of the rainbow mural. I looked away, not wanting to think about the mess I had
caused.
Once we reached the door to Gram's bedroom, Cole wrapped his arms
around me and gently kissed me. "Love you, Mar."
"I love you, too."
He reluctantly released me from his embrace, kissed me on the cheek, and
walked down the rest of the hallway into the guest room. The same room that had once belonged to my parents.
I watched him go for a minute before I closed my eyes. “Goddess, please,
protect all those who sleep in this house tonight.”
Chapter
Seven
When I entered the room, Meg and Gram were sleeping. I changed
into the long T-shirt that my grandmother had left for me at the end
of the bed. It was one of my grandfather's.
Chester Veracor was a tall, handsome man with silver hair. His
blue eyes held a mischievous sparkle, especially when he teased Gram. I was only nine years old when he died, but I remembered spending time with him while he worked on his creations.
His work area was behind the house in a wood building that he called a barn.
Gramp had told me it was once full of animals that lived on the property. They
would roam the forest behind us during the day, looking for food, and then return
to the barn for shelter at nightfall. We had a small, covered area that my grandfather had designed to provide them with shelter from the weather.
Gramp's workshop was his pride and joy. He used it to build furniture to sell
at the market and for improvements around the house. As he sanded, stained, painted, and polished his wood creations, he would tell me stories about his life
had been growing up. Whenever I smell fresh-cut wood, my mind is transported
back to the time I spent with him.
Suddenly feeling exhausted, I pushed away my memories. I put my clothes
into the hamper in the master bathroom and skipped brushing my teeth or even
washing my face. I wanted – no, I needed – to just sleep.
I climbed into the big bed beside my sister, and I nestled into the feather
mattress pad. The large mauve comforter was warm, and the sheets were so soft.
My grandmother had a gift for making the most comfortable beds. It was like being stuffed between two fluffy clouds.
Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the lavender, cinnamon, and vanilla
intermingled with the freshness of the linens. The grandfather clock chimed ten
times. It seemed so much later to me.
As I lay, listening to the soft breathing of my grandmother and sister, the moonlight cast a small light on the ceiling and the glitter in the paint sparkled.
When I was a little girl, I would stare at the ceiling and count the stars. The soft
tick of the clock with the comforting chimes broke into my thoughts reminding
me to sleep. Slowly, counting back from one thousand, I deeply inhaled, again,
willing myself to just let go and sleep. Nothing was going to be resolved in my
mind tonight.
