Heart of the Wood

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Encouraged by the way Melinda had opened up at the coffee shop, Glen hoped to keep the ball rolling. He had the perfect way to go about it, as well.

Lying on the bed, he dialed her number, and she picked up on the second ring. "Hey, it's Glen. I just wanted to make sure that the car's doing okay."

"Oh, yes. It's fine. I appreciate it."

"No problem. Feeling better this morning?" Glen asked, having stopped so she could buy some real coffee before returning home the previous day.

"Much," she replied, and chuckled. "I won't make that mistake again."

Glad you did, he thought. "I completely forgot about it yesterday. I was going to ask you if you'd been to Geraldine's yet?"

"Where?"

"It's this restaurant a little way up the highway from you. Kind of a local secret. Why don't you let me take you there for lunch? I already showed you where the best coffee in town is. Let me introduce you to the best food in town, too."

"I'd like that."

This time, he did clench his fist in celebration.

"How about in an hour?"

"That sounds good."

"See you then. Bye."

Thinking that he should probably play it safe, Glen dressed as he usually would, but chose his newest pair of brand name jeans and a nice t-shirt with no slogans. A quick look in the mirror confirmed what he wanted to project. If he was too dressed up, it might make her nervous, and she'd already proven a bit skittish. The slightly more clean-cut than usual look did say that he was trying to make an impression, though.

Satisfied, he headed down the stairs to give the carpet and seats in the car a once-over with the dust-buster, and to wipe down the dash. The timing worked out perfectly, and he rolled out of the drive shortly thereafter.

The weather had warmed significantly from the previous couple of days, which he took as a good omen. That optimism lasted right up until the moment when Melinda answered the door.

The smile he wore faded when he saw the haunted look in her green eyes. "What's wrong?"

"I..." She closed her eyes and sighed. "It's nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing. You look like you've seen a ghost."

She shrugged and rolled her eyes, but her voice wavered as she answered, "It's just this letter. I forgot to check the mail yesterday, so I went out to the mailbox right after you called."

"A bill or something?"

She shook her head and reached down next to the door, retrieving an envelope. "I don't even want to open this one."

Glen glanced down at the envelope, and his eyes fixed on the address label — one he knew all too well.

Francine Robinson was a local church busybody who had often stood in opposition to causes Glen's family supported over the years. One incident in particular brought his blood to a barely controlled boil, though. Her meddling had convinced his first girlfriend's parents to not only keep them apart, but also to move so she would be in a different school. His parents had eventually explained that the woman believed his family was dabbling in the occult.

This just got real personal. Mastering his anger, Glen asked, "Did you say, this one? There's more?"

"This is the third one," she answered while gesturing with the letter.

"What are they about?"

"All sorts of reasons why I shouldn't be able to have the cemetery here."

"Do you mind if I open that one?"

Looking a little perplexed, she said, "Okay," and handed over the letter.

A brief skim was all he needed. The letter listed a number of reasons why Francine and other concerned citizens opposed the green cemetery. The complaints ranged from water contamination to pagan rituals inconsistent with community values.

"I know we were supposed to go to lunch, but I doubt you're in the mood now, and we should show this to my dad — as soon as possible."

"Really? Do you think it's important?"

"For one thing, this is harassment," Glen said, and then slapped his fingers against the paper. "She's not going to stop with writing letters, either. Dad and Uncle Dan need to know that she has her nose in this, so they can be ready for her."

"I still have the other two."

"You should grab them. Dad will probably want to talk to you, if you're up to it."

"I guess so."

"Don't worry, Dad will take care of this. Nosey Robinson is always pushing like this, and he knows who to call. You won't get any more of these, at least."

She gave a half-hearted smile, "That would be a relief."

"She acts like she's talking for everybody, but don't believe her, okay?"

Her smile widening, Melinda said, "Okay."

Glen grinned as well. "Grab those other two letters, and let's go take care of this."

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

The house had broken out into a whirlwind of activity as soon as Glen showed his father the letters. Once his mother had finished speaking with his uncle, Glen asked her to make some sandwiches, and then returned to where he'd left Melinda admiring a collection of nymph and animal statuettes.

"Got Mom making us a little something to eat. I know my stomach was growling."

"Mine too," Melinda agreed, her eyes bright and a crooked grin on her face. She pointed at a clay sculpture occupying the center shelf of the curio cabinet and said, "That one's interesting."

Glen's face started burning and he let out a nervous chuckle. He'd made the sculpture for his mother, as the words for mom from Glen scratched into the base openly declared. Bunnies and flowers hardly conveyed a macho image.

"Yeah. I made that for Mom for Mother's Day one year."

She glanced at the statuette again and asked, "In art class?"

"Nah. Mom makes all animal dishes for the clinic herself, so I snuck some clay and made it for her, then had Dad put it in the kiln."

"That's sweet," Melinda said, and then pointed at a picture hanging on the wall nearby. "Is that you?"

The picture was of him sitting on the bank of the pond with his feet dangling in the water when he was around five. "Yeah, that's me," he answered, grateful for the change in subject away from the embarrassing knick-knack.

"It's a beautiful spot. That's an elm, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"I've never actually seen one, except in pictures. Dutch Elm has wiped out so many."

"Want to?"

Her expression betrayed interest when she asked, "Where is it?"

"The pond is just a couple of minutes through the woods."

Glen's mother walked in the room with the sandwiches and two oft-refilled water bottles. "Here you go."

Jumping on the chance to take the redhead somewhere private that she'd already said was beautiful, Glen asked, "Want to take these down to the pond? Get away for a few minutes and relax? Not much we can do other than get in the way at this point, anyway."

She nodded, and Glen turned to take the sandwiches from his mother. The faintest hints of a knowing smile on Kia's face surprised him, after the suspicion he'd seen in her eyes before.

Glen led the way through the house and across the yard, taking a bite of his sandwich along the way. The pine boughs closed in around them, alive with the sound of birds. Melinda looked up as she walked, watching the avian dwellers zipping from tree to tree.

"Watch out for the chipmunks. Little jet-squirrels will rob you blind if you turn your back on them, Glen said, and then chuckled as he pointed out the fork in the trail that led to the pond.

She shook her head and grinned, still admiring the sights along the trail. "I swear I keep smelling honeysuckle, but it's too early for that, isn't it?"

"It comes up early around here in places," Glen explained, glossing over the magical nature of the wood. He then pointed ahead and said, "We'll have to push through the branches up there where the trail looks like it vanishes."

Upon reaching the spot, Glen held back the natural privacy fence as best he could, and let her step into the clearing first.

Silvery sparkles reflected off the surface of the pond, mirroring the sparkle in Melinda's eyes when she turned to him for a moment, before heading straight across the grass toward the elm. Glen followed, his eyes drawn to her bottom and the hypnotizing sway of her hips.

"It seems out of place, but then again, it doesn't," she remarked as she looked up into the tree.

"My uncle had it transplanted here when he was a kid. It was going to get cut down, and he talked Grandma and Grandpa into it." He sat down near the elm. "It's really his spot more than anybody else's."

She took a seat as well. "Hope he doesn't mind us borrowing it."

"Nah, he's busy all the time, so someone has to keep her company besides the squirrels and birds."

Glen settled in and ate, a familiar feeling washing over him. The sound of the water lapping against the shore and the leaves rustling overhead was soothing — almost hypnotic. Though birdsong could still be heard, it was subdued in the clearing around the elm. The sun shone down warm and bright, moderated by breezes heavy with the perfume of nature.

"This was a good idea," Melinda said after drinking in the sunlight and the scenery for a few minutes. "Those letters almost made me sick at my stomach, but I already feel better."

"I come out here when I need to think. It's far enough away from everything to let you clear your head."

Just then, something bounced off the top of his head. "Ow," he muttered and picked up the acorn, which certainly shouldn't have fallen from an elm tree.

She reached over and took the acorn with a little laugh. She looked up in the tree and said, "Must be a squirrel up there somewhere. Either that, or you have a dryad in the woods, playing tricks."

The water he was drinking went down the wrong way, and he broke out into a coughing fit.

"Are you okay?"

Still fighting off coughs, he nodded. "Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe." Once he caught his breath, he asked, "So, do you believe in stuff like that?"

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "I don't know. Mom always did, but, you know..."

"People think you're cuckoo," he finished; smiling wide to show that he didn't share that sentiment.

"Yeah," she agreed, and then laughed. "It's nice to think that there's a little magic in the world, even if you never actually see it."

"One of the women in the coven said that magic is always around us, but it's subtle, and most people overlook it."

"My mom used to say something like that, too. So, what about you?"

Their eyes met, and entranced by the green orbs, Glen answered, "Yeah, I believe in magic."

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Melinda closed the door behind her after a final wave to Glen as he pulled away. She leaned up against the door, letting out blissful moan.

Time had slipped away unnoticed as she sat with him in the shade of the elm. Since he already knew her plan for the future, she'd asked him about his. He was in much the same place as she had found herself when she was sixteen. Part of her had gravitated toward following in her mother's footsteps, but another part wanted to be free — to find her own identity.

In the end, she'd decided that following her mother's path was her true desire. Glen hadn't made that decision yet, but the way he spoke with understanding and reverence of the law hinted that he might very well mirror her choice.

Only the sight of the sun dipping toward the western horizon coaxed them to return to the house, where dinner awaited. Somehow, eating with his family hadn't felt awkward in the slightest. There was something about Kia that reminded Melinda of her mother, and Steven's good humor contrasted greatly with her image of a lawyer in his off hours. The two were obviously still deeply in love, despite years of marriage, turning her thoughts toward whether another potential lawyer might not take after his father.

The urge to kiss Glen when he pulled up in front of the house had quite nearly overwhelmed her. Undeniably attracted to him physically, she felt more of an emotional attachment with every moment they spent together. The thought that her work and his college classes would prove a barrier to spending time together was more than a little frustrating.

Find your center, Melinda, she cautioned herself. Though she was feeling light-hearted — almost giddy — she knew better than to charge forward on nothing more than emotion. That thought drew her toward the sunroom and her altar, where she always felt the most balanced and in control.

Upon crossing the threshold into the sunroom, an odd — but far from unpleasant — sensation settled upon her. For just a moment, she felt as if she had stepped outside into a warm spring morning. The scent of sun-kissed earth and flowers teased her. She could almost hear songbirds welcoming a new day. The numerous plants in the room seemed larger and more vibrant than she remembered when she watered them that morning.

As quickly as it had arisen, the feeling faded. It didn't completely go away, though. She could almost hear her mother saying that this was the magic of the world, just as Glen had earlier in the day.

In the midst of popping open the top button of her blouse, a hint of movement caught her eye beyond the double doors leading out into the yard, and the woods beyond. Bemused by the sight of the squirrel sitting right outside the doors looking in, she crept across the room.

Remarkably, the squirrel didn't run away as she approached, though it could obviously see her, as it tracked her progress. Kneeling down when she reached the door, she slowly extended a finger to the glass. The squirrel actually leaned in and appeared to be sniffing when her fingertip pressed against the window, and then it let out a chittering sound and scurried a few feet across the grass.

Melinda stood, and on a whim, opened the door. Once again, the animal turned and slithered through the grass for a few feet before turning to rise up and look at her — almost as if it was beckoning her to follow.

Follow she did, and her small guide continued the pattern of hurrying forward, then pausing to let her catch up, all the way to the edge of the woods. As she walked, more than the squirrel seemed to be leading her forward. What she could only describe as a tug pulled her toward the wood, and to somewhere within.

Though she was curious, the deepening shadows gave way to true darkness beneath the canopy, bringing her to a halt. She had no light, and despite the tug, the thought of going into the woods that she'd barely explored at night was enough to break the spell over her.

"Some other time," she whispered to the now vanished squirrel, and after a final look into the trees, she turned to return to the house.

While Melinda disrobed before her altar, the trees rustled as if disturbed by someone peeking out from within.

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Glen turned off the radio and broke out into a wide smile when Melinda walked out of the funeral home. Though he had called her a couple of times, they hadn't seen each other in three days. She paused just outside the door to adjust her purse, and then her face lit up with its own smile upon seeing Glen's car parked right next to hers. She hurried over to where he waited with the window down.

"I thought you were supposed to be at class?"

"Skipped it. Got somebody taking notes for me. Thought I'd come see if you felt like a cup of coffee."

She nodded emphatically. "Someone else made the coffee before I got to work this morning." She then made a face and added, "It was horrible."

"Why don't we walk? Too nice a day to be cooped up in the car."

Melinda smoothed back an errant strand of hair from her face. "Sounds good. I've been behind a desk all day."

The pair crossed the parking lot to the sidewalk, and Glen relayed the progress his father was making with the legal side of opening up the cemetery. He had a hard time concentrating, because she was walking close at his side, and her perfume was making him feel lightheaded and silly.

Turning the corner revealed something equally distracting, and not nearly as pleasant.

She must have noticed him stiffen and clench his teeth. "Glen?"

"Let's just get inside."

"What..." she began, and then trailed off when she spotted the silver-haired woman down the street staring directly at her with eyes as hard as agates.

"That's her. Francine Robinson," Glen explained as he opened the door to the coffee shop and interposed his body between Melinda and the other woman's stare.

"What's wrong with her?"

Glen almost choked up and completely forgot why he was angry for a moment when the redhead took his hand. Curling his fingers around hers, he shrugged and answered, "She sees sin in everyone and everything. Thinks it's her job to do something about it."

One of the girls behind the counter asked, "Nosey Robinson?" When Glen nodded, the young woman picked up a piece of paper and let out a disgusted snort. "She was trying to get us to put this up."

The notice was about a town meeting, and all but demanded that god-fearing townsfolk attend.

"Oh no," Melinda muttered as she read over his shoulder.

"Nothing to worry about," he assured her. "Dad and Uncle Dan probably know about it already, but they will now, for sure." He stuffed the flyer in his pocket.

Their turn in line came up, so Glen ordered. When he had to let go of Melinda's hand to reach for his wallet, there was no denying the blush in her cheeks.

"Let's take these over to the park. Like I said — too nice a day to be cooped up."

"Mmm hmm," she agreed and nodded. She then picked up her coffee and followed him to the door.

The old busybody was thankfully nowhere in sight when they emerged onto the sidewalk. A quick walk across the street brought them to the park, and Glen led the way to a spot he knew where a couple of benches sat secluded by evergreens.

"I'm glad she's gone," Melinda said after taking a sip of her coffee.

"Dad said something once... Oh yeah. She has her eyes so set on heaven that she's of no earthly good."

Melinda giggled. "I like that."

"Of course, I said that she's like a Slinky — boring until someone pushes her down some stairs."

She covered her mouth, stifling a gasp, though her eyes were bright with amusement. "That's terrible!"

"Funny, though," he countered.

Upon reaching the benches, He gestured for Melinda to sit down, and then took a seat beside her. His butt had barely settled on the wood when she scooted a little closer.

Skipping out of class had been absolutely worth it.

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Steve's eyes narrowed as he read the flier. "Well, she's acting true to form," he growled.

"Should take some of the wind out of her with you and Uncle Dan there, though."

"One problem with that." Steve shook the flier. "I'm going to be on the road home from court in Martinsburg."

Glen's shoulders slumped. "Damn."

"I'll give Dan a call, but what Francine is trying to do is take advantage of the fact that Melinda is young, and new in town. It would probably make more of an impression if she went herself. Hard to paint her as having two heads when she's sitting right there."

"I don't know. She was shaking when we ran into the old bag, and those letters were enough to make her sick."

Steve smiled and pointed at his son. "Maybe she needs somebody to go with her and hold her hand."

Glen plopped down on the couch across from his father, his face burning. "Lay off, Dad."

After a little chuckle, Steven continued, "You know what's going on — more than enough to counter anything Nosey Robinson is going to come up with."

"So, you're saying that I can present the case, huh?" Glen shook his head and sighed. "Don't go painting my name on an office door at the firm just yet, Dad."