Page 52 of Marked By Shadows

“Fine, you’d have ideas that I could MacGyver. At least you didn’t ask who that was and make me feel old,” Alex said.

“My mom was madly in love with him. My dad thought he was stupid, but let her watch the reruns for years, even bought her the boxset of all the seasons a couple years back. But making duct tape lockpicks? Yeah, not my level of craft. What else?”

Alex grinned. “I love your freckles. I know you hate them, but I love them. And your eyes.” He sighed. “Those are physical things so let me think more… I love the way you engage on the kid’s tour. The voices, the animation, the life you give to the stories you tell. I can tell you care, not just about the history of the city, but about those kids.”

“I want them to like history. History is important.”

“Especially with how bad the American education system is with history, but that’s not what I mean. You create a sense of magic around a lot of the things you do. The stories, the art, the creativity, and the passion for the shop. Even those goofy shirts you think up sayings for and design. That’s all part of the magic.”

“I’m not really magic,” I whispered. What would happen when that magic bubble burst and he saw me for who I really was?

“Oh, I know. You’re not magic. And I never said you were. See, people aren’t magic. But only people can create it. Magic is an emotion. A stilling of your breath as you stare at a painting or hear a song that gives you goose bumps. The way you tell stories, the way you craft, those things make people stop and breathe. Sometimes think. The ones who can at least. There will always be those who are brain dead.” Alex smiled and patted my knee. “Don’t discount your magic. Not everyone finds theirs.”

“Yours might be the quilting,” I pointed out, feeling a little teary-eyed suddenly.

“Maybe,” Alex said. “Just know that when I look at you, I see Micah. Who teases me, and makes me smile, who dances with me, and is patient when I ask stupid questions about a world I wasn’t part of for a long time. And who creates magical things to cast away the fear and anxiety and build a new future. I’m thrilled that you let me be a part of it. Whatever this future is you’re building.”

I felt something inside shift, like some wall cracking, or ice chipping away from a part of me I hadn’t realized had been broken. Sometimes Alex really said stuff that blew me away. His magic, I realized in that moment. Not the sewing, or at least not only his new quilting skills, but his ability to see past the façade. Alex wasn’t fooled by masks or pretty words; he saw down to the soul.

“Are you crying? Did I do bad? I’m sorry,” Alex said.

“No,” I sniffled and wiped my eyes with the shoulders of my shirt. “Something in my eye.” Like having a boyfriend who got me.

“Right. Super dusty in this brand-new rental car with the windows shut and air on.”

“Jerk,” I grumbled at him.

“Do you need more praise?”

“Your brother is right, you are an asshole.”

“But your asshole,” Alex agreed. “You can play with it later. Or I can play with yours. Or we can cuddle. I’m good with it all. It’s weird that it’s dark so early.”

“It’s barely after seven,” I pointed out, “not that early. This is normal back home too. It is November.” It wasn’t completely dark yet. An orange glow met the horizon in a narrow band leaving a tiny glimpse of the disappearing daylight.

“Are we taking the scenic route back to the B&B?” Alex asked, staring out at a few passing fields and a lot of trees. The area surrounding the road was heavily wooded. “This isn’t one of those haunted roads is it?”

“Um, I think all roads in Texas are haunted. But no, not scenic route. Just not the highways. I didn’t want to take the long way around. Are you seeing anything weird?” I glanced at him, trying to keep my eyes on the road as this was also deer country. I didn’t need to hit a deer because I wasn’t paying attention.

“A feeling,” Alex said. “Not seeing anything but dark and trees. But anxiety…”

“I don’t feel anything.” Nothing other than normal apprehension for driving on country roads with the oncoming dark. “Keep an eye out for deer or other animals. Cows maybe.” I said as we passed a small field that looked like it could have been a pasture of some kind, then we were back in the trees.

“Cows are not small animals.”

“But common here in Texas.”

“Didn’t know Texas had so many trees,” Alex muttered, his gaze locked on the road and the surrounding area.

“Parts of it,” I said. “The west side of the state is pretty gross. If you drive across to say get to New Mexico or something. Lot of cattle farms. You can smell them for miles. Makes me question eating beef every time I pass.”

“Gross,” Alex said. “Well, not beef. I love beef, but the stink. I can imagine.”

“No. Most people can’t really get the true ick of it until they get close. Imagine regular cow farm times ten thousand and there you go.” I’d driven that way twice, both for conventions, and would never do it again. Next time if I had to go that far west, I’d fly.

“Totally gross,” Alex said.

Suddenly he gasped, and I reacted by slamming my foot on the brake as a shadow streaked into the road.