Cold mid-December wind stung Priscilla’s cheeks, and froze her chapped lips where she had been licking them. She remained still beside Gregory, holding his hand, waiting for the bus to arrive. Inside she was bouncing and screaming. She didn’t want to put a shadow over their last time together this year, but holding her tongue when every instinct told her to speak was driving her mad. She had been waffling since the morning. At last she could hold her trepidation no longer.
Squeezing his hand tighter, staring at the road, Priscilla begged, “Don’t go.”
Gregory’s brown eyes closed. Thick lashes covered in melting snowflakes. “It’s my family. They expect me home for the holidays.”
“You know what the cards said.” She always ran a Tarot spread before either of them traveled.
Using their joined hands to draw her closer, Gregory engulfed her in a hug. “The Tower is not always a bad card. There are no bad cards, you always tell me that.”
“But this time, … you felt the energy.” She lifted her head to look intently into his face, searching for something. “Don’t pretend you didn’t feel it. Please don’t go mundane on me now.”
His forehead fell against hers. Their breaths puffed fog in the cold air between their nearly joined lips.
*Chaos is fairly normal on Christmas day.* he sent into her thoughts trying to reassure her. Images of past Christmases danced across their shared link.
*It wasn’t life-birth chaos.* The circling maelstrom of worry within her troubled mind would not stop. She sent back the energy vibration they had felt when the card fell into place on the spread, *Crisis –change – disruption – pain*
“It will be okay.” Comfort laced his voice in a way he could not layer in his private, more straightforward thoughts. Her lips were so close his touched hers when he moved his mouth to speak. His right hand, more accurately conveying the fear he felt, knotted in her hair, pressing her head forward. His mouth devoured hers as he sought comfort from and try to give calm to his soul mate.
Tears were streaming down her face when they broke apart. “Please, please, at least let me go with you. You saw, a Queen of Cups could change things. That’s my card. I should go.”
“And lose your job? Miss Solstice with your coven just as you move into primary point?” Threading both hands through her hair to massage the back of her head, he brought their foreheads together. *I will not have the Tower transfer to you.*
Beside them, the bus’ air brakes hissed.
Gregory started untangling his fingers. He had one hand fully free when Priscilla lips pressed together.
“Pl—,” his finger touched her lips.
“Don’t make me deny you a third time my love.”
Ashamed as she was about to require just such an action from him, Priscilla shook her head. “No, of course not.” She swallowed back her anxiety. “Travel well. May the wind be at your back and the sun warm your face.”
“Remain safe. May your garden grow green and your table stay filled.” Gregory gave her one last quick kiss before picking up his backpack and boarding the bus.
(words 537 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 9/22/2013 for the 7/8/12 Sunday Fun – – The original photo was of unknown copyright so did not put on my site – published on old blog 9/22/2013; republished in new blog format on 12/10/2017)