Enchantment (23 page)

It was Jen. “will u no soon? sleepover friday - want u there.”

“I'll ask,” she answered, then put the phone away.

Sleepover with the girls, or a night with Ohlan? No contest, but she wasn't sure the choice would come up.

She winced. By Friday, her life might be over. Because if Ohlan died, she wasn't sure she'd want to live on.

So think, dummy. How can you stop the reconstruction project?

She'd had silly thoughts of standing in front of bulldozers. Could she really do that? There wouldn't be bulldozers, but there would be grown men with some kind of destructive equipment. Did she have the guts to put herself between them and their work? She'd just get arrested, but at least that would delay the destruction of the spring, and maybe draw some attention to the issue.

She sprawled on the bed and closed her eyes, picturing herself crusading to save the spring. Trouble was, she suspected no one would care. Why should they? She hadn't cared herself before she met Ohlan.

If everyone knew about Ohlan, maybe then they'd care, but she knew if she tried to tell people about him they'd just think she was crazy. That's why Amanda had turned her story into a fairy tale.

The thoughts went around and around in her head. She kept testing and discarding possibilities, always ending up back in front of the bulldozers. She didn't like it, but it seemed like the only option that had any chance of working.

Boy, would her folks be pissed.

Positive thinking was supposed to help. She tried picturing herself standing down the construction dudes, being named a hero for bringing the spring's plight to Las Palomas's attention. She was in the middle of a speech thanking the mayor for the key to the city when she heard Ohlan's voice.

Holly.

The scene she was imagining vanished, like a reflection disturbed by a pebble falling into the water. She felt a familiar cool darkness in its place.

“Oh. I'm dreaming.”

“Yes,” Ohlan said, and with that she saw him.

They weren't in the glen. She couldn't tell where they were, only that she felt comfortable wherever it was. Comfortable because Ohlan was there. He was back in his usual form, softly glowing.

“How come you can come to me in dreams, but you have to stay at the spring otherwise?”

“A dream is communication. Like your telephones. It doesn't require physical presence.”

“Oh. Do you even have a physical presence?”

“Of course. It's a lot more malleable than yours, but it's real.”

“What do you really look like?”

“Whatever you want to see. The Schrödinger analogy is a good one.”

He moved closer to her, taking her in his arms. She thought she heard a faint sound of water rippling as she laid her head on his shoulder.

“My mom likes you.”

“I like her, too.”

“I still want to make love with you.”

“I know. That's why I'm here.”

“To make love? In a dream?”

“No.” He dropped a soft kiss on her cheek. “To ask you not to come to the spring tonight.”

She pushed back to look at him. “Why?”

“Lots of reasons. One is that I don't want to be the cause of trouble between you and your family.”

“
I want
you
to be my family.”

He smiled sadly. “I wish I could promise that, but my survival is too uncertain. I've thought about this a lot, Holly, because I want you every bit as much as you want me. But if I'm not going to be around, then I don't want to have caused a rift between you and your parents. Do you see?”

Why did he have to be right about this? She buried her face in his shoulder.

“Another reason is that I don't want your memories of me to be tainted with desperation,” he said. “If we made love because we thought this was our only chance, I don't think it would be as joyous as it should be.”

“So I should die a virgin?”

She felt him smile—proof this was a dream, because she wasn't looking at him. His smile felt like the sun dawning; warm and golden.

“You won't die, Holly. I might, but you won't.”

“That's pretty funny coming from you, water dude. You're how old again?”

“All things pass eventually.”

Why did it have to be now?

She felt her throat tightening with tears. If you cried in a dream, did you still get red eyes and a stuffy nose?

Stupid thought. She turned her attention to him instead.

“Ohlan, do you know the future?”

“I'm pretty good at guessing it.”

“But you don't know.”

“No.”

She hugged him tighter. “Then you don't know I won't die.”

“I'm asking you not to.”

She froze. He
was
a good guesser.

“You have a beautiful life ahead of you, Holly. I'd hate to be the thing that brought it to an end.”

“But without you—“

“Still beautiful. Trust me on this.”

“I don't want to live without you.”

“Love comes in many forms. Give some of the others a chance.”

She looked at him, not liking the way this sounded like a goodbye. She tried to memorize his face. The photos she'd taken were good, but they didn't capture the spark of joy that was his essence.

“Which of your loves was the best?” she whispered.

He grinned. “Too easy. The latest one.”

“Why aren't you angry that you might be dying?”

“What good would anger do?”

He kissed her, first on her cheeks, then on her throat, making her moan with desire. He raised his head to look at her.

“I'm just happy to have had you in my life, Holly. A much better ending than fading away alone, unconscious.”

“Most people think that's a good way to die.”

“But it's not a good ending. Not for me. My existence is about caring for others.”

“Aren't you ever selfish?”

“Ah … I don't think I can be. It's how I'm made.”

She leaned her head back to gaze at him. His eyes were soft, filled with love. Glowing.

“
Yeah. That's you.” She hugged him tighter, nuzzling against his neck. “Well,
I'm
selfish. I want you to stay with me.”

“If I can I will.”

“Forever. I mean, all my life. I don't care if I'm a crippled old lady, I want you to still love me.”

“I will.”

If you're here.

“Just wait a little, all right?” he said. “We'll know soon.”

“I don't want to wait. I want you now.”

“Shh.”

He kissed her. Holly kissed back, hungry for more. She'd settle for making love in a dream if that was all she could get.

Ohlan kept it gentle, answering her eagerness with soft, sweet kisses all over her face. It made her ache for more, but it also made her stop and pay attention. Maybe he was right that desperation would spoil it. He kissed her eyelids, making her close them.

“This is better,” he said, his voice soft and husky in her ear. “Besides, you don't want to get wet.”

“Hmm?”

A heavy crash made her sit up, gasping.

In her room, on her bed, alone. It was dim. Disoriented, she wondered if she'd slept through dinner, then a rumble of thunder explained why she'd woken. Rain was battering the window and the roof.

“Oh.”

Funny, Ohlan. Yeah, she'd have gotten wet riding up to the spring and back, even if he could keep her dry while she was there.

If he wasn't so wonderful, it would be really annoying that he was right all the time.

She got up and went to the window, looking out at the rain. Usually she loved rainstorms, but this one made her sad. Was the world weeping for the loss of a water guardian?

She shook her head. He wasn't gone yet, and she wasn't going to give up. She'd honor his wishes and stay home tonight, but she was sure as hell going up to the spring tomorrow.

She left early for school. Mom and Dad hadn't said anything about the grounding, and she hadn't asked. She didn't really care any more. Ohlan mattered more to her than parental rules, sorry. Also more than school.

She sat through her morning classes in growing restlessness. When the bell sounded for lunch, she couldn't bear the thought of sitting around with her friends.

She'd had enough. She'd tried to wait. She just couldn't take any more.

She shoved her pack in her locker and headed for the bike racks. The midday sun was hot on her shoulders. She pumped up Mountain Loop from the north side, the side nearest school, glad that she wouldn't have to pass her street.

The first shock came when she reached the trailhead. The big sign had been updated with a yellow and black “CLOSED” sign. A large barrier of orange striped sawhorses and yellow tape stood across the trailhead.

A white pickup truck with toolboxes all around and a flatbed trailer hitched behind was sprawled across the half-dozen parking spaces. The bike rack had been uprooted and lay in the bed of the truck. Seeing it there made her angry and a little frightened. She hauled her bike up the hill a few paces and chained it to a small pine tree.

Something heavy had driven up the trail—the tracks had torn up the ground a bit. Too small to be a truck, and the trail was too narrow for one in a lot of places anyway—but it could have been an ATV. Holly frowned as she started up the hill.

She'd come to think of this as
her
place, and she resented the intrusion of the contractors, even though she knew the trail would be better for their work. She could let that happen, but she couldn't let them destroy the spring.

Too steep to run, but she hiked as fast as she could. In a couple of places the trail had already been altered; some rocks that had made going rough had been dug up and rolled aside, and in one place smashed apart. Her dread grew at the sight, and though her lungs were starting to burn she strode faster.

As she neared the glen, she heard the sound of a generator. Wrong; that sound didn't belong in her private sanctuary. Her world was being torn apart.

Heart pumping, she arrived at the glen and saw a mess. She'd been right about the ATV—it was parked by the bush where the squirrel had been recuperating. Her rush of fear for the animal's sake was surpassed by the sight of the spring.

A large hose was snaked into the concrete coffin, attached to a big pump that was sucking the water out and spilling it down the hillside. The water was down about a third. Holly gasped.

Ohlan?

No sign of him. Maybe he was taking the squirrel to safety. She hoped that was it.

The generator was only powering the pump at the moment, but there was a big thing she suspected was a jackhammer on the back of the ATV. Two men—a wiry Hispanic guy and a sandy-haired Anglo, both wearing hard hats—were lounging beside it, talking and leaning on sledgehammers. They looked up at her.

“Hey, the trail's closed,” said the Anglo. “You're not supposed to be up here. It's dangerous.”

Holly swallowed, then stepped up beside the spring. She glanced in the water, hoping to see Ohlan, but she saw only the hose.

“You can't destroy the spring.”

The men exchanged a glance. The sandy-haired guy left his hammer and came toward her.

“Look, sorry, but we've got a job to do. You're going to have to leave.”

She backed against the coffin, shaking her head. Her fingers brushed the edge of the concrete. Her heart was pounding.

“Don't make us call the cops, kid.”

The Hispanic guy already had a cell phone in his hand, watching. This was not going well; she should have arranged for some kind of publicity. If she just got arrested and hauled away, she wouldn't have done any good.

The sandy-haired guy came closer. Holly sat down on the coffin, gripping it with both hands.

The guy frowned, then sighed. “OK, what's your name?”

She didn't answer. She didn't want to talk to him; either of them.

“I'm Tony,” he said. “What's the big deal? This is just an old lump of concrete.”

Holly pressed her lips together. She wasn't going to convince him, so why bother trying?

The worker walked back to his friend, who was talking on the cell phone. Holly bit her lip, then slid one hand down the inside of the coffin, reaching for the water. She leaned sideways and her fingertips just brushed it.

Ohlan?

Holly, go home!

She caught herself on a sob. Didn't want the workers to think she was totally crazy. She looked down, glancing sidelong into the water. All she could see was the hose, coiled like a snake.

Where are you?

I'm safe. Please, go home. It'll be all right.

Her throat tightened.
No, it won't!

The sandy-haired guy was coming back. Holly straightened and grabbed hold of the coffin's edge again.

“The police are on their way. If you leave before they get here, you won't be arrested.”

“Thanks.”

She didn't move. The worker squatted a few feet away, looking up at her.

“I don't get it,” he said. “What are you after?”

“Saving the spring.”

“That thing? It's an old broken-down concrete box. It's going to disintegrate anyway.”

She swallowed. “It's important. Historically.”

“You know, the Forest Service studied all of that. They spent a lot of money deciding what to do.”

Holly looked away. She probably knew more about the Forest Service's studies than this guy did. Pointless to argue.

He tried a few more times to get her talking, but she kept her mouth shut. She was not going to let herself be coaxed away. She would stand by Ohlan if it was the last thing she did.

Before long—way too soon—she heard footsteps hurrying up the trail. A cop showed up at the edge of the glen, out of breath. The worker stood and backed away.