Witch Ball

Kathleen Coddington

Coated with a thin layer of dust, the smooth gray glass looked dull in the sunlight streaming in his kitchen window. Nathaniel wiped away some dust and lifted the sphere closer, more perplexed than ever as to why Caitlin had selected this particular ball. Maybe washing it would make it sparkle like the other glass balls.

He squeezed a large dollop of liquid dish soap onto the ball and spread it around. As he started to transfer the ball to his left hand so he could turn on the faucet, his fingers lost their hold on the ball’s slick surface. He tightened his grip but the ball shot from his grasp. He made a desperate grab for it but the ball shot through his fingers.

“Shit,” he muttered, watching helplessly as the sphere arced upward before it began to descend toward the edge of the kitchen counter. At the moment of impact, there was a loud crack followed by an intense flash of white light. Instinctively, he threw his hands up to protect his eyes from the blinding light and the flying glass shards. He heard the jagged sound of broken glass as a rain of fragments struck the sink and floor.

He opened his eyes cautiously and felt them widen at the sight of a woman standing a few feet away, staring about the kitchen in confusion. Despite his shock he couldn’t help noticing she was beautiful with a cloud of dark hair falling to the waist of her old-fashioned blue dress. Beautiful or not she was a stranger.

“Who the hell are you,” he demanded. “And what the hell are you doing in my kitchen?”

The woman in Nathaniel’s kitchen jumped at the sound of his voice. Eyes, soft and gray as spring rain met his. “Nathaniel?” she whispered. Her dazed expression was replaced by one of joy. “Nathaniel!” She ran the short distance separating them and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh beloved, I knew you would find me.” Pulling his head down, she pressed her lips to his.

Too amazed to react, Nathaniel stood frozen. This stranger not only knew his name but she was also kissing him as if they were old lovers. A distant part of his mind told him he should push her away, demand an explanation for her mad behavior. But her mouth, soft and sweet as new wine, awakened something in him that overpowered common sense.

A surge of desire, like nothing he’d ever experienced, raced through his veins. In all his years of marriage to Claire, he’d never felt the burning hunger he felt at this moment. Every nerve ending in his body was on fire. A fire only this woman could quench.

His arms went around her, one hand burying itself deep in the silken waves of her hair. Her lips parted under the demanding pressure of his mouth and she pressed closer to him as if trying to melt into him. He placed his other hand on her rounded buttocks and held her tightly against him. She moaned softly in the back of her throat and slid one leg up his thigh, the folds of her long dress rustling against his jeans.

He felt himself growing hard. Mingled with his nearly overwhelming desire, he felt a fierce tenderness for this woman well up inside him. There was something hauntingly familiar about her. All his life he’d felt as if some part of himself was missing. Even marriage to Claire hadn’t taken away that nagging sense of loss. Something about the woman in his arms touched him in the deepest part of his soul, filling that empty space as if she had always belonged there.

This is insane. The thought came with such icy clarity it drove everything else out of his mind. He thrust the woman in his arms away and stepped back. “Are you out of your mind?” he demanded, fighting to get his ragged breathing under control. “Breaking into my house and….” He motioned violently not quite able to put into words what had just occurred between them.

The woman moved toward him, her hand outstretched. “Nathaniel, do you not remember me?”

He put his hand out to stop her. “Remember you? I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

The woman’s soft gray eyes filled with pleading. “Nathaniel, it is I, Miranda.”

“I don’t know anyone named Miranda,” he snapped. “What kind of trick is this? How do you know my name?”

Her hand fell to her side and her brow furrowed. “How could I not know the name of the man I am to marry?”

“Marry!” Nathaniel almost choked on the word. His gaze swept over her taking in her long black hair and the slender, feminine curves of her body that not even the old-fashioned cut of the ankle length dress she wore could disguise. “I have a good memory, lady,” and if I’d ever met anyone remotely like you, let alone asked them to marry me, I’d remember it.”

excepted from page 16, paragraph 3 through page 18, end of paragraph 2