Page 9 of Vampire's Vixen

I could feel his conflicting emotions, like a ripple in the ocean had turned into a tidal wave. And that made me understand something else. John had been covering up his grief with guilt. Guilt and fear were easier for him to face than the fact that she was gone. Without the guilt, without the fear, all he had left was his loss.

“You haven’t let yourself grieve, have you?”

“I… I don’t deal with loss well. I’ve spent the past year filling every second of my day till I haven’t been able to think. I work twelve hours a day. I volunteer at the pet shelters on weekends, I coach my neighborhood Little League. My next-door neighbor’s elderly, and I make sure he’s taken care of. I…” He paused, then rested his elbows on the table, cupping his head in his hands. “I’m not really living, am I?”

“All those are good things, but you’re deflecting, and the longer you deflect the grief, the worse your anxiety and fear will grow. Do you understand?” I wasn’t sure whether I was helping, but I just let the words form because they wanted to come out.

He nodded. “I miss her. I miss her so much.”

“And you’re angry at her, too. You’re angry because she chose to eat lobster.”

He winced. “I’m a horrible person. How can I blame her?”

“Because we always look for someone or something to blame in tragedy. It’s too difficult to accept that sometimes, life just happens. Sometimes, people fail us. Or they die on us and leave us to face the future alone. I understand. I’m a widow.”

He looked so wounded that I decided professionalism could suck rocks. I circled the table and gave him a gentle hug. “It will be okay. Now that you’re facing your emotions, you can work through them. You’ll always miss her, but you won’t be running from life anymore. I recommend you find a good therapist to help you through this,” I said. “I have a list of local therapists I can give you, if you like. They all have good reputations.”

I had put together a list of therapists when I realized that sometimes the people coming to me for readings would need more help than I could offer.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’d like that.”

We sat and talked for a while longer, until I was sure he was fit to drive. He left, the list in hand, reassured that his wife was all right, and that he hadn’t killed her. If only all questions in life could be answered with a reading, and a glimpse into the heart.

CHAPTER FIVE

After John left, I felt wrung out. I returned to my desk and stared at the receipt for his reading, wondering just how many of these sad tales I could handle. It seemed like every other reading involved someone looking for peace of mind. I wasn’t sure I was up for the job.

I glanced around the shop.

Even though I knew it was pie-in-the-sky, I had envisioned a line of clients eager for love, all hoping to start a new adventure in their lives.

In reality, I’d had one client for my matchmaking services, and then, Zandre scheduled. In the space of a month, I’d gone from being excited and enthusiastic to feeling like I was failing. I knew it was early to feel that way. All businesses took time to build. But I kind of felt like a giant going out of business sign was hanging over my head.

A glance at the clock showed that it was one-fifteen, and I decided to take a break. I didn’t feel like sitting here in an empty shop until Nightshade arrived.

I slung my purse over my shoulder and headed out, locking the door behind me. Once outside, the rain made me even more depressed. I loved the rain, but my spirits were about as gloomy as the sky. I thought about heading over to the Mocha Express to drown my sorrows in caffeine, but I didn’t want to bring Crystal down, and there was no way I could disguise how I felt. So, I slid into my new car, fastened my seatbelt, and decided to go for a drive.

Midnight Point—the island—wasn’t that big, but it had a sizable area of woodlands surrounding the town. I decided to drive up to Moonrise Preserve. A nature preserve, it was filled with thickets, walkways, some wetlands, and a large community berry picking spot—you paid a certain amount per pound of blueberries that you picked. It was only about a fifteen-minute drive from town, but by the time I got there, the rain had stopped and the sun had come out. Grateful for small blessings, I parked in the lot, put my wallet, phone, and keys in my pocket, slid my purse under the seat, and locked the car.

There were only two other cars in the lot, and I took a careful look at them. Even though Midnight Point seemed fairly safe, I had developed habits in Seattle that I wasn’t about to let go of. Safety first, especially for women.

The reception booth was closed except for the restrooms, given it wasn’t anywhere near berry season. Self-guided tour booklets were available on a magazine rack on the wall, and I took one. Moonrise Preserve had been around when I was little, but the last time I was here was when I was fourteen. A number of things had changed, but I had pleasant memories of picking berries under a warm July sun.

I glanced at the pamphlet. There were four main trails through the preserve. One was a half-hour walking loop, with a labyrinth in the middle. That took another fifteen or twenty minutes. The other three hikes ran from ten to fifteen minutes.

I glanced at the sky. The clouds were churning around the edges, though the sun might manage to hold out for another half hour. I decided on the fifteen-minute hike, called the Fern Valley Path. It led through the wetlands, which included a small pond.

“Okay, let’s see if this helps me make sense of my thoughts,” I whispered to myself as I set foot on the wooden walkway and headed into the thicket of marshy bogland.

As I wandered along the slatted walkway, which was raised just above the marshy bog, I paused and closed my eyes, letting the crisp breeze wash over me. It was chilly, but it felt cleansing, and I let out a breath and relaxed.

The silence was suddenly filled with noises that I hadn’t even noticed. The whirring of spring bugs, the sound of the wind, the ripple of little pools in the wetlands…each sound soothed my heart a little more. Finally, I opened my eyes and continued on, running my fingers gently along the wooden railing.

My thoughts returning to my disappointment, I wondered what I had expected, really? That I’d ride into town, make a big splash, create wedding after wedding? Even though I felt reluctant to admit it, the truth was that I wanted to matter. I wanted to make a difference in people’s lives.

“You’re impatient,” I whispered. “You expect too much, too fast.” But I quieted down as I noticed a woman coming my way from the opposite direction.

As she neared where I was standing, I first noticed that she was dressed in a yellow gingham sundress with a pair of floral rain boots on, and a matching rain jacket and bonnet. She looked like a ray of spring in the middle of the gloom, and her long copper hair gleamed, perfectly straight. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties, and she had a tote bag over her shoulder. She paused as she saw me and smiled, her face blooming.

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