The Chancellor Fairy Tales Boxed Set: Books 1-3

by Poppy Lawless

  “It’s Kate. Cooper, are you here?”

  Nothing. But what I saw next surprised me. In the living room, the walls were completely covered with paintings. Sunsets on Lake Erie were always so vivid, and he’d caught their fire. All around the room were paintings, big and small, of the lakeshore at sunrise and sunset. As I looked over the images, I noticed something. There, again and again, he had painted…me. I appeared in no less than ten of the paintings. All the while I’d been watching him, he’d been watching me, working me into the sunsets. Sometimes he’d painted me as a silhouette. Sometimes he painted me bending to pick up beach glass. He caught me in the red dress I’d worn to a Chamber of Commerce charity fundraiser. I’d walked home from the event along the beach that night, my heels dangling in my fingers. As I studied the paintings, I realized that each was numbered. He’d painted more than forty, others still sitting on the floor to be hung.

  My eyes scanned the walls. He’d catalogued every day. Why?

  My anger subsided and turned to anxiety. Where was he?

  I headed back into the kitchen, stopping to take a notepaper from the refrigerator which was covered in magnets. From animals, to fruit, to commemorative spoons, to framed pictures, there was barely a bare inch on the appliance. I pulled the little pen from the refrigerator notepad and started writing, telling him I’d found his pack, when a photo on the refrigerator caught my attention. It was a faded image of a woman in her twenties. At first I thought it was Alberta, but this woman’s hair was much redder. The image was in a little frame held by two angels. The banner underneath said “In Loving Memory” with the word “Daughter” hand-painted in gold above the image. Alberta’s daughter? Would that make her Cooper’s mother?

  I stared at the woman looking out from the picture. The photo had been taken on Christmas. There was a Christmas tree in the background. Digging under that tree was a smiling child holding a wrapped gift. His mother then. Human lives were so fragile. I pitied Cooper. Losing someone before you were ready was never easy. To lose a mother…well, I’d had that experience myself. Your life is never the same thereafter. It’s like the compass of your life is forever lost.

  Leaving my number at the bottom, I finished the note, stuck the little pen back where I’d found it, and headed back outside.

  My muddy sneakers were wet and cold. I closed the door tight behind me, uncertain if I should lock up the house or not. I didn’t want to lock him out of his own home. Feeling confused and worried, all my anger swept away, I headed home. Wherever Cooper was, I hoped he was okay.

  Chapter 9: Cooper

  The ambulance wailed as it pulled away from Juniper Lane. People I didn’t know leaned into my face and asked my name. I managed to whisper out “Cooper McGuire” and “cancer” before I faded once more.

  The beep, beep, beep sound on a machine woke me sometime later. I didn’t even have to open my eyes to realize I was in the hospital. The smell gave it away. There was nothing worse than the smell of the hospital with its lingering odor of disinfectant, bodies, and fluids. I opened my eyes slowly. It was dark outside. There was a window beside my bed. The stars were twinkling in the night’s sky. Had I only been out for a few hours?

  My skin felt itchy. They’d put in an IV. My face was damp where the oxygen mask pressed against my cheeks. I pulled it off causing a monitor to bong. I coughed heavily then sat up. In the very least, I had the room to myself. And like every hospital, this one was cold. My feet felt like they were sitting in a bucket of ice water.

  “Mister McGuire,” a nurse said then. “Nice to see you awake. Let’s check your blood pressure, shall we?” The nurse pressed a button on the wall, silencing the alarm, then unhooked the oxygen mask and stowed it.

  “Which hospital is this?”

  “Titus Medical,” she replied. “You’re in the ICU. You gave us quite the scare.”

  “Doctor Archer?”

  “He was by to see you this morning. I expect he’ll be back later this evening,” she said as she wrapped my arm with the band and began checking my blood pressure.

  “This morning? How long have I been here?” I asked. I’d missed my date with Kate. She probably thought I stood her up.

  The nurse silenced me, putting one finger to her mouth, as she counted. After a moment, she let the air out of the band and made a note on my chart. “You came in last night,” she said then carefully put her stethoscope down the front of my hospital gown, pressing the cold metal against my chest.

  I stayed still and waited. There wasn’t anything new she could to tell me. I knew what had brought me there. Now I just wanted to go home. There wasn’t anything they could do for me. Why did this have to happen now? I just wanted one night, one last night with a beautiful woman. I wanted just one night to pretend I wasn’t a dead man walking, to imagine what it would be like to fall in love with someone like Kate, to touch her skin, maybe even kiss her. I wanted just one night to imagine what it would be like to have a life and children and a wife. I couldn’t even have that.

  “All right, Mister McGuire,” she said, then sat down on the side of my bed and made a note in my chart.

  “What did Doctor Archer say?” I asked. “I want to go home.”

  The nurse nodded then turned and smiled at me. Her expression was soft. I could see in her eyes she knew. “I can’t let you go until Doctor Archer gives us the say so. He wants to double check your medications, see what he can do to make you more comfortable. A hospice worker was by earlier. I think they’re still here if you’d like me—”

  “No. I just want to go home. And my cell phone. Is my cell here?”

  The nurse nodded then opened a drawer on the bed table beside me. Inside was my watch, keys, and cell. She handed it to me.

  I punched the button, but the battery had gone dead.

  “I have that same phone. You want me to bring my charger?” she asked me.

  “No,” I said, closing my eyes. I didn’t even have Kate’s phone number and it was too late to call her at the store. Even if I did, what would I tell her? That I was at the hospital? Then I’d have to explain everything to her. Maybe it was better this way.

  “Okay, then. I’ll let you sleep. Can we call anyone for you, hun? There wasn’t anyone listed in your records.”

  “No. Thank you.”

  Without another word, the nurse left. I lay there listening to the monitor beep. Maybe it would be better if it ended soon. The waiting, the false hope, was more than I could take. And now my illness, which caused my absence, had no doubt hurt Kate, just as I knew it would. My first instinct was right. I needed to leave her alone.

  Chapter 10: Kate

  “What do you mean he didn’t show up?” Alice asked as she set my dinner down in front of me with a clunk. I’d managed to dodge her that morning. Her Indiana Jones had brought his archeology campers to the deli for breakfast, much to my great relief, so I got away with simply saying “we’ll talk later.” Now, however, I was in for a drilling.

  “Hey, watch my bagel!” I said jokingly as the top of my bagel slid toward the table.

  “Sorry. He didn’t call or anything?”

  “No, but it was weird…”

  “Weird? What do you mean, weird?”

  “Well,” I began, realizing how bad it made me sound. “I walked over to his house,” I said. Alice raised an eyebrow at me. “I was mad, all right. I didn’t even know what I was going to say, but I was just so confused…and annoyed…but mostly confused. Anyway, I walked along the shore and through the woods to Juniper Lane, and I found his bag in the woods. It was soaking wet, like it sat out all night.

  “Maybe he just forgot it?”

  I shook my head. “He had his paint supplies inside.”

  “Okay, that is weird.”

  “When I got to his house, it was unlocked. His SUV was there. His house was dark. I drove by this morning, and his lights were still off. Maybe I should call the police.”

  “Maybe he went out of town with friends. Bu
t why wouldn’t he lock up?”

  I nodded. “Exactly. I don’t know what to do.”

  The bell above the door rang. Tootie Row and her husband Milt came in, her husband promptly taking a seat by the front door while Tootie headed toward the counter where I was sitting.

  “One sec,” Alice said then turned to Tootie. “All ready!” Alice lifted a massive bag full of bagels.

  “Good girl. Did you pack the extra honey pecan spread?”

  “Of course,” Alice replied as she started punching keys on her cash register.

  “My relatives come in tomorrow morning. They always cry for your bagels, honey.”

  “They have good taste,” Alice answered.

  Tootie laughed as she dug into her purse for her wallet, but then she saw me sitting at the counter.

  “Oh, Kate,” she said, gently setting her hand on my shoulder. “How is Cooper? I didn’t get a chance to go by. I’m just so busy preparing for my sister and her grandkids. What happened? Did they say?”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “Oh,” Tootie breathed in surprise. “You don’t know?”

  Confused, I shook my head.

  “Rose’s grandson, Scott, was out with some other boys at Frog Creek yesterday evening, and they found Cooper passed out in the woods! They called an ambulance to take him to Titus Medical. I thought for sure someone would let you know.”

  I rose and picked up my purse. “No…I…I had no idea.” I felt like someone had poured ice water down my back. “I’ve got to go,” I told Alice.

  She nodded. “Call me.”

  “Wish him well for me,” Tootie said then turned to Alice. “You know that boy’s mother died of cancer. I hope it’s nothing serious.”

  Her words rung in my ears as I thought about all those bottles of medicine sitting on the window sill. With my hands shaking, I rushed out of the deli. It had never even occurred to me that maybe something terrible had happened to him. He’d gotten sick. And I…I hadn’t been there for him.

  I rushed down Main Street, turning onto Fence Post Lane which led to the public dock. I was planning to just jump onto the beach and rush home. I could make it to Titus Medical in twenty minutes if I hurried. I was surprised, however, when I turned the corner. At the end of the dock several TV crews had gathered around a man with curly red hair. He was holding something in his hands. I could hear a reporter asking him questions. Bright light glared on his face. Nearby, a group of college students—evident from their Chancellor College sweatshirts—stood watching in awe.

  “There was anecdotal evidence, folklore, that the Native Americans inhabited the islands in Lake Erie, but physical evidence has been hard to come by…until now.”

  “Why do you think these artifacts have been overlooked for so long?” a reporter asked as I moved toward the crowd, a sick feeling rocking my stomach.

  “Mainly because it was small and covered in scrub. Archeological digs have been completed on other larger islands with limited success, mainly unearthing evidence of European use of the islands. While we’ve long-suspected we’d find artifacts on the smaller islands, we never expected anything of this scale. Earlier this spring, a fisherman discovered artifacts on the island’s bank. That got our attention. Since the college recently acquired the island, the board thought it wise to do a thorough investigation. What we found today, however, was unimaginable.”

  “How many remains were discovered?”

  “We’ve only uncovered the first few, but sonar readings suggest there are nearly one hundred. The bodies were laid out in ceremonial fashion before they were burned.”

  “Was it a slaughter? Sacrifice?”

  The man shook his head. “No, they were burned after death. You can see from the scorching on this skull,” he said, lifting a charred skull.

  My knees went weak as I gazed into the empty sockets of the skull he held up. It stared back at me, watching me, accusing me. On a TV screen nearby, they were displaying a map of Lake Erie, pinpointing the island where the archeologist had made this discovery. The island…the island where my kind had died…the skull he was holding had belonged to one of my people.

  The reporter then turned to a young woman standing near the archeologist. The reporter asked her a question, but in my haze, I missed it.

  “You just don’t see this kind of craftsmanship amongst the Native Americans,” the young woman, said, holding something in the palm of her hand. “It was on one of the bodies. It’s extremely rare to see such metallurgy and jewel work. It looks Viking,” she said then lifted a charred band. It was a bracelet. “You can’t see it well, but there is agate and amber worked into the band,” the girl said proudly.

  The reporter smiled then turned to the camera. “Quite a find for these junior archeologists. We’ll bring you further updates on this remarkable discovery as they become available. Back to you, Tom.”

  “Cut,” someone called, then the lights went dim.

  I stood in the darkness, the stars twinkling overhead. The crowd cheered the students and professor for their discovery. My family, my friends, my Kadan. I took a step toward the crowd. What would—what could—I say? This was sacrilege. They would go there and dig up the ghosts that haunted me. What would they find in the remains? What other clues would the clever young archeologist uncover? She looked at the bracelet, her eyes full of wonder. I wondered how she would feel if I told her that I was the one who’d made it. It had been a gift for my sister, Merlilium, whose diseased body I’d burned after gently crossing her hands on her chest, adjusting the bracelet so it shimmered in the sunlight. It amazed me to think the bracelet had withstood the fire, but that was the gift of mer metalworking, ores mined from the deep and crafted with skill. My kind had once been masters of the craft.

  I stood in the darkness and debated. My past had collided with the present. Would the bodies yield the secrets of the deep? Did I have a duty to protect them? If so, what could I do? But more so, my mind bent on the here and now. Cooper was in the hospital. He was real and alive and near as I could tell, alone.

  I took a deep breath and turned down the beach.

  Chapter 11: Cooper

  “Are you certain, Cooper? I can admit you to residential care. You’d have someone with you twenty-four hours a day. In the very least, let us arrange for hospice to visit you. There is a very good, supportive team of people in Chancellor,” Doctor Asher said.

  I lay in the hospital bed staring at the television. The local news had just aired a report of archeological finds on an island in Lake Erie just off the coast from Chancellor. When I was a child, I’d found a cave in the cliff side down shore. Within, there had been evidence that the place had been inhabited long ago. There were paintings on the walls of the cave, spirals and images of creatures that looked something like mermaids…no, lumpeguin, as Kate had called them. I clicked off the TV.

  “No residential care,” I said.

  “The hospice? Please? For me?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll have the nurses draw up some papers before you go,” Doctor Asher said then paused. “It’s time to start being careful,” he said, setting his hand on mine. His blue eyes looked sorrowfully at me. He shook his head. “It’s coming,” he whispered. “Your white blood cell count is dangerously low. Stay close to home. Start saying your good-byes.”

  To whom? I wondered, but the image of Kate laughing, her golden hair shimmering, danced through my mind.

  “Go ahead and get dressed. They’ll bring you up a wheelchair. Someone at the nurses’ station already called you a taxi.”

  “Thank you.”

  Doctor Asher shook his head. “Are you certain about the DNR?” he asked, looking down at the papers I’d signed. If I stopped breathing, if my heart stopped, it would be over. I didn’t want to prolong my body’s torture.

  “Yes,” I said absently then gazed out the window. The moon was a sliver in the sky. How beautiful it looked against the dark blue tapestry of the night.


  Doctor Asher nodded. “Please call the on-call number if you need anything.”

  “I will. Thank you, doctor.”

  He nodded slowly then stopped at the door. He turned back and looked at me. “Good-bye, Cooper.”

  I smiled at him. “Good-bye, doctor. Thank you for everything.”

  He inclined his head then left.

  “And they put broccoli in the goulash, can you believe that? They called it primavera something or other. Nasty,” a chatty nurse’s aide was saying as she pushed me to the curb where the taxi waited. Taking me by the arm, like I was some kind of invalid, she helped me into the taxi. “Have a great night,” she called, slamming the door shut behind me.

  I sat in silence as the driver guided the car into the night. Titus Medical was located in the business district of the nearby town of Waterville. Chancellor was just a short drive away.

  The cab driver, sensing I was in no mood to talk, kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut as we drove toward the lakeshore. The land surrounding Chancellor was covered in vineyards. There was a microclimate formed by lake-effect weather that created the perfect condition for growing grapes. The Chancellor wine industry was huge. The college even had a program in their culinary department for future wine-makers, funded by the Hunter family and their massive estate, the Blushing Grape vineyards. In the autumn, when the grapes were ripe for harvest, the air all around Chancellor was perfumed with the smell of grapes. I had missed that smell, missed autumn in Chancellor. Now, it seemed, I would never see another fall.

  I closed my eyes and tipped my head back against the seat. I had gone through all the stages they said I would experience…the grief, the rage, the denial, and now, the begrudged acceptance. Just because I’d accepted my end was coming didn’t mean I liked it. I would never have a wife. I would never have children. There would never be another person from my family to live on Juniper Lane. I was the last of us. And my time was nearly done.