Arcanum (Tales from the Tarot)

34. Greyson

Chapter thirty-four

Greyson

“ B abe, I think we’re good on lights.” Chris descended the ladder from the porch roof and dusted his hands off as I set another box in the yard, a strand of lights dangling over the edge.

“But what about the trees? The little bushes right there? We can run an extension cord.” I judged the distance, tilting my head. “Or two.”

Laughing softly, he wrapped his arms around me. He smelled wintry, like crisp air and pine trees, but beneath that was the comforting warmth of his usual scent. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“You make me happy. And the real Christmas tree makes me happy.”

“I’m still picking sap off of my hands.” He grabbed my ass and squeezed, giving me a look of faux terror. “Oh my God! See? Now we’re stuck like this!”

“You really are an ass man, aren’t you?” I teased.

“I’m not picky. I like this too.” He wedged his hand between us, plastering it to the front of my pants. “Uh-oh. Now look what you’ve done.”

A screen door squeaked and slammed across the street.

“Hi Mrs. Perkins!” we yelled in unison, grinning at each other, especially since Chris didn’t remove either of his hands.

She scoffed loudly and snatched her newspaper off of the driveway, shuffling back into the house without acknowledging us.

“How disgusted was she that we’re playing grab ass in the front yard?” Chris asked with a laugh.

“You have no idea.” I kissed him quickly. “But you’re going to have to find a way to unstick yourself. Lunch is almost ready.”

“Would you look at that?” He pulled his hands free and wiggled his fingers.

“Magic!” I smirked at him and hurried back into the house, out of the cold.

Surveying Chris’s festive living room, a pang of sadness hit me. My parents’ house was under contract, so Chris and I had taken a couple of days to clear it out with the help of movers. What I hadn’t sold was sitting in the house next door while I sorted through everything I’d been avoiding for months. I’d pulled out a few of my family’s Christmas decorations and they sat on various shelves, mixed with the decorations Chris had inherited from his parents when they moved to Florida.

Like my birthday and Thanksgiving, Christmas was another first without my family. And just like those two events, I was torn between being happy with Chris and missing them more than anything. Bittersweet didn’t even begin to cover the complexity of emotions.

One thing was for certain, though. With Don in jail, awaiting trial, I was finally able to breathe. Chris, too. He’d calmed considerably in the weeks that followed the shooting, even though he was furious the State’s Attorney’s office hadn’t pursued attempted murder charges.

“Can’t prove it, my ass! That’s fucking bullshit, Hilary!” he yelled into his phone the afternoon after Don’s first court appearance. “One millimeter over and the goddamn bullet would have hit me ! Why was that fucker there in the first place? Hmm? He has no ties to Mapleton! None! Except Greyson! How does that not qualify for motive?!”

I sat silently on the couch, watching Chris pace around the living room, listening to the lawyer’s explanation.

“Did you even look at the case file I sent you? All the shit from Chicago? The break-ins here?” He paused, gaping. “Not relevant?! It’s all fucking connected! There’s a clear pattern!”

I caught his gaze and pantomimed taking a deep breath and exhaling it again, hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t.

“Yeah, well, you can tell your boss he’s a spineless piece of shit who’s more concerned about his fucking election next year than doing what’s right! Better yet, I’ll do it the next time I see his worthless ass!” Chris hung up and slung his phone across the room, right into the recliner in the corner. “Fuck!”

“Welcome to my world,” I murmured, reaching for my tarot cards and shuffling them, partly to give my hands something to do and partly to see what lay ahead. “Stalking is ‘He said/he said.’ Even if cops make a case, lawyers don’t want to go near it.”

“They’re focusing on the weapons charges.” Chris sank onto the couch and tipped his head back, exhaling a long breath, belatedly taking my advice.

“Isn’t that good? They’re still felonies.”

“It’s not enough. With parole, he’ll be out in no time and you’ll be in danger again.”

I fanned the cards out in my hands and held them out to Chris. “Pick one.”

He made a face but leaned forward, swiping one from the middle.

“The Seven of Wands,” I said, taking it from him. “It means we have to hold our ground. The fight isn’t over.”

“Isn’t there a happier card in there?”

I shuffled again and spread them out a second time.

He took one from the end and looked at it, a grin splitting his face. He bit his lower lip suggestively and showed me the card.

The Lovers.

Tossing it over his shoulder, he lunged for me, tackling me onto the couch and kissing me soundly.

I smiled at the memory as the real Chris came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me, pressing a cold kiss to my neck.

“You ok?” he murmured against my skin. “You’re zoning out.”

“Just thinking how much I love you.”

“Mhmm. You’re going to love me even more when you see how many lights I put on the trees for you.”

“I can’t wait for nightfall.”

“And I can’t wait to eat. My God, what did you make? It smells amazing.”

“Shepherd’s pie.”

“Now I’m thinking about how much I love you.”

“I know,” I replied with a smile, tipping my head back to see him better.

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with for Christmas dinner. I have a feeling it’s going to be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Your dad is still coming, right?”

His happiness dulled. “Yes.”

“Darling, you have to tell him.”

“He’s a smart guy. He’ll figure it out. I mean, you basically live here.”

I arched an unconvinced eyebrow. “That’s not the same thing.”

“You’re not burning the bread, are you?” Chris threw a thumb toward the kitchen, knowing damn well I didn’t burn anything. Ever.

“Chris…”

“I think I smell smoke.”

“Christopher!” I gaped at him and his poor attempt at changing the subject.

“Can’t talk. Must save the bread!” He turned and hurried into the kitchen.

I shook my head, smiling, and followed him.