“ENCHANTED DESIRE” – a Christmas-time romance novella excerpt

From ENCHANTED DESIRE by Paul Lonardo

Published by Wild Rose Press

I was not sure when Kenny might be coming back from Arizona, and wanting so desperately to see him one more time before he left had my mind playing tricks on me. I was tempted to just drop by his office, lock the door behind me and proposition him right then and there. It would have been so easy to walk to the Social Sciences Building amid the sea of white and scarlet jackets and hooded sweatshirts and slip down into the offices of Native American Studies on the basement level without being seen. Kenny had asked me to have faith in him, and I remained optimistic that he would return to me, in one form or another, just as soon as he could.

With no school for a month over Christmas break and no way of contacting Kenny, I occupied my time working half days for Dr. Graham at his veterinary hospital in Wellesley, hanging out with Courtney and my dad, and getting ready for Christmas. It was a lot of fun stringing lights on the shrubs and trees in the front yard and decorating the inside of the house for the holiday. It was just like it was when I was growing up.

Almost.

My mom had been gone three years, and her absence was still very deeply felt. She had died just three months after being diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. It all happened so quickly, it was hard to accept. Even now, I was half expecting her to come sashaying out of the kitchen at any minute in her signature apron and carrying one of her famed Sunday dinner dishes, like her cider-glazed roasted ham, shepherd’s pie, or baked soda bread.

In the days leading up to Christmas, the kitchen smelled wonderful with all the baking that Courtney and I did. We made several different pies and trays and trays of cookies. Butter Balls were still my favorite. They actually turned out pretty good. They were not as good as Mom used to make, but they weren’t bad.

December around Boston was always beautiful, with the city streets a spectacle of sparkling lights and beautifully decorated Christmas trees. Two of the biggest trees stand proudly in Boston Common and in Faneuil Hall Marketplace. You could find another huge tree perched above Macy’s in Downtown Crossing, plus plenty more in shopping areas, hotel lobbies and restaurants. There was always ice skating at Boston Common and a variety of holiday shows and performances to take in, from The Nutcracker to the Radio City Rockettes to the Boston Holiday Pops Concert at Symphony Hall.

It was unseasonably warm right up until the week before Christmas, with temperatures in the forties and fifties during the day. It made me think of Kenny in a sweat lodge in Arizona. I had done some research online and learned that before a person begins their vision quest, they are purified in a sweat lodge, which is just what you might imagine it to be. Stones are heated in the structure, usually a small domed hut or covered pit, and then water is poured over them to produce steam. In the Western world its equivalent might be a plain old steam room, but to Native Americans their usage is wholly ceremonial in nature and part of their religious and spiritual beliefs. It is the place where the visions of the questers are later interpreted by the Medicine Man.

There were really no similarities between what Kenny was experiencing during that time and what I was feeling on the other end of the country. I thought about him all the time, and I could not wait to see him again. I only hoped that he felt the same way about me.

While my heart rate and breathing slowly returned to normal, goose bumps broke out all over my body as my sweat evaporated on my skin, but I was still unable to open my eyes.

“Kenny,” I whispered, but got no response. It was only then that I managed to open one eyelid first, and then the other before I realized that I was alone.

“Kenny,” I called out loudly and sat up, looking around the empty bedroom. I wondered if maybe I had experienced another episode of vertigo like the one earlier that day at Kenny’s shop. There hadn’t been any dizziness this time, and the only thing spinning was my insides after my orgasms. The duvet was damp and cold underneath me, but there was no other sign that Kenny had even been there. Then I looked over at the bedside table where there was an object that I had not placed there. It was the Kachina that Kenny had given to me. The small wooden figure with a white mask, red ears and horsehead carved at its base seemed to stare back at me. I didn’t know what to think as I walked over and picked up the doll. It was real enough.

How could he have done all this?

Somehow he had gotten into the apartment, made love to me like no one ever had before, left the Kachina behind and then just disappeared. If Kenny was some kind of X-rated magician, he had just performed an illusion for the ages.

My attention was drawn back to the doll in my hand, its texture, its weight. It’s magic.

That was it. The doll had to be the source of what I had just experienced. The Kachina was enchanted somehow.