The Matchmaker's Charm

“She’s injured, Luca, and it’s my fault.” Selina yanked the purple scarf off her head and let it flutter to the floor of his tiny house when she entered.

            He looked up from the small kitchen area where he was chopping vegetables and tossing them into a crockpot. His brows drew together. “Injured? How?” He set his knife on the cutting board and slid an arm around her shoulders. “Here, come sit and tell me what happened.”

            She let him guide her to the blue velvet wingback chair. “I don’t know. Sophie had a crutch and was limping.” She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, hoping to ease the throbbing in her head.

            “Hey, are you okay?”

            The anxiety in his voice was thick, but she couldn’t worry about that right now. Her headache was on the verge of spiraling out of control and she needed to get a handle on it. “Do we have any lavender oil?”

            He rummaged through the cupboard above the sink and produced a vial. “Scoot your chair over here and I’ll do it for you,” he offered.

            After a bit of rearranging in the tight space, she sank back into the plush chair and closed her eyes again as he dotted her forehead and temples with the fragrant oil. His fingers rubbed in gentle circles, swirling the heady scent of lavender around her, filled her nose and seeped into her skin. She focused on her breathing, and after a few moments the tension ebbed.

            “Don’t move yet.” He got up to retrieve her hairbrush and a bottle of detangling lotion. “Okay, now lean forward for a second.”

            She bent forward to let him gather her waist-length hair, then relaxed again as he lifted the mass of curls over the back of the chair.

            Once he’d smoothed the lotion through her hair, he set to work with the brush.

            Her father hand-carved the brush from rowan wood for her sixteenth birthday. He’d even had it designed by a hairstylist in the Romani colony to have wide wooden bristles specially made for her curly hair. The thin handle broadened to an elongated oval head, and down the back side he’d carved, then painted, a thick trailing vine.

            Several blissful moments later, Luca set the brush on the edge of a small shelf next to her chair.

            “Oh, much better now, thanks.” She smiled as he planted a light kiss on top of her head. “Smells good in here. What’re you making?”

            “Lamb stew,” he said, inclining his head at the crockpot on the counter. “What happened? You said Sophie’s hurt?”

            “I don’t know how she got hurt, I didn’t get the chance to ask.” Selina stood and helped herself to a handful of raw carrots, before returning to the cozy chair. She sat cross-legged, munching while she told him about her conversation with Sophie by the outhouse.

            “This man, Jacob, he’s helping her?” Luca gave her a quick glance, then resumed chopping.

            “It sure sounded like it. Still,” she shook her head, “I could feel her confusion. Her unrest.”

            Luca lifted the lid from the crockpot and tossed the last of the vegetables in, then turned and leaned against the counter. “We knew this’d be difficult. We need to remember what your mom said, you’re bringing love into these people’s lives.” He raised his eyebrows and gave her a small smile. “Have you been to see your mom yet?”

            “Not yet. I guess we better go though. My pop saw me leave the office. He’ll have told her I’m back.” Despite that, Selina didn’t move. “Do you really think we’re doing the right thing?”

            He pushed off from the counter and knelt in front of her, taking both hands in his and squeezing tight. “Yes,” he said with conviction. “This is what you were born to do. It’s your destiny.”

            His words made her breath catch, the similarity of what she’d said to Sophie earlier concerning destiny lit in her mind like a blazing neon sign. “And what about you? Your destiny?” she asked softly.

            Luca brought her hands to his lips and kissed them, his eyes shining with tenderness. “I was born to love you.”