For Your Heart (Hill Dweller Retellings) (41 page)

    
His words make Jean turn toward him.  I sense some aspect of her heart going out to him.  Feeling a sense of longing and pity for him.  She’s always trying to help.  I love her more for that.

    
He smiles at the ground beneath his feet.  “And sometimes we have to sacrifice in order to keep those things safe.”

    
Turning away, he steps toward the gate then stops.  He glances over his shoulder, the light of the swirling silver-blue vortex casting a halo about his body and whipping his raven hair about his pale face.  “It’s only after the fact that we see what our sacrifices have done.  Sometimes, we only make it worse.”

    
Jeanette shivers against me.  I turn toward her, but her eyes are on the gate.  When I look up, the Hunter is gone.    

    
For a long time, there is nothing but silence and stillness.  Jean and I in the dark and cold.  Finally, she shifts beside me and the next instant, a lance of artificial light illuminates the canopy above.

    
Jean pushes to her feet and, holding the flashlight in one hand, offers me the other.  I look up at her and she smiles the glory of a sunrise.  “Welcome home, Timothy Rhynn.”

Jeanette

     When Tamrin kisses me at the altar, months of pre-marriage jitters fade.  There’s so much love and purpose in his lips–in the way he holds me cradled against him with the swell of our child in my stomach wedged between us – that I can’t remember why I was nervous about getting married in the first place.

    
No matter what happens, I’ll always have him.

    
He draws away from me, his dimple cracking his face as he laughs under the onslaught of birdseed and rose petals.  He slips an arm around my waist and helps me totter down the steps of the chapel altar.  I can’t help laughing and crying at the same time.  Jostled and bemused by ribbons, flowers, flashes, excited expressions, and shouted cheers.  We’re in a whirlwind of everything good and wonderful in the world.

    
Standing beside Dad and Emily, Amber, Celeste, Andy from fencing, and Connor – who looks more disgruntled and out of place than ever, we receive people, hugs, kisses, and well wishes.

    
Celeste slips close and whispers in my ear.  “Are you okay?  Do you need water?”

    
I giggle at her.  “I’m fine Celeste, never better.”
     Tam leans close.  “Isn’t it my job to be all worried about the pregnant woman?”

    
Squeezing his hand, I whisper, “Are you jealous?”

    
He squeezes back, his dimple emerging again.  “Terribly.”

    
“You know how much I appreciate you,” I tease back.  I appreciate all of them.  It’s not easy to deal with being a pregnant girl in high school.  The looks and whispers, the glee everyone takes in mocking the goodie-goodie principal’s daughter’s fall from grace.  They had a field day.  I’d never wish it on anyone.  But I had Tam by my side.  I had Emily and Amber keeping everything normal and fun.  And I had Celeste who was my fiercest defender.  She even got in a fist fight with Chelsea Grotto after Chelsea had the nerve to call me a whore.

    
As the receiving line dwindles, hasty plans are made on who will drive whom, and directions to the reception hall are clarified.  Before I know what’s happening, I’m standing with my father and Tamrin, alone on the sidewalk.  I’m conscious that Tamrin’s arm hasn’t unfastened from my waist for some time.   It’s like he’s holding me up while finding stability in my presence.

    
Though the Bend that the
Aos Si,
Leah, created is still working as strongly as ever on the people around us and the gifts that he was given have not faded, the magic of such things is lost for Tamrin.  Never again will he return to Otherworld.  Never again will he be part of the immortal world of the
Aos Si
.  Never again will he glow with faerie light.  He’s capable of recalling the many gifts that were bestowed upon him as a knight but he wants to be human again, so I pretend I don’t notice him watching the faeries that play at the edge of the park or talking to the one that follows him around like a pet.

    
We’ve agreed to bury his previous identity as Timmy.  He refused to go to Leah and ask her to drop the Bend.  He knows the price he’d have to pay to her.  Plus, he thinks it would be less traumatic for his parents.  How would he explain where he’s been for the past seven years?

    
“Everything ready to go?”  Dad asks, his eyes full of pride.  It had been tough telling him about the baby.  But Tam was there, diffusing Dad’s indignant, righteous anger and, for once, I was happy he has Dad wrapped around his finger.  With reassurance that Tamrin would stay home and watch the baby while I continue on to college, he seemed to calm down.  Now, Dad seems overwhelmed with joy at the idea of our family getting larger.  He has the son he never had.  He’s going to have a grandson soon.

    
“Sure,” I say, voice tired. 

    
Tamrin frowns at me.  “Are you all right?”

    
“Yeah,” I say.  “It’s just so much excitement, you know?”

    
He wheels me around and sits me on a bench in the shade.  “Why don’t you wait here, we’ll get the car.”

    
Dad nods.

    
Exhaling, I settle onto the bench, the billowing skirt of my dress swallowing me.  “Sorry.”  I try not to look sheepish. 

    
I’ve been so sore and tired lately, I can barely make it through the growing May heat.  I wanted to get married sooner, but Tamrin wanted to wait until May 1
st
.  Apparently it’s a good day to marry in the world of fae.  He’d also wanted a hand-fasting – like how the
Aos Si
marry – but I bargained with him.  If I endured months of social ridicule as an unwed pregnant girl in a Catholic high school so he could get married on May 1
st
, then he’d better allow me to get married like a Catholic girl should.

    
And because Tamrin had been Catholic in his human life, he is Catholic now and we married in the school’s chapel.  I may have done some wrongs and been a sinner, but I tried my best to atone and do what’s right.  I’ve been blessed tenfold since.

    
Tamrin smiles at me and crouches down in front of me.  “There’s nothing to be sorry about.  You are wonderful.”  There’s a long pause and he glances at my father.

    
Getting the hint, Dad clears his throat and says, “I’m gonna go on ahead.  I’ll see you kids in a few.”

    
When he disappears behind the chapel, Tamrin leans into me and kisses me again.  Longer and more passionately tender than the one he gave me at the altar.  Like he can’t get enough, can’t feel alive without connecting to me like this. 

    
When he draws away, his eyes are bottomless and adoring.  “I love you, Jean.  More than anything.”

    
I smile.  “I love you, too.”  He’ll never know how much.

    
He leans forward and presses his forehead against mine while he stands.  “Good.”  With a gentle kiss to my brow, he turns to leave.

    
When he’s gone I settle back on the bench and wait.  The school’s parking lot is on the other side of the main building, so I’ve got a few minutes.  I close my eyes and let out a satisfied sigh.

    
“That was a wonderful ceremony.”  The voice is a thousand tiny strains of existence shoved into a single high note sung to God.  The voice of an angel.  So much like the voice of the Hunter.  But far more beautiful, like God blessed her himself.

    
Startled, I sit up and look around. 

    
Holy Mother Mary.

    
A woman sits beside me.  She’s wearing a delicate white lace cocktail dress, a large white hat, matching gloves and designer stiletto heels.  I stare at her, entranced.  She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, beautiful in a way that matches the Hunter’s beauty, but is far less tangible at the same time.  I can’t pinpoint anything about her features, not even the color of her hair.

    
“I-I’m so sorry,” I stammer.  “I didn’t realize you were here.”

    
She makes a face that exudes the same sort of emotional feedback as a warm smile, though I don’t quite see her features move.  “I get that a lot.” 

    
Her eyes, possibly the clearest thing about her, other than her clothes, shift toward my stomach and I feel myself blush self consciously.  Her stare is like a predator’s, seeing through me to the innocent child inside. “When is he due?”

    
I put my hand on my stomach, as if shielding him from her, though I don’t know why.  Part of me wants to think she’s God in a false form, another part warns she’s evil.  “Six weeks.”

    
She looks away.  “You haven’t chosen a name yet, have you?”  There’s a knowing tone to her voice.

    
I swallow.  The memory of my deal with that horrible Mushroom Woman is a constant brand in my mind.  It’s like a spell.  I can’t think of a name or a future for my child.  It’s frightening.  Not being able to see your child’s future, not giving it a concrete identity by naming it. 

    
I haven’t told Tamrin about the deal.  After hearing the Hunter’s warning about how our sacrifices for the ones we love can backfire and after the way he looked at me, like he knew exactly what I’d done, I was filled with dread about the deal I’d made with the witch.  At the time, I hadn’t thought much about it.  Hadn’t grasped how surreal Tamrin’s world was, hadn’t really thought of Mushroom Woman as a witch. It’s just a name, just a purpose.  Your child’s name will be Bob and he’ll be a fireman.

    
But after holding Tamrin’s writhing body as Roxel tortured him through shape shifting, after feeling the bites and the claws and the flames, after looking through the Hunter’s gate at the crossroads and seeing between worlds, after seeing the hounds of Hell and their keeper, I’m truly aware of what making a deal with a creature like the Mushroom Woman might mean for my child.  She could name him and proclaim him any number of evil things, could turn him into a monster with a single declaration, he could already be doomed to pain and misery.

    
Tamrin keeps suggesting names and asking what I think our little boy will grow up to be.  I only say, “Let’s wait and see what he looks like to name him,” and, “He can be anything, he’s got you for a father after all.”

    
The beautiful stranger’s voice pulls me back.  “You’re a wonderful young lady.  Very sincere and faithful.”

    
I stare at her, not entirely sure what she means.  She snaps open a small purse I hadn’t noticed perched on her lap.  “I have something for you.”

    
Confused, I lean forward, eyeing the handbag.

    
She rummages through it like a woman on a mission.  Things inside click, but I can’t see them any more clearly than her.  It’s as though she’s wearing a cloak that causes the eyes to unfocus before sending the completed picture to the brain.  Something pops out and tumbles off her lap.  It hits the concrete and rolls against my shoe.

    
A mushroom.  Delicate and green as pine needles in spring, with little yellow and white spots across the cap.  I’ve seen something very similar to it…in a cave owned by a certain witch.

    
Suspicion making me wary, I bring my narrowed eyes back on her.

    
She’s still rummaging through her purse, as though the tiny thing were Mary Poppins’ carpet bag.  “Oh,” she breathes in annoyance.  “I know it’s in here somewhere.  I worked so hard on it!  Ah!”

    
She pulls out her hand.  In her thin, silk wrapped fingers she’s holding an equally pale slip of folded paper.  She extends her fore and middle fingers, offering the note.  “Here you are.”

    
Unease burns into my bowels.  My next breath comes hard – like I can’t get air past the fists squeezing my lungs.  My heart hitches, beating wildly, sending dizzying adrenaline throughout every vein in my body.  I’m sweating and shaking, too afraid to move.

    
This must be what Katniss Everdeen felt during The Reaping – an inexplicable fear, not for you, but the one thing in the world you love most.

    
She waves the paper in front of me.  “Don’t you want it?  You did promise.”

    
I turn wide eyes on her, feeling the terrified expression on my face.  She exudes a contemplative frown and withdraws her hand.  Clutching the paper in both hands she flips it open and looks down at it.  She seems confused and a little put out.  “I thought they were good.”

    
I shake my head slowly, not trusting that this marvelous creature is the same terrible Mushroom Woman I made the deal with.  If she’s this powerful, she must be evil.  She must be the devil’s advocate.