“Why are we doing this again?” Fitz asked.
“Pocket full of sunshine is awfully handy against Black Court vampires,” I said, “and plenty of other things that go bump in the night.”
Fitz draped the specially prepared handkerchief over his hands and frowned. “Okay. Now what?”
“You ever seePeter Pan?”
“I didn’t really grow up a Disney kid,” Fitz said wryly.
“Heh,” I said. “Okay. The basic idea is to gather your will. You focus it into a positive memory. Then as you do, you wrap the memory around the light as you fold the handkerchief closed. The memory will keep it trapped there for as long as you remember it and keep the fold intact, and you can whip it out all of a sudden if you need it.”
“That sounds…weird,” Fitz said.
“Try it,” I said.
So Fitz settled down and held the handkerchief out to the sunlight. He closed his eyes, breathed slowly and methodically, and frowned in concentration.
While he did that, Maggie popped open a can of Coke and brought it over to me. She passed it to me, grinning, and I answered her smile as I took it.
Fitz exhaled suddenly and folded the handkerchief closed, clumsily and unevenly. And he dropped it. There was a flash of light, like sunlight bouncing off a ripple in the water. “Stars and stones,” he complained, wincing.
“It’s okay,” I said. “Takes a little practice to put all that together. Try it again.”
He did, several more times, to little more success.
“Again,” I said calmly.
“In a minute.”
“Try again,” I said.
“It’s so easy,” he said, “how about you show me, great and mighty wizard?”
I paused.
See, the thing is…you have to be happy to catch sunshine like that. Truly happy. And that isn’t something you can pretend your way into.
I took the white handkerchief slowly and spread it out over my hands. I closed my eyes and lifted my hands to the light, feeling the warmth shining down on me. Surrounding me was the smell of green things. Warmth. The gentle snoring of the huge dog sprawled in the sun. Maggie and Michael were playing checkers on a board a few feet away. I could still taste the Coca-Cola in my mouth that my little girl had given me, smiling.
I thought of her smile.
Michael laughed gently at something Maggie said, and I knew just what it would look like and how it would crinkle the corners of his eyes.
I thought of Karrin, and the way her laughter would peal out in silvery tones when I’d said something that genuinely amused her.
And I felt at peace with every one of those memories.
With a whisper of will, I folded the cloth closed.
And felt the warm, steady glow of sunlight inside between my palms.
I opened my eyes, and the tears in them were not at all sad.
“Huh,” I said quietly. “How about that.”
Which is when I realized that peace and happiness aren’t the same thing. Not at all.
Happiness is peace in action.
