CHAPTER TEN
Days, weeks, and months flew by. It was a little strange, studying the paranormal from an academic and historical standpoint, while living in the middle of a colony of witches. But it was also a very fine secret to have.
I enjoyed my classes, but found that I couldn’t wait to get back to Rave. Not that I had to be with her every minute. I spent a lot of time in my study, but knowing she was in the house, or would be soon, was a comfort.
I remembered that her birthday was October fourteenth and wanted to do something special. So I’d asked Kellan and Glory if we could have a party at their place then asked Simon to help me with a special musical tribute. What I had in mind was right up his alley, so he was glad to help.
Rave’s mother, Chalice, did most of the planning and somehow managed to keep it a secret. I’d told my prize that we were invited to dinner at Kellan’s and asked her to wear the red dress she’d worn the first time I’d seen her at the ball. I made no mention of her birthday, wanting her to believe that I didn’t remember.
“Are you sure?” she asked. “Seems like overdressing. Glory is likely to be wearing Daisy Dukes.”
“No. Kellan said dress up and I told him we would.”
She accepted that explanation. Thank goodness.
I pulled out the suit I’d worn to our bell, book, and candle ceremony. It fit perfectly.
“Rave!” I called, going to the door to my bathroom.
“Yes!” she answered from inside her bath.
“Did you put a stay-the-same-size spell on me?”
“Yeah. I told you I was going to.”
I looked in the mirror and smiled. I’d spent months eating with abandon, but kept my figure. How could I object to that?
We stepped into the bedroom at the same time.
“Still the most beautiful creature alive,” I said and meant every word.
She grinned like it was the first time she’d ever been told that she was a goddess walking.
I texted Chalice to let her know we were leaving. Everybody in the colony had either walked to Kellan’s or been shuttled there by golf cart so that there wouldn’t be any extra cars or valet parkers to tip Rave off.
We pulled up to the front door, climbed the steps and rang the bell. The butler answered.
“Good evening, Mr. Draiocht, Ms. Wimberley.”
“Hello, Roberto.”
He closed the front door and said, “Right this way.”
We followed him along the familiar way to the ballroom.
“They’re having us for dinner in the ballroom?” Rave asked.
“Maybe,” I said noncommittally, hoping she didn’t pick up any hesitancy in my answer.
When Roberto opened the large double doors the entire colony shouted, “SURPRISE!”
She was indeed surprised. She flushed a beautiful pink in her cheeks and laughed her deep throaty laugh.
“You devil!” she said to me and I took that as high praise.
According to Chalice’s instructions all the women and girls wore white, all the men wore black suits like mine. Only Rave was in red so that she stood out like the star that she was in my mind.
I leaned over and nuzzled her ear. “Happy Birthday.”
We ate her favorite things and drank her favorite cocktails while people took the mic, one after another, to tell stories about Rave growing up. In between, a live band, made up of colony residents, played soft pop hits and gave the occasion a festive ambiance.
I’d planned to give her my present between dinner and dessert and was getting more nervous by the minute. I’m sure she saw the nerves because she said, “Is something wrong?”
“No. I’ll be back in a minute.” I excused myself, nodding at Rave’s family, who were sitting at our table.
Simon was sitting across the room. I gave him a signal when I got his attention. He rose and made his way to the head of the room along with me. When I took the mic, he was handed an electric guitar by one of the musicians.
“Hey, everybody,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “Thank you all for coming to help us celebrate Rave’s birthday. This may have been my idea, but the entire credit for putting on this bash goes to Chalice. I’d still be trying to figure out where to start if not for her.
“Anyway, Simon has helped me with a little something special that I have to say.”
I’d never sung in public before and was half petrified, but the other half was determined. I knew I wanted to do a cover version of Buddy Holly’s classic Rave On and when I started trying to decide how to do it, I discovered it had been covered about a hundred times in widely diverse ways. In the end, Simon and I decided on the Rolling Stones version. Thankfully it was a short song. That’s what I kept telling myself.
Right on cue, somebody brought a chair and placed it on the floor right in front of where I stood on the raised platform.
“Rave,” I said. “You’re needed down here. Front and center.”
She looked around like she was unsure and for a minute I thought she might refuse, but with applause and encouragement, she managed to make her way toward me and sit in the chair. I’d say her look was a mixture of curiosity, anticipation, and glare.
It didn’t take long for her to get into the spirit of things once the music started and I wish I had a still shot of her face when I started to sing, “I’m gonna tell you how it’s gonna be. You’re gonna give your love to me.”
People got up and began dancing all around Rave. By the end of the song she was looking at me like I’d handed her the moon. Just what I was going for.
At midnight I took her home. I’d had the bedroom outfitted with a hundred white candles, as it had been the first night we’d been together. A bottle of sweet red wine was on ice, just the way she liked it. Yes. I know wine connoisseurs everywhere who are managing to not cringe about the idea of sweet red are having apoplexy thinking about red wine on ice. But Rave was entitled to her preferences, especially on her birthday.
I made love to her exquisitely slowly, playing her body like an instrument, using every detail I’d learned about how to send her into a state of ecstasy.
Afterward, I snuffed out the candles, came back to bed and lay on my back while she snuggled into her favorite cuddle position.
“How are we ever going to plan a one year party to top that?” she said in the darkness.
“One year party?”
“Yes. It’s coming up. Our year and a day is on All Hallows, October thirty-first. That’s just… seventeen days from now.”
Perhaps my heart didn’t speed up as much as I thought because, after a few minutes, I heard her breathing even out. I’d been living in denial about the built-in expiration date on the good life, but my avoidance tactic had just hit a wall.
Confrontation dead ahead.
I stared at the ceiling, knowing I only had just a little over two weeks left with the woman sleeping on my chest. I remember thinking it was a shame that I didn’t believe in love because, if I did, I would surely be head over heels in love with my Rave.
After a couple of hours of staring at the ceiling, I eased myself out from under her. She hummed a little, but let me go and went back to sleep.
After pulling on a pair of sweatpants, I padded downstairs. No shirt. No shoes. Neither was needed. The temperature in the house was always perfect. I poured myself an inch of whiskey from the good stash, took it to my study, sat down at my desk and looked around.
King of all I survey.
Two weeks.
That’s all I had left.
Two measly little weeks. I knew they’d go by so fast they were already gone.
I knew I had to start figuring out how and when to tell Rave. I’d been honest up front. I’d told her that I didn’t believe in love, certainly didn’t believe in forever, and that I was promising a year and no more. She’d said okay, but tonight, when she mentioned the one year party… It was clear she thought I’d changed my mind.
As I sat there, nursing a scotch, I could feel my anger toward her start building. She was making me feel guilty about leaving and she had no right to do that. I never promised more than I had to give. Still, I needed to figure out a way to let her down easy.
I needed a plan for when and how to tell her. There was no question about the fact that I couldn’t let her start planning a party. That would be as bad as being left standing at a wedding altar. And even if I was mad at her for forgetting I’d only promised a year, I didn’t want to see her hurt like that.
Decision made.
When she said something about starting party planning, I would tell her. Christ. It was never supposed to be so complicated.
That was the first time I saw Deck Durbin’s ghost. He materialized on one of the leather sofas wearing the garb and accoutrements of a Texas Ranger.
I froze, every bit as shocked as I imagined an absolute skeptic would be.
He turned his head my direction and simply said, “No.”
I don’t think his voice was audible. His mouth moved and I heard the word in my head, but I don’t think there was actual sound. Pulling myself together, I was just about to ask what the devil he meant by, “No,” when he disappeared.
Even though I had hoped to see the highwayman’s ghost sometime during my year in Wimberley, I was unprepared for a personal visit and especially not in my personal sanctuary. It felt a little like my life had been breached and I resented it.
“So you want the last word, huh?” I said to thin air. “Well, you had the first, last, and only word, but you suck at communicating!”
I stared at the sofa for several minutes thinking he might have a response, but I remained the sole occupant of the room, corporeal or otherwise.
Seventeen days. That’s what was left of my year in paradise. I wasn’t going to be thrown out of the Garden of Eden. I was going to walk out on my own. Part of me thought that made me both idiot and ass. But the part making the decision couldn’t stand feeling caged. And a priceless museum-quality rococo cage is still a cage.
It was simple. If the door was open, I’d stay indefinitely. Indefinitely might turn into forever. Who could say? But the idea of permanent, can’t-be-undone, commitment scared the shit out of me.
Having reached my decision, I set the glass in the kitchen sink, climbed the stairs and crawled back into bed. Rave turned toward me and nestled into my side like she belonged there. Imagining sleeping alone, when I’d become so accustomed to the feel of Rave in my bed, made my heart hurt a little, but I couldn’t pay attention to such things. Those thoughts were threads that could form the net that would trap me.
Seventeen days.
I turned toward Rave and inhaled the scent of her cedar and dragonsblood shampoo. As I finally drifted off, I was thinking I’d miss that.