Before I drop you into chapter one of the Breezewood Chapters Book 2, Stepping Through Realms, I just want to let you know that if you haven’t read book one yet,
What If We Met In A Bookstore, you might want to. Book one really should be read first. :)
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Finally, here is the unedited chapter one of Stepping Through Realms.
Chapter One: Briar
Cream colored paper crinkles beneath my fingers; Wystan's last letter taking a firm hold on my senses. Breezewood is ever drawing me back. I want to see the castle again, smell the forest air, learn about magic, and browse the library Andrew talked about. Most of all, I want to see what Wystan found.
Peter and Joel and the rest of the group want to go back as well but the time hasn't been right. Ever since Thanksgiving and the return of my family, life has sped up. Peter officially re-met my family and we all got together with his. It's been a joyous time. He's also continually proving himself to be the one I want to marry someday, and it has only been a few months. We've been having family dinners, I've helped Peter do some local marketing for the escape room, and on top of that, I started writing again. Peter encouraged me to take out my old notebooks and start a new story. I vividly remember his soft words the day he brought up my writing, his light hair shining in the winter sun.
"You should try and finish a novel. You can do it, you know. I found my dream. I want you to find yours."
His words go down like honey. Determined, I promise myself that I will work on a novel for the rest of this winter. By spring, I might just have enough words to call it a first draft.
I take in a breath, the crisp air of February swirling deep within my lungs. While Homer doesn't have much snow right now, the weather is still mid winter with night temps reaching twenty below zero. I shove Wystan's letter into my pocket with a gloved hand and crunch across the parking lot to the bakery. The front door beckons and I'm eager for the warmth and scent of sweet pastries and drip coffee. The bell above the door jingles as I step in. Anna sees me from the kitchen and skips out to the counter, a smile painted on her face as generously as the flour on her apron.
"I was wondering when you'd stop in. Peter said he'll be here soon."
"I know." I give her a smirk. Her face scrunches and then she rolls her eyes sarcastically.
"I forgot, he texts you all the time."
"Actually he called me, but yeah, we keep in contact." My voice carries a melancholy sweetness. I still can't believe Peter is calling and texting me and hanging out with me. Anna sidles up to the register while brushing flour off her apron.
"It's so nice having you as a sister…er…I mean, like a sister." Anna's face tints red at the insinuation. I know she views me as such so I don't mind the incorrect label. My heart does a flip though. Has Peter been talking to her about me?
"It's okay.” I smile back, tilting my head up to view the pastry menu.
“Anything in particular today?” The hum of a dough mixer melds with the clink of coffee cups and the light jazz song playing in the background.
“I’ll try your blueberry lemon roll.” My eyes rove over the glass counter shielding everything from flaky croissants to enormous chocolate glazed doughnuts.
“Coming right up.” Anna pinches a gooey roll with tongs and slides it into a wax paper bag. The scent of coffee and sugar swirls around the shop like magic and part of my brain tells me that isn’t too far from the truth.
Roll in hand, along with a healthy wad of napkins, I cross to a table and take a seat. My fleece lined winter boots hug my feet, the wool of my socks like a warm cocoon. Peter will be here soon. I reach inside and snitch a tiny taste of the roll. Goodness, this is amazing. I force myself to not take a bigger piece and instead tie up the bag and slide it away from me. I promised Peter I'd wait for him and share.
While I wait, I close my eyes, the final scene of when I was last in Breezewood playing before my mind like a movie. Those slow motion seconds as I looked into the eyes of Alder as he swiped Joel's watch from my hand sends shivers over my skin. My eyes open, a tiny thread of terror forcing me back into the bakery. I never want to have to face that kind of evil again but we don't know if Alder is dead. That portal could have just momentarily transported him someplace else. Somewhere in our world. I sit straighter in my seat, wrapping my feet around the chair legs, as if rooting myself to it will keep me from falling into the clutches of danger.
I never told my family about Breezewood, afraid they would take me to the doctors or a therapy session. My sister I'd be more inclined to tell, but I don't think she could keep it a secret for long. She would believe me, which is the the problem. Then I'd have to fight tooth and nail to keep her quiet. No, it's best I keep the secret for now.
“Am I interrupting anything?” A warm voice says, a gentle hand on my shoulder. Peter's touch breaks me from my thoughts and my ankles relax, unwinding themselves from the chair legs. I'm safe with him.
“Actually, you just rescued your breakfast. I was just about to eat that entire roll myself instead of sharing and you’ve stopped me. Perfect timing.” Peter slides into the seat opposite me and reaches for the bag and opens it, eyebrows raising and scrunching in delight.
“Oh yum, I can see why.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Anna casually spying on us. She’s probably waiting to hear us discuss going back to Breezewood. Tonight, the group will be making the decision if we are to go back this weekend or not. Wystan’s letter combined with Naomi and Joel’s insistence that missing people still need to be rescued has given the entire group a reason to return. But not only that. The threads of some strange magic have stitched themselves into each of our minds and Breezewood is tugging on them, coaxing us back across its borders. None of us are hesitant to go back, only cautious. The threat of our realm finding out the secret of the bookshop gateway that I hold access to is still real and looming. One stray word, one wrong person to believe it, and the secret of Breezewood could be at the mercies of our world’s governments and elites. Or rather, I would be. I shiver in my seat. I don’t want to think about the darkness that hovers at the edges of the light. Peter sees my anxiousness and reaches out a hand to brush mine.
“Hey, we’ll come to a decision tonight. Let’s not worry about it right now.” I smile in return, nodding at his suggestion.
“How did you know what I’m thinking about?”
“The same way we know someone is from…you know. Your eyes.” My own meet his and I suck in a breath. His eyes glow faintly blue, the same glow that lets others that you’ve been to Breezewood a number of times. Recently, the group discovered that when we think about Breezewood, our eyes glow a little. They don’t glow all the time, just when we are thinking about it or if we stare into someone’s eyes head on for a time. Only those in on the secret that have been to Breezewood can see it.
“I wear my emotions on the outside it seems.”
“You were hard to read before Breezewood, but now, it’s been easier.” His voice is gentle and understanding. He rubs his thumb over my fingers then pats my hand like I’m a puppy and withdraws it to open the roll bag again.
“I have more things to think about now than I used to. I don’t have the room to conceal it all I guess.” It's true. Back before all this happened, all I was really concerned about was making something of my life and working at the bookshop. And Peter. Now, I have way more things to keep track of. Sooner or later, something will seep out.
“Makes sense. Roll?” He hands me half of the sticky treat and I receive it gratefully. I nibble a corner, the tartness of the lemon and the sweetness of the sugar and blueberry slide over my tongue like soft kind words. I chew silently, trying to get my mind off Breezewood. But I can’t. Wystan’s letter is still folded in my pocket and I have the words memorized. Peter’s read it several times and so has the rest of the group. But none of them are as moved as me to return for the note alone. What did Wystan mean about finding another portal? And where is it?
When the roll is gone, Peter stands and gives me a hug.
"See you tonight?" he mumbles against my ear. I nod into his shoulder, soaking in the warmth and safety of his arms.
"I'll be there." He gives me another squeeze then I watch him wave at Anne before he leaves the shop. Our day finally begins.
Peter has some adjusting to do for the escape room this weekend which requires supplies and Andrew wants me to start cataloging the rare books we have in the shop, a job I’ve wanted to do for a long time. Andrew relied on his memory for the longest time and a few notes here and there but I’d suggested we put all his rare books that he’s had come through the shop in one place so he can keep track. He’s had some pretty neat books sold in the shop and still has some under glass that I’ve had my eye on. Not that I plan on buying them. I just want to see how old they are and know their worth. I told Peter that if given the opportunity, I’d travel the world in search of old books and antiques to bring back for Andrew. He said he’d come with me if the opportunity ever came.
When I park in front of the bookshop next to Peter and Andrew’s cars, I get a text. I pull my phone out of my purse and scan the screen. An unknown number. A cryptic message. My stomach drops.
I know your secret. Now it’s up to you if you are willing to deliver it. Meet me at the end of the Homer spit at 11pm tonight. I’ll know if you’re not alone. Otherwise, one of your friends will disappear. Don't test me.