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A Yule Epiphany©
by Kathryn Enoch
"Ready for another?"
The bartender inquired.
"Not yet," Meredith said
brightly, tapping the rim of her wine glass.
The bartender's attention
faded fast. Just like the other men in the wood-paneled bar.
She never had met anybody worthwhile in a bar including popular places
like this one, Gideon's Pub, with its attractive hunter green accents and
flaunting a giant screen for sports broadcasts. Seven months ago
a newly accredited C.P.A. celebrating passage of his exams had made overtures
to her, but he hadn't ignited any sparks in Meredith. Some months after
the C.P.A. a plumber had elicited sparks, but he'd used vocabulary fitting
for the construction site that he had just left - guttural and obscene.
So why had she let Camille talk her into coming here? Because it
beat battling holiday crowds in malls where during a traditional family
season, the isolation of being unattached was heightened. Because
going home meant returning a call to her mother whom she had put off earlier
in the day with the excuse that she had the year-end payroll to reconcile.
It had been the truth, but Meredith was noted for her organizational skills.
The bonus checks were prepared, and no last minute calculation glitches
ever caught her unawares. The avoidance of mother related to church.
Discussing her lack of interest
was an on-going, no-win conversation with her Born-Again mother who became
especially zealous during Christmas. Her critical mother's beliefs
were right for her, and Meredith respected her choice, but personally?
She couldn't relate to Satan and sin and instant forgiveness. Where
was justice for the steady of faith? And how could religious organizations
support such a flock of hypocrites? She had first hand knowledge
working at the national headquarters of an ecumenical service agency formed
for the sole purpose of raising funds for an array of Christian causes.
The ministers in charge of the organization were not competent executives.
Instead of running the agency like a business dependent on profit to exist,
they tried to be humane and charitable as their Bible taught. Commendable,
but it was easy for the less scrupulous to take advantage. Money
was frittered on personal long distance phone calls, faxes, photocopies,
and the biggest abuse, travel expenses. Human Resources gave lip
service to a strict policy for reimbursement, but it was not implemented,
even in flagrant situations. Meredith wondered if the rules might
be tighter if certain employee-types were not so vocal. Theoretically,
an infraction was an infraction whoever was guilty, but the flourishing
of employee rights laws had backlashed. Afraid of litigation, employers
avoided conflict.
The financial waste born
by donors was not the only cost, either. Her own boss was always
trying to appease everybody. As a result, he never made a clear decision
and frequently left his staff floundering or feeling betrayed by his lack
of support. Morale often ebbed.
The salary was mediocre,
and it was not a place she'd ever find a man who would appeal to her, yet
one major vantage kept Meredith locked in - fantastic benefits.
She had discovered upon being hired that the poor, itinerant clergy was
a myth left behind decades ago. Religious personnel liked their rewards
in this life and again with donor dollars, provided generous pensions and
health coverage for staff. Her father, the fast-talking salesman,
had always cut corners to maintain a flamboyant lifestyle. No insurance
and his lingering cancer had bankrupted the family when Meredith was fifteen.
As a top priority in seeking a job, then, she had desired security.
It was also why she specialized as a paymaster because of the control.
She assured the correct and timely payment of an employee's compensation,
including her own.
Meredith took a sip of her
white wine and hoped she looked nonchalant, but she was getting very uncomfortable.
The bar wasn't packed yet, but Camille had wandered far enough where Meredith
could no longer hear her talking with the two men that she knew.
She refused to allow herself to search. It would seem...desperate.
Which was becoming true, but not entirely. Not yet.
Camille was an associate more
than a friend. Single and thirty bound them along with employment
at the agency. Her position was in public relations and exciting
compared to Meredith's in accounting. She also had flashier looks.
They were both blonde, but Camille's bleached hair was platinum.
Meredith had a trim figure, but Camille was an inch taller and fifteen
pounds lighter. Camille applied the gamut in makeup; the finished
look was sophisticated. Meredith used just the basics; the finished
look was natural. Camille dressed up her suits with silk blouses
and spike heels. Meredith preferred tailored shirts and sensible
pumps. In the superficial atmosphere of a trendy bar, Camille would
attract men whereas Meredith wouldn't.
And Meredith should have realized
it before she had agreed to come here. Previously, she and Camille
had done lunch. This drinks ‘thing' had finally been arranged after
Meredith had run out of reasons not to.
Meredith studied her glass.
One more swallow and it would be empty. Order another and torture
herself more? Casually slip off the stool and glance indifferently
around the room for Camille? Advise Camille that she was leaving?
(Thankfully she had insisted on driving her own car.) Force herself
on the threesome? If they had wanted her to join them, they would
have asked her.
"Meredith!" Camille
exclaimed. "My cousin is here!"
Meredith swivelled on her
stool. Camille's cousin had long, curly ash brown hair, dark blue
eyes and a white smile. Aside from the trim beard, he looked like
Camille would look if she didn't bleach her hair. He didn't dress
like Camille, though, or share her slim elegance. The patterned sweater
vest, tweed jacket, corduroy pants and brown walking shoes on the burly
body were more in keeping with her own clothing taste.
"Nathan was at a party in
the restaurant and we ran into each other by the bathrooms." Camille
laughed, and the two men with her laughed inanely. Nathan gave them
a sideways glance of amused tolerance.
So, get off the stool and
shake Nathan's hand? Or just offer her hand?
These social issues in bars were never clear in Meredith's mind.
Nathan slid on to the stool
beside Meredith. "Okay, Camille, go back to your flirting. "
He turned to Meredith. "Can I get you another drink?"
She shrugged self-consciously.
"Sure. Uh, is your party over? Who do you work for?"
"I just dropped in on the
party. They're good customers. I work for myself."
"Camille and I work together.
Though not in the same department..."
"She's mentioned you."
Meredith looked surprised.
Camille was attractive and gregarious. She must have many friends,
male and female. Her presence in the woman's life had to be minuscule.
Nathan grinned at her.
"You're the equivalent of the Army quartermaster, an impressive position
to someone who has no concept of numbers like Camille. Tell me, is
the upcoming holiday a celebration or a curse?"
The bartender appeared.
"Send over a bottle of poivret
and another glass," Nathan said. "We're going to a table."
A basketball game played
on the giant screen and the bar had suddenly grown crowded. Meredith's
last look around had indicated that the tables were full. "There
aren't any..." she blinked. Not just a jammed-in table, but a booth
empty and waiting? "How did you know what I like drinking?"
She demanded.
He smiled. "You and
I like the same superb wine. I sensed it."
Meredith was wary, but she
did not deny feeling a spark, too. This guy might be feeding her
a line, but at least it was a classy one. She allowed him to cup
her elbow as he guided the way. He scooted next to her in the booth
and settled his attention on her.
"Tell me about the holiday,"
he repeated.
She looked into his eyes.
Sincere. No guile visible at any rate. "Christmas Eve my mother
insists that I attend candlelight church services with her. I consider
it the part of my gift that guarantees holiday peace. I have a married
brother whose in-laws are wealthy, functional alcoholics. My mother
and I are invited to join them on Christmas Day. We arrive mid afternoon
and while my mother regards the gathering with increasing disapproval the
guests proceed to get blitzed. By the time the rack of lamb or chauteaubriand
is served some time after nine p.m., those not comatose are hung over and
faintly ill from eating too many appetizers. Then I have to deal
with my mother's anger for days afterwards. It doesn't occur to her
to refuse the invitation or broach the subject with my brother. This
has gone on for five years."
A waitress delivered the
wine and uncorked it. Nathan dismissed her before she could pour
him a sample. He held the bottle in both hands and bowed his head
briefly, then filled their glasses and proposed a toast.
"To the return of the Sun.
To Renewal."
Meredith touched his glass
and drank. Warmth funneled from a spot that should have been her
stomach, but it was higher around her heart. But not her heart.
Deeper. Her long frozen soul? And joy came with it. Real
joy. Joy at being alive. At being with this man. She
stared at him.
"That's some wine," she
uttered. "How do you celebrate Christmas?"
"I don't other than in a
commercial capacity."
"Meaning even the spirit
doesn't interest you?"
Nathan set his glass on
the table next to Meredith's and patted her hands. "Oh, yes, the
spirit of Yule is very real and of great interest. I observe the
Winter Solstice."
"The shortest day of the
year."
"And the annual reminder
that life renews itself. The paramount outcome of death is rebirth."
"It sounds Christian."
"Pre-Christian. Christians
are not original with their concept of divine birth and a god's resurrection.
Their holidays are merely absorbed Pagan celebrations." His eyes
twinkled. "It's all one and the same, however. The Creator,
that is. Yet we certainly do disagree over it. Endlessly."
Meredith was fascinated.
Who was Nathan?
"Your eyes are blue-green,"
he said, "like tropic seas and your hair is the grain-gold of a goddess."
"It's bobbed and blow-dried,
not long and flowing. Which goddess?" He'd say Venus; she was
positive.
"Demeter of ancient Greek
belief. Goddess of the fruitful Earth. Do you like sunflowers?"
"Yes!" She had searched
for sunflowers and decorated with them before they'd become "in."
The current fad had gotten her a little crazy - she had accumulated the
motif on towels, sheets, dishes, accessories and so forth.
"Gold jewelry is more flattering,
but you're drawn to silver. You would own a cat if your landlord
allowed it."
Meredith fingered the sterling rope chain around her neck. "Are
you some sort of psychic?"
"Some sort of. I'm
a musician when inclined and dabble in environmental issues. When
I find a soul of interest, I...probe for details. Camille has wanted
for me to meet you, and she was very right. You shouldn't have been
hesitant."
"Is this a setup?"
Meredith's tone was piqued, but she was also flattered. Nathan was
quite appealing.
"Yes," he admitted.
She laughed and relaxed.
"You described what you
do at the holidays, but how do you feel about it?"
"Empty," Meredith confessed.
Nathan was easy to talk to and the wine had loosened her. "I don't
believe in anything. I try living the Golden Rule, but don't find
it being practiced by any majority, and working for a Christian affiliated
organization, that's a sad commentary. I married briefly and disastrously
when I was young. We had no children so Santa Claus is not a draw."
She looked at him with speculation. "Do you have children?"
"I've never married and
have taken care not to procreate where I shouldn't."
"I can't say I want them
or not."
"I can say that I do."
"You would be quite persuasive..."
she said without thinking and blushed. "I didn't mean..."
"Of course you did."
Their table was near the
outside entry and a newcomer spoke loudly. "The slush is freezing
out there. I almost skidded into a salt truck."
"Be glad they're out, Man,"
a patron responded.
"I should go," Meredith
said, relieved to have the subject changed. "I drive a compact which
has little traction. Besides, two glasses is my limit for functioning
sensibly."
"You don't really want to
leave me." Nathan's voice was seductive. "Close your eyes, Darling.
Let fade the sloppy streets and grubby snow outside this tacky bar.
Envision wizened oaks planted in pungent black loam and laden with mistletoe.
Golden arcs beamed from the Sun permeate the lush leafy bow, dazzling the
silvery mistletoe embracing the trees' hoary bark. It is a sacred
place."
"Sacred," Meredith murmured.
And so...alive. She could see it. She could smell the lusty air and
hear reedy music.
"And real for those of faith.
The Creator does not require worship in a special house. People do.
People need these trappings to glorify a Being already celebrated to the
fullest in Earth's greatest cathedral, Nature."
Meredith opened her eyes
and regarded him with wonder. "Do you belong to a special group who
worship in this place? May I join you? I must join you.
It is...it is where I believe that I belong, too."
Nathan smiled enigmatically.
"Trust your heart. Release your feelings and you will find beauty
everywhere such as I conjured."
"Oh." Meredith was
disappointed. "I'm not very independent. I would do better
in a group effort."
"Sometimes a group can be
important, especially when you are a minority."
"Because I'm a woman?
I never consider myself a minority."
Nathan re-filled their wine
glasses. "What you are expressing as belief makes you a minority
in the faith market."
Meredith sipped her wine.
"What faith are we talking about?"
He studied her. "Old
ways, Pagan ways."
She mouthed ‘Pagan' and
flushed. He had mentioned the term already. A mother-planted
image of a horned demon surfaced and the connotation warred with the joy
in her.
"The Devil is a concept
of Christian belief," Nathan said gently, "and essential to perpetuate
the guilt so integral to this religion. In truth, the evil image
is a corruption of a god-form whose pastoral association embodies the importance
of humans' connection with the earth. He is not a shackle to faith."
Nathan had read her thought!
And had he used the present tense? Did he worship this god-form in
that peaceful circle of oaks? Meredith decided that the wine was
distorting her concentration on the odd conversation, apparently making
her more susceptible to his psychic probe. And she was distracted
by the urge to use the bathroom. She needed a break physically and
mentally, but if she pardoned herself, would Nathan be gone when she returned?
He was interested in her which almost amazed her as much as her own response
to him - he was fascinating and she didn't meet fascinating men.
Nathan exited the booth
so that Meredith could get out. He remained close to the table as
she stood and shifted so that she would have to brush against him to get
by. When they touched, her breath caught and her nipples stiffened.
She cautiously dated and never entertained a serious idea of sleeping
with anyone. For the past two years, an involvement, a relationship
had seemed too much of an effort. Inevitably men failed to live up
to expectations and had to be discarded. Yet if Nathan suggested
that they find a bed, Meredith would eagerly agree, the consequences be
damned.
He whispered, "Don't tarry.
I'll be here waiting and will see you home."
Her lipstick suspended,
Meredith stared at herself in the ladies' room mirror. Her
pupils were blurry, and she felt giddy. But if this was smashed,
it was unlike any previous episode. Her desire to have sex with this
stranger went deeper than loosened inhibitions from alcohol. But
Nathan wasn't actually a stranger. He was Camille's cousin.
So what. Sex with Nathan was...a necessity!
She put away her lipstick.
Makeup smears were sleazy on faces or clothes. Making love could
be messy enough without...birth control! Where had she put the condoms?
It had been so long, she'd thrown them away during a self-pitying impulse.
But he had mentioned that he was careful. Surely, he was prepared.
Meredith brushed off the
shoulder of her navy jacket, straightened the collar on her white shirt
and fluffed her hair. So be it, she thought. Tomorrow she'd
worry about right or wrong. Tonight she would savor the moment.
Camille's presence with
Nathan annoyed Meredith. As she wove through people to reach them,
she could see intermittently that their heads were close together and they
were laughing. Where were Camille's two buddies? More
importantly, would this change her plans with Nathan?
"Was I good on this one
or what?" Camille exclaimed when Meredith was within hearing.
"I knew you two would be like instant hot."
Meredith's smile was embarrassed.
"You are uncanny with your
matches," Nathan said as he held Meredith's coat ready. He winked
at Meredith as he preempted her buttoning and continued it himself.
"But I would have found her."
"Not as fast," Camille replied.
"My perceptions are finer. Admit it. I have the advantage of
living now. I find faster."
Crossing her arms on her
chest, Meredith thought maybe this was too weird, forgetting that Nathan
had demonstrated an ability to read her mind. Maybe she should advise
both of them that perhaps she leave alone. Her second floor corner
apartment in a small, quiet complex had become a refuge. A man might
taint the tranquil atmosphere and her meticulously forged sanctuary would
be violated.
"Go away, Camille," he said
softly. "Go away now."
She smiled sweetly.
"Meredith, Nathan is super. I just get carried away with my teasing."
"I think it has happened
too swiftly," Meredith countered. "I think I'll be on my way ..."
Sounds of the game announcer on the television and zealous bar fans faded.
Reedy music. Nathan's provocative smile filled her senses...
"May we take your car?"
Nathan asked. "I got a ride here."
Meredith shook her head
to clear it and gazed at him. "You can even have the keys since I'm
feeling the wine. I'll bet you're good at driving on bad roads.
No coat?"
"No need for one, Darling.
I'm naturally furry."
A lot of body hair, Meredith
mentally translated. That could be sexy.
Nathan chuckled and clutched
her arm.
Turning on a lamp inside
the apartment door, Meredith spied a sloppy stack of magazines on her coffee
table and murmured, "I always pick up on the weekends. During the
week things get hectic and..."
Nathan touched her shoulder
so that she would face him. "I'm not interested in your housekeeping,"
he said and kissed her.
Meredith had read of heroines
melting in the hero's arms, but had disdained it as only in a romance novel.
Yet melting was the only way to describe how Nathan was making her feel
with just a lip connection. Foreplay would be anticlimactic - regardless
of her heavy winter coat, she had a strong urge to peel her pantyhose and
bend over the arm chair a few steps away so that he could join with her
before she squandered her orgasm.
"We are wasting nothing,"
he whispered and lifted her.
The l-shaped living room
accessed a kitchen on one end and a short hallway on the other which led
to her bedroom and the bathroom. Nathan showed no hesitation on his
choice of directions.
Meredith's sheets were clean,
but they were a plain cotton print. For the fantastic lovemaking
she anticipated, nothing less than red satin would fit the occasion.
As if she owned anything like that. But she should. She hadn't
prepared for this moment.
She never threw her clothes
on the floor, but she wasn't herself tonight. Her garments ended
in a heap and she quickly swept back the comforter and blankets.
Once in bed, she paused to look at Nathan.
His smile mysterious, he
was removing his clothes...rhythmically. Meredith listened.
The flute. He was undressing to flute music which was coming from...where
was it coming from?
She stared at his emerging
nakedness, thinking that his hirsute body was like an ancient ancestral
gene which had surfaced from a primitive evolutionary stage. Then
she riveted on his penis, but Meredith was too hot to play the game to
let the size frighten her. What glinted above his brows? Two
smooth, polished...horns? The flute...
Suddenly, with no words
between them, he was in the bed and rational thought suspended. Nathan
knew where to find every sensitive spot on her flesh, the usual and the
unexpected, and turning her compliant body, he caressed it with his tongue.
When he flicked her right instep, a new erogenous discovery for Meredith,
she moaned. Her desire for release had grown so acute that it was
almost painful.
"Now is your part, vision
of the Goddess. Rise upon me," he commanded.
Her eyes unopened, Meredith
drunkenly got on her knees, felt her way to his groin and sank down on
him.
"Yes," she sighed in beat
with the loud flute melody, "yes, yes, yes..."
Nathan smiled. Yes.
Another convert. Another liberated soul. Won back to Her, the
Lady.
Sunlight seeped through
the partially opened vertical blinds, striating the bed. On her side,
Meredith opened her eyes cautiously to view the next pillow. Empty.
She listened for sounds in the apartment, but already sensed that the incredible
man was gone. Maybe ‘man' was the wrong description. ‘Love
god' was apropos or ‘Olympian lover'. Feeling silly, she laughed,
then grew thoughtful. He had said something important which she needed
to remember, but it flitted in peripheral memory. Get up, drink coffee,
think. She moved and gasped. How sore she was! She laughed
again. It was a NICE sore. With slower movements, Meredith
left her bed and gaining her feet, she remembered Nathan's comment.
Camille! She had to
call Camille.
* * * * * * * *
In the driveway, Meredith's
headlights revealed a late fifties-style tri-level house. An ordinary
house in an ordinary neighborhood. She glanced at the ample yard.
Bare-limbed, imposing trees soared above the heavy snow covering.
Oaks, she specified. Not venerable old stock, but the branch span
of a good forty years of maturity. The backyard would have more oaks,
and they would be planted in a circle. There would be flute music.
Just like the vision Nathan had evoked when they met and the subsequent
dreams which had since pervaded her sleep. Even though it was her
first time, she tingled with certainty and felt a sense of belonging.
A very sturdy eight foot
slump block fence meant to conceal activity from the casual observer, Meredith
decided upon viewing the backyard from the large patio where a flagstone
fireplace fueled with a huge log warmed the area. The smell of roast
turkey had filled the house, but they would be dining outside. Glossy
ivy and holly laden with scarlet berries decorated a linen-draped table
set with gold-rimmed crystal and goldware.
"Cider," Camille explained
as she gave Meredith a mug. "We'll eat later. Let me introduce
you to the others."
Sarah, Jeremy, Dan, Kyle
- Meredith registered names to faces, but more important was the bonding
taking place among their souls. She was connected to these five people
dressed in various shades of red, and they welcomed her wholeheartedly.
Silver flashed in the darkness.
A polished needle a giant would require? Meredith envisioned a white
thread being drawn round inside the oaks. The atmosphere crackled
as if struck with lightning. Jeremy completed the circle and sheathed
what appeared to be a knife.
Her new friends faced one
direction and held forth their arms as if hailing the sky. Meredith
imitated them
and a rush like a mild electrical shock charged her.
"In the East, the Air is
Her Power," Camille said. A gust of wind struck them, bearing
the scent of cinnamon, but Meredith did not feel the expected chill as
the others repeated Camille's words twice, tracing pentacles with their
pointed fingers and turning to the right.
"In the South, the Fire
is Her Power," Kyle said which the group said in duplicate as they drew
pentacles. Meredith felt warm enough to want to shed her coat.
"In the West, the Water
is Her Power." The sound of waves. Like holding a seashell
to her ear, Meredith thought, but louder as if at a real beach.
"In the North, The Earth
is Her Power." The scent of freshly tilled soil. Meredith glanced
at the ground, only mildly surprised to see verdant grass in place of
trampled snow.
For a moment, silence, then
flute music, rich and pleasing, lilted among them. Meredith wondered
if Nathan would join them now.
"You honor us, My Lady,"
Camille said, "and we thank You for sending us Your Emissary."
Meredith blinked.
It was Nathan. But not in the guise he chose for mortals. Here
among those who worshiped the Goddess, he had no need to hide the superb
horns polished amber or the cress-green leaves that rooted in his wild
umber hair.
"Welcome to Her Way," Nathan
said to Meredith. "This small group practices quite simple rituals,
but raising power, gaining Her Favor does not require elaborate means.
When offered in perfect love, when performed in perfect trust - She knows
you."
Meredith heard him, but
could only stare. Not Nathan, she realized. ‘Nathan' was part
of the mask. He was The Horned One. The Lord of the Hunt.
The Green Man. Pan who frolicked with nymphs in wood and field.
Like he had with her, leaving his imprint on her spirit. But belonging
first to the Creator. Her Emissary.
Sarah approached Nathan,
carrying a single white candle. "The Wheel has turned and the Sun
is to be born again, bringing with it the rebirth of life."
Kyle stepped forth holding
a red candle which Sarah promptly lit. They held high the candles
joined in flame and said in unison, "Our Lady bears the Lord. Together
they begin the eternal journey once more, redeeming us
from the darkness and giving us life."
"Blessed be," the group
offered reverently. The music picked up in tempo and sound.
Sarah clasp Kyle who clasped Camille who clasped Jeremy. Meredith
clasped him and with her other hand clasped Dan. Sarah led them in
a spiral around the grassy circle.
"Wisdom is freedom," Kyle
whispered as he coiled about Meredith in the dance.
She already knew it, but
smiled to acknowledge him.
* * * * * * * *
* *
Meredith burped behind her hand.
Was it the clam dip rebelling in her stomach or the stuffed mushrooms?
And why was she bothering to show any discretion? Maybe a good belch
would liven up the group because the annual Christmas dinner at the Horstmeyers
was playing its usual 6:00 p.m. scene. Glazed from cocktails, guests
had sour breath and slight headaches. The holiday CDS were on their
umpteenth round and conversation was flat. It doesn't have to be
like this, she thought in disgust. Only five days had passed since
she participated in the Yule celebration at Jeremy's, but the liberating
effect had been total, making it difficult to pretend that what passed
for tradition in her family held any relevance. She chafed to exalt
her fledgling spirit, but the knowledge also bred caution. This is
about being a minority amid a righteous majority. Hoping for respect,
but not expecting it. Wishing to enlighten, but recognizing that
ignorance would likely hold sway. It also meant dealing with the
trapped feelings she had about her job. Should she make a conscious
effort to reconcile herself to her situation like Camille seemed to have?
Following dinner on Yule, they had offered each other wish gifts.
Camille's had been for all to find their true love. The men
in the Yule circle had been attractive and would become good friends, but
it would take a man like Nathan had represented to kindle lasting sparks
in her. Despite the positive events happening in her life, her options
for love hadn't increased. She didn't have much hope in that area
and figured practically that in her case a wish for finding an employer
more compatible with her new outlook would have been better.
"Yer wineless!" Meredith's
sister-in-law's alcoholic brother chortled as if he'd just made an hilarious
joke. He grabbed her empty glass.
"Water," Meredith said.
"I'll get it myself."
"On b'half of the ol' man
me not be'a gud hos'?" He leaned into her face and leered at her
breasts.
And on the edge of comatose.
Meredith carefully pushed him back so as not to tip him over and stood
up, formulating a sharp remark about booze hounds, then caught herself.
Do what ye will, but harm ye none. A creed to live by, the Goddess's
Rede, and one she would honor no matter what circumstance.
"I could use a walk," she said.
Her mother frowned.
"In that skimpy red dress? Tell me. Since when did you start
wearing clingy dresses and strappy gold heels? You'll attract the
wrong kind of man with that look. Besides, it's dusk, Meredith, and
there are no sidewalks. The houses are too far a part. You'll
slip on ice or get hit by a car if you're in a dark street."
"I'll change to my boots
and my coat's very warm. The neighborhood is ablaze with holiday lights,
and I won't go far. Anybody care to join me?" She
was relieved to get disinterested looks.
A wealthy homeowners' association
could afford to hire someone who did a thorough job plowing, Meredith thought.
She hadn't seen a smidgen of ice yet on the blacktop. Too bad she
didn't have the courage to simply return to her car parked on the spacious
drive and go home. Camille had loaned her books about the Goddess
the next day following Yule and as much time as she had spent reading,
she couldn't get enough. Yule was one of eight Sabbats, festival
days of the solar year. Esbats fell in between and centered on the
full moon. She longed to be snuggled on her couch, sipping tea and
learning about her faith instead of being with people for whom spirit meant
the proof content of the vodka.
Headlights played across
her from a car traveling the curve ahead. Meredith automatically
stepped on to the gravel grade next to the street. The car slowed
and a window rolled down.
"I'm looking for the Horstmeyers,"
a man said. "I can't seem to find any numbers on the houses."
"Because there aren't any,"
Meredith replied. "It's the neighborhood."
A shadowy face appeared
in the window. "Exclusive, huh? I'm okay with that. Dealing
with the reality of exclusion is my way of life."
Headlights from an oncoming
car behind Meredith illumined the window and she looked closer. Curly
ash brown hair, dark blue eyes and a white smile. Nathan! But no
beard, a trim haircut. A glint of amber above the brow... no, merely
the gleam of reflected light. Not Nathan, yet like Nathan.
Like Nathan?
"I'm Travis Artemer, a cousin
of theirs from Spokane."
She smiled broadly.
"I'm a guest at the Horstmeyers' and I'd be happy to guide you to the house."
The door opened and Meredith
settled on the seat while he got back behind the wheel.
"Five days ago I received
a sign during a ceremony," he said. "It told me to visit, which I've
never done before, and make sure I arrived today. Arranging travel
was tough, but it was important to honor the message."
Message? A sign?
Meredith moved next to him. "Was it more like an epiphany?"
She asked. "I believe what I experienced five days ago was an epiphany."
"I'd say for both of us.
Blessed be."
"Do oak trees grow in Spokane?"
"I have a grove on my property."
"The Horstmeyers' house
is next driveway on the left." Meredith pointed.
"Shall I just keep going?"
"Yes." She rested
her head on his shoulder.
(end)
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