Page 18 of Sweet Silver Bells

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

“ W ho is this?” Olivia demanded the next morning.

Something sharp poked his chin, so Hunter forced his eyes open, his body sore from another night on the couch. A lone bird was chirping as the light flooded the house. It was early, far too early.

Olivia stood over him, wearing his oversized clothes again, with a framed photo in her hand. It was another photo of Sarah, in her wedding dress, arm in arm with Hunter, carrying a bouquet of red roses. They were both smiling, happy, in love, and safe.

“Where did you find that?” he asked, sitting up, taking it from her, and running his fingers over Sarah’s face. It was the opposite of Olivia’s; there was no mystery there, no hollowness, only proof of a thriving life. She had brought so much of that life to him.

“It was behind some boxes in the back of your closet. Is that her? Your wife?”

Hunter looked up into Olivia’s face. There was an eagerness there for this discussion. Although he wasn’t entirely ready, he might as well try.

“She died three years ago this coming May,” he said. “She was a scientist working with food preservatives. The chemical she worked with sucked all the oxygen out of the room, and three others died with her.”

Hunter let himself live in the silence that grew between them, the both of them processing a life he’d lived that Olivia would never know.

“She was the love of my life, Olivia. I never could express the pain that I have been dealing with. It’s as if my heart had gone missing. I loved her. I loved her more than I’ve loved anything, anyone. When she died, I died too.”

Olivia nodded. “When I was young, I hoped to marry a man who could speak so romantically. To be his sun.”

Hunter smiled softly and took the frame out of Olivia’s hands, setting it beside him on the couch. “You are no sun, Olivia.”

She frowned, chin down. His words had hurt her. She started to pull away.

“Let me finish,” he said, his gentle grip tightening, finding bravery in their new, fragile relationship.

“You are the moon, you are the stars, a candle aflame. The only light is when darkness wraps itself around you. You are a cool breeze on my face, reminding me that I am here and alive and can keep living.”

Olivia’s hands went limp in his. She raised her chin, her eyes gleaming from held-back tears.

“I’m sorry, Olivia, I’m broken. But I am trying to heal. I really am trying. Maybe it's all for you.”

“I’m broken, too,” she said. “And maybe your words, your song can mend me.”

“My song?”

“Thank you,” she said before grabbing the frame from the couch. “I can go put this back. It just seemed so hidden, so lonely. It made me sad for her.”

“Like I was sad to hear that you hid away in a tree.”

Olivia nodded.

Hunter stood. “How about I make some coffee? We’ve got a big night tonight. Are you sure you want to go? You don’t have to. My colleagues' peer pressure isn’t serious.”

“I’ll go,” she said with a sad smile. “I’ve never been to a holiday market before.”

“I’ll see if we can get you some more clothes,” he said, walking over to the kitchen, swiping his phone off the counter, and texting his mom. Before he could grab the kettle off the gas stove, his phone dinged, a reply back on his unlocked home screen.

Mom 6:33 am:

I WOULD LOVE TO.

The oven squeaked as Hunter opened it. Decorative oven mitts covered his hands, and he pulled out a hot sheet pan with the only gourmet single-guy meal he had the ingredients stocked to make.

Olivia had been zipping around the house, humming to the poinsettias and mistletoe, making them all grow before Hunter’s eyes, their colors and brilliance illuminating like expensive fake house plants he remembered seeing at open houses.

Hunter watched as Olivia kissed their petals, and he couldn’t tell if he was imagining it, but he thought he could hear them coo back to her, babies cheering in delight as the rolls under their chins were tickled. She was quirky, and he liked it; he liked it so much.

“What are these?” Olivia skipped into the kitchen, a stack of thick gilded cards in her hands, vivid with silver and mystical etchings.

“Those were one of Sarah’s newer hobbies—tarot cards. They are supposed to tell you about the future, the past. I’ve tried to learn, too, but didn’t get very far.”

“What is that then?” Olivia followed as Hunter threw the hot pan down on the stovetop.

“Tortilla chips with melted cheese,” Hunter said. “This breakfast has gotten me through many hard days.”

“Is today going to be a hard day?”

Hunter turned, her face inches away from his, and realised he was already so comfortable with her.

He was getting more used to her forwardness, her assertiveness, her possession of him, of sorts.

It was a very different type of belonging than how he held onto her, a silent worship that existed from more of a distance.

Hunter preferred to watch, to observe, to feel safe.

Safe was the opposite of Olivia.

“What do your cards tell you about me, Hunter?” Olivia asked, holding out the deck to him. He took it and looked down at the drawing of a woman with her head up towards the sky.

He didn’t know what it meant. He hadn’t a clue.

“Your magic, your power, whatever you call it, did your parents have it too?” he asked.

Olivia shook her head no. “I watched my mother grow sad and cold as she tried her best to help me cover it up. No one knew where it came from.”

“Are there others like you?” Hunter sloppily shuffled the cards in his hand.

“I don’t know. I’ve been alone my entire life in this.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. She must have been so lonely.

“What would you ask the cards if I knew how to read them better?”

Olivia paused, considering. “I would ask them if you are the right one. If you are who I am looking for.”

Hunter held his breath. She was so forward that he didn’t have enough time to explore his own heart before he could decide. His consciousness filled with light and dark, pulling him like a rope in a tug of war. The dark often won; Olivia often won over his voice of reason.

“What if I am?”

“Then you better be sure, Hunter. Because I will never let go once you tell me not to.”

Did he want that?

He couldn’t be sure what was real, what was haze, what was spell. If he told her no, would this all just disappear? Could he even go back to what his pathetic life was before he met a maiden in a forest, before he offered to be a shining white knight, before the universe laughed at his intentions?

Hunter set the cards on a pile of papers and junk on the back countertop as Olivia walked up to the pan and sniffed, taking a chip and watching as the cheese pulled, long and stringy.

She frowned, put it back and turned to walk away, back to singing to the poinsettia, back to exploring every drawer that he had in this house.

He grabbed her hand, stopping her, and she snapped into him, her body so close, her warmth radiating onto him.

“Today will be a lot. I don’t blame you if you change your mind or’d rather not go. I can stay here with you, too. Honestly, I would be perfectly content to watch a movie with you, maybe talk a little.”

“A movie?” Olivia frowned.

“Moving pictures. They tell a story, remember? On the TV?”

Olivia crossed her arms over her chest. “You were supposed to get rid of it. The tree, it’s too uncomfortable; it's crying out for help. I thought you, Hunter, would understand and take action.”

Hunter rolled his eyes.

“Silly me for wanting to spend some time with you, for thinking I could have you all to myself.”

“This isn’t about me,” Olivia scoffed. “This is about the tree. And how dare you hold me to blame for your feelings of insecurity?”

Hunter watched her stomp out of the kitchen.

Insecurity? How am I insecure?

“Why are you mad, Olivia?”

Get real. She’s right. You’re incredibly insecure about yourself, about her, about what Sarah might think.

“Because I’ll have to sing to make you listen to me, but then you won’t really be there. Not in the way I need you. I thought you could be someone real in my life, someone I can count on, like the roots under the ground. Not someone I would have to control.”

Hunter felt his heart skip a beat, fear inching its way back in as he stared at the sweet, sad, and fallen face of a real monster, an enchantress whom he treated as someone kind, someone loving, and gentle.

My tree siren.

It was a cute pet name for his inner monologue, but perhaps it covered up the very real threat that she did possess, that she could hold over his head: that she held his free will in the palm of her hands.

She needed to go back to the forest.

“You would do that? Even now?” Hunter asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. She heard him, though, judging by the way her body tightened and how her shoulders pulled closer together. Olivia stood, keeping her back towards him until, after a few breaths, her head fell, a show of defeat.

Hunter, so filled with adrenaline that he kept inside, that he felt obligated to hide from view, reached his hand out for her shoulder, but then let it fall.

She will control you, strip you of your autonomy . That cannot turn into a relationship, so what are you doing here with her?

This was an dishonor to Sarah. The idea that this could have been anything more than a rebound was a joke.

“I would,” Olivia admitted. “I will protect myself, Hunter. Just like I’ve always had to.”

Pain—she carried so much pain. That, Hunter could understand. That, he related to. Her grief, her despair, knowing that who you once were could never exist again, so you then begin to mourn yourself, your smiles, your laughs, your genuine hope and excitement for a future that would never exist.

Fuck it.