Free Sorrow's Point by Danielle DeVor Page A

opened the cabinet below the TV. After a moment, he pulled out a DVD. He turned to me and motioned for me to sit down on the couch.
    I sat. After a few moments, the movie was playing.
    “This is last Christmas,” Will said.
    The screen was filled with a beautiful Christmas scene. There was a large tree with multicolored lights and topped with a golden angel. The wall behind the tree was cream colored. Surrounding the tree were numerous presents, some big, some small, but all ornately wrapped.
    “Tor likes wrapping presents,” Will said.
    I smiled at him. “I can tell.”
    Then I heard a giggle that sounded like a bell. Lucy appeared on the screen. Her blond hair was messy, but it was messy with sleep.  She was wearing a red plaid nightgown.
    “Daddy!” she said with a giggle. “I wanna open presents.”
    On the TV, I could hear Will laugh.
    Tor came into view. “I don’t know why you have to film everything.”
    “Oh come on, Tor. I like to preserve things,” Will said, off screen.
    “Well, at least let your daughter open her presents,” she said.
    The rest of the video was more of the same. Lucy unwrapped all her gifts, complete squeals of delight at everything. A solid black cat played amongst the torn paper around the floor.
    This was not the same Lucy as the one upstairs, and for the first time, I let myself really think that there was something supernatural wrong with Lucy herself. What, I didn’t know, but I knew in my gut this was something I had to see through to the end.
    ###
    Will stepped out of the room when the movie was over. I could hear him sob from outside the room. I stayed where I was to let him have his privacy.
    Women never seemed to understand that about men. Men cry in private. It isn’t so much that we are ashamed, it’s more that we are so concerned with being protectors that showing weakness is never a good idea. Granted, it’s dumb prehistoric bullshit, but it’s one of the few instincts the human race has left.
    Of course this train of thought got me thinking about the last time I’d cried. It was when Tabby and I broke up. Even though it had been mutual, I knew I’d been a dumbass and if I’d paid more attention, we’d probably still be together. Even now, I couldn’t imagine a girl more perfect for me. She taught me to live and be comfortable in my own skin.
    What was ironic, and what would have made the church a lot harder on me if they had known, was that Tabby was a witch. Not a ride on the broom sort of witch, but a goddess fearing pagan. Of course, there really wasn’t any fear about it— except that her magic scared the crap out of me. Maybe it was I who was goddess fearing and not Tabby?
    My superiors would have branded her damned, but I knew better. She was one of the kindest people I had ever met. She tried her best to live a good life. I didn’t care that she was different. I just didn’t understand the logic of the church. How could someone so kind and caring be damned? I don’t think God is vengeful. I’m sure it’s odd to hear that from someone who was once a priest, but there are a few of us who don’t feel the same way the church does.
    I paused. Tabby was something else for me to have in my pocket. If this all went to Hell, I could call her and see what she had to say. She did have a Hell of a lot more experience than I did with supernatural stuff. It’s not every day that an ex-priest has a witch he can call on. Maybe there was something at work, getting me involved with Lucy. Maybe there wasn’t and I was getting dragged into this craziness by my idiotic brain. Either way, if things got out of hand, I could call Tabby. She would give me a kick in the ass if I needed it. Maybe she might even be able to help.
    ###
    After a bit, Will walked back into the room. “Tor’s here, want to help with the groceries?”
    I didn’t say anything. I just stood up and followed him out to the car. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made to bring