While we did the grunt work, Bethany played the host, and I have to say, there couldn’t have been a better one. She spun tales about unicorns so delightfully and realistically that I was having a hard time not listening myself. The little girls were simply mesmerized and sat staring at her in absolute wonder.
She pulled out a wand and with a flourish, sparkles shot into the air, slowing drifting down in a great cloud that made all their hair flash and dance. Nice effect, but I grimaced thinking of the clean-up that would have to be done.
Then, one of the girls asked me who I was. I told her that I was the Duke of Sugarloaf Cove and tried desperately to remember the back-story that Bethany had created for me. But then, I slipped into it, and before I knew what was happening, I was regaling the children with my adventures, even singing to them about the duel between myself and the Knight of Bitter Persimmon that ended with us both falling from our horses into the Marsh of Chocolate Pudding, where I prevailed by eating more of it than he.
The children applauded like mad when I was done, and I took a bow, noticing an appreciative look or two from some of their mothers. That was nice, but I was bothered.
Bethany didn’t write any of that. Not the story behind and not the song itself. Where did I come up with it?
As I straightened, I caught the pure satisfaction on Bethany’s face, and utter astonishment on Rachel’s. I knew how she felt.
When the party was over, I wanted nothing more than to collapse into a chair and take a break. Rachel barely let the last girl out the door before doing exactly that. But Bethany seemed as full of energy as could be, and stood beaming, watching out the window as the chattering, giggling hoard of sugared up girls bounded down the street.
“Wonderful,” she breathed. “Just wonderful.”
She wandered off, smiling dreamily and humming to herself, disappearing through the curtains.
I followed her, ignoring my aching feet and staying as silent as I could. Sure enough, she made a bee-line for the pantry, and again, I heard her talking. Only this time, there was no doubt, I definitely heard the soft neigh of a horse answering her.
I made my way carefully to the pantry and could see Bethany, her back to the door, squatting down, her hands moving in front of her. I moved forward and looked over her shoulder.
There, in all its glory, was a unicorn; all six-inches high of gleaming white horse, with a silver horn jutting from its forehead. It spotted me, reared and with a startled whinny, fled under the shelves at the back of the pantry. Bethany let out a squawk, lost her balance, and sat down hard on the floor.
I stood staring for a moment, then backed away and went to the curtains. I opened them with one hand while keeping an eye on the pantry.
“Rachel?” I said. “I think you need to see this.”
“But how?” Rachel asked. We were all seated at one of the tables, the remains of the party still scattered about the room.
“I don’t know,” Bethany sniffled. “He was just there. A few days ago, after that man…after the bad thing that happened. I was so sad, and sure that we were done for. Then, he showed up, in the pantry, and told me that it was going to be work out and to keep at it. And he was right!”
“Yeah, but unicorns don’t really exist,” I said. “You know that.”
“They do too!” Her voice was sharp, and her tear-filled eyes shot daggers at me. “What do you think that is in there?”
“I don’t know, but I think I need to find out. It could be something dangerous.”
“Don’t you dare! You scared it already!”
“Bethany,” Rachel said. “We have to let Duke take a look. It’s why I hired him.”
The sudden realization of why I was truly there hit Bethany like a hammer. She sat up straight and glared from one of us to the other. “You said he was here to help draw in a different crowd,” she hissed. “You lied!”
“Only because I was worried about you!” Rachel’s voice hitched. “You were getting so caught up in this place, and I thought…”
“What? You thought what? That I was crazy? Is that it?”
“No! Of course not! But I thought that maybe something was going on that you didn’t want to tell me. And there was!”
“Of course, I didn’t tell you!” Bethany’s voice rose to a scream. “Look how you’re reacting!”
Rachel stood, her face red as she pointed at Bethany. Something was about to be said that shouldn’t be. Something that would be hard to take back.
“Hey,” I said, “maybe we should all …”
That was as far as I got before Bethany rose too, her face dark with anger.
“Enough!” she yelled. “Sit down and be quiet!”
Rachel collapsed into her chair like a puppet whose strings were cut, and my words were choked off in my throat. I tried to speak but couldn’t.
“Now,” Bethany said. “I am going to the pantry, to give my friend a treat for all the help he’s given me. You two are going to clean up. I was going to help, but now I’m not. And there better not be a single speck of glitter left!”
She turned and pushed through the curtains, leaving the room.
I got up and started cleaning, whether I wanted to or not. Rachel did the same and I could see the fear in her face. The dishes were done, the floor swept, and all the while Bethany was in the pantry, talking in a cooing voice to the miniature unicorn who capered and pranced around her. When I was done scouring the floor for wayward glitter, I returned to my seat at the table.
Bethany returned and looked around the room. “Very good, Princess Featherbottom and Duke Sugarloaf. Now, we’ll retire for the night, but tomorrow, I’m sure will be every bit as much fun as today was!” Her voice rang out in the stillness merrily, but it was her eyes that concerned me the most. They were huge and stared at us without really seeing who we were, and I didn’t see a single spark of sanity in them.
Retiring for the night meant that I sat in the chair. Bethany told Rachel to come with her, and Rachel followed her woodenly from the room. I heard them clomp up the stairs outside to the second-floor apartment, a few creaks of floorboards from overhead, and then silence. I may have dozed on and off, it was hard to tell, but by the time morning came I was sore all over and utterly exhausted.
We were put through our paces again the next day. The same group came back, only this time there were more of them. Many more, including some little boys, who ran all over the place, waving imaginary swords and dueling with each other. When there was time to look, I would have sworn that there wasn’t a single inch of wall or floor not covered in something sticky.
I told them tales of my adventures in Sugarloaf Cove and sang them songs that popped into my head, even accompanying them with dance moves that would have done any street performer proud. Rachel did the same, letting all the little girls know that they, too, could grow up to be princesses, just like her. And over it all, Bethany sat in court at the end of the room, presiding over her kingdom.
But at the end of the day, when the last child left and silence settled over the room again, Bethany sighed, and looked at us.
“If I let you go, will you both behave?”
I found that I could nod, and did so, whole-heartedly.
Bethany looked away and I was suddenly free of her control. I could try to jump at her, knock her out and escape, but I’d never make it that far. She may have been a fanatic when it came to unicorns, and she might have slipped around the bend a bit, but she wasn’t stupid. She made sure that I was all the way across the room before freeing me.
“How are you doing this?” Rachel asked her, her face distraught as she sank into a chair.
“I’m not doing anything,” Bethany replied, still not looking at us. “I want us to get along and to have this place and to make sure the children have a good time. I think my friend is making sure that it happens.”
“How can you do this to me?” Rachel said, tears welling up in her eyes.
“How can I do this to you? What about you? You
lied to me! And you didn’t believe. Not really.” Now, Bethany was crying also.
“Why don’t we…” I tried.
“Shut up!” That was from both of them, and spell or not, I shut-up.
“Bethany, we can make this work. We really can. But this isn’t the way to do it.”
“I know. But I don’t know what else to do. And I’m tired. Let’s go to bed. I’ll think about it tomorrow.”
She stood and held out her hand to Rachel. Without bothering with me, she walked out, Rachel following along behind her. I made to head for the door but couldn’t. Whatever Bethany was doing, or that unicorn thing, it was still firmly in effect, and I had no choice but to sit back down and stay motionless.
In the dark and the haziness that came from trying to sleep for the second night sitting upright in a chair, I wasn’t sure that what I was hearing was real. I tried to focus and got my mind to rally slightly, enough that I could open my eyes, and look wearily around.
There was a soft, white glow, down near the floor, moving across it, from the curtains toward me. Accompanying it was the quiet, almost indistinct sounds of tiny hooves prancing on the wooden floor. The unicorn walked in front of me, stopped and stared up at me.
“There you are, you little…” The last word died in my throat also, but I was pretty sure he knew what I was thinking.
“Why are you fighting this?” The voice was soft and gentle, and I heard it inside of my head. Great, just what I needed, yet another voice crowding my brain.
“I’m not doing anything. I just work here.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you are. But you seem so miserable. Why?”
“Why? Maybe because I’ve been stuck to a chair for two nights in a row now!”
“Oh. I see. You are uncomfortable. Here, will this help?”
The chair was no longer a chair. Now it was a long, soft, couch, with a pillow at the end that cradled my head just right. In spite of myself, I sighed and groaned, sort of at the same time. There was a slight pressure, and the unicorn was standing on my chest. He couldn’t have weighed much more than a kitten.
“Is that better?” he asked me.
“Yes, but it would be even better if I could go home.”
“But that would make Bethany sad.”
I didn’t have a good answer for that. Obviously, this thing was either really devoted to her, or it wanted everyone to think it was. Either way, it wasn’t going to go against her wishes and let me go.
“Are you really a unicorn?” I asked.
“What else would I be?”
“I don’t know. Something evil?”
He snorted and reared back. “Evil? Oh my, no. I hate evil. People should be good, and happy, and…hold on.”
He walked forward across my chest, stopping nearer to my face and peering into first one of my eyes, then the other. Finally, he drew back a little.
“Are you aware that you’re not alone in there?”
“Yeah, unfortunately, I am. Any idea on how to get rid of them?”
“I could do it…but I better not.”
I didn’t think it would be that easy. “Want to tell me why not?”
“They say you have a destiny, whatever that is. Anyway, I should go.”
“Wait!” The unicorn turned back to me. “What about tomorrow?”
“What about it?”
“Will it be like today? All those kids?”
“It’s what Bethany wants.”
“But what about them? What about me? And Rachel?”
“Bethany takes care of me,” he said. He jumped down and scampered off, back through the curtains.
The next morning, the couch was gone, and I was sitting in the chair again long before Bethany arrived.
The kids came back. An even greater giggling, screaming, crowd. There were so many that the place could hardly even hold them, and Bethany was in her glory. I sang, danced, made tea, fetched cookies, and told stories. From early morning until evening I worked non-stop, entertaining the voracious children. There was no sign of Rachel.
But even in my fatigue, I noticed something. The little girl who was our first customer was there, but she wasn’t as excited as she was that first day. She looked tired and worn out. She still listened wide-eyed to the stories and she still clutched her unicorn doll to her chest, but she cheered less loudly, and ran more slowly. There were dark circles under her eyes.
Once I noticed that, I searched out the faces of kids I recognized from the second day. They, too, seemed more tired than the new kids who came today. Not as bad as the original girl, but definitely weary.
The day finally ended, and again, Bethany let me go. She wouldn’t look at me.
“Where’s Rachel?” I croaked.
“She needed a rest today. She was exhausted.”
I snorted, not trusting myself to say anything.
“I know,” Bethany said. “You’re tired too. I needed help today, though. Tomorrow, you can take the morning off, but you’ll have to stay in the pantry.”
“Did you notice the little girl?” I asked her.
“Which one. There were so many today. It was wonderful.” But even her voice sounded worn-down.
“The first one. Your first customer. She was here again today, and she didn’t look good.”
For the first time since the children left, Bethany looked at me, her eyes flashing. “What do you mean?”
“She was exhausted. I don’t think she wanted to come, but she …”
“Shut up!” She surged to her feet and pointed at me. “Shut your filthy mouth! Of course, she wanted to be here! Every child would want to be here!”
I struggled to speak, but my jaw may as well have been held shut by a troll.
She stood there, breathing heavily and staring at me. Then, her face changed, softened, and she sank back down into her chair.
“What am I doing?” she whispered.
I was free. I could have gotten to her, I was pretty sure. Unless the unicorn itself stopped me, I could have reached her, or the door and fled into the night. But there was something about her sitting with her head in her hands, weeping softly, that stopped me.
I did leave, but it was only to go upstairs, knock on the door and tell Rachel that Bethany needed her.
I came back a week later, trusting that I could leave again when I wanted to. We drank tea and watched the unicorn. It really was kind of like a kitten. It pranced on the floor, running back and forth, then suddenly disappearing with a pop of displaced air and reappearing on the table in the middle of us. I guess kittens don’t do that last part, but what do I know? I was never really a cat person, either.
“Business has been good?” I asked, sipping at my tea.
“Really good,” Rachel replied. “But only on word of mouth. Not because anyone has to be here.”
“I’m glad. How about you, Bethany?”
She smiled shyly at me. “I’m good, too. We have a new Duke of Sugarloaf Cove starting tomorrow.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, some street performer. He says he really likes unicorns and wants to be part of this. Of course, he doesn’t know about…” She indicated the unicorn, which was turning in quick circles on the floor trying to bite its own tail.
“And what about…?” I tilted my head the same way.
“Oh, he understands now. We’ve had a long talk or two. He doesn’t have to give me everything he thinks I want. He shouldn’t. But sometimes, little treats are okay.”
I watched the unicorn play. There was still something about it. First of all, weren’t unicorns supposed to be big, like the size of real, I mean normal, horses?
“Who says I can’t be?” the gentle voice sounded in my head. “But for now, Bethany needed someone to take care of. Maybe later, I can do the same for her. Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe. Both of them.”
I nodded, not really surprised that he knew what I was thinking.
“Hey,” I thought at him. “I don’t sup
pose you can…”
“No. I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”
With a rear and a neigh, he sped off, under the tables, around the edge of the room and out between the curtains. We all watched him go, and then I stood up to take my leave.
“Will you be back?” Rachel asked.
I shrugged. “Who knows? I’ve grown to like tea and I don’t where I could get a better cup of it.”
I smiled at them both, rapped my knuckles on the table, because I still thought that was a cool way to leave a room, and made my way home.
STOPPING FOR LUNCH
“Ah, here we are,” Duke said, opening the door to the warm, cozy glow of a fireplace, the quiet hum of several different conversations, and the welcome sight of a full-length bar spanning one wall of the room. “Always wanted to try this place.”
“Always? Seriously?” Lilly said. “It opened last week.”
“Well, always since then.” He smiled at her and led her to a table near the fire, where the three took chairs and waited for the serving-girl to arrive. Duke’s eyes gleamed as he took in the bar, with no fewer than five different ale taps lined up in a row, all connected to large wooden barrels laying on their sides in huge racks.
“Now that’s a beautiful sight,” he sighed.
“We’re not trying all of them,” Lilly said. “I have things to do this afternoon.”
Duke reached over and patted her hand. “Of course not. Two at the most. But it is nice to sit and get warm near the fire. Now, where is that…?” He raised his hand and beckoned over the young girl working the tables.
He listened carefully as she explained the different types of ale to him and then made his selection. Lilly asked for a glass of red wine. But when it was his turn, the young man didn’t look up from the table, and quickly ordered the same thing as his grandfather, his cheeks turning a bright red.
The girl smiled as she left, and Duke glanced at his wife. “I thought you didn’t really like ale?” he asked his grandson.
“It’s fine.”
“Oh. Well, while we’re waiting, why don’t I tell you what happened next?”
Duke Grandfather- The Whole Story Page 66
