Page 3 of Treasured

I gave up believing in the old legends long ago. About the time my parents died and I went to live with Aunt Max. What's the point of having three parents if they all die in one horrific plane crash?

So much for the Great Spirit who is supposed to love and protect us all with benevolence. Where was all of that when their plane plunged to the ground?

Ten years later and I still have to bury my face in my pillow when I imagine their last few moments.

I guess that made me a bit of a freak in Eagle Canyon. No parents and no twin brothers. No brothers or sisters at all. Just me. Alone.

Well, I had Aunt Max. I have no idea why she didn’t have husbands or children, but she took me in and together we did the best we could.

I’ve treated her worse than I did Creed and Jake. And I was a total jerk to them.

I blow out a breath. No point in dwelling on that. Those harsh memories quickly vanquish the residual glow of that hot dream too. Figures.

I take another inhale of the coffee aroma floating on the morning air, toss on my robe and make my way to the kitchen.

Aunt Max greets me with a smile and passes over a steaming mug of coffee which I cup between both my hands and sip appreciatively. It's a cool morning and the hot drink feels good in my hands and tummy.

"Thanks, Aunt Max," I say, taking a seat at the round table near the window of her kitchen. It's as familiar and comfortable to me as the bedroom upstairs with the old quilt on the bed.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks. To the uninitiated, this might appear to be an innocent question, but I know that it's loaded with meaning, however, I'm in the mood to taunt my aunt a little bit.

"Yes, I did. Must have been that chamomile tea I had before bed."

She purses her lips and looks at me down the straight line of her nose. "I checked on you during the night. You slept like a baby. And don't tell me you weren't having a good dream just now because I heard you moaning. Why do you insist on rejecting the traditional ways? For the first time in two weeks you did not have a nightmare and I know you had a nice dream. It was the dreamcatcher keeping the nightmares away and only allowing good, happy dreams to pass through."

"You heard me moan?" Ohmygod. I might die of humiliation.

She smiles like the cat that ate the canary. "I certainly did. Why do you think I shouted for you when I did? I'm happy that you had a ... pleasant... dream but I sure do not want to listen to you making love to Creed and Jake."

Coffee sputters from my mouth. "H-how did you know it was them?"

She raises one dark brow at me in a look that says,how stupid do you think I am? It is one I have seen hundreds of times in my life for everything from a 'lost' report card to my lame excuses for missing my curfew.

And despite my grown-up age of twenty-four, it still makes me squirm.

"When are you going to let them know you are here?" she asks. I have to give her credit, she's held off for two weeks on asking the question.

"I-I can't," I whisper. "Too much time has passed."

"The arrow of love is eternal. It has no understanding of time."

I just gape at her, unable to say anything. She clings to all of the traditions and I won't disrespect her by mocking her beliefs.

I love her too much for that. But, I’m still skeptical. Very skeptical.

She finally takes her gaze off of me and turns back to the stove. "Your breakfast will be ready in a minute. Why don't you set the table for us? After breakfast, you'll need to hurry and get ready so we can go to Stitch and Bitch."

"Stitch and what?" I say, nearly dropping the plates I've taken from the cupboard over the sink.

"It's a knitting group that meets every month. Isn't that the sort of fancy thing they do in the city? I thought you'd like to go and meet people your own age. Maybe see some old friends."

My breath hitches and I turn away to put the plates on the table, my hands shaking. "I-I don't know..."

"Well, I do," Aunt Max says, slipping a couple of sunny-side-up eggs onto my plate and then the same on hers. "You've had two weeks of catching up on sleep and moping around. It's time to get on with things."

"I don't know how to knit!" I say. Surely no one would expect a craft-challenged person such as myself to attend.

"Well, now you can learn."

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