including the yellow rue.
Still whispering, she said, “He will have to choose whether he will make the
promise or not – just like you did.”
Did we really have a choice? I wasn’t certain of the answer. It seemed our
lives were predetermined.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
While we waited for Cole, I allowed myself to take in my
surroundings. The furniture in the large, round room was centered
around the stone table. In each section, there was a distinct feeling
of purpose and meaning. As you came down the circular staircase
and entered the chamber, you were greeted by bookcases and large chests that held herbs, potions, and spells. It gave off an air of secrets and knowledge.
Following the curved design of the space, clockwise, I stopped at a small
sitting area that held two red wingchairs with a small, square bronze table between them. The table held a large, white candle surrounded by four smaller
candles. Behind it was a large, abstract painting filled with streaks of red, orange, yellow, white, and gray.
The art provoked odd feelings from inside me. If I stroked my fingers along
the colors, I was confident I would feel the biting sting of a burn. Even with the
intense sensation, it surprisingly still seemed inviting, offering warmth and comfort.
Continuing my inspection, I paused at the next area. This space contained a
silver water fountain with a statue sculpted to resemble a splash of water, rising
from its base. The burst of water held an elegant woman's hand that cupped a large tree, presenting it for all to see. It was not running, but I could almost hear
the flow of the calming liquid. Shaking off the call that was luring me to relax
and rest, I continued scanning the room.
The final section was to the right of the staircase. This space held a wooden table and a green chair. They appeared to be sized for a child. The wall above them was covered with a collection of art while the floor below had hand-painted flowers. Unable to fight off my curiosity, I stepped closer for a better look.
Most of the paintings were of trees in various stages of life. The flowers were all in their brightest bloom. The gentle strokes of detail and bold colors of
green, brown, orange, and red were definitely the work of Sarah. As I absorbed
each picture, a sense of change, growth, and new life surrounded me.
In the center of the works was a black and white circle of sketches. These sketches were of Cole as he had grown. They began with him as a small baby with bright eyes smiling, a toddler chasing a butterfly, a young boy with a toothy
grin, proudly showing his catch – a trout that was almost as big as he was – and
a young man, pushing a girl on a swing.
I ran my fingers over the image of the girl and smiled. Sarah had captured the feeling of pure happiness I had felt that day on the swing. I was filled with a
sense of deep love and echoes of giggles vibrated in the air.
I was brought back to the moment by Gram’s soft touch. Squeezing her hand
gently, I turned my attention towards Cole. We watched quietly as he looked into
the box. After a few minutes, he softly whispered something, and then closed the
container. As he came over to join us, I noticed he had put the ring on his small
finger.
“I was here before,” Cole murmured.
Cole looked as if he had seen a ghost. Words that were probably never truer.
The pain I had seen in him after Sarah's death had returned.
