Jenna saw me and waved from across the park. She was holding a gold goblet and dancing to the live band that had set up on an elevated stage. She held hands with another pagan looking creature.
I waved back and stepped into the cocoon of lights. Slowly, I walked through the revelers and made my way to the bar. Little more than sheets of plywood resting on empty oil barrels, the rusticity of the bar somehow added to the surreal, mystical feel of the celebration. As I approached, I realized the furry-suited, horn-headed bartender was Curtis.
“Ma’am.”
“Hi Curtis, what are you serving tonight?” I looked at the row of liquor behind him, set up on another sheet of plywood.
He leaned closer, “Ma’am, about this morning…”
I put up my hand. “Please.”
“I won’t mention it to anyone.”
I blushed. “I wish you hadn’t mentioned it to me.”
He nodded. “Consider it unmentioned.”
“Thank you.”
“How about a wassail?” He grabbed a stone mug and thrust it under the spout of a large coffee urn.
“Sounds perfect.” I took the mug from him and sipped the hot, spiced drink. “Mmmmmm, this is good.”
He grinned. “I like your crown.”
I touched the tips of the icicle spikes reaching up from the gold headband. “It’s not too much?”
“No.” He smiled. “I especially like the silver snowflakes hanging from the sides.”
I smiled at him, knowing he was trying to move past the uncomfortable discussion from a moment ago. I raised my mug to him. “Thanks again.”
To the right of the bonfire stood a twenty-four-foot, aerial silk tri-pod structure. One of the local girls had been training with a cirque company and had come home for the holidays. Evidently, she had offered to perform a demonstration with the drum circle.
I circled the group of celebrators. I talked with some of the local parents and navigated my way to my ski patrol friends and Thomas.
“Hey, you made it.” He greeted me with a careful hug. He kept his head far away from the icicles. He chuckled. “Those things could hurt someone.”
“I feel a little silly.”
One of the other female patrollers, dressed in a red velvet hooded cape, with tulle draped over the shoulders, said, “No, you look fabulous. Very winter Wiccan.”
I blinked my eyes rapidly. “Oh, goodness, that isn’t what I was going for at all.”
The rest of them laughed. “Relax,” Thomas said. “We all know how serious you are. No one will mistakeyoufor one.”
I didn’t know whether to be relieved or offended. Before I had time to examine my feelings, conversation turned to Christmas and New Year’s Eve plans. With the exception of patrolling on Christmas Day, I really had none. Intentionally, of course.
The band stopped playing and the mayor stepped on stage, calling for everyone’s attention. “Hello, everyone.”
Hoots and hollers.
“Everyone, hello. Happy winter solstice.”
More cheers.
“We have a very special presentation for you tonight. Our very own Isolde Kelly.”
Applause from the audience.