Holiday Kisses

“Did the dreams scare you? Did...Sherman scare you?” Stella cupped her mug between her hands and leaned her arms on the table. The way her wide amethyst eyes peered into his had Xander shifting in his seat.

“Ah, not that I recall. I’ve always seemed to attract frogs, though.” He drank some of his coffee. “I remember working on a construction project in Louisiana. Place was teeming with them. They didn’t stay long. A few days later they were gone.”

“Frogs are considered good luck in many cultures.” Calliope slid the nicely toasted scones onto a plate and set it on the table. “They symbolize life and abundance. They’re also helpful in cleaning one’s soul and eradicating negativity. I would think that was their way of bestowing their approval on the project.”

“Not sure if my soul needs cleaning,” Xander said as he and Stella both reached for the biggest scone. He grinned and let her win and considered her wide smile his reward. “All I know is Antony still calls me Frog Boy when he wants to annoy me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Stella, did you talk to the owls this time or did you run away again?”

Stella ducked her head and looked far too interested in her breakfast. “I don’t remember.”

Xander glanced up at Calliope.

“Until you listen to what they have to say, the dreams won’t stop. We talked about this before, remember?”

“I know.” Stella sighed. “Sometimes I just wish they’d leave me alone.”

“They will.” Calliope reached over and caught Stella’s chin in her hand to tilt up her sister’s face. “When you’ve heard them out.”

Xander frowned as he ate, caught between the buttery goodness in his mouth and the oddity of the conversation. Talking to animals in your dreams? Listening to them? He’d already decided Calliope was eccentric, but this was taking things a bit far...wasn’t it?

“Finish up your breakfast and go get dressed,” Calliope said. “Our guests will start arriving soon and I’d like you to help fill people’s orders.”

“Really?” The heaviness in Stella’s eyes eased as her face lit up. “You mean like without supervision?”

“I think you’re ready. Just remember to—”

“Be kind and gentle and thank the earth for its gift. Yeah, yeah, I know.” Stella rolled her eyes and grabbed a napkin for her scone, then darted back to her room.

“You’re just humoring her with all this omen stuff, right?” Xander asked Calliope as she set a plate of eggs in front of him. The yolks stared back at him like glistening orange balls of sunshine. “You don’t really believe—”

“I believe every creature in this world has a story to tell. A message to convey. In whatever world they inhabit.”

There was resignation in her tone, as if his comment had confirmed her worst suspicions of him. Not that it wasn’t a unique way to help Stella deal with her nightmares, making whatever was scaring her seem less intimidating than it was. That said he’d have gladly traded his frog dreams for one of majestic, wise owls.

“Is the butterfly your spirit animal?” He watched as she joined him, sitting in Stella’s vacated seat.

“In a manner of speaking.” Even when cutting her eggs and breaking apart a scone she had a gentle touch. “I’ve always felt a connection to them, for as long as I can remember. Have you ever heard a butterfly’s whisper?”

“I can’t say I have.” As far as he knew butterflies didn’t have vocal chords.

She reached for a napkin and wiped her mouth. “It’s not something I can describe. It’s something one has to hear for themselves, but it only happens if you’re open to it.”

“And you don’t think I am?” Why on earth should he feel so offended?

“I think there’s a lot of noise in your world. In your life. In your mind. Not just you,” she added when he opened his mouth to argue. “All that white noise in our lives, from the traffic outside to the buzzing of a television, to the constant hum of appliances and electronics. It all deafens us to what’s really going on around us. Like now.” She leaned forward and peered into his eyes in that way she had earlier, only now instead of restrained irritation he found challenge in their purple depths. “Tell me what you hear.”