Faerie Tale (12 page)

Then the man rose and said, “’Tis done, missy.”

Gabbie felt perspiration running down her cheek, and the man seemed to be speaking from a long distance away. “Thank you,” she said weakly.

She stepped around to take the reins from him. Then she felt his hands upon her waist. Her breath caught in her throat and her body burned as a tremble of excite
ment rushed through her. She turned, half expecting the man to embrace her. A small, detached part of her mind was frantic, but she was caught up in a hazy cloud of heat and odors. She could smell the salt sweat of him, masked by smoke, mixed with the flowers and spices. Spices? she wondered. Her eyes closed and her lips parted in anticipation. Then the man was lifting her to the saddle, as easily as if she were an infant. She blinked, trying to clear her watery vision. He stood holding up the reins for her. She took them as he said, “Make ’long the gully, Miss Hastin’s. You’ll find the bridge in no time. From there t’your home is but a few minutes. And go quickly. The light fails and the woods aren’t safe after dark.”

He swatted My Dandelion on the rump and the horse was moving, taking Gabbie from the circle of light around the wagon. Her head swam and she breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath. She found herself crying, feeling a profound sadness, and not knowing why. Then slowly her vision cleared.

She looked around and found she knew where she was. It was also lighter than she would have thought. She’d easily spent a half hour or more with the smith, and it should have been dark.

What had gone on? She’d almost had an orgasm when he touched her, and that unnerved her in a way she couldn’t understand. It was too frightening to contemplate any man having that much sexual power over her. For that was what it had been, a raw, basic sexual power. Embarrassment made her eyes water again and she defiantly wiped them. Damn, I’m no child to be afraid because a guy turns me on. But another voice said that what she had been through was something different from simple arousal. Jack could turn her on. This Wayland Smith could turn her inside out. Suddenly she was afraid. She looked behind and saw no hint of the smith and his wagon. Then she thought, I didn’t offer to pay him! On the heels of that thought came the realization that he knew where she lived, and if he wanted payment, knew where to find her. But how did he know who I was! And the thought of his coming to find her both thrilled and
terrified her. She looked around as her vision cleared some more. How far had she come in that dreamlike state?

The sound of another horse came to her and she wondered if Wayland Smith had decided to follow her. Half fearfully, half excited, she turned and waited and then, with a flood of relief, saw Jack coming down the trail.

Jack reined in beside her, began to speak, and saw something in her face. “Are you okay?”

Gabbie touched her cheeks and found tears running down them. She only nodded. “Gabbie, what is it? It’s not Sheila Riley, is it? She’s just a kid.”

Gabbie looked at him with confusion in her expression. “Sheila Riley?” she asked softly. “No.” She leaned across the gap between the horses and kissed Jack, her tongue darting into his mouth. In her hunger, she almost fell from the saddle.

Jack reached out, steadying her as he reluctantly pushed her away, then touched her face. “Christ almighty. You’re burning up! Come on, let’s get you home.”

Gabbie nodded dully. She allowed Jack to take My Dandelion’s reins while she held on to the saddle. Images of fires and the smell of spices were fogging her mind and she couldn’t understand why she was so confused.

Gloria looked up from doing the laundry and saw Jack standing at the back porch door. “Hi. Come on in.”

“How’s Gabbie?”

“Tired, but otherwise fine. Her temp was normal this morning and the doctor said not to bother bringing her in unless it went back up. He thinks she just caught some bug.”

Jack’s expression betrayed disagreement. “She was in
pretty ragged frame of mind, Gloria. I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure she was hallucinating.”

Gloria stopped folding towels. “What makes you say that?”

Jack crossed his arms and leaned against the door-jamb. Just then Bad Luck stuck his nose in from the kitchen, saw Jack, snuffed a breath in greeting, and returned to the kitchen. Gloria said, “They’re installing the satellite dish and the workmen asked he be kept inside.” Jack looked surprised. “He’s too friendly. Gets in the way.” Jack nodded. “Now, what were you saying?”

“She talked about meeting a blacksmith, a fellow with a horse-drawn wagon, who fixed a thrown shoe. I checked with Mr. Laudermilch’s foreman, and he said that he thinks My Dandelion had cracked her hoof a couple of days before and they’d filed ’cross it and reshoed her. He checked and couldn’t see anything different. Besides, I was only ten minutes behind her at most, and it couldn’t have happened in the time she says. So it must have been a hallucination.”

Gloria looked both thoughtful and worried. “Gabbie’s not given to flights of fancy. She might have told you about her mother and grandmother—anyway, her childhood was pretty rugged emotionally. She tends to have both feet on the ground. She has a temper, but otherwise she’s a pretty down-to-earth girl.”

“Well, I got pretty sick when I was a kid, a high fever, and hallucinated giant bunny rabbits hiding in my closet. The human mind is capable of a lot.”

“Fever can do that,” Gloria agreed, though her agreement seemed tentative. “Maybe she ought to see the doctor anyway.”

Just then a voice from the kitchen caused them to turn. Gabbie entered and brightly said, “Gloria, I’m famished—” She halted when she saw Jack and her expression turned dark. “Hello,” she said icily.

Gloria put the last towel on top of the new dryer. “I think I’ll go see how the workmen are coming.” She beat a hasty retreat.

Jack said, “You okay?”

Unexpectedly, Gabbie was taken aback by the question. “Sure? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You were kind of out of it last night, is why.”

She looked at him, curiosity softening her eyes for a moment. “What do you mean, ‘out of it’? I was just a little—upset.” Her expression darkened again. “And now that you mention it, what are you doing here? I thought you’d be out with the balloon queen.”

“Sheila?” said Jack, his forehead wrinkled in concern. “I explained all that last night. She wants Aggie to write a recommendation letter to Cornell. She’s pinned to a frat rat down at Penn. Gabbie, don’t you remember my bringing you home?”

Gabbie’s face drained of color. She backed into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “I … I remember leaving the park. I rode into the woods and … it’s a little vague after that. I woke up this morning, so I figured I got home—My Dandelion! I was going to take her over to Mr. Laudermilch’s.”

Jack pulled out another chair and sat down. “I took care of it last night, after I put you to bed.”

Suddenly Gabbie flushed. “You put me to bed?”

Jack smiled, a little self-consciously. “Well, you were feverish and someone had to. I put you in bed, called Mr. Laudermilch’s place, and told him what was going on. He sent a couple of boys over to take the horses back, and when your folks got in, I took off.”

Gabbie hid her face behind her hands as she uttered a groan. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Jack leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I can understand. That tattoo is pretty ugly.”

She looked out from behind her hands, half-amused, half-upset, and hit him in the arm. “You bastard! I bet you enjoyed it. Taking advantage.”

Jack was caught halfway between a grin and a concerned look. “Actually, I was pretty worried. You were drenched with perspiration, burning up and all. I had to wet you down with a damp cloth.” His grin broadened. “Still, I can’t say as I didn’t take notes as I went.”

She hit him again, harder. “Ow!” he protested. “That’s enough.”

Suddenly she reached out and put her hand behind his neck. Yanking him forward, she kissed him long and hard. He returned the kiss, then, when she pulled away, said softly, “Now, what was that for?”

“For being worried and for not taking advantage.”

He shrugged. Gently he said, “Gabbie, when you yank me into bed, I want it because you really want to, not because you’re all delirious with fever.”

Gabbie’s eyes widened. “Yank you into bed?”

Jack grinned even more. “Yes, you … ah … had some interesting ideas last night.”

Gabbie hid her face behind her hands again. “Oh God!” Then after a minute she looked at him. “I thought those were all dreams.” Once more her hands covered her face. “I think I’m going to die.” She looked at him. “What did I say?”

Jack laughed. “What’s it worth to you to know?”

He leaped from his chair as she swung at his shoulder. “You son of a bitch,” she said, laughing. “You’d better tell me!”

Jack backed away from her, his hands held out before him in a gesture of supplication. “Now, I don’t know.…”

She jumped forward and he dodged into the service porch. Bad Luck had been lurking under the kitchen table and at the sudden burst of activity began barking, a joyous canine celebration of noise.

“Shut up, you hound.” Gabbie laughed. “You,” she said, pointing at Jack. “Speak!”

At that, Bad Luck barked. Jack halted his retreat, laughing uncontrollably. “I surrender.” Gabbie came into the ring of his arms and he kissed her. “You didn’t say much. You said something about a blacksmith fixing My Dandelion’s shoe, then were quiet until I started undressing you.” She buried her face in his shoulder and made embarrassed noises. “Then you thought to reciprocate.”

She laughed. “Whew! I must have been out of it.”

“I like that!”

She looked up into his eyes. “Don’t fret,” she said, kissing him. “As long as you aren’t interested in Miss Dock Bumpers, you’ll have no problems.”

Jack grinned. “You really got jealous?”

Gabbie rested her head on his shoulder. “Ya, I did.” Suddenly she was angry. “Damn it,” she said defiantly as she pushed herself away and turned toward the kitchen. “It’s just not fair!”

He was after her in a stride and took her arm. Her momentum caused her to turn and he drew her back to him. “What’s not fair?”

“In less than three months I’ll be back in California.”

“Hey! It’ll be all right.”

She looked long at him. “Promise?”

He grinned. “I promise.”

She bit her lower lip. “I tried to undress you?” He nodded. “Ow!” she said with a wince as she turned back to the kitchen. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

“Which I take it means you want to change the subject.” He admired her as she leaned over to peer into the refrigerator. “Still, you did have me worried.”

She looked back over her shoulder. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

She looked radiant. “Thanks.” Looking back in the refrigerator, she asked, “Ham or bologna?”

“Ham.”

She pulled the fixings from the refrigerator and bumped the door closed. Putting everything down on the table, she paused and looked thoughtful. “Did you say I talked about a blacksmith?”

“Yes, you did. Why?”

“Funny. I just had an … image of a man … I don’t know. It must have been the fever.”

Jack only nodded, but he wondered. Too many strange things had occurred in those woods, and he still couldn’t shake the feeling he had seen something on Erl King Hill on Midsummer’s Night; he just couldn’t remember what. And at night he had odd dreams just before falling asleep, ghostly dancers and the faint, inhuman music. He
tried to remember the dream in the morning, but it just slipped away; yet he knew there had been something there. He shook himself from his musing and grabbed a pair of plates from the cupboard, handing them over to Gabbie.

Outside he could hear Gloria’s voice as she shouted something at the twins.

“Okay, monsters, back off.”

The boys grudgingly retreated a step as they watched the workmen. The concrete around the pole had been poured a few days before and left to dry, and now the dish itself was being mounted. Patrick and Sean had been hovering around them all morning, asking questions, and generally being underfoot. The two workmen didn’t seem to mind, but Gloria was determined to give them a demilitarized zone in which to work. She glanced at the house and wondered if Gabbie and Jack had resolved their differences. She was pleased that Gabbie appeared back to normal this morning, but still felt uneasy about last night. The fever had been sudden and severe. It had been at least a hundred and three, if Gloria could judge from touch. She had nursed two babies through fever and knew Gabbie’s had been high. Still, no harm, no foul, as that basketball announcer back in L.A. said all the time.

But there was something about the sudden onset and recovery that disturbed Gloria. It just didn’t fit her set of acceptable illnesses. Anything that wasn’t clearly a cold, flu, broken bones, or allergy was suspect. Symptoms that didn’t make sense were always a sign of terrible things approaching. A deep fear of Gloria’s, never shared with anyone, not even Phil, was a terror of illness. Cancer, heart disease, the other lingering, disabling illnesses with long technical names that twisted bones, filled lungs with fluid, robbed the muscles of strength, all were horrors
beyond her mind’s ability to accept. The strongest, most robust man she had known—her father—had died of cancer. And the symptoms had been misleading at first. His death simply amplified her deep fear of debilitating illness. She gave up smoking in high school when other girls were just beginning. She wasn’t a health food fanatic, but she stayed away from refined sugar and high-cholesterol foods and made sure everyone stayed active. She had badgered Phil into running when they had met, and now he was addicted. No, Gloria thought, it was just a bug. But deep inside she wondered if she should press Gabbie to see the doctor.

Ted Mullins, the owner of the local television shop, personally supervised these installations. He had made a fair profit from other farmers nearby and this was the fanciest ground station he had sold yet, so he wanted it perfect. Satisfied all was going as it should, he turned to Gloria and said, “Ma’am, I’ll need to hook the cable up inside the house now.” She nodded distractedly. “The dog, ma’am?”