Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78466 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Sam grinned at his son. “I’ll have the beer, thank you.”
Kola got it for him, using one of the limes I’d cut earlier for my mojito, and pushed it into the neck of the bottle.
I told Sam to pass me his suit jacket, and after he gave it to me, he took a seat at the island on one of the stools and started to eat as the girls began to chant. I watched Sam as he listened. First, they did a short invocation about the log and about it burning and the wheel of life turning, and then there was a blessing about solstice and abundance for the coming year.
“That wasn’t horrible,” Sam said under his breath, taking a long swig of his beer after eating a few bites.
“So why did you need to go in on a Saturday?” I asked him, having wondered since he left that morning.
“Task force with the DEA,” he groaned. “They have a high-profile drug smuggler they want to pick up who used to operate out of Vegas, and apparently I have two of the marshals who were undercover there working for me here.”
“So they want to do what, borrow them?”
He grunted.
“But you won’t let them.”
“If you want my guys, then it becomes my op. Period.”
“That’s very ‘my way or the highway’ of you.”
“I don’t care,” he assured me, making a face. “I’ve had too many people get hurt when my office doesn’t call the shots. When someone shows up with a better track record than me…then I’ll consider taking a back seat. Until then—it’s my fuckin’ sandbox.”
I chuckled.
“What?”
“You’re a father in every area of your life.”
“That’s not being a father, that’s––”
“Hey.”
Sam stopped arguing with me and turned as his daughter walked into the kitchen. She pushed the cowl back so we could see her face as she reached the stool beside her father.
“I really appreciate you being so open-minded about this,” she told him. “Brian’s dad threw all his books on Wicca away, and Jill’s mom got rid of all her jewelry that she thought was pagan, even though most of it came from Hot Topic.”
Sam cleared his throat. “Can I ask a question?”
“Of course,” she said brightly, smiling at him.
“Are you still Catholic?”
“Yes,” she said, thinking about it. “I don’t think my feelings about being a witch and my other beliefs are in conflict at the moment. I’m surprised how many things got taken from the pagan traditions, but I also have faith in things I’ve believed in since I was really small, so…like I said, at the moment, I still have my faith.”
“Okay,” Sam said, taking another drink of his beer before he started eating again.
“But you’ll still love me if I become only Wiccan, yeah?”
He nodded as he chewed.
“I mean, Kola is thinking about becoming a Buddhist.”
Sam did a slow turn to him.
“There’s an awful lot that makes sense there, Dad.”
Sam’s gaze was on me.
“I will always go to church with you, even though, as you know, my favorite part is where everyone shakes hands at the beginning.”
He sighed deeply.
“We will always get a tree and put Rudolph on the roof.”
“I’m calling it a Yule tree now, though, Dad, but you can still call it a Christmas tree.”
He nodded and continued to eat.
Kola carried out snacks for Hannah’s coven as she ladled the wassail into cups. I watched her, leaning on the counter as she put a cinnamon stick in each one.
“I’ll bet you money,” I teased her, “that everyone wants hot chocolate instead and no one touches the wassail.”
“It’s traditional for solstice and Yule celebrations,” she insisted, taking the tray of cups out, shooting me a look before she left.
“He’s gonna leave for college,” Sam told me, and I knew that this was on his mind as much as mine. “And he’s gonna do things and meet people, and we’re not gonna know about any of it unless he tells us or he gets in trouble.”
“I know.”
“He’ll go off to California and be a Buddhist.”
I tried really hard not to smile.
“You know most people stay and live wherever they go to school.”
“Many do, yes,” I agreed.
“And I mean, California, that’s a pretty good state, and he’s gonna love the climate, and—I mean, what if he meets someone and falls in love and that person will be from California, of course, and then he stays there to get married and work and––”
“Maybe we don’t have him married the first year, huh?”
“Yeah, no,” he agreed, taking a breath, shaking his head, “I just––”
“I know,” I soothed him, taking his hand. “I’m freaking out too. And her,” I said, sighing as I looked out into the living room. “She’s like us and so very, very different.”
“She’s fearless, and it scares the crap outta me,” he confessed, the misery all over his face. “She’s ready to take on anybody and anything, and I worry what will happen when she finally bumps up against something she can’t charm, break, or move all on her own.”