The Land of Broken Crystals by Jane Celia Hatch

Author:Jane Celia Hatch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent Publishers Group

CHAPTER 33

CREAM-COLORED SWEATER

I open my eyes.

Beams of sunlight speckled with ashes, stream in over my head, settling on the stone hearth. Flecks of mica embedded in the river stones sparkle in the stone. The fire is out, but in its stead, shiny black charcoal.

I close my eyes. I want to hold on to this tenuous gateway between night and day, before the reality of my life descends.

I am on the couch and naked under the wool Pendleton blanket. I reach for him, but he is not there. I pull the blanket close under my chin, feeling its roughness. Roughness of wool. It reminds me of something; of Arianna.

A child’s cream-colored wool sweater – Irish – with tortoiseshell buttons I bought at a yard sale for Arianna. My slender fingers, with the diamond ring from John, buttoning it up to Arianna’s chin; her cheeks are pink from the fresh air and playing outside. I smile as she runs in circles playing with a doll.

She stops and hugs me. Her long ash blonde hair has flattened under the sweater, so I gently pull it out and let it fall and then brush away brown leaves stuck to her sweater.

I kiss and hug her and she runs to her friends. She leaves me with the scent of earth and leaves, Fall and chocolate milk. Muddy tracks from her black patent leather shoes had filled my heart with joy. The wind, the air, fire, chocolate, wool, breathing, your own heart beating reminds you of your child. There is no escape.

I force the pain back down into a holding tank in my soul and I choke and bite my lip.

A coffee maker sputters to a halt. Hazelnut coffee. It’s his signature.

I close my eyes and try to just smell. Raven’s spoon clinks as he stirs the honey in his mug. Focus. Focus. Focus. I freeze thoughts of Arianna and think of something beautiful. The river was silver in the moonlight last night. The river. The river. The river. Remember the flow of the river. Stay alive.

Folding the blanket around my body, I turn and sit up and then stand.

Raven looks at me shyly.

“Well, hello there, bright eyes,” he says.

I can’t help but smile. I think about the passion of last night and my cheeks flush red and I hike up the Pendleton so it covers my breasts.

“Don’t do that, “he says, mischievously.

“Don’ t do what?” I ask, but know exactly what he is talking about.

“Cover yourself up,” He says, taunting me.

“It’s cold,” I say and my cheeks burn.

We both smile.

He sits up straighter in the hardback cane chair at the far end of a long handmade pine table. He sips coffee from a huge mug. I sit at the opposite end of the long table. We are King Raven and Gwenifer, or brother and sister or Medicine Woman and Indian Chief, or something else. It is something else. Capturer and captured; love and lover? Sorcerer and his victim. He wears an expensive black flannel shirt and new blue jeans.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.