Page 23 of The Witch's Cottage
Harrison has never been particularly interested in getting to know anyone else, aside from Selene, of course. He and my mother are something akin to mortal enemies, and he didn’t have a chance to meet Auntie before she passed, which saddens me, as I feel they would’ve been fast friends. So seeing him sit beside Alden like this, a few feet apart but still sharing the same space, gives me a blooming of warmth in my chest.
For a short while, the only sounds surrounding us are the creak of the rocking chair, the crackling of the fire, and the clinking of my knitting needles. Alden turns from where he’s sitting on the floor, arms crossed over his knees, and glances back at me.
“Thank you,” he says, voice so quiet I almost don’t hear it.
I pause my knitting. “For what?”
Alden doesn’t respond right away. He just stares at me, eyes looking heavy. The fire casts a warm glow across his bearded chin and sends shadows dancing on the parlor walls. Eventually, he says, “Everything.”
Putting my knitting back into the basket, I stand from the rocking chair and join Harrison and Alden before the fire. Alden shifts so that I can lean my head against his shoulder,his long hair tickling my neck, and when I hold my hand out to Harrison, he walks over to join me, pressing his head into my palm.
“He seems okay,” Harrison says, taking a seat before me and wrapping his tail around his paws. He stares up at Alden with his big green eyes. “I’m not sure I like him yet, but I sense a softness in him. He’ll be kind to you.”
“I think so too,” I say softly. When I glance up at Alden’s face, he’s got a confused furrow in his brow.
“Are you talking to the cat?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm.”
“And . . . does it talk back?”
I let out a small giggle while Harrison flicks his tail in annoyance.
“Yes,hedoes. Harrison and I are spirit companions; it allows us to communicate with each other in ways others can’t.”
Alden seems to mull over this for a moment.
“Seems a few sandwiches short of a picnic though, doesn’t he?” Harrison says.
Lifting a hand to my mouth, I try to stifle my giggle.
“What’s he saying now?” Alden asks.
I swear a little smile curls across Harrison’s fuzzy white lips.
“He wants to know if you’d like to go on a picnic.”
Now Harrison’s green eyes are on me. “That isnotwhat I said.”
“Really?” Alden asks. “Hmm.” He reaches up to scratch his beard, and the movement sends his comforting scent—like freshly split wood with a hint of evergreen—washing over me. “I didn’t think he liked me.”
“I’m not sure I do yet.”
The fire crackles, tossing light across the three of us, and I just smile.
A short time later, Harrison loses interest in us and heads upstairs, his little paws thumping on the stairs as he goes. I wiggle closer to Alden, and he turns his head to press a kiss into my hair. Reaching down, I trace the folds in his soft brown trousers with my pointer finger.
“Alden?” I whisper, feeling nervous about what I want to ask.
“Hmm?”
The fire sends up sparks as I gather my courage.
“Why have you been so lonely?”
The muscles in Alden’s shoulder stiffen, and it takes a few moments for them to unwind. He lets out a long breath.
“I was to be wed,” he says.
