Fairytale Come Alive (29 page)

Prentice, Fiona knew, was also tired. He hadn’t slept in two days. He hadn’t slept well in three weeks.

But, as tired as Prentice had to be, Bella was more tired it was plain to see.

And it wasn’t only from worry over Sally being knocked over.

Life, Fiona knew, was finally wearing Isabella Austin Evangahlala down.

Just what Fiona needed, something
else
to worry about.

Who said you could rest when you were dead? Whoever it was, they
lied
.

“Jace, give me a minute, I want to talk to Elle,” Prentice said to his son.

Fiona watched Bella’s shoulders get tight as Jason turned to give his father an assessing look.

Prentice held his son’s gaze and Fiona would have laughed if she wasn’t holding her non-existent ghost breath.

They were having a showdown.

The last time Jason was with Bella, her father walked into wedding reception and struck her so forcefully she went down to her hands and knees. After that hideous event, she’d disappeared for three weeks coming back looking like the walking dead.

Now, it was plain to see, Jason wasn’t leaving Bella’s side even at his father’s command, not if he thought something would harm her even if that something was his father.

Fiona had only nine years to raise her son right and she was pretty pleased with herself that she’d accomplished this feat (with Prentice’s help, of course, but, at that moment, Fiona decided to take all the credit).

“I’ll finish the potatoes, Jason. Do as your Dad says, okay?” Bella said quietly and Fiona looked to her to see she was watching the showdown and it had alarmed her.

Prentice’s eyes cut to Bella and his mouth got tight as Jason turned his assessing look to her.

Then Jason nodded and loped up the stairs.

Bella went back to the potatoes and started cutting.

Prentice moved in close (as did Fiona) and Fiona watched as he took the knife right out of her hand. Her body jolted, her surprised eyes turned to Prentice and she opened her mouth to speak.

Prentice got there first. “I don’t need your help making Jason mind.”

Well,
Fiona thought,
that wasn’t a good start.

Bella’s mouth stayed open not because she wanted to say something but because she was shocked.

“Go to bed,” Prentice ordered.

Bella’s eyes got wide, she closed her mouth then opened it to ask, “What?”

“Go to bed. I’ll finish this.”

Bella glanced with bewilderment at the potatoes then back at Prentice and, even Fiona had to admit, regardless of how drawn she looked, she was still adorable.

“But I’m cooking,” she replied, clearly confused.

“You’re about to pass out.”

Light dawned on her exhausted mind.

She looked away and started to turn from Prentice, saying, “I’m fine.”

Prentice stopped her by curling his fingers on her upper arm. Her head tilted back to look at him.

“Elle, I said, go to bed.”

Her cheeks flushed with anger as she returned, “And
I
said, I’m
fine
.”

Prentice moved closer to her at the same time he brought Bella closer to him with his hand on her arm.

Fiona watched Bella stiffen.

“Go to bed,” he repeated.

“I’m finishing tea.”

“Go to bed.”

“No!” she snapped.

His face dipped close to hers as he made his threat and, since Fiona knew Prentice didn’t make threats, it was more a promise.

“You can go to bed or I’ll carry you there.”

Bella’s mouth dropped open and so did Fiona’s.

He wasn’t joking.

“I’m very serious,” Prentice warned, sounding very,
very
serious.

There it was; he wasn’t joking.

“Prentice, I don’t see why –”

Prentice interrupted her, his voice harsh. “I have enough to worry about and so does my son, without either of us having to worry about you.”

Well, Fiona had to admit, that was true enough.

The color went out of Bella’s cheeks again and Fiona reckoned Bella agreed.

“Go to bed,” Prentice repeated.

Bella looked to the oven, her shoulders fell then she looked back at Prentice.

“The chicken has another hour to cook. It needs to be basted every fifteen minutes. The vegetables –” she began.

“Aye, I’ll do it.”

“The chicken has to be cooked through, if it isn’t –”

He cut her off by saying, low and rumbly, “Elle.”

She snapped her mouth shut.

Then she nodded.

Prentice let go of her arm, she started to walk away, stopped and turned back.

“Are you going back to Sally after tea?” she asked.

“Aye,” he answered shortly.

She hesitated and crossed her arms on her middle, fingers curled around her elbows. She licked her lips, stared at the floor a second then took a deep breath and enquired in a voice so soft, even Fiona, with extra-sensory abilities due to her ghost-dom, could almost not hear, “If I’m awake, can I come with you?”

Prentice glared at her.

Bella withstood the glare but Fiona saw her swallow nervously.

Then he grunted, “Aye.”

Her lips turned up in an almost smile.

Then she left the room.

Prentice stared after her for a long time.

Then he tore his hand through his hair as he bent his head to stare at his boots.

Then he ruined tea.

* * * * *

Isabella was awake when the food was ready.

She just laid there, eyes open, face sad and Fiona shouted at her to get up, get up,
get up
.

Fiona didn’t know if it was her shouting or the sounds that came from the kitchen through the opened doors to the guest suite but Isabella finally heaved a big sigh, got up, wandered down and ate with them.

The chicken looked heavenly.

The vegetables were way overdone.

Neither Isabella nor Jason uttered a word mainly because Prentice’s brooding glower did not invite this.

The three of them went to the hospital after tea.

When they came back a lot later, Fiona didn’t have to shout her questions to Isabella in hopes of finding out how Sally was.

The worry etched into their faces told the tale.

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Isabella

“Can I have Miss Bella’s chocolate cake for breakfast while I’m recupralating?” Sally asked from her place, buckled safely in the back of Prentice’s Range Rover.

Isabella looked over at the child as Jason twisted around from the front and corrected, “Recup
er
ating.”

“That’s what I said,
recupralating,
” Sally shot back.

Isabella smiled.

From behind the wheel, Prentice replied, “No.”

Sally’s face turned obstinate then it brightened as a new idea came to her. “Since I got knocked over by a car, can I have a horse?”

“No,” Prentice answered.

“A puppy?” Sally tried.

“No,” Prentice repeated.

“A kitty?” Sally pushed.

“No, Sally,” Prentice returned.

“A
fish?
” Sally cried in desperation.

Prentice chuckled before he replied, “We’ll see about a fish.”

Sally smiled cheerfully at Isabella and Isabella smiled back.

A miracle had happened.

When the doctors woke Sally after her brain swelling had gone down, she was groggy, in pain and confused but mostly she was Sally.

They did tests and found no memory loss, her concentration and recall were excellent, in fact all functions were a go.

The doctors were stunned.

Prentice, Jason, Debs, Annie, Dougal, Fergus and Prentice and Fiona’s families (not to mention Isabella) were relieved.

A miracle.

Isabella had never witnessed a miracle. In all her life, the only kind of miracle she’d experienced was Dougal and Annie finding their way back to each other.

Isabella was used to tragedy and disaster. She didn’t know what to do with a miracle.

She found she didn’t have a great deal of trouble coping.

The last week had gone by in a blur.

If she wasn’t at the hospital with Sally, she was at the market (there always seemed to be something they needed in the house that wasn’t
in
the house, they ran out of salt, they ran out of laundry detergent, they ran out of furniture polish, it was never-ending).

If she wasn’t at the market, she was mopping, sweeping, vacuuming, doing laundry, ironing, stripping beds, making beds or dusting. Prentice, it was obvious, had done very little (if any) housework since she’d left.

If she wasn’t doing that, she was (at Prentice’s surprising request) running Jason to school, from school or to football practice in her rental car when Prentice couldn’t do it because he was at work or had to be at the hospital for one of Sally’s tests.

If she wasn’t doing that, she was spending time with Sally or Fergus and Annie.

Another, smaller miracle had occurred that week too.

For, when she was in town or waiting with the mothers and fathers for football practice to end, the villagers didn’t avoid her or give her nasty looks. People she knew way back when (and some she didn’t know), smiled at her when they caught her eye. Some said hello. A few even engaged her in conversation, asking about Sally, Jason and Prentice and even how she, Isabella, was bearing up under the strain (and offering help!).

Isabella figured this about face had a good deal to do with the fact that her father humiliated her in front of the entire village.

Which, in itself, was refreshed humiliation.

However, Isabella was too exhausted to focus on that. Instead, she focused on their kindness which was a great deal easier to deal with.

Even though her days were mentally and physically strenuous, her nights were spent tossing and turning. She rarely slept and most of the time forgot to eat (probably due to the fact that she wasn’t hungry).

Isabella was running on empty. She knew this but had no clue what to do about it or any time to come up with a solution.

Except when she was tossing and turning but most of
that
time was spent thinking about Prentice sleeping in his own bed under the same roof not far away and how much she’d like to crawl out of her bed and into his and what she’d like to do with him there. She thought both about the semi-appropriate things, like giving him the affection he surely needed, and the very inappropriate things, like putting her hands and mouth on him.

Likely, this didn’t help her sleeplessness.

She decided not to think about that either.

“Miss Bella,” Sally called, taking Isabella from her thoughts. “When we get home, are you going to teach me how to be ambidextry?”

Isabella started to answer but Jason turned (again) and corrected (again), “Ambidext
rous
.”

Sally glared at him, losing patience, “Jace! That’s what I said! Am-bee-dex-
try!
”

Isabella leaned toward the girl, wrapped her hand behind her head, gently pulled her close and kissed her shining hair.

Then she answered, “I’ll do my best.”

And she would, in the few days she was going to remain there.

Sally was gaining strength. She’d broken her right forearm which was in a cast thus Isabella had told her she’d need to learn to be ambidextrous while her arm healed. She’d also had a couple of ribs broken which they’d been told would heal quickly. She’d had a number of deep contusions which were fading.

Other than that, shockingly (and thankfully), she was fine.

Therefore, Isabella reckoned, she’d get Sally settled. This, she decided, would take a day or two (or three). And then she’d get out of Prentice’s hair.

It must be said she didn’t want to
be
out of Prentice’s thick, dark hair.

In fact, Isabella spent way too much time thinking how much she wanted to run her fingers through it.

Nevertheless, although Prentice had been polite and even grateful for her help, he was just that. Nothing more. His politeness and gratitude were of the distant variety, and not, Isabella guessed, just because he had a lot weighing on his mind.

Which meant it was time for her to go.

At least, she thought (with not a small amount of sadness), this time it wouldn’t be ugly.

Things were settled between her and Prentice, in a way. It was over. They were acquaintances, ex-lovers of both varieties. There was so much water under the bridge, it was a wonder the bridge wasn’t flooded.