Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
APRIL 24, 2021
FICLET FROM FACEBOOK GROUP
You know how you never think things will change? That your Saturdays will always be the same? I don’t do that anymore.
It started off so normal.
“I’m not freaking out!” Hannah yelled from the kitchen on Saturday afternoon, which was my first indication that she might actually be freaking out.
Getting up from the couch, I walked into the kitchen and leaned on the counter, glancing first at Jake, who appeared unsure, then at Kola, who was glaring and had his arms crossed, and finally at Harper, who was on his phone.
“Trouble?” I asked.
She whirled around to face me, took a breath, and then spoke. “The lovely woman who usually gives me my globosa flowers for my Beltane candles doesn’t have any this year.”
“Okay.” She needed me to confirm that I heard her, but I had no idea what that was beyond the obvious. “So, can we substitute something else?”
She shook her head. “They have to be beeswax scented with magnolia, peony, sage, and I like to add pineapple to really give it some zip.”
“Of course,” I agreed, smiling at her.
“I have my carnelian pieces, and the garnet. I have the chamomile and straw flowers, all needed to represent fire, warmth, summer, and fertility.”
“But we need Gomphrena globosa, commonly known as globe amaranth or globosa, to finish them,” Harper chimed in. “And I found a woman over in Hyde Park who has some.”
Hannah spun and rushed over to him, looking down at the screen before letting out a squeal and wrapping her arms around him tight.
He chuckled as he draped an arm around her and turned his head to Kola. “Road trip?”
“Road trip,” he agreed, turning for the back door and suddenly stopping to look over his shoulder at me. “Hey, you want us to stop by Reza’s on the way and pick up some dinner?”
It had been happening lately that my son, who had always counted on me to cook, or to figure out what we would eat if I didn’t, had been volunteering to not only prepare a meal for the rest of us but playing delivery driver as well. It was an interesting turn of events that Sam credited to him growing up. I wasn’t as sure about the reason for the change, but was thrilled, whatever the impetus was.
“That would be great,” I assured him. “Just put it on the house credit card.”
“Will do,” he apprised me and then turned the corner, rolling his left shoulder, as he’d been doing since yesterday when he got his first Covid-19 vaccination.
I was thrilled to have gotten appointments for both Kola and Hannah, and while Kola’s reaction to the Pfizer vaccine had been the same as mine, both of us with sore arms, Hannah got a headache, which she went to bed early for the night before, and, I suspected, was not helping with her mood at the moment. Normally nothing flustered her, she was pretty unflappable, but the flower thing had upset her. I was glad Harper, who really rowed a super steady boat, had been the one to go into search mode as soon as the issue had arisen.
Sam wasn’t home, as there were some issues with the transportation of a prisoner who had initially slipped FBI custody. I used to think things like that only happened in the movies, but it turned out it happened more often than anyone liked to talk about. And while Sam personally—meaning his team—had never lost a prisoner, the marshals service had. Sam could be a bit judgmental about it, and I reminded him that mistakes were something everyone made. But at the moment, what was supposed to have been a simple transfer from a supermax to a psychiatric facility for testing, had apparently gone very wrong. Ian Doyle had led the team that recovered the escaped prisoner, but Sam had gone with them to return him to federal custody, as was procedure.
When my cell phone rang as I returned to the kitchen after cleaning the cat box, doing Hannah a favor since it was on her chore list for the day, I answered without looking, picking it up off the counter where I’d left it.
“Hello?”
“Jory?”
I smiled into the phone. “Hey, Chris, how’re you?” I greeted Sam’s second-in-command, Supervisory Deputy Chris Becker. “Are you stuck with Sam at his transfer thing, or are you trying to get your backyard summer-ready?” The last time I’d talked to his wife, Olivia, she told me all the things that needed to be done before she was inviting people over.
He cleared his throat. “Jory, have you turned on the news at all?”
Instantly I was cold. Freezing. My heart dropped into my stomach, I actually felt it go, and I couldn’t breathe. I had to grab for the counter so I didn’t fall down. I tried to speak, but there was no possible way.