To distract myself, I share my plan for hanging the plants with Jake, who listens intently before setting his ladder up to check for studs.
Of course he has a stud finder.
As he reaches over his head with the thing, I wonder what else he has in that tool belt man-apron. He’s like a male Mary Poppins, all kind and chipper and intelligent, withcreative solutions for seemingly mundane problems. He’s even humming something while he works. I think it’s Vivaldi. And he’s beautiful too—tall, dark, and handsome. But not magical. Not in the way Mary Poppins was, anyway.
Or the way I am.
As I hand Jake a drywall screw, I wonder what he’d make of my gifts. I know better than to share them outright. I learned the hard way what happens when people who’ve shut off their own connections to what is colloquially known as magic become aware of the people who haven’t.
Oil and water have nothing on that dynamic. Witch hunts are very real and still ongoing. I have no desire to be vilified again or burned at the stake, either literally or figuratively, for owning my Power, using my gifts, and honoring the old ways of collective care. I’m only just now getting my verve back.
“Does this one have a name?” Jake asks as I hand him the Lipstick Plant.
“She hasn’t shared it with me yet. But this type of plant is called a lipstick plant, or Aeschynanthus if you’re into scientific names.”
He chuckles. “I’ll stick with lipstick plant on this one. And I can see it too. The flowers kind of look like lipstick tubes.” He climbs down from the ladder and takes a few steps back, examining his handiwork. “She looks good there.”
I smile, nodding my agreement. “And she’s going to absolutely love the morning sunlight. They all will.”
“What do you want to do with the little ones?” Jake motions to the counter, and I head over and pick up a spherical glass terrarium.
“These are air plants. I was planning to put some of them up back here.” I motion to the work area.
“Do you have hooks for those as well?” Jake asks, taking the orb from me and examining it. “Or do they hang by some other means?”
“I have a frame for most of them, but I thought I’d hang the glass ones in a cluster in that corner with some twine.”
He nods, handing the little terrarium back to me with great care, making sure I have both hands underneath the glass before releasing his hold and heading back to his ladder. He takes the ladder over to the corner I’d indicated and pulls out a measuring tape.
While he checks for studs and measures angles that make sense to him, I think again about what he’d said earlier about being prepared and being a man of his word. About how helping someone should ease a burden, not create more.
In so many ways, Jake’s presence here is a delight. His soft-spoken, calm way of being is definitely good for me. Definitely easing some kind of anxiety I’ve held for far too long.
And yet, I can’t quite let myself sink into the quiet Knowing that’s thrumming through my system right now. Can’t let myself believe it.
But what are thechances?
I remember when my cousins and I played games at teatime as kids, trying to discern who we would marry from the dregs of our cups. I’m pretty sure a bearded mountain man wasn’t in any of my leaves, but then again, we’d only just begun learning tasseography when we’d played that game.
And I don’t actually believe in fated love anymore, anyway.
I know Love is real. It’s literally the guiding force of the entire universe. But little ‘l’ love? I’m not sure it’s in the cards for me.
Or the tea leaves.
“I don’t actually know anyone around here,” I admit while Jake works. “Not really. I mean, I’ve met Clay at the Mercantile, and conversed with the folks at the bank and the post office—”
“What are you doing on Tuesday?”
His query stops me short.
“Tuesday? Like next week?” Is he asking me—
“It’s my day off.”
“You only get one?” I shake my head, handing him another screw. “Now that’s a travesty. Aren’t you the boss?”
He chuckles, securing the last of the hooks, and I can’t help thinking how natural he looks. How happy.
