CnC 5 One Hex of a Wedding Read Online Free PDF Page B

times, for which I was infinitely sorry. It had taken a couple of years before my hopes that he would turn it around and treat them right crashed to the floor. And I’d long given up on the idea that he might ever treat me with any shred of civility. Since the divorce, he’d been as lousy a father as he had during our marriage. Sometimes I wondered just why he stayed in touch with us at all.
    Joe grabbed my hand and pulled me into the backyard, to the trellised opening that divided my lot from the one he’d bought the year before. “Let’s sit in the garden for a few minutes and shake off the evening.”
    “That sounds perfect,” I said.
    After filling in the foundation that had been the basement for the old Brunswick house, we’d spent every spare moment during the spring decking out the lot with flower and herb gardens. We installed a fountain, several stone benches, and a couple of statues. All hints of the ghostly visitors who had made the lot their home were gone. As we weeded out the thicket of briars and vines, we’d unearthed the past and put it to rest. Now, the land felt clear and happy and whimsical.
    Joe and I wandered through the burgeoning flower beds that Horvald had helped us plant. Nasturtiums and poppies colored the new sod, patchwork pretty, and creeping phlox and stonecrop made for a sturdy groundcover. The path forked in two directions. To the right, it led up to a pristine ivory and green gazebo with burgundy trim. To the left, the path wound into a labyrinthine spiral, which coiled its way to a meditation bench.
    On warm evenings, we walked the spiral to the center, where Joe would sit and read while I practiced my yoga on a mat under the open sky. Calming, it had become our summer routine, helping us to balance the cares of the day. A month in, I’d begun to notice that my psychic powers were increasing, growing more focused, stronger. Though I had to admit for the past week or so I’d been so distracted I wouldn’t have been able to pick up on a ghost if it jumped out in full sheet with chains rattling.
    The pebbled tiles reminded me of cobblestones, and the path was lined on both sides by rows of pink rose-bushes, interspersed with western maidenhair ferns. Joe loved pink roses, and I’d found myself drawn to them when we went shopping at the plant nursery. The lot was slowly turning into a haven away from the tensions of our mundane routines, a personal sanctuary for our family. Even the kids came out here to read or play. When we were done building the fence that would support the hedge, we’d have full privacy from passersby on the street.
    I dropped Joe’s hand and set foot on the first tile, breathing slowly. Walking the spiral was a solitary event, yet somehow as I walked, the labyrinthine motion connected me to the world in an integral, grounded manner. I conjured up Roy’s face and felt a flash of irritation, but as I took the second step the smell of the roses wafted up to calm me and I found myself letting go of the anger. I thought about why he’d done what he did. Roy was bitter, he was alone again, and he couldn’t accept other people being happy. He always had to be the one in the spotlight.
    Another step, and another flash of his face. Once, I’d loved him. Once, he’d loved me. But things change. Roy wasn’t cut out to be a parent or a husband. Perhaps he’d be forced to find his way, now that his second marriage had fallen apart.
    By the fifth step, I’d left Roy behind and found myself drifting in the warm buzz of the evening. I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly. Step-by-step, I worked my way into the meditation bench, and step-by-step, I reattached myself to the joys that my coming wedding promised, rather than the obstacles.
    Behind me, Joe was doing much the same. I felt his irritation drain away, the pain where Roy had hit him was fading. Reaching out, I linked to Joe’s energy and blended into the sparkling shimmer that I recognized as his love for me, his