Time Spell by T.A. Foster Page A

sleeve down my arm, and tossed my jacket on the chair. “I think you need to stay here tonight.”
    The words sent chills across my shoulders and tingles down my back, the good kind, the kind I wanted from Jack. Even in my sleepy fog, my body started waking up. Did he just ask me to spend the night?
    “I’ll sleep on the couch and you can have my room. We can get a lot more accomplished if you just stay,” he urged.
    My runaway daydreaming started as I thought about us making breakfast together and me walking around his kitchen in one of his white button-up shirts, but barely buttoned. He would slowly unbutton the last one as I stirred pancake batter, and then he’d slip the shirt down to the floor, pull me in his arms, and kiss me. Ugh! I was tired and exhausted enough to concoct a crazy fantasy at 2 a.m.
    Jack was right. We could get more done if I stayed, but I had left Cooper long enough. I needed to sort through my thoughts, away from Jack, away from those eyes, and those arms and that body.
    “Come on. You need to stay.” He was starting to convince me.
    However, I knew one way to dissuade him. “Look, I have an idea. I can do something to help your sister before we leave tomorrow. She needs a protection spell. I know someone who can cast one for her that should last a few days, at least until we get back. Why don’t I go work on that? I’ll let Cooper out, pack my bag, and I’ll meet you back here. Deal?”
    “Protection spell? How does that work exactly?” I could hear the sliver of hope rising in his voice.
    “I can’t get into it, but it’s a good one. Do we have a deal?” I handed the notepad to him. “Just write her address down and I’ll make sure Emily is ok.”
    He took the paper, but paused before he filled in the street number. “If I let you go, you’re not going to run are you? You’ll come back?”
    The entire night I had felt as if I were Jack’s prisoner in the house, a prisoner to the contents of that letter, and a prisoner to all of the questions he had, but looking in his eyes, I realized he was really the prisoner. He was trapped in a new world he didn’t understand, with no way to navigate through to the safety of his only family.
    I wanted to reach for him and let the back of my hand touch his cheek, but I powered through the impulse. “I promise I’ll be here in the morning.” I picked up my jacket and bag and walked out the door.

I INHALED the cool night air and regained my thoughts. The nearness of Jack and my lack of sleep were definitely clouding my judgment. I pulled out my phone and put my car in reverse. This call wasn’t going to go well, but I needed that protection spell done tonight. Instead, I decided to send a text. Texting was easier. I’d hear enough about my mistakes later.
     
Emergency. Meet me a.s.a.p. Same spot .
     
    My phone vibrated back.
     
O k
     
    I steered toward Oaks Park through the vacant streets. It was well after 2:30 a.m., and most bar patrons had already found their way home by now. In this sleepy city, there wasn’t much happening after two. Except for a lone abandoned car in the parking lot, the park was empty. The swings swayed back and forth.
    On hot, sunny days, it was the perfect place to find shade. Cooper loved to catch the Frisbee or tennis ball and the poor guy got hot so fast. Towering oaks bordered the edge of the park like guards, and long limbs reached together to form a thick canopy. We often found refuge in the shady park and played here on those hot days with the moms and joggers of Sullen’s Grove.
    I clutched the paper in my pocket with Jack’s sister’s address written on it. Emily Coleman, 2122 Birch Ave., Atlanta . I scanned the street behind me in the rearview mirror, peering for headlights that would drive through the iron gates. I looked at his text. He said, ok . Where was he? I stepped out of the car to wait.
    I heard the revolving swish, swish, swish as he landed with a slight thud behind one of the