Laughing Down the Moon (29 page)

“You sure?”

“No, but I think I need to hear you tell me about her,” she answered as she dropped my hand to pull up her hood. She turned like an over-bundled little kid to locate my hand again. As we walked with the knot of our held hands swinging between us, I told her about Shiloh, gently and honestly.

By the end of our moments together, we had both cried and laughed. I had no idea how necessary this ending, this healing, had been. I felt more complete than I had in ages.

I was pretty certain The Funk had left the building for good. People speak of closure as if it is a joke. Shoot, I had even made fun of “closure.” But here we were, mending the hurts we had caused each other as we separated further apart as lovers and came closer together as humans. I did not expect that. On an almighty strong, cold gust of wind, I sent out a silent thank you to the Goddess.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Edgier

March twenty-third found me at Patrick and Trisha’s front door for our hybrid celebration of Spring Equinox and Passion week: Spring Equipassion. I had gotten ready in a heady rush after receiving word from a Ms. Cranst, not “Beth,” at Davidoff Academy that I’d be teaching writing beginning April nineteenth. I’d accepted the position thinking that at least one thing in my life should go well, and if it couldn’t be my love life, well, it would have to be my career. Or possibly both of my careers, since I was still on a writer’s high. I’d deal with running into Shiloh at the academy when the opportunity presented itself. Until then, I would try not to worry about it.

I would also deal with the fact that the secretary who had made the “mistake” was Elizabeth. Her brown eyes had revealed her surprise as I walked into the office where she was planted behind a computer monitor and a huge bouquet of ferns and baby’s breath. Funny that there were no real flowers in the vase. The baby’s breath stunk. Elizabeth was dressed as usual in an overly formal purple silk jacket and a pristine white silk blouse. At her neck was a huge amethyst pendant firmly clasped in its gold filigree setting. I had started to greet her with a smile, but as her eyes sliced away from mine, I knew what had happened. She hadn’t wanted me to get the job. I had said nothing to her before Boz Green opened his office door, strode out across the small space, shook my hand with warmth and unspoken apology and ushered me into his office for the interview. When I left, after what was an easy, uplifting conversation, Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen in the office.

There was a card taped to the front door of Patrick and Trisha’s house, bringing me out of my reverie. My name was scrawled across the envelope. I pulled it off and opened it. The front of the card held a depiction of the Lovers Tarot card, only the artwork showed two women entwined. Where did they find this? I opened the card and read Veronica’s handwriting inside.

“Allura, we interfered. We had to. We couldn’t watch your fear get the best of you. You deserve better than you are giving yourself. So does Shiloh.”

What the hell? How would they know what Shiloh deserved?

I continued to read, “So, after introducing ourselves…we think you should now open yourself to your very first celebration of Spring EquipassionOVER.”

What? To whom had they introduced themselves? What the hell was EquipassionOVER? That was not right, so I read it again. Did they mean the passion was over? Duh. I knew that. But why would they refer to that? Where were they?

I opened the front door without knocking. I could have fallen over dead when I saw Shiloh sitting in the big armchair. She stood when she heard the door open.

“Shiloh,” I breathed.

“Hi, Allura.”

I glanced around the room, but no one else was here.

“Why, and how, are you here?”

She held out her hand, and me being me, I had no choice but to walk over and take it. I wanted to press her hand to my heart, to my mouth, to my eyes, to everything, but I just held it.

“Shiloh,” I breathed again.

“I’m an idiot,” she said.

I thought I should refute this, but she started talking again. “I have missed you so much. And I have been so stupid to think that this couldn’t work out just because…”

What was she going to say? Was she going to bring up the God-Goddess debate? I wanted to kiss her so badly. Let her have her God, that’d be fine; let her try to convert me, I could handle that—I just knew that I couldn’t handle not having her by me, not seeing her. Just looking at her was wrenching my soul in two.

Screw my resolve.

I pulled her close and pressed my mouth to hers. For a millisecond, I worried she might not want me to do this, but then she returned my kiss so fervently, that my heart and my knees went soft. Her lips tasted like the peach tea I had drunk the night I’d blindfolded myself all those weeks ago.

“Allura,” she murmured into my mouth. My knees went even softer at the feel of her lips and tongue saying my name into me.

“Allura.” This time she said my name into the air as she let a fraction of space come between our faces. “Allura, I am so sorry.”

“Me, too,” was all I could say back. I
was
sorry, even though it was hard to remember that, buoyed as I was by the joy of seeing her here in Patrick and Trisha’s living room. Why was she
here
? Who cares? I kissed her again until she spoke.

“Allura, I need to tell you something,” she tried.

But I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to listen. I just wanted to hold her and kiss her. She figured this out and kissed me back until I had had my temporary fill and needed to breathe normally for fear of asphyxiating on lust.

“Can we talk?” Shiloh asked, her smile looking somewhat swollen.

“Yes, now we can talk,” I answered. I didn’t know what to say, but had the feeling she had plenty on her mind. Over the past weeks, I’d given her so much thought, but nothing else. I hadn’t returned her messages; I hadn’t even read or listened to them. I had myself convinced that time would help me get over this desire I had to see her and laugh with her again. I could feel now, with her here, that I had been wrong.

She asked if we could sit together, and I remembered that she was in a place that was new to her. Or was it? What was she doing here? We sat knee to knee on the couch. She did not let go of my hands once we were seated, but I feared she might, so I gripped her back not caring what she thought of it.

“Allura, I want you to know that this was Patrick and Veronica’s idea,” she began, “but I also want you to know that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be—for myself.”

“Okay,” I said. I knew she had more to say.

“I wish I could start over with our last night together,” she said.

“Mmm, I’d gladly relive that!” I laughed, not knowing if it was appropriate or not to do so.

Shiloh laughed, too. “No, not like that. I mean,” she thought for a second, “yes, like that, but I’d like to take back what I asked you the next day. You are perfect, Allura. And I know what I asked made you feel less than perfect. And I want to take that back.” Her voice got quiet and sad.

“Okay,” I said, and I meant it. “Okay, you can have that question back.” I wished she could see my face so she knew I wasn’t being flippant.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Shiloh, seeing you here, when I opened the door…well, it made me realize I want to be with you. I want…I want you. I don’t care if you are narrow-minded and self-righteous.” I leaned forward and nuzzled her cheek as I said this in hopes of her knowing I was kind of kidding. Thank my Goddess or thank her God—I didn’t care who—she laughed. “I want you,” I repeated.

“And I, obviously, want you.” She laughed, got to her knees on the couch and pushed herself onto me. We wriggled into the cushions until she was holding me tightly against her chest, with her chin on the top of my head. She told me how Veronica had used
my
cell phone to call her a week ago to ask her if she wanted to get together with Veronica and Patrick to have a “come to our senses” coffee date. How had I not noticed Shiloh’s name and number in the lineup of outgoing calls in my phone? I looked at the list of incoming calls, not the outgoing, I guess. Or maybe Veronica had deleted the call from my phone’s history. I laughed because it sounded just like Veronica to stage a “come to our senses” talk. She was no-nonsense.

“Are you sure you are here on your own free will and not being forced by my friends?” I asked her, half-joking, half-serious.

“Allura, I am sure. I am not going to let you go.” And with this she squeezed me until my rib cage might be damaged.

“I get it. Okay, I get the picture!” I wheezed and laughed.

She kissed the top of my head.

“So what are we going to do?” I asked her. I wondered what her plan was, even though I knew I’d go along with anything she wanted as long as it truly involved not letting me go.

“The real question is what
aren’t
we going to do?” she answered.

I liked that answer. Shiloh told me more about her conversation with Patrick and Veronica. Apparently they felt the need to show her that people from different spiritualities could form deep, trusting bonds with one another, as Patrick and I had done with our smash up hybrid holidays. It had been Shiloh’s idea to crash, or take over, the Spring Equipassion celebration. It had even been her idea to add her own flavor to the dish—the Passover part.

“Oh! I get it now!” sprang from me as I realized the Equipassionover now held Shiloh’s Jewish angle as well as the Catholic and the Pagan angles.

“Is that okay with you?” Shiloh sounded concerned. “I mean, I don’t have to barge in on your celebrations, but I just wanted to let you know that I understand you better now. A lot better. I guess I understand myself a lot better, too. At first I thought you’d marginalize me because our religions weren’t the same and then realized I had no reason to think that. We’re not the same in other areas, and you’ve never marginalized me. So, is it okay?”

“It’s more than okay with me,” I reassured her. I was telling the truth; I was honored that she was here, with me, celebrating in this strange and lovely way on Trisha and Patrick’s couch. We were to meet up with Patrick, Veronica and Trisha later at Matt’s Bar if we wanted to. For now, I just needed to be with Shiloh. She felt the same.

We talked about what went wrong. Shiloh couldn’t apologize enough to forgive herself for the weeks that had gone by, but I believed that we needed to have those weeks. I had certainly been mixed up in what I wanted at the time. Patrick and Veronica had not told Shiloh about my dad; they had saved that for me, so I described the accident to Shiloh. I finished by telling her he was healing well. She cried, saying that she was even more mad at herself because she could have been there with me had she not been such an ass about the religion thing.

I disagreed and told her that I needed to go through that alone, or with family, but essentially alone. My mom’s words had helped me get clarity on what was most important, even though the full impact of what she’d said hadn’t sunk in until I saw Shiloh sitting here today.

We talked about how being in a minority spirituality or religion might possibly make a person hold tighter to her beliefs. How it might make someone more defensive. But we both agreed that a chance at love might trump those beliefs or at least encourage people to “get over their bad selves.” Those were the last words Shiloh laughed out before we began making up in earnest. Thankfully, Patrick, Trisha and Veronica stayed out late. We had things other than meeting up with them on our minds.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Laughing Down the Moon

Plucking the postcard from the pile of mail, I noted the bright Florida sun beating on feathery palm trees and smiled. I turned it over and read:

Dear Allura,

Dad and I have arrived at Aunt Ana’s charming retirement community. He’s loving life poolside, sipping drinks and ogling the women (who insist on waiting on him and babying him after he shares his near-death experience with them). I have a question for you. Dad asked me to ask you: how do you avoid running over a blind deer with your RV? I have no ideer. No eye deer. Get it? Anyway, I hope your spring has sprung.

Love, Mom

I chuckled as I placed the card on the plate rail. Seriously though, who jokes about a no-eyed deer after almost dying because you hit a deer? My father was an odd gem. I trailed my fingertips across the wooden rail. The dust reminded me of velvet, it was so thick. Velvet. I decided to make good on that gorgeous cloak and intriguing
Drawing Down the Moon
book Veronica had given me months ago on our All Samhain celebration. I ran upstairs to tuck Dwight in for the night.

“Good night, Little Fella,” I said to him.

“Lilfella,” he said back, bobbing his head.

I turned off the light and half-closed his door, went to my bedroom and pulled my cloak from the back of the chair. I grabbed the book from my nightstand where it had donned its own cloak of sorts. Shameful to allow dust to gather on the plate rail, but on the bedside table as well? I laughed quietly. Quite honestly, I hadn’t been reading much in bed lately.

Tonight was the perfect night to finally draw down the moon and invite the Goddess’s energy into myself. I’d also enjoy the deep gratitude I felt for, oddly enough, the recent shake-ups in my life. The ritual would be supported by the magic of the luminous, fat full moon. I took the book and the cloak downstairs where I laid them out on the table. The luxurious green velvet of the cloak looked even richer atop the wooden table. The book, however, seemed to not fit the picture. I picked the book up and rifled through its pages. The history of Paganism, Wiccan heritage and the stories of various witches would not be of much help tonight.

I knew I had all the answers inside of me already. And I already knew how to do the ritual of drawing down the moon, so I carried the book to the shelf in the corner of the living room, beside the fainting couch and filed it between
Bearheart
and
Twinsight
, a very good place to be filed, as these were two of my favorite books. I knelt there for a few minutes looking at all of the books not relegated to the office upstairs. The living room bookshelf housed those that were dearest to me. I wanted to keep them close and not move them into the business area of my office. Not that I had any intention of rereading them. In fact, most of them had hit me so profoundly that complete passages from each had permanently imprinted on my soul; there’d be no need of a second reading with any of them.