The Lost

As he followed the housekeeper from the room, the envelope and its precious documents turned dazzling white, sending out a spray of glittering sparks that had the hounds backing away.

Cullen turned. Instead of burning to ash, the paper’s edges curled up into the shape of a perfect heart. For long moments it gleamed red hot, as though alive and pulsing, before it shot straight up the chimney.

The old man smiled. A magician, was he? Maybe. Maybe not. But one thing was certain. He was a man who’d spent a lifetime seeking perfect love. And wasn’t it grand that now, after all this time, it was right here in this very place?

He couldn’t wait to see this old lodge filled to the rafters with love and laughter. And babies. Oh now, there was a fine plan indeed.

The thought had him laughing like a loon and rubbing his hands in anticipation of everything that the fine, bright future was about to bring to all of them.