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Waylon had noticed.
His head jerked up, shock registering on his face for an instant, before he covered it with his usual stoicism and a sip of wine. Cautiously, he turned his eyes to the empty chair on his left.
He stared, frozen, only his chest rising and falling in a slow cadence, as if by controlling his breathing, he could somehow control this thing he was experiencing.
His eyes glistened, unshed tears reflecting more of the candlelight. The edge of lips curled up just the tiniest bit as he looked and looked at nothing. There was nothing there. Nothing to see.
Not for the rest of us, anyway.
I watched him. Watched his eyes drop to his plate. He raised his hands from where they’d fallen into his lap moments ago, and he smiled to himself as he took his fork and speared the biggest dumpling and slid it onto the plate for the dead. A big brother, making sure his baby sister got her favorite piece.
That empty chair wasn’t empty for him.
Loretta sat there tonight.
He caught my eye across the table and did a double take. He smiled sadly, a little embarrassed, as if he didn’t quite believe, or didn’t know if heshouldbelieve it.
I nodded and wiped tears out of my own eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d been so affected by his visit. But I needed to assure him of something. Letting him know that whatever this was, it was powerful. It was real.
And this night was forhim.
After dinner, Bethany was the first to break the silence. “Whew! I didn’t know how much longer I was going to last.”
George slapped some money into Waylon’s palm. And Bethany elbowed him in the ribs.
“Don’t get mad at me. My money was on Gus,” George said defensively.
Everyone helped clear the table and put the food away. I made them take most of it back home with them. After they left—it was a school night after all—I wrapped a thin woven blanket around my shoulders and headed outside.
“What’s with the shawl? I thought your people lit bonfires and danced naked around them on Samhain.” Gus’s deep voice curled around me.
“My people?”
“Witches,” he smiled.
“That sounds more like Bethany’s idea of a good time.”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to you dancing naked around here.”
“You say that now.”
I slowly turned my head, giving him a playful smirk. I’d love for him to prove me wrong.
“How’s your hand after all that cooking?”
He flexed the first three fingers of his right hand. “I hardly feel it anymore, but it’s still stiff. I can’t do my cross the right way; I looklike the icons of the Saints with the hands doing the blessing… At least it’s my non-dominant hand.”
He still couldn’t bend his ring and pinky finger where his gardening knife went through his palm. It would probably take months to gain full function. In the meantime, I’d banned him from using knives. Something told me he disregarded that today.
He reached down for my wineglass—with his left hand—and put it to his own lips. His eyes burned into mine as he drank slowly and deeply. Below his beard, his Adam’s apple marked an audible swallow.
His expression was intent, almost predatory.
My eyes strayed to the unlit logs in the fire circle.
The harsh floodlight from the garage highlighted the cold emptiness I felt, even after all the joy that Gus had filled this house with just a short time ago. Maybe it was a side effect from all the people who had emptied out of it, leaving me with my memories and a husband who sometimes wanted me, but not really.
Gus’s voice was a whisper. His breath lifted the hairs around my face, making me shiver and draw my shawl tighter over my shoulders. “There’s one more thing you need to do tonight.” He pulled out a lighter and moved toward the firepit.
