Chapter 6 – Little Girl Lost and Found
Ian Corrigan got out of his car and walked over to the other side. He looked through the front window at the young woman sitting in his car. What was he going to do with her? He couldn’t let her go to her father’s house when none of them were there, although she didn’t seem to want to do that anyway. She looked up at him and caught him staring and he thought she looked sad and misplaced. He thought she seemed like a little girl, lost and forlorn, who was longing to be found. He smiled at her, to put her at ease, but she didn’t smile back. It appeared he was losing his ‘charm’ with her already.
He smiled to himself at that thought, hiding his grin. He was well known as the best ‘charmer’ in these parts, yet his ‘Little One’ seemed immune to his charms already. What an ego deflating thought. If only she knew that he was from a long line of actual ‘Charmers’, but then again, she probably didn’t even know what that meant. He opened the passenger door for her.
“Is something wrong?” she asked, stepping out of the car.
“No, not at all, Little One, though I was going to ask you the same question,” he said, looking back at her face. He had the undeniable urge to touch her, ease away her pain and fears, even to kiss her, but he knew he shouldn’t. He quickly said, “I need to go inside my store and check on a few things before I take you wherever it is you decide you want to go. Do you want to go in with me, or would you rather walk around and explore our quaint settlement?”
She looked up at him expectantly. “Which is your store?” She walked hesitantly around him and the car door, stepping upon the stone hewn sidewalk. He sensed that she was stalling, avoiding his question. Was she afraid to walk around the town by herself? He figured she’d be safe for a little while if she didn’t go far.
He nodded his head toward the red painted, antique store in front of them. “It’s really just a ruse. I don’t need to work, I’m financially wealthy, you know.” It was the truth, but he said it as if it were a joke.
She looked back at him and cocked one eyebrow in the air. He gave her another one of his half smiles. She didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but she imagined that he was. She walked up to his store, cupped her hands to the glass and placed her face inside her hands to peer inside. The store looked dark and deserted. “It doesn’t look like a ruse. It seems like a very nice store, from what I can see of it. What kind of store is it? What do you sell? ”
He concluded, “I told you it’s not a real store, so I don’t really sell anything, although I do have some antiques inside that I’ll part with occasionally. I merely need a place to go everyday. I’m working on a history book about our people and this area, so I come here to work and sometimes someone will come in and buy something, or bother me with a problem, making some kind of demand of me, in some way or another. Someone constantly wants something or some kind of service from me.”
She was going to ask him what services he meant, but he walked behind her, placed one hand on her back, and looked inside as well, and all thought left her brain. Her back felt warm under his hand. She turned to face him, he smiled once again, and she felt blinded by his smile. She also felt that surge of electricity (or was it sexual awareness?) that she felt every time he touched her.
Stepping away quickly so that he would have to drop his hand, she decided, “I think I’ll explore.” She thought she needed some time away from him, to clear her head. He made her feel bewildered and frustrated and completely on edge. She stepped away from the window and pointed down the street. “That way?” He nodded.
“Meet me back here in fifteen minutes, won’t you?” he asked. “If not, I’ll be forced to come collect you again.” He cocked his head to the side, as if he was speaking to a child.
She sighed openly and frowned. “Collect,” she repeated. “One hundred percent of men who claim to collect women live to regret it.”
He laughed at her and made a waving motion with his hand. She merely waved him away in return, and started walking along the old, cobblestone sidewalk, toward the other buildings on the lower road of the town.
“Now that one I believe,” he declared, if only to himself, as he watched her walk away closely.
When Anna walked into the next open store, Ian walked up to his shop, took out his key and unlocked the door. Then he opened the door, stepped inside quickly and practically slammed the door shut. Leaning against the wall, eyes closed, he heaved a profound sigh. She was definitely going to be a difficulty. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t feel prepared. This girl had become everything he had ever thought she would become, yet she wasn’t like anyone he’d ever met. Her presence here was going to present serious problems. It was inevitable, he knew. His own mother predicted that this day would come. And he knew that she had no clue as to who she was, or more significantly, WHAT she was, or what any of them were, and that was even a bigger problem.
When Ian Corrigan drove his black sports car along the narrow mountain roads earlier today, he did it with great speed and with no thoughts to the dangerous curves and bends in the road. They were second nature to him, having grown up in these mountains. Besides, he loved to go fast, whether he was driving or running. When he went fast, he could leave the world behind. He didn’t have to think about anything but the exhilaration of the wind in his hair and the scenery whizzing by him. He drove so fast at first that he passed the very person he was sent to ‘collect’.
Annaliese. His ‘Little One’. His little princess … all grown up. One of their brethren that were watching her told him that she would be arriving today. A man from another clan apparently convinced her to get off the train at the mail depot, and then he called Ian and informed her that she was here.
If they heard she was coming here today, their enemies might have heard as well. It was a smart move to have her get off at the mail depot so that the lesser clans wouldn’t get a heads up that she had arrived. Ian would have to thank the man later for his loyalty.
Why was she here? Everyone knew she would probably come eventually, now that her mother and the people whom she assumed were her grandparents were dead, and there was no one left in Ohio to protect her. Nevertheless, why did she come all by herself, without telling her father or brothers?
She didn’t know the risk involved, of course. She didn’t know her fate. She didn’t know the history of their people. Well, now that she was here, she would learn everything sooner rather than later. It was all set into motion the moment she left her home. There was no way to stop it now. The prophecy was coming true. The fairy princess was coming home. There would be many people who would be happy with the news and rejoice, and many more who would be angered by it, and who would try to stop her.
Ian wasn’t sure which he was. He didn’t know if he was happy or not that she had returned, but he knew one thing, she wasn’t meant for him, no matter what was written before they were born. She was good and sweet and all that was right. He wasn’t any of those things, and he never would be. There was darkness in him. Darkness that rarely came out, but it was there all the same.
He remembered her clearly as a child. She was so fragile. She was beautiful, timid, but ever so feisty. He recalled that she was special, even back then. He could tell that she had great power within her. It was one of his gifts, the ability to ‘see’ others as they really were, or what they might become, and he knew from the moment that he met her that she was the one for whom they were all waiting.
He was known as a ‘charmer’, a fairy who can easily bend the will and emotions of others to fit their own. When she was little, and so very sad, he tried very hard to influence her emotions and feelings, to make her happy, although even back then she was able to block his charms to a certain degree. His charms were known throughout their people as some of the most powerful, but if she were able to resist his charms, it wouldn’t bode well for his ego, because almost no one, especially women, ever resisted his charms.
He followed her closely over the years, as did other watchers and protectors, always from afar. She grew into a beautiful woman, which was to be expected. Her mother was beautiful, too.
He didn’t know what to think about that. He still thought of her as a small girl. A small girl who needed his help and protection, except now she was a grown woman who needed it even more, although she didn’t know it.
Now he had to try to get a hold of her father and brothers again. He wasn’t equipped to watch her all on his own. After he was told she was coming, he tried to call them, to no avail. If he couldn’t get a hold of them by phone, he would send someone to find them. He ran his hand through his long hair, flipped on the lights, and walked over to the old wooden counter at the end of the store.
He looked back out the front window. She was no longer out there, but he felt her presence. She seemed just as she did when she was a little girl, yet different than he imagined. She was so quiet and reserved. She seemed so sad. She appeared so emotionally empty and unaware, but he knew that was an act, a fallacy, subterfuge. She almost seemed indifferent, yet he sensed great emotion in her, though it was deeply buried. He sensed that she had long ago learned to suppress her feelings. He also knew all of that was about to change, for better or worse. It was odd that he was able to influence her in the beginning, and then, only a short time later, she was able to suppress his charms. No one was ever able to resist his charms before this girl. That alone made him uneasy.
Moreover, she was beyond beautiful, though she didn’t seem to know it. When he saw her walking today, he purposely drove by her several times, even though he knew who she was, because even from afar her sheer, physical beauty took him aback.
He could tell she knew nothing about her background, or heritage. The people who raised her must have hidden everything from her. At least they managed to keep her safe all these years. It would be an intimidating task to reveal the story to her, but it wouldn’t be his task. That duty would belong to her father. Her father should have found a way around the magic of her mother years ago, and brought her to live here permanently when she was young, so that she would have been brought up with her own kind. He could only imagine how the girl would take it when she found out the truth, fragile as she was.
She revealed to Ian that when she was little, she used to want to fly, just like a fairy.
What would she say to him if he told her that fairies were real? What would she do if he told her that SHE was a fairy? Would she understand the meaning? Would she believe in the ancient magic? Would she be shocked to learn that some of them could change forms? Her father and his clan could change into birds. The Corrigan clan changed into large predators, mostly cats, some wolves and coyotes. The people of this place came from the fairies of the air, the earth and the water.
Her own mother came from the fairies of the water, yet Anna was afraid of water, which made no sense given the background of her mother’s people. On the other hand, given the way her mother died, and the fact that she almost died that day, too, it was understandable. To this day, the people of this village talked about the fact that Kathryn Morgan could never have drowned, given her background. It didn’t make any sense. They all considered it murder, murder that was inevitable, given the fact that she took Anna away when she was a baby.
This girl had an innate sense of what she was, given the story she told him about how she would imagine flying as a child. Again, that made perfect logic given the background of her father’s people - fairies of the air.
He exhaled another breath he hadn’t even been aware he was holding and thought again how gorgeous she was, yet she either didn’t know it, or didn’t care. He sensed it was the first. She honestly didn’t feel she was beautiful, even though she was perhaps one of the most stunning young women he had ever seen. Not that it mattered to him. She wasn’t destined for him. She would be better off with another. As head of their people, he could claim her if he wished, but he would never do that, would he? What kind of trouble would that cause?
He pulled out a large phonebook, yellowed with age, and opened it to the right spot. His finger moved over the page until he found the name for which he was searching. He called the person with the phone on his desk. It rang so many times that he almost hung up, but finally someone answered. He said, “This is Ian, and everything’s finally coming into place. Anna Morgan has come home. Send someone to find her father and brothers, and you need to tell the others that it’s begun. Tell all the clans that it’s begun.” There was a pause, when the person on the other end spoke, and then he said, “No, I’ll protect her until they come, but they have to hurry.”
He slammed the phone down harder than he intended and decided to go find her. This town probably wasn’t a safe place for her, hence the reason her mother took her away all those years ago. He started out of his store, but turned back to reach for a very old, tattered book. To an outsider, it would look like a simple book on Irish folk and fairytales. To his people, it was so much more. She liked to read. He smiled. He would give it to her to read. She didn’t have to know the significance of it … yet. He closed up his store, threw the book in the back of his car, and went to search for her.
Anna felt Ian’s gaze upon her and she felt hot and troubled by it. She decided to go into the first store that was open, though most of them seemed closed, just to escape his stare. Anna walked along the sidewalk, looking into shop windows, feeling very conspicuous. There weren’t many people walking along the sidewalk, but the few who were out walking stopped to stare at her. She assumed it was because she was a stranger, and Ian had mentioned in the car that this town rarely had strangers.
Nonetheless, they all stared at her as if they knew her, albeit that was a crazy thought. For all they knew, she could be a tourist. These people didn’t know that she wasn’t.
She finally found a shop that was open. Brown brick, it was connected to the same row of buildings as Ian’s store, and had a large picture window right in the middle of the building. She stepped over a fat, yellow cat sunning itself on the stoop by the threshold. When she pushed the door open, an old shopkeeper’s bell chimed above her.
The store was some sort of artisan shop. All around her was homemade jewelry, artwork, handcrafted furniture, beaded handbags, books and clothing, among other items displayed. The aroma of homemade candy and sweets filled her sinuses and she inhaled deeply, closing her eyes and smiling. Anna wondered how places such as this store thrived in a town where there weren’t many visitors or tourists.
She began to meander around the store, touching beaded handbags, hand-painted postcards, wooden toys, and hand-blown glass. She picked up a round sphere paperweight, marveling at the blue swirled glass with a streak of red inside, and almost dropped it when she heard a woman come into the store from a door in the back. The woman had straight black hair and beautiful blue eyes. She was older than Anna by at least ten years, but Anna thought she was beautiful. She smiled at Anna first, and then her smile quickly faded. Anna looked around the store, and then realized that the frown was directed at her. She placed the sphere back on the shelf and walked toward a shelf that had books.
The woman walked up to her, this time with a pasted on smile and said, “May I help you with anything?”
“I’m only looking, but thanks,” Anna replied.
The woman started toward the front of the store, where the counter was, only to pause and stare back at Anna again. She actually stopped and said, “Are you sure I can’t help you find something?”
“No really, I’m just looking,” Anna repeated. She had a feeling that the woman didn’t want her in her store, so she started back toward the front. She felt odd, being the only customer, and she knew that the woman was staring at her. What a peculiar place this was.
She decided to leave, so she headed back toward the door. The woman stopped her by saying, “May I show you this silver bracelet?” She walked up to Anna, and placed a silver bracelet identical to the one that was on her wrist right in her hand. Anna gasped audibly. She looked down at her wrist, her own bracelet hidden by her blouse and sweater, and she felt that it was still safely on her wrist. Strange, then, to be holding its twin in her hand.
She turned the identical bracelet around in her hand, the recognizable symbols and glyphs so familiar to her, embossed in her brain just as surely as they were embossed on the bracelet on her arm, and the one now in her hand. She felt a frisson of a memory, something tangible yet unnerving, more than just a memory of her mother, something ancient and yet unknown, holding this bracelet. The one on her wrist was her only true connection to her mother, until she came to this place. Now she had this place and these people to connect her to her past, and here was another bracelet as well.
She tried to hand it back to the woman, confused and bewildered as to why the woman handed it to her in the beginning, but the woman walked behind the counter and asked, “Do you like that bracelet?”
“It’s very pretty,” Anna answered flatly. She placed the piece of jewelry on the glass countertop and backed away slightly. Without meaning to reveal anything, she told the other woman, “My mother had a bracelet exactly like that one.” She picked the bracelet back up and began to examine it closely again. Yes, the symbols and markings on the bracelet were exactly the same as the bracelet that was on her wrist.
Anna’s hands trembled, though she tried to hide it. She continued to move the bracelet around in her fingers, each small symbol as memorable to her as they were strange. She never knew what any of these symbols meant, but she knew each by heart. Her mother wore it everyday of her life, except on the day that she died. On that day, she had given it to Anna to wear. Anna almost felt as if the bracelet saved her life that day. She used to sleep with this bracelet under her pillow every night after her mother died. She would often pull it out and study it when she was sad or afraid. She never wore it again until the day she decided to come here, because she never felt as if it belonged to her until now. It belonged to her mother, and apparently, it also belonged to this place.
She started to hand the new bracelet back to the woman a second time, but the woman shook her head no and said, “Please, accept it as a small token of welcome.”
“Welcome?” Anna asked.
“Because you’re finally home. You are Anna Morgan, aren’t you? The daughter of Dr. Morgan?” the woman asked.
Anna was puzzled. How would this stranger know who she was? Ian had warned her that the people of this small village would be curious about her, but he also should have warned her that the people here were strange. How did this woman even know who she was, without Anna telling her? Anna placed the bracelet on the counter without a response.
“Would you like to know the significance of the carvings on the silver?” she asked Anna, pointing toward the bracelet.
“Maybe another time.” Anna knew there wouldn’t be another time—she wouldn’t be coming back here, but the woman didn’t need to know that. She started toward the door. She felt slightly nauseated and overheated again. There was a loud clanging, a whooshing, and crashing wave sound in her ears. She backed toward the door slowly.
The woman walked back around the side of the counter and handed her a small, red, leather-bound book. “Here, at least take this, as a welcome present to our town.” The woman thrust the book in her hand. “It tells all about the symbols on this bracelet.”
“No, thank you.” Anna placed the book back on the counter, next to the bracelet, opened the door, turned quickly and tripped over the fat cat that lay across the doorsill. She fell over the cat, head first, and caught herself with her hands. She fell on her knees, and cried out.
The woman ran to the doorway, but before she could approach Anna, a young man ran down the sidewalk toward her. He gave the woman a reproachful look and said, “Did you push her out the door, Kara? That’s no way to treat customers.”
Anna looked up at the young man. Just like the woman from the store, he had dark hair, wavy, worn over his ears, and he, too, had striking blue eyes. Was everyone from this town beautiful as well as bizarre? The young man knelt down to Anna as she sat on her backside, and he asked, “Are you injured?”
“Nothing but my pride,” she mumbled, embarrassed. There was a hole in the knee of her jeans, and she knew she had cut and scraped it, and both hands stung with cement burns. She looked at her hands, and then at her knee. He walked behind her and placed his hands under her arms and pulled her to a standing position, shocking her at his forwardness.
“Thanks,” she said, discomfited. She brushed her hands on her jeans. She looked toward the doorway, where the woman from the shop stood, holding the offensive cat.
“Did you try to kill the new girl, Kara?” the young man asked with a laugh. He cocked his head toward the dark haired woman and said, “My sister always was a bully. Forgive her.”
Anna frowned slightly and shook her head. “It’s not her fault. It’s either the cat’s fault or it’s mine.”
“My name’s Kevin McBriar.” He held out his hand. She looked at both of her hands, scraped, bloody, and then back at him apologetically. “Oh, right, you’re injured. Let’s get you fixed up. I work down the street at the coffee shop, The Red Umbrella. You can wash up in the restroom there.”
He took her elbow and ushered her down the sidewalk, down a few steps, past the bank, and then up on another sidewalk, this one cement instead of cobblestone. The buildings here weren’t covered with awnings, but were still joined together. As they walked, he continued to speak amicably to her.
“Are you visiting someone, or merely stopping through?” he asked. She sensed that he was escorting her quickly to the coffee shop.
“I’m visiting relatives,” she answered, unsure why she didn’t tell this young man the same thing she had said to Ian … that she was coming home.
“Who are your relatives?” he asked. They had almost reached their destination.
“The Morgans.” She hesitated before she answered, again, not certain as to why, but finally she decided to be honest.
His smile returned and he said, “Colin Morgan and I are very good friends. He’s one of the sons of Dr. Morgan. You aren’t by any chance his little sister, Anna, are you? I thought you had to be. He used to talk about you all the time!” His demeanor changed slightly, to one of relief and satisfaction. He placed a hand on her shoulder, almost in possession or defense, and then he looked around the street slightly, before settling his gaze back on her.
She cocked her head to the side, shrugged with one shoulder and said, “Guilty as charged.”
He tightened his grasp on her arm slightly and said, “By golly, I thought that’s who you might be when I saw you sprawled out on the sidewalk by my sister’s store. You look just like your mother, you know. There’s a portrait of her in the music room at the Morgan’s house. When I was a little boy, I had a small crush on her, and I only knew her from that portrait, but she was so beautiful. Wow, Anna Morgan. I always wondered if you were real.” He laughed and she joined him.
They had already arrived outside a purple and blue clapboard building and he said easily, “Here we are.” He opened the screen door and ushered her inside, one hand still on her shoulder. His touch didn’t make her feel warm and uneasy like Ian’s touch, but she didn’t feel threatened by it either. She felt protected.
She looked around the outside first, commenting, “The place is purple and blue.”
“Just because it’s called The Red Umbrella is no reason it should be red, don’t you agree?” he said with a crooked smile and a wink. She smiled back. She liked this man. He motioned that she should walk in before him, so she did. Only when they walked inside did he let his hand drop from her arm.
The interior of the place was a combination of 1950’s ice-cream parlor and old 1930’s farm house. There were old tintypes on the walls, old vintage signs, throw and rag rugs on the floor, old hats hanging by strings from the ceiling, and making perfect sense, a large red umbrella, opened, upside down, hanging in the middle of the ceiling like a chandelier.
“The bathroom is through there.” He pointed toward a dark hallway past a small raised stage area. She thanked him and walked into the woman’s room. She used the facilities first and then she washed her injured knee and hands. She looked at her reflection for a long time. Did she look like her mother? Did she look enough like her that all these people immediately recognized her? Anna wasn’t so sure. She looked closer. Her hair was the same color. Her eyes were the same color, but were these things enough for strangers to make such outlandish remarks about a woman who had been gone for 19 years?
Removing her hair from the messy ponytail, she brushed it out, and splashed cold water on her face. Then, starting toward the door, she faltered. Her hands went up to her face and she rubbed her eyes. They burned with unshed tears. She couldn’t wait to be alone so she could cry. She wouldn’t cry here in this bathroom, but she needed to cry, but why? Something about being here made her miss her mother more than ever. It even made her miss the father she barely knew. It made her fear a stepmother that she disliked immensely. It made her long for her childhood fantasies of a dashing, prince charming that would protect her from evil.
She needed to get away from everything unfamiliar, and scary. Could she face another stranger today? She was thankful her family was gone, because even though they were familiar to her, they were still strangers, and she wasn’t up to meeting them today.
Walking out of the bathroom, she noticed there were only two customers in the shop, not counting Kevin McBriar or the young girl behind the counter. One, another handsome man reading in the corner, did not even look up from his book as she walked out into the main room, for which she was grateful. The other person was Ian. She had never been so glad to see someone in all her life.
Ian Corrigan strode toward Kevin, completely ignoring Anna at first. The girl behind the counter instantly smiled and said hello to him. The man in the corner dropped his book and did likewise. Anna wondered what it was about this young man that drew other’s immediate attention and respect. Kevin greeted, “Well, hello there, Ian. Guess who I have here in my store?”
“I bet I know. The long lost Morgan sister.” Ian still didn’t look at her. She felt invisible, which was a godsend, because the girl at the counter was staring daggers at her, and the man in the corner had finally placed his book on the table and he too was staring at her as if she were something unique or foreign. She looked over at him and thought for a moment that he seemed recognizable, but then tried to push that notion aside. There was no way she had ever seen him before, yet she couldn’t get that thought out of her mind.
Sensing her quandary and her attention to the third man in the room, as well as his attention to her, Ian moved so that he stood on the other side of her, blocking her view of the man in the corner. He moved with grace and agility, and she was unaware that his movement was intentional.
Kevin McBriar, however, noticed the movement acutely. He looked over at her and then back toward Ian and reasoned, “Ah, I should have known that nothing escapes your notice. You know everything that happens in this town, as you should.” It was then that Kevin realized Ian had his hand reaching out toward her. He noticed it before she did. However, as soon as she noticed it, she walked up to him and placed her weary hand in his. It felt reassuring to hold his hand, this man; she had only reconnected with an hour ago. His touch was just what she needed.
Kevin looked at their joined hands, then asked, “Did you bring her here?”
Ian dropped her hand just like that and answered, “I picked her up at the station. She arrived just this afternoon, unaware that her family was away for the weekend. I’ve sent someone to tell them that she’s arrived.”
Anna looked up at him and complained, “I wish you hadn’t done that. I don’t want to ruin the wedding.”
“Believe me, they’ll want to know you’ve come,” Ian relayed.
The younger man, Kevin, said, “Ian, old man, what shall we do with her until they come home? It won’t be any sooner than tomorrow night, at least. You know that she can stay with my family and me. My mother would love to meet her. You know we would be able to accommodate her.”
He explained to her, “My mother was best friends with your mother growing up. She used to talk about your mom all the time. She missed her so much when she went away. She won’t believe how much you look like her.”
“There must be some mistake. My mother didn’t grow up here. She grew up in Ohio,” Anna corrected.
Kevin was shaking his head, ‘no’, about to refute her claim, when Ian, who seemed cross, said, “That’s very nice of you, and I don’t doubt your ability to accommodate her in every way, but I’m sure she doesn’t want to impose on you and your family, nor do I.” Ian knew Kevin would keep her safe, and never commit any harm upon her, but he felt something akin to jealousy at the thought of her going home with the younger man.
She responded quickly, “No, I don’t.” She looked beseechingly at Ian. She wasn’t sure why. Why was Ian fast becoming her lifeline, her anchor, her beacon in this unknown land? She wasn’t sure she liked that, and she knew he probably wouldn’t like it.
Ian’s jaw clenched. The motion was not lost on Anna. He seemed angry that the young man would make such an offer. He looked toward her and said, “I should get you home. You’re probably tired from your trip, and it’s well past lunch, close to dinner, so you must be hungry.” His hand went to her elbow. The heat of his touch almost scorched her, causing butterflies to zing around her stomach at the same time.
He just as quickly released her arm, and said to Kevin, “It’s already been decided that she would stay with me until her family comes home. Thank you for your kind offer, however.”
The younger man gave a quick, curt nod toward Ian and then turned his attention back to Anna. He smiled again. “I’ll see you soon.”
She felt nothing dark or sinister about the young man, so she held out her hand again. He shook it as she smiled tentatively. “I’d like that, thank you for the help when I fell.”
“Yeah, sorry about that, and I hope you weren’t hurt too badly,” he offered.
She turned to leave, Ian right behind her. Once outside, in the bright sunshine, she turned and asked, “Do you not like Kevin McBriar?”
“I have no feelings one way or the other with regard to him,” he answered flippantly. He had to admit, though, he didn’t like the way Kevin McBriar was looking at Anna, and he wasn’t sure why. Anna Morgan meant nothing to him, did she? He stopped walking and said, “You fell? Are you hurt?”
“Did you just now hear that?” she asked with a laugh. “Seventy-three percent of men over twenty-five lose their hearing when they wear their hair long, like yours, and it was nothing really. I just hurt my hands and my knees.” She tried not to laugh.
“You should know, one percent of all young women named Annaliese Morgan are likely to be kept high in an ivory tower, where they won’t be hurt, if they continue to fall over things. Let me see what you’ve injured.” He took a step closer, backing her against the brick wall of the empty store front near his store. He grabbed her hands in his.
She warned, “I’m terribly clumsy. I fell outside that brown artisan shop. I tripped over a fat, yellow cat.”
“Ah, Buttercup is a lethal animal,” he teased. “Did you get hurt?” He still had her hands in his. He turned them both toward his face to examine them closely.
She felt breathless, her chest tight, head pounding, merely because he held her hands in his. “I scuffed my knee, and, as you can see, and as I mentioned, scraped my hands.” He had her right hand in his left hand, her left hand in his right, and he held them to his face to examine them closely. She thought time stood still as he held her hands so dear. Her pulse raced and her throat tightened.
He almost brought her hands to his lips to kiss them, but that would be utter madness. He closed his eyes, willed himself to stop all romantic feelings for her, and he dropped their joined hands between their bodies and said, with more scorn than intended, “You need to be more careful. We can’t have you sequestered in an ivory tower, away from all harm, can we?”
“No,” she agreed, catching his gaze as it traveled from her hands back to her face. Her nerves were working overtime, as was her active imagination. She could picture him kissing her in her mind. His body was so very close. She felt heat radiating from him. She smelled his scent, all male. She looked at his lips, they looked so soft.
She tried to quiet her nerves before she made a fool of herself, before she kissed him, or said something really stupid, like cry or ramble endlessly again. She didn’t succeed.
She said, “If I was alone, up high in an ivory tower, away from all harm, and away from all people who might hurt me, I would also be away from all who might love me. There will always be an equal number of people who want to do me harm, who might want to love me. The universe is full of half of one thing, and half of another. Half of me wish to live a new life, in a new place, with new feelings spiraling out of me, bursting forth, seething across the universe, across space and time. The other half wants to hide in the closest closet, bury myself behind clothes and boxes, and cry until there are no tears left.
“Life is so short and so very precious, isn’t it? It’s too short to live in an ivory tower, away from everything, and all alone. I would wither away and die if I had to continue to be alone. The way I see it, we’re all connected, one to another, each living thing, through a series of songs, and dances, and lives, and emotions. Life is a passionate rejoicing of that joining.” She looked down. He still had her hands. “I’m not making sense, am I? I’m rambling on again. I’m terribly sorry, and I’m so embarrassed.”
She raised her eyebrows and mumbled, “It was a stupid accident. That’s all.”
He didn’t think that was all. Her eyes were a brilliant emerald green, and glistened with tears. He placed their joined hands on her chest, above her heart. He felt it beating. He felt humbled by her. He felt privileged to be with her. He was witnessing her complex awakening, and it was a wonder.
“Your life is full of sadness right now, Little One, but I promise you a future of love, and happiness and inner peace. There’s no darkness in you, only light. That’s a precious, precious thing, and you need to hold onto it, Anna.”
She wanted him to kiss her, and she wagered he wanted it too, but the moment passed and he sighed, saying, “And we can’t have you involved in any more stupid accidents.” He let go of her hands and willed himself away from her. He pushed away from the wall and practically ran to his car. When she reached it, he said, “Your hair is down.”
“You’re very slow to notice things,” she joked, before she asked, “And is there a law against that in this town?” He so confused her, but then again, she found her own thoughts and actions confusing since meeting him.
How could he tell her that with her hair down and long, curling on her shoulders, he had to fight the urge to run his fingers through it? That he wanted to smell it, bury his face in it? He pointed toward the passenger side door and just as he did earlier, he ordered, “Get in.”
“Does that mean it is against the law?” She grinned.
“If I wanted it to be, it would be,” he replied with a smile, mystifying her completely with what she considered a foolish answer, though he was perfectly serious.
He opened the door, but before she would enter, she met his eyes and asked, “And just when was it decided that I would stay with you until my family returns?”
“Oh, did you just hear that part?” he teased, as she did to him earlier. “I decided it the moment McBriar offered you the hospitality of his home,” Ian answered honestly. “Do you have a problem with that?”
She knew that she should. Though she was quiet and sometimes demure, she was also very stubborn and strong. She was afraid of many things, yet she kept her fear to herself, openly showing courageousness, even if it was a paradox of sorts. She wasn’t going to let Ian tell her what to do, yet it was apparent that since she didn’t plan this thing out very well, she had nowhere else to go.
So she agreed. “I don’t have a problem with that, but I’ll wear my hair any way that I wish, and you might come to regret meeting me, Buster.” She ducked into the car, and pulled on the seatbelt. He looked down at her with a fleeting odd expression crossing his features, and then he grinned, threw his head back and laughed again.
“Buster?” he repeated, with a large smile. “First it was ‘Mister’ and now it’s ‘Buster’. Goodness, I think I’ve already come to regret it, Little One. You are a funny, little, complex, but amazing thing. A funny, funny little thing and I’m sure you, too, will come to regret meeting me.” He slammed her door shut and walked around to the driver’s side. He turned to look at her and said, “And I like your hair like that, so the new law is that you have to wear it long.”
“My mother always wore her hair long. I think that’s why I always wore mine pulled back,” she divulged. “I guess I’m not comfortable with people comparing her and me.” She bit her bottom lip and reached inside her purse for her brush and a rubber band. She started to pull her hair back again, when he reached over, pulled the brush right from her hand, and he threw it in the backseat with his discarded sunglasses and the tattered, old brown book.
“Didn’t you hear me… new law … you have to wear it long,” he said provocatively, his hand going down the outside of her long tresses. It stayed there, the other hand on the steering wheel.
She turned to see if she could reach her brush, decided that she couldn’t, so she placed her purse back on the floor by her feet. Then she tried to pretend that she wasn’t troubled by the fact that his hand was in her hair, even though her heart was beating a mile a minute.
“Does it bother you for people to tell you how much you look like your mother? I’ve seen her portrait many times, and I would be lying if I said that there wasn’t a resemblance. Even people who’ve never seen her before here will probably tell you how much you look like her. I was just wondering if that might bother you.” He turned slightly in his seat, removed his hand from her hair, and waited for her answer.
She leaned her head back and swallowed before she answered. She closed her eyes, not to block out the pain, but to focus her memory. She looked out the passenger side window, though she wasn’t focusing on anything in particular, and said, “Sometimes, I have trouble remembering what my mother looked like. I can look at her photo, and it will just look like a photo, not what I remember her looking like at all. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll completely forget everything about her, the way she looked, the way she laughed, the way she spoke, the way she loved me.”
She began to fiddle with the bracelet on her wrist. He looked down at it, too. “I already can’t recall what her voice sounded like. I can’t recall what her laughter sounded like. My mother used to sing to me, but I don’t recall any of the songs. I can barely recall a single thing about her. I think that’s sad.” She turned to him and asked, “Why can’t I remember?” She looked right in his eyes; he stared back, though he didn’t try to answer his question. He couldn’t. She didn’t expect him to.
She turned back toward the window and she added, “I’ve tried for so long to not think about what she went through when she died, but being here, somehow, makes it fresh again, and it’s all I seem to think about. I still dream about it at night. I have terrible, unimaginable nightmares about what I saw, and what she went through, yet I don’t recall what I went through at all.”
She held back a tear, taking deep, gulping breaths. “I’m sorry. I’m usually not so emotional, it’s only that it tears me up inside to know how scared she must have been at the end, not knowing if I was safe. Were her last thoughts about me? Did she try to save me? Someone saved me. Sometimes, I wish they hadn’t. I didn’t deserve to live, if she deserved to die.”
“Gee, Little One,” he said, trying to sound glib. “I only asked you a simple question. You didn’t have to give me another damn soliloquy.”
She looked over at him in shock, appalled at his brashness, but then he reached over and cupped her face with his hand, so warm and sweet upon her cheek, and he smiled, an utterly charming, delightful smile, and she knew he was only trying to make her feel better, in the only way he knew how.
“I really can quote an actual Shakespeare soliloquy, and if you make me angry enough, I just might do it,” she threatened. “Or I might quote you my favorite poem.”
He moved his hand slowly off her cheek, and she felt the loss of his touch as an instant bereavement. “Probably something by Elizabeth Barrett Browning, right? Something painfully romantic, full of love?”
“No thank you. It would be something by Walt Whitman or Thoreau, thank you very much.” She gave him a ‘so there’ nod.
“Well, will wonders never cease, my Little One has depth that I know not?” He reached down, gave her hand a squeeze, and said, “Yet, the question still remains, to be or not to be, Little One, my darling. Yes, that will always be the question.”