March 15th, 1124 - Cypress
I raked the dead leaves away from the tree in my garden. Everything was still wet from the recent thaw, but the air still nipped at my cheeks and fingers as early spring flowers braved the cold.
“You know,” I grumbled, glaring at Dahlia sunbathing, “this would go so much quicker if you could help.” She didn’t look up as she thumped her tail once. “I’m not going to sit with you. I need to get these leaves cleared for the moss to come back.” Dahlia sighed as if disappointed. I propped the rake against the fence before walking over to her. She looked up at me and I smiled. “Fine, let’s take a break. I’m hungry anyways.”
As I turned away Dahlia jumped up and shook the dirt from her coat. She trotted beside me as I headed back towards the house. My heart faltered when I focused on the gnarled tree in the yard. No leaf buds were forming on the branches.
I feel like I’m failing it, I whispered, biting at my lip. Dahlia licked my hand and I looked down at her. “I need to try.” She wagged her tail, ears perking. I stroked her head before walking to the house.
When I opened the back door, Dahlia walked away towards the barn. Stepping inside, I pulled off my boots and walked to the office. Atticus was reading over a document when I gently placed my hands on the back of his neck. The heat radiating off his skin was luxurious for the moment he stayed still. With a yelp, he jumped up and turned to me. I couldn’t suppress a giggle as he glared at me. He stepped toward me and I had the urge to flee. I held my hands out, trying to hold him at bay.
“Did you know that when you’re guilty your eyes open wider?” he asked, grasping my wrists and pulling me closer. His silver eye glittered as electricity rippled down his arms to my skin.
I bit my lip, trying to stop the tingling in my core. He pulled my arms up till my chest was flush against his stomach. I had to crane my neck back to keep eye contact as he looked down at me.
“I just wanted to ask you a question,” I murmured, feeling his arousal and playfulness in our touch.
Atticus raised an eyebrow.
“I want to heal the tree.”
He gently lowered my arms, but I didn’t step away from his embrace. I rested my cheek on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, as he stroked my hair.
“I’ll support you in whatever way I can,” he murmured. “Just tell me what you need.”
“I’m not really sure if I can heal it,” I whispered. “It’s still so angry and hurt.”
“I think you can.” His hands gripped my waist and lifted me.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and buried my face against his neck.
He guided my legs around his waist as he held me tight. “Why do you think you can’t?”
I pressed my lips together, letting his question roll around in my head. Insecurities wrapped around my heart. “Do you think my mom has faith in me to stop the beasts?”
After a few moments, Atticus said, “I don’t know, but I have a feeling there’s a reason she didn’t tell you how.”
“Like to protect me?”
“Hmmm.”
“It still hurts that she hasn’t written back... Like she wrote Titius!” Tears pricked my eyes. “I know I said hurtful things before I left and regret saying them.” I rubbed my face against his chest.
“I’m sorry that she hasn’t written you. I don’t think she is holding your words against you.”
My finger tightened on his shirt, my heart aching. “I miss her.”
