfect strangers by allowing them to watch over your child. But I vow to the hearth and flame that your son will be well guarded.”

  He sniffed, and I twitched, realizing what I’d let slip without thinking. “It’s just a silly old saying here.”

  My explanation sounded lame even to me. He shrugged.

  “I like it. Don’t apologize for that. Although”—he’d finally reached the table and took a seat—“I definitely think I owe you one for earlier. I had no right to say those things to you. I know you were just trying to help him.”

  Knowing the tightrope
I walked, I gently set the tray down and handed him one of the cookies. He took it with a grateful nod.

  The cookies were special. I hadn’t questioned why I’d made them last night during the mad rush of filling all of the Haunted Boots’ breakfast orders. I’d simply let fate guide my hands and prepared the sacred dough of peace.

  I could turn the dough into whatever I wanted, but I preferred sweets to savories and had opted for cookies. Obviously, a child would prefer a cookie to a fat slice of rye bread. In hindsight, I could see that I’d been making these for a purpose.

  The eater of the dough would feel flushed with hope and, like the dough’s namesake, a deep sense of peace. I often enjoyed one of these cookies right before bed. It helped keep the dreams at bay.

  I held my breath until he nibbled on the edge of his cookie, inhaling deeply with satisfaction when I saw him swallow. How little peace must Zane and Edward have felt lately? I couldn’t imagine the pain they were feeling. The only time I’d ever felt that depth of loss, I had forced fate’s hand. I’d cursed myself, but my friend lived on.

  Zane and Edward would never be so blessed.

  He grunted with something that looked a lot like shocked pleasure. “I’ll be honest, now that I’ve tried it.”

  “Uh-oh.” I laughed. “That doesn’t sound good.”

  He grinned. “I’m not normally one for sweets, and I ate far too much with Edward tonight. But this is delicious, which I’m sure you hear often. You’re definitely in the right business, Zinnia.”

  Pleasure coursed through me, from the soles of my feet to the roots of my hair, at his compliment. He was right. I’d been complimented many times before, and I’d always taken pride in hearing it. But knowing he liked my food meant more than any of that.

  “I’m very glad. I have a knack for it, I guess.”

  “More than a knack,” he said, taking a large bite and chewing, making small moaning sounds in the back of his throat as he did it. “God, these are good.”

  I laughed, feeling stupidly happy. “Glad to hear you say so. If you like those, maybe you’ll like the wine I made last year from my abundant harvest of wild plums.”

  I poured us a small amount. Lifting his glass with a nod of thanks, he sniffed it, moaned again, and tipped his head back to swallow it all in one big gulp.

  “Good thing I won’t be here long. I’d get fat around you, I think,” he said with a snort, licking at the last drop of wine from the rim of his glass.

  My heart lurched with a sudden squeezing of pain at the thought of him leaving. To hide it, I lifted the bottle and asked, “More?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I watched him eat and drink, enjoying the sight of a man so obviously enjoying my cooking. For just a second, I imagined that this would always be our life, that he was mine, and I was his. I imagined we had all the time in the world to learn about one another, to learn what drove us, what made us tick, what made us happy, and what made us grieve. In my mind, I pictured a happy home full of love, of the sound of children laughing and playing. Not just girl children, but boys too. Brothers to give to Edward.

  I sighed glumly. It was only a dream. No one in Blue Moon had ever had male children after the curse, but it was a lovely dream all the same.

  Zane paused mid-bite into his third cookie. “Are you okay?”

  I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Fine. Just thinking about earlier.”

  Well, I hadn’t been until just now, but he didn’t need to know that. The light in his eyes suddenly dimmed as he set his half eaten cookie down, and I regretted bringing it back up.

  But that was the whole purpose of closing the tent and sending Edward with my aunts. It was time to stop daydreaming about a life that could never be. Maybe our temporary time together could be meaningful regardless. Maybe I could help him. And maybe, just maybe, he could help me too.

  Zane Huntington III

  FOR A SECOND, FOR JUST one second, I’d actually forgotten why I was in the tent with Zinnia. I could have blamed it on the wine, but truthfully, it had everything to do with the company and very little to do with the buzz her strong plum vino had given me.

  Coming back down to reality was like a kick in the pants, and the cookie that had tasted like manna from heaven just a minute ago now sat like a brick in my gut. Dusting the crumbs off my hands, I sighed.

  I didn’t know where to start, and I was pretty embarrassed about my response from earlier. I licked my front teeth.

  She smiled and, as though she sensed my nerves, said, “I had someone very dear to me die once. It felt like my entire world had been suddenly upended, like everything I’d ever known as fact was a lie.”

  My nostrils flared. I understood what she was doing, but was I brave enough to take the bait?

  Insides rioting, I asked in a voice grown husky, “How long ago?”

  Her smile wobbled, and she picked at the fancy linen on the table with her long, black-painted fingernails. She had such a lovely hand. Her fingers were long and pale, decidedly slender and feminine. I’d always liked a woman’s hands. They were so much softer than my own.

  The one thing I missed most was Elle’s hands on my body late at night when the world was hushed and the night full of quiet expectation.

  “Long enough,” she said softly, pulling me back from my melancholy thoughts.

  Inhaling deeply, I searched her eyes, hearing the gentle crackle of the flame in the hearth, the soft steady breaths she took, and the gentle hush that had fallen over us as she waited for me to say something.

  “Does it ever stop? The hurting?”

  This time when she smiled, the light of it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “When I think about that night, I’m right there in the thick of it again.” She winced and swallowed visibly. “No, Zane, it doesn’t ever stop. But it does get easier to breathe.”

  When she said that, she huffed as though she was laughing, but it wasn’t a laugh at all. Her gaze was distant, trapped in her own memories. I didn’t know what made me do it, maybe I wanted to hold a woman’s hand again, or maybe I just wanted to hold hers, but I laid my hand over hers and squeezed.

  She didn’t hesitate. She simply turned hers over, and somehow, our fingers were threaded together. The press of her warm palm to mine felt amazing. Wonderful. Made me feel hot and excited, scared and full of fear. It’d been so long.

  I didn’t let go, and neither did she.

  “Tell me about her. Your wife,” she whispered. “Tell me about her, Zane, if you’d like.”

  Already, I could feel the heat of pain welling in the back of my throat, that lump that never completely faded away, even after all this time.

  I was sure I would say nothing, as I’d so often done to so many others. But there was something about Zinnia—her gentleness, her honesty—that I couldn’t resist anymore. I needed to talk. I’d kept Elle’s life trapped deep down inside me, buried in the shadows, too afraid to prod it or even look at it because I knew when I did, I would finally have to face the fact that she was gone.

  Gone and would never come back. And God, that hurt so much.

  “She was beautiful,” I said haltingly, and after that, I said it all. I talked about the way she made me laugh, how she opened my eyes to a new life, a different world. One not filled with lying and cheating and stealing, but one filled with life and laughter and the warm feeling of safety.

  Zinnia sat still, laughing when I laughed, squeezing my fingers gently when my breath would hitch, and simply being there. Before I knew it, two hours had passed, and I felt emptied. Not that I was happy again, not necessarily. But like the specter of Elle had haunted me so long, making her memories sharp and painful to look at, and now it wasn’t.

  Now I could honestly smile as I recalled our first failed Christmas dinner cooked together. How we settled on Chinese food when we discovered that there was absolutely no salvaging the blackened bird, even with a foot of chalky gravy poured over the top of it. The hope that flared through us both wh
en we learned of her pregnancy, and all the dreams we shared once Edward had been born. The years we planned together. Our dream home. Our nest egg. Talks of visiting Europe. All of it seeming within our grasp.

  Until one day, she coughed so hard I thought she would snap her spine in half, and we learned that not a damn bit of our dreaming had ever mattered. That the only thing that did was time. How precious every hour, minute, and second became to us after the diagnosis, and how she planned not only her death, but Edward and my lives after she was gone.

  Live, she’d told me. Love. Smile. Be happy again. And I promised her we would. But I’d lied, because I didn’t know the first damn way to do that without her beside me.

  I looked at Zinnia, a perfect stranger. Beautiful. Quiet. Mysterious. Why was this so easy between us? Why could I share with her what I hadn’t even been able to share with my friends, or my son for that matter?

  “And are you?” Zinnia asked in a small voice. “Happy? Have you found it yet?”

  I snorted, rubbing my thumb casually over the webbing between her thumb and forefinger. Her skin was soft as petals, pale as polished ivory. She reminded me of Snow White—save for the ink-black hair. My thoughts were strange tonight, first thinking of death then of fairy tales.

  I felt her look at me, and like metal shavings to a magnet, I was drawn in. I had to look back. When I did, I was falling again, headlong into the sea of glass-green eyes.

  “I don’t know.” I whispered the words I would never dare to say in front of my son. “I don’t know. For so long, I felt like a rudderless ship, tossed to and fro, no anchor to keep me from drifting away. I was just so... lost.”

  Her dark brows drew together. I read the sadness in her expressive gaze and marveled yet again that she, a stranger, seemed able to empathize without making me feel pathetic about myself.

  “How did you find your peace, Zinnia, when your friend died? How were you able to move on from the guilt and the pain?”

  She swallowed hard and pulled her hand out of mine. I blinked, startled at the sudden break in intimacy, shocked that I’d asked her such a deeply personal question, but more shocked that I desperately ached for the touch of her hand again.