Carry On Wayward Son(6)
She understood now why people avoided relationships, becoming attached to another person, falling in love. The inevitable break was devastating, the pain like nothing she had ever felt. She wanted to hurt someone, just so she would hurt less.
“God above,” she whispered, pulling herself back from the emotional brink with a jerk that left her breathless. “I won’t let him do this to me.”
Standing, she made her way to the kitchen, pulled down her tin of chamomile tea, filled the electric kettle and plugged it in. The simple, familiar task of making tea helped calm her, smoothed out the raw edge of her pain. And gave her room to think.
She carried her tea to the living room, stretched her right leg out on the sofa. It ached, a vicious throb where Eric broke the bone. She still wondered if it hadn’t healed completely because he was under her cousin Natasha’s influence when he injured her. Not that it mattered, but she had always bounced back pretty quickly, when she still had her power, no matter how deeply she buried the part of herself that was the demon.
But even the pain she felt during that brief, desperate battle was a shadow next to this.
She made a deal with herself—she had until she finished her tea to rant, brood, cry, wail, whatever she needed to feel or express. Then she was done.
Done with the grieving.
TWO
Humming Monster Mash, Claire reached up to hang another bat in the window display, then stood back to assess.
She loved Halloween—and not for the obvious reasons attached to her name, or her reputation as the local witch. For her, it was all about the kids.
Their laughter as they ran from door to door, the costumes that ranged from an old sheet to designer worthy, the joy and excitement they left in their wake. All of it had her decorating weeks earlier than she needed, just to see the anticipation. And keeping a stash of candy under the counter for those bold enough to ask.
Now, with Halloween tomorrow, she put aside the vision, the dream, and embraced the sheer fun of the holiday. Already, the preparation eased the weight of the fist pressed against her heart. She stood back, assessing what she hoped would be the last touches to her window—
“More decorations? Jeez, Claire, did you leave any for the rest of town?”
She turned to find Annie leaning against the front counter, arms crossed and a wicked smile on her face.
“A few. And look who’s talking about overkill—this is, what, your fifth costume change in as many days?”
Annie twirled, her heavy black cloak belling out around her. Above the silky velvet, her short blonde curls were brighter than sunlight. “I came as myself today. A witch.”
Claire shook her head and skirted the counter, pulling out her costume for the day. When she appeared wearing the veiled witch’s hat and velvet cloak, Annie burst out laughing.
“Great minds think alike.” Leaning in, she poked at one of the plastic spiders caught in the net veil covering Claire’s face. “Nice touch. Skin crawling, but nice.”
“I thought so.” Claire reached under the counter, grabbed the already full bowl of candy—and spotted the extra-large smoothie sitting on the granite, along with a sandwich that could have fed both of them. “Is that just breakfast? Or can I spread it out?”
“Aren’t you the funny girl today?” Annie slid the smoothie forward, smiled over it. “Breakfast.” Then the sandwich. “Midmorning snack. We’ll talk about lunch—I’m thinking the twelve ounce porterhouse from Billie’s Pub—”
Claire nearly choked. “Twelve ounce—”
“With the extra portion of wedge fries.”
“Heaven above, Annie.” She shook her head. “You’ll be rolling me out of here in a week.”
“Ah—but you haven’t heard the rest of my master plan. Tomorrow: salad day, with some fish on the side. Then we bulk the next day. It goes on, trading off heavy with light. And you spend more time with your sensei, building up your strength along with your fighting skills.”
“Okay. A master plan.” Claire rubbed her face. “Do you have charts?”
Annie grinned. “And a graph.”
Laughter burst out of her. It felt good to laugh again. Really laugh. She planned on doing a great deal of it. “Can you open up? I know it’s a few minutes early, but I’m in the mood for people, and some fun.”
“You’re the boss.” With the cloak swirling around her, Annie strode over to the door—and jumped backward when it burst open just after she flipped the deadbolt. “Son of a—hey, are you okay?”
Claire took off her hat and moved to the door, understanding Annie’s question when she saw the woman’s face. She wrapped one arm around the trembling shoulders, led her to the reading table at the back of the shop and lowered her to the one of the chairs. Kneeling in front of the woman, Claire took her hand.