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“That and more. Your father and I knew the instant we met that we’d be together forever.” Mama lowered her head, plucking another pea pod from its stalk. “But old wounds and the stretch of time had other plans.”
Pulling a bag of peas from the freezer, I recalled Mama’s words. My father passed when I was so young, but thanks to her memories and all the stories she told, I’d always felt close to him regardless of his absence.
Stirring the ham hock in the bottom of my deep pot, I poured the tiny green seeds into the boiling water. It was an addition Mama made on the fly, adding an extra layer of flavor to her famous ham and white bean soup. Jenks purred at my feet while I continued to monitor and stir the stock.
“I wish you could meet Roarke, sweet boy. But I don’t think that will ever be possible.”
Jenks yowled, and I shared his frustration. It was going to be difficult to have a relationship I couldn’t share with anyone. Not that I had anyone who cared, except Keelyn of course, but still… it would have been nice if the two of them could have met.
By midday, the smells wafting from the kitchen had my stomach growling while the pull in my chest had me longing to return to Roarke. He said I could enter the dreamscape anytime, not having to wait until I fell asleep at night. I contemplated the thought as I ladled a helping of the hearty broth into my bowl and prepared a small dish for Jenks as well. Setting it on the floor by his regular food, I returned to my worn wooden farm table with a glass of water and dug in. Mama and I had shared so many meals here. At times it was as if I could almost see her sitting across from me still.
“Mama, I met someone, and I’m finally in love,” I spoke to her empty chair. “We are meant to be, and he loves me too.” The words felt childish coming off my tongue, but the smile they elicited was completely genuine.
“The magic we create together can do great things for the world.” I took a sip of my soup. “I think you would be proud.”
The fire in the hearth flared, sending angry sparks crackling into the air and spilling onto the floor. I rushed to retrieve the metal tongs and pushed the offending log back into place, stomping the embers. Returning to the kitchen, I reclaimed my seat and took another spoonful of soup, keeping my eyes on the flames. Smoke wafted from the chimney, causing Jenks to yowl. But just like before, I couldn’t see anything within the dark coils of fog that should be upsetting him.
Just then a knock on my door startled us both, and I jumped to my feet. “Who’s there?”
“It’s just me, Keelyn.”
I opened the door and welcomed my friend inside.
“Sorry to just drop by, but since you refuse to get a phone, I didn’t have a choice,” she teased, her smile brightening the room. “Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that we’re bumping up the book club to tonight if you still wanted to stop by.”
I didn’t, but I’d already said yes, so it would be impolite to back out now. “Okay. Sure. Thanks for letting me know.”
“Also, I wanted to give you this…”
I glanced down at the bundle in her hands and quickly invited her in. “Have you had lunch yet?” I walked to the kitchen, trying not to seem too eager about the book in her hands.
“No, not yet, and I’m not going to lie. Whatever you have on the stove smells delicious.”
I laughed and gestured for her to take a seat at the table while I dished her up a bowl of soup. “Why are you having to move the book club this week?” I asked, struggling as usual with the simple task of small talk.
Keelyn took a sip from the cup of water I’d placed beside her plate. “One of the ladies who actually did like the book has to leave town tomorrow and wanted to make sure her thoughts would be heard.” She shook her head. “Who knew a book club could be so dramatic?”
I set the bowl of soup in front of her, cringing at the thought of being in attendance tonight.
“But that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” Keelyn went on. “I love hearing how each reader gets something different out of the story. You know what they say… No two readers ever read the same book.”
I grinned, not really understanding her meaning as my eyes darted to the book lying on the table beside her. It was somewhat small and unassuming with a plain black jacket and gold lettering embossed on the cover.
“So… are you going to tell me what that’s about?” I lifted my chin.
“Of course.” She picked up the book and handed it to me. “After the last time we talked, I went back to the library and input the search for any dream books that mentioned the word weaver, and when I went in this morning, I had a hit.”
I glanced down at the title, taking in the slightly raised and blocky font on the front.
The Queen of Nightmares
That sounded ominous.
“Turns out we actually had a copy already.”
“Really? I swear I’ve been over that entire section many times.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t in the nonfiction or metaphysical area. It was filed in the fiction section instead.”
