Heart of the Wood

"Can't blame me for trying."

"Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I'll ask her. I've got a couple of weeks to try to convince her."

"What about you?"

Glen's eyes narrowed as he thought about the busybody standing up at the meeting, badmouthing Melinda.

"Yeah, I'm gonna be there."

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Walking hand-in-hand with Glen to her front door, Melinda's heart tossed in a tumultuous sea of emotion.

The last two weeks had been perfect, culminating in the early dinner they were returning from. As she walked, the dryad pendant he'd given her tapped lightly against her chest, hanging just below her mother's necklace. That prompted her to look at him, and to once again feel her heart race from how handsome he looked, dressed up for the restaurant.

Despite how wonderful everything was, she couldn't shake the memory that the town meeting was tomorrow. The thought of facing the hard-eyed churchwoman still made her stomach go sour. Some of the woman's decrying of the cemetery was actually taking hold, the grapevine abuzz with gossip.

She didn't want to let go of his hand to unlock the door, but summoned up the strength. Once the key was back in her purse, she turned toward him, her cheeks growing warm as he smiled down at her.

"Thank you." She laid her hand over the pendant. "For this, and for dinner. It was wonderful."

"I had fun too, even though I feel like I'm in a straightjacket in this outfit."

She chuckled as she took a step toward him, tilted her head back, and closed her eyes.

Chills raced all through her body as Glen's lips met hers. The first kiss on the weekend after finding out about the meeting had turned her knees to water, and every one that followed seemed to be better than the last. She pulled him closer, her tongue slipping out to caress his upper lip of its own volition. His hand moved from her back to her cheek, and their tongues intertwined.

She moaned from the heat that swelled up within her, causing her nipples to stiffen and her sex to tingle. She kissed him harder, feeling him respond in kind. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she gasped when his other hand found her bottom.

Then, she remembered the last time she'd felt this much passion and excitement — and the heartbreak that followed when she'd revealed her secret.

When she pulled away, Glen took a step backward. He held his hands up, palms toward her, and then dropped them to clasp them together at his waist. "Sorry, I shouldn't have..."

Melinda quickly shook her head and moved closer to take his hand in hers. "No, don't be sorry." She looked deep into his eyes, flashed a nervous smile, and said, "I guess I'm just not ready."

"It's okay," he responded, and she felt like a great weight had been lifted off her shoulders from the sincerity in his voice. "Guess I'd better get going. I'll call you tomorrow about the meeting. If you want to go, I'll be right there with you."

"Thank you. Goodnight."

"Night," Glen said, keeping his eyes locked with hers for a couple of backwards steps before turning and walking to his car.

Melinda closed the door, her heart and body both screaming at her to open it right back up again. The flash of remembered pain was enough to overwhelm even those soaring feelings, though. Tenting her fingers in front of her, she took deep, measured breaths, until her nerves had calmed. When she opened her eyes again, her feet were already moving toward the sunroom.

Undressing proved that she hadn't completely shaken the emotions that had taken control of her on the porch. Her nipples were still pebble hard, and when she slid down her panties, she could feel the kiss of cool air on the dampness there.

Though not really common practice in the craft, Melinda's mother had sometimes performed seances for guidance. She always said that Wicca was a deeply personal calling, and that one should practice it as the heart dictated, so long as it didn't harm anyone. Feeling the need for her mother's wisdom, she gathered up pure white candles to seek it.

Kneeling before the circle of burning candles, she found her center, and sought the power within. The words flowed from her lips, etched into her memory from studying the Book of Shadows that was now hers. The chant finished with, "Come to me. I summon thee. Cross now the Great Divide."

The candles flickered, as if stirred by a breeze, and Melinda gasped. She'd never before had such a physical manifestation happen during a ritual. A sense of familiarity filled the room — the aura that had always surrounded her mother.

Though still shocked, she wasn't going to let the opportunity slip by. "Mom, I don't know what to do. I don't know if I have the strength to face that woman. I'm afraid to tell Glen. I need something — a sign. Help me find the right path, Mom."

A faint click broke the stillness of the room, and she turned to see the door leading outside had opened. Sitting in the grass, illuminated by the moon overhead, she saw the squirrel.

As it had before, the animal looked at her, and she felt the tug, reinforced by the ethereal sense of her mother's presence. With little conscious thought, she stood up and walked to the door. The squirrel scampered off through the grass toward the trees.

Though it might be possible for someone to see her from the road for a brief moment when she walked out the door, she didn't even consider her nudity as she followed her bushy-tailed guide. This time, when she reached the edge of the woods, the squirrel was sitting at the beginning of a trail that she was certain wasn't there before. The thought lasted for only the briefest moment before her bare foot settled onto the leafy path.

The squirrel remained always in sight, looking back at her frequently as she followed. The vegetation surrounding her was lush — ferns and saplings swaying in the breeze amongst the rustling leaves — more akin to late spring growth than what she would expect for April. The scent of honeysuckle and lavender tickled her nose. Though she knew that she should be shivering in the night air, she was perfectly comfortable.

The light of the moon intensified ahead, as if the trail was opening up into a clearing. Her guide suddenly darted forward, directly into the light, and she quickened her pace.

Wide-eyed, Melinda gasped upon entering the clearing.

The full moon was directly overhead, shining down on an almost perfectly circular opening in the canopy. Save for the path where she had entered, ferns, vines, and low hanging limbs formed a natural wall around the clearing. In the center was a great stone, about knee height, and reddish in hue. Vines adorned with luminous white flowers grew up the side of the stone, and she knew that this was what had called her here.

Having always wanted an outdoor altar, to be closer to nature, she had finally found it. A few steps brought her to the side of the rock, revealing a heart-shaped depression filled with sparkling water on its top. Sinking down to her knees, she placed her palms on the stone next to the heart, and lifted her eyes to the sky above.

A jolt — but not an unpleasant one — passed through her body, and she let out a high-pitched moan. The wind whispered to her, and tears rolled down her cheeks when she heard the words — the ethereal sound carrying unmistakable qualities of her mother's voice.

Tell him.

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Glen felt severely underdressed when he climbed out of the car and saw Melinda emerging from the house. She was wearing a knee-length skirt of basic black with a coat to match, and a white, masculine shirt. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, giving the unmistakable impression that she meant business.

Only her vibrant smile contrasted with the look.

"You look great," Glen said as she approached.

"Thank you," she responded, and then put her hand behind his head to pull him down into a passionate kiss.

A little red-faced, he chuckled and asked, "Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?"

She answered with only a grin and a twitch of her eyebrows before heading to the passenger side of the car, picking her steps carefully in the gravel since she was wearing heels.

"So, are you ready for this?" Glen asked as he sat down.

"As ready as I'll ever be."

"Let's go let the air out of that old windbag, then."

Melinda tugged on his elbow as soon as the car pulled out onto the road, guiding his hand into hers. He couldn't help but notice how calm and confident she seemed as she stroked his hand with her fingers and smiled at him. There was no denying that her touch was giving him goose bumps, either.

The number of cars parked along the street in front of city hall indicated that this wasn't going to be an average town hall meeting. Usually, only a few souls with specific grievances showed up. Francine had apparently had some success in convincing people to turn up.

Atop the wide steps at the front door, Melinda paused, taking a deep breath and giving Glen's hand a tight squeeze before releasing it. He opened the door for her, and then moved in front to lead the way once inside, though anyone could have followed the low hum of conversation through the building to the meeting hall.

The city officials were just coming in when Glen and Melinda arrived. He nodded toward some seats in the back, having seen Francine in the front — naturally. People turned and whispered, suspicious looks on their faces as they tried with little success to look at Melinda without being noticed.

The mayor banged a gavel to get things underway, and the silver-haired busybody stood up — uncalled — to make her way to the podium.

Melinda stiffened as the old woman locked eyes with her. When Glen reached for her hand, he noticed that she was trembling. Closing his fingers around hers, he leaned closer and quietly hummed the Slinky jingle.

Her lips pursed as she fought back a laugh before turning to him to mouth the words, thank you.

Francine's delivery was loud, and full of fire and brimstone. She complained about water contamination. She decried the traffic problems that the cemetery would cause. Most of all, she damned allowing such pagan customs to further corrupt a community already rife with sinners.

"Mr. Mayor, I urge you in the strongest terms to deny this senseless, dangerous request," the old woman finally finished. She then turned to look at Melinda, her face a mask of smug self-importance, and returned to her chair.

The mayor, who looked irritated at having the agenda snatched out of his hands, smoothed his mustache and asked, "Well, as we're already on the subject, does anyone else have anything to say about this..." He looked down at some paperwork in front of him. "Green cemetery?"

"You can do it," Glen whispered. "If you need me to come up there with you..."

Melinda shook her head and stood. "I'd like to say something."

The mayor waved her forward, his brow furrowing as an indication that he didn't know who she was.

Upon reaching the podium, she introduced herself. "My name is Melinda Hart. I inherited the property where I live from my great uncle, Dustin Patterson, and moved in a few months ago."

Murmurs from the crowd mirrored the mayor's nod of recognition. Mr. Patterson had been well known and liked in town.

"I work at the funeral home, and it's my property where I'd like to open the cemetery. If you don't mind, I'd like to explain what a green cemetery is."

The mayor nodded and said, "Please do. This has come to me so recently that I haven't had time to review it at all."

"Thank you. I'll be brief. Bodies are not embalmed in a green cemetery, nor are they buried in a concrete vault. Most often, the body is placed in a simple casket — or even just a shroud — so that it will decompose quickly, returning to the earth."

Glen sat up a little straighter, heartened by the building confidence in Melinda's voice. She was in her element, speaking of the dream she'd worked so hard for.

"Natural stone markers are used, and that's where most of the cost comes from, if the family chooses to have one. The property isn't manicured, and the plots aren't refilled when the ground settles, saving on maintenance.

"I'm hoping to provide a simpler, cheaper alternative to the traditional, costly burial, and one that's environmentally friendly as well. We take so much from the earth while we're alive, and I want to give those who choose to do so a chance to give something back when they pass on."

The mayor leaned forward in his chair. "Sounds a bit wild west, but interesting."

"That whole area is zoned residential," Francine snapped from her seat.

Glen's eyebrows popped up and he smiled, remembering a bet with his father he'd won to get the car for the evening — yet another attempt to steer him into law. He stood up and said, "Mr. Mayor, I believe that if you check, you'll find that there are no county or state prohibitions against several types of small business existing within a residential zone — including cemeteries, specifically."

Seeing the old busybody turn to stare at him with her nostrils flaring gave him the irresistible urge to stick his tongue out at her. That long night of digging through his father's library was now doubly worth the lost sleep.

"Seems I remember that," the mayor agreed.

"Bodies decomposing in open ground, contaminating the drinking water," Francine interjected, followed by a loud harrumph.

Melinda turned to her nemesis, her eyes flashing. "It's better than the harsh chemicals used in embalming. What about the deer? Are they a problem when they die?"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

A deep chuckle sounded from the mayor. "I think I know. A deer is about the size of a man, when you get down to it. There are hordes of them running around, and nobody's putting them in concrete vaults when they die."

A voice emerged from the back of the room. "I think I can take care of the questions about the water supply."

Glen turned around to see his uncle, Daniel, coming in the door, carrying a thick manilla folder.

Dan held up the folder and shook it while walking to the front of the room. "These are impact surveys of everything within several miles of Ms. Hart's property. There's absolutely nothing that would indicate a threat to the water supply, or anything else."

The mayor took the folder and said, "I assume the county is ready to approve the cemetery, Councilman Miller?"

"I'm certain I have the support, Mayor Phillips."

Glen looked around the room and saw a lot of people he recognized from Francine's church leaned together and whispering. The mayor and his uncle were both respected, popular officials. Francine's propaganda campaign was losing steam fast.

"I'll take that information into account, Councilman. Do you have anything further, Ms. Hart?"

"No. Thank you," Melinda said, and then turned to return to her seat. Glen's uncle fell into step with her, wearing a grin.

"Anyone else?" The mayor asked.

Silence followed as Francine glared at the people she'd persuaded to come back her up.

"Moving right along, then."

Daniel nodded toward the door, and Glen got up to follow.

Melinda blew out a great breath once they were a few steps down the hall and turned to Dan. "Thank you." She then took Glen's hand. "You too."

"Glad to," Daniel responded, and then laughed. "It's the least I can do, considering most of the regulations about cemeteries originated straight out of my father's law offices, going back to Grandpa's time."

Melinda asked, "So, you think I'll get approval?"

"David will probably sign off on it as soon as he walks in his office tomorrow. I have it slated to come up at the county council next week, and I have more than enough votes locked up. I thought having the vote on the day before Earth Day was appropriate."

Glen squeezed Melinda's hand and said, "Sounds like you'd better get ready to open for business."

She flashed him a brilliant smile.

♠~~~~~☩~~~~~♠

Irked by the need to attend all his classes because he was spending Earth Day with the family, Glen was in a bit too much of a hurry driving to Melinda's house on the day of the vote. He jammed on the brakes, sliding in the gravel, and barely avoided running into a yearling that bounded into the road and froze in front of him.

Breathing hard and silently cursing his inattention, he turned toward where the deer had vanished into the trees and said, "Sorry, Bambi." He slid his foot off the brake and continued at a safer pace.

Melinda was nervous about the vote, and he wanted to be there with her. More than that, he wanted to spend time with her. School and work had conspired to keep them from seeing each other for more than a half hour or so at a time all week. A roll of his eyes and a snort accompanied the memory of his mother teasing him that morning about being in love.

It was a little hard to argue with her, though.

The driveway to her house finally appeared, and he turned in, feeling his anticipation build. On top of everything else, he was going to get through the front door for the first time. He took it as a sign that she'd given up whatever reservations had held her back when they first met.

Melinda was sitting on the front porch when he reached the end of the drive. As soon as he climbed out of the car, he said, "Don't worry. Uncle Dan has this one all wrapped up. Should be any minute now."

She waited for him to reach the top of the steps, and then said, "I know," before kissing him.

"So, you want to go inside?"

She nodded, picked up a glass of water from a table, and turned around to open the door. "There's something I need to show you."

"You didn't get another letter from that old windbag, did you?"

She shook her head while leading the way into the house. Much like his own home, plants were everywhere. A Ficus tree stood next to the door. Violets, azaleas, or some type of greenery adorned nearly every flat surface. She angled toward the couch long enough to sit down her glass, and then continued on. Two sets of shoes sounded on the dark-stained hardwood floor, moving across the front room, and down a hallway decorated with antique light fixtures, toward the rear of the house.

Glen determined that their destination must be a sunroom, considering the shape, size, and number of windows he could see over her shoulder. "What is it?"

"You'll just have to wait until you see," she teased, though hints of anxiety tinged her voice.

At the doorway of the sunroom, she turned around and paused, stroking his arm as he reached her. "I need to know what you really think. Please don't try to hide it from me."

Glen hoped that his wince had remained entirely mental. Though she couldn't know, he was hiding a rather large secret from her. He nodded, and said, "Okay."

Melinda walked backwards into the room, and he followed, immediately seeing the crystals, candles, and other trappings within neatly organized cabinets on either side of the doorway. A forest of potted plants and trees soaked up the sun streaming through great panes of stained glass. Dominating the center of the otherwise unfurnished room was the altar, where a large, old, leather-bound book rested.

In an instant, Glen understood her sudden turnaround during that first almost-date at the coffee shop. He smiled and said, "Ah, I get it. You're wiccan."

She shrugged, her smile widening. "Or witch. The word doesn't bother me. My mom and grandma were both witches. So, you okay with that?"

"Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?"

He almost lost his balance when she suddenly threw her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. She sniffled and looked up, revealing a pair of tears trailing down her cheeks, and said, "Thank you."