“I’ll have my office call you.” With a kiss on my cheek that lingered slightly longer than a peck, he stepped out. “In three weeks, everything will be settled, Simone. You’ll see.”
Three weeks. It felt like an eternity.
CHAPTER 29
Ispent the remainder of Sunday writing a note to Gabe. It was too much for a text, and he didn't answer my phone calls. Probably because he thought it was a stranger who kept calling the wrong number.
I needed to make headway with him. I was terrified our relationship was permanently damaged. And I had no idea what Jeff was saying to him about the mother he’d forgotten. Did he have a sense of loss? Or was he thriving without the weight of a difficult mother holding him down?
I wrote myself raw in the note. There were things I wanted to say in person, and if I rambled about magic and discovering I was a witch, I’d just sound like a crazy woman. But I reiterated how proud I was of the young man he’d become and how our problems were a result of my own issues and nothing he’d ever done. I must have used the wordsI’m sorrya dozen times over two pages, but I didn’t care.
I couldn’t repair things overnight. But I needed to clear the infectious parts of our wounded relationship to give us a chance to heal. I folded the paper and tucked it into an envelope, writing his name in red, his favorite color.
Holding the letter in front of my face, I closed my eyes and channeled all my energy into my throat. It hummed, the vibration coming from the floorboards beneath me. When I finally spoke, my voice had a different timbre. It was deeper and richer. I liked it.
“This letter will find its way to my son Gabe. When he touchesit, the hex I placed on him nine days ago will break. He will remember I exist and read it with an open heart.” There was more I wanted to say. I wanted to command him to forgive me. To reach out immediately.
But I couldn’t do that to him. I needed to be more conscious about the way I used my power. I couldn’t manipulate or force anyone. I didn’t mind undoing my curse, but I couldn’t undo the past no matter how much I wanted to.
“The rest will be up to Gabe.”
I opened my eyes when the letter disappeared.
That night I crawled into bed focused on my therapy clinic downstairs. I’d changed the waiting area on my first day, but throughout the week the main office held the same tired, boring look it had when I first arrived.
I had to hope that Doug would keep his appointment, and I’d promised him things would be different. I wanted to keep that promise.
It was time for me to be different, too.
I loved my second-natured empathy. It was a gift that I read other people’s emotions and carried them with my own. A gift I could and should use to be the most effective therapist possible.
But for too long, I’d swung between hyper-emotional self-sabotage and callous disregard for others. It was time to strike the right balance. To know myself well enough that I could trust my choices.
And to use that confidence, and my natural gifts, to help others. The way I’d wanted to back when I was fresh out of high school and eager about my future.
I’d done everything I could to rectify my mistakes. It was time to let things play out.
As I drifted to sleep, for the first time in longer than I could recall, I felt good about myself. Empowered and strong.
And just like that, I could see the therapy room. I drifted off to sleep, a smile teasing my lips.
I couldn’t wait to go to work in the morning.
CHAPTER 30
Isquealed as I surveyed the office, jumping up and down and clapping my hands like a little girl who discovered a magic machine that spits out pancakes.
It. Was. Perfection.
Gone was the dark wood and stuffy furniture. Gone was the tell-me-about-your-mother couch. Gone was the heavy desk barricading me from my clients.
A massive window on the far wall reflected a tranquil basin that surrounded Bridge Island. Birds took flight and water bugs danced along the surface of the water. Norbert the gator cut through the sheen, cast one eye in my direction, then continued past. Moss dripped from trees, their knobby knees poking up around their trunks.
It was the view from my park bench.
Several large, potted plants with leafy evergreens surrounded the base of the window. Long, beige curtains framed the view. There were several lamps of brushed gold with drum-shaped lamp shades in a simple white.
In the center of the room, atop a lovely throw rug that swirled tan, cream, and sage, were two chairs opposite a matching couch. All three were invitingly soft, with thick cushions and simple legs of light wood. The arrangement gave me options, and I didn’t need a desk in here when I had a perfect one upstairs.
