Amid the buzz in the courtyard, Margarith announces to Jarrod that Carmina has taken ill. She explains to him that it is nothing serious – not more than usual anyway. Carmina neglected to eat healthily and thus her blood is weakened and the anemia has set in firmly. Of course, there are others to hear the announcement and a general concern sweeps through the clan. Carmina may be clumsy, awkward and at times uncoordinated with the rest of them – but she is good at organizing and planning. Carmina knows the strengths and weaknesses of the people around her and like her mother, she is exceptionally good at utilizing skills to the max.
***
“I told them to take care of themselves out there.” Jarrod is angry, unreasonably angry. Margarith forms the opinion that Jarrod’s anger is a mixture of concern and protectiveness. One part concern, three parts Liam in his sister’s room.
“She will be up in a day or two… but you need to prioritize, Jarrod; Lilly needs you out here and goodness know she’s a handfull at the moment.” Margarith points towards the unfinished builds and general disarray across the whole yard. She does not wait to get a response as she flags down John, who is slowly approaching.
“John, for goodness sake, pick up your feet and pretend you know how walk upright.”
Jarrod stomps off muttering, kicking at nothing in particular and growling under his breath. Margarith lifts an eyebrow and the corner of her mouth sinks into a knowing smirk.
“John, we need you to help Jarrod today, please.”
John, having already heard what is going on, grabs at his leg and hobbles in circles.
“I am in soooo much pain Margarith – perhaps I should go rest, with Carmina.” He staggers for effect and finds himself promptly strained by the ear. Margarith Nightshade is not a very big woman at first glance, but there is a passive strength to her that comes with years of experience.
“Well in such a case,” Margarith pinches him- still by the ear- towards the children’s area, “injured boys get to look after the children until their mothers get to see to them. I’ll send Esmeriska around soon.” Margarith does not let go of the Laurel and Hardy
-esque John, and stretching out to her full height, she hoists to her toes when he tries to escape. John dances around like someone possessed, arms flailing in ‘hallelujah’ calls, raised to the sky shouting “It’s a miracle! I am cured!”
Margarith lets go of his ears and John bolts like a lightning strike towards Jarrod, screaming in a banshee voice: “Run dude! We have a witch in our midst!”
Several of the audience watching is in stitches and the quick rub over his ear is not lost on anyone. Jarrod puts his arm around John in a show of camaraderie and his words, only just audible, reach Margarith: “Momma goose got her pinch on today, we best behave.”
The double ‘J’ duo breaks into a sprint, roaring with laughter, and the Elder Margarith dusts her hands off as if she’s just taken the trash out. Moments later, Esmeriska joins her and the two women high five one another amidst intrigued looks. Noticing the spectators, they straighten up and take on the stately poses as is becoming of women in their position. One sweeping look around the courtyard from each of them and heads are dipping down, getting back to work fast.
“Went much better than expected.” Esmeriska states in a whisper.
“Had no doubts it would.” Margarith whispers back.
They walk together to go find Lilly.
***
Babysitting Carmina
I pretend to be sleeping, listening for the heavy steps coming towards my door. I expected a much louder footfall than the one approaching. I didn’t expect the knock on the open door though and it spurs me into beating my blanket in displeasure. Of course he would knock.
“BUSTED!” and “BWHAHAH” and “Now dearie, he is a gentleman. Give him a chance” Point blank ignoring.
“Come in” I whisper, hoping he would not hear me and go away.
“Thank you,” he answers. I watch him pass through the door and have absolutely no idea how he manages to fit through the frame. If I did not see it myself, I’d never have believed it. However, Liam seems to drift through it and the magic wand that is my imagination convinces me that the door changed size for him, not the other way around. Liam seems to command his environment and everything tends to…flow when he moves.
Liam walks towards the window furthest away from my bed and opens it before pulling my small, oak desk effortlessly to stand in front of it, dropping his books down noisily.
“What’s a little re-arranging amongst strangers then, hey?” I sneer at him for changing my things without asking.
“You should have pretended to sleep then it wouldn’t have bothered you.” He does not turn to look at me while dragging the chair closer to sit down.
“How’d – Why would you say that?” I flinch, embarrassed. This whole family has an uncanny knack of repeating my way-ward thoughts back to me and it is becoming rather unnerving.
“I’d have done the same.” He assures me, “Look, I’m not here to bother you. You need rest; I need quiet. Win-Win.”
“Fine.”
It wasn’t fine, not by a long shot. I dislike being cooped up inside while the world gets to go about their merry ways. At least now I get to study him, or more precisely, his back. I like that his dark hair is not too short but not as long as Jarrod’s. It is in an unruly, modern cut, little strands defying any thought of actual styling. It suits him principally well and I do like how it is faithfully as wild and natural as his mother’s. I look at my hands and then his broad shoulders which almost stretch from one side of the desk to the other. I bet he would enjoy a massage, he is so tense. My hands are too small though. I wish he would not be so angry with me. I don’t know what I’ve done to displease him. It’s not like I stole his most prized possession or ate his last Rolo. Why can’t he be more like John? They’re brothers after all.
Liam turns around in the chair and lifts an eyebrow.
“I can feel your eyes drilling holes in my back.”
“I... was just wondering why you are so mad at me.” The honesty of my words seems to readily relax him.
“I am not mad at you.” A blank stare into the wall behind me turns my head to look at it as well. Looking back at him, I wait patiently but he does not offer anything else. I rub my wrist and when I see him shifting his look, I hide my hands under the blankets and lift them to my chin.
“Then what? You don’t like me much,” I challenge him from the safety of my blanket-cocoon.
“Brave girl” and “Totally” and “Now don’t push him away, dearie” their interference, as always, falling on deaf ears.
I watch Liam’s face vigilantly. The odd sense of familiarity pressing again; why does he remind me of a painting? One I can almost, but not quite, remember. Liam’s quick flash in my direction slams the air directly from my lungs and catches it in my throat. I question myself, wondering if I am imagining the heat and passion that is sending my heart out of the racing blocks like a pro-athlete.
“I have to study,” he says licking, with the tip of his tongue, over his lips and turning his back to me. I choose this moment to leave the room for a shower. I have to get out for a while. If I’m going to be here, I might as well try not to offend him with my odor as well. He seems to do pretty well on his own without my help. When I get out of bed, Liam does not move or react at all. I try to be as quiet as I can. Thankfully, I don’t stumble or fall or go through my usual ritual of sprawling and crawling. I am relieved to make it all the way out and sprint to the bathroom.
My heart is calming down and I try to understand what’s just happened. Why do I feel like I hate him and want to make him happy all the same? Liam is messing with my state of mind. I know I like him… against all odds, my heart and the butterflies at the mere thought of his name tell me this. But I dread him. He seems so dark and gloomy. Yet, I keep seeing him lick over his lips and it is stuck like an old record. I dream of seeing his smile, or hearing him laugh, or
… I want to see him happy. I bet he has a great big smile, his mouth is made for smiling… and kissing, but is always set with a tiny bit of sadness. I wonder what it would be like to be held by those big arms…
I finish my shower fast, not especially liking where my thoughts are heading. I have to distract myself before I can go into the room with him again. The heat of my own imagination is still pulling at my heartstrings. I decide to make a pot of tea and a pot of coffee, grabbing a bottle of water for good measure.
Reaching the stairs to my room, the doorframe flows around all that is Liam, who’s sporting a sweet, tiny little smile, standing in the doorway as if waiting for me. He takes the tray and places it on the desk.
“Peace offering,” I mumble at his back.
“I could have fetched that for you,” he says in a husky tone. My heart thuds against my chest, pleading to be let out. Why now? I just managed to get my thoughts under control and I am sure the whole house can hear the blows against my rib cage.
“Yes, but then you would not have smiled,” I say and insolently tap my finger to his mouth; not thinking about what I’m doing. Liam moves away from me in a rush.
“Inappropriate.” he mutters.
I ignore his mood swing and park myself at the table.
“What are you studying?” I pick up one of the heavy books.
The title reads:“Myth, Mythology and History.” Wrinkling my nose I drop it back onto the desk.
“Oh, posh fairytale speculations?” I tease.
He snatches the book closer to him and points to the bed.
“Rest.”
He might as well have told me to drop dead; the tone would have been the same. With a big sigh, I leap onto my bed and turn my back to him, facing the wall. I am tired, exhausted to be brutally honest… but sleeping is out of the question. Several minutes pass while I stare at the wall, having loud, internal arguments about the intelligence of forcing myself to stay awake.
Unexpectedly, the referee’s verdict comes from Liam’s corner.
“I … can sit with you if you want.”
He sounds unsure of himself. I fling my arm off the bed, twisting my body along to face him without turning around, trying to figure out if he’s making fun of me. Why would he offer in the first place? The instant answer came back to me, asking why I cared to analyze it.
“Really? I mean: yes, please, it would be nice.”
I accept quickly, before he can change his mind. I know it does not always help with the nightmares but I feel safer and more relaxed when I’m not alone. When we were younger, Jarrod used to prop the pillows in the corner and let me crawl into a bundle on his chest. He would stroke my cheek and tell me made up stories. Whenever the dreams got too much for me to handle, he would wake me up and continue the stories as if nothing happened. Jarrod may be a jerk sometimes, but he is my jerk. He’s always taken care of me.
I move away from where I was laying, making space for Liam. Briefly, I wonder if my bed can withstand his bulk. With his book in hand, Liam hardly makes a sound moving across the floor and getting onto my bed without it even creaking. He regards the pillows and then start piling them into the corner before sitting against them. Wriggling his shoulders, he nestles in and holds his hand out to me.
“Come on, before I change my mind.”
I pounce as if he’s my personal teddy bear and I curl up against his chest; not questioning for one second how he knew to set himself just like this, just as Jarrod used to do for me. I close my eyes and allow myself to drift off, the smell of pine trees and sand filling my nose. It is a fresh smell rocking my senses into a blissful peace. Before I fall asleep, I open my palm against his chest and vaguely wonder why his skin feel cold under this soft shirt, I should try to warm him up… I snuggle in tighter feeling his chin rest on my head and one arm folding around my shoulders securely. Maybe he won’t be too mad when I interrupt his study. Sleep grabs at me, leaving me no time to struggle or worry about the nightmares.
***
Liam expectantly waits for the turmoil to start but the horror and mayhem is absent from her sleep. Peeking into the dream world she holds, all he sees are beautiful colors splashing and swirling. It reminds him of a child with finger paints; having free reign to make a picture as big or small as they want across an entire white walled room. He pushes his lips into her hair and takes a long breath. Carmina’s hair is still damp from the shower, she smells of water and … He swallows hard. He can smell her natural scent, the Rockflower-human mix he has been missing. Liam allows himself a lingering kiss on her crown and looks down with a smile, knowing she’s not going to have nightmares at all. This is the same sleep she’s had for several days in his arms during their first meeting! A joy fills him inside, and he keenly invites his family into the moment with him.
“She’s sleeping,” he tells them.
“Oh!” the three members of his family sound pleased.
“Look, she paints when she sleeps…” he allows them to share the dream for a few moments.
“Liam… she knows we are here...” his father whispers.
“Dad? I don’t think…” but he was cut off short.
“Look at the colors and how they are changing… really look at it.” His father insists.
“It is the colors of our eyes… she knows!” John sounds his usual ball of excitement.
“Sorry Carmina, we will let you rest…” Esmeriska’s energy fades away nimbly, as do the other two.
Pulling Carmina closer into his body, enjoying the steady thump of her heart against his ribs, Liam admires the generosity of the colors shared between them. He was about to withdraw from the painting room too just as he hears his name.
“Liam…”
The sparkling around the word is concerned, the colors getting darker. He whispers to the sleeping girl, “I’m here, I’m not leaving you.” As an afterthought he adds “Ever.”
She stirs in his arms, and he hears his name in her dream again: “Liam,” sounding beholden. The colors turn into a bright collage again.
He stays in the dream, but entirely on the outskirts, watching her colors as they shift and transform, creating patterns.
When she lets out a deep sigh of contentment, he feels light and giddy and the smile on his face does not leave again. The intense fulfillment in the knowledge he has just gained gives him pleasure beyond anything he’s experienced in a century or more. He knows this is a gift he can give her. Selfishly, he gloats internally. In his arms, she is at peace. In his arms, she can sleep. Liam rejoices in the thought that he can slay the monsters that prey upon her soul.
Inhaling her scent from time to time as if building up recourses, he steals kisses on her crown as much as he dare. When he moves to cover her with the blanket, she grabs onto his shirt as if to stop him from going.
“I’m not leaving you, my love,” he whispers and open her fingers, kissing the tip of each before resting it back on his chest. The rest of the time he spends in a state of blissful togetherness, while she sleeps serenely, barely moving. Liam ignores the building desire for the life-force that is coursing through her veins.
A Mother’s Thanks
“Are you sure she’s sleeping, Esmeriska? My Carmina is sleeping?” The look on Margarith’s face is doubtful.
“I swear it. You can go look for yourself. He showed us her dreams and…” Esmeriska is at an emotional loss for words. “I know it sounds odd but she paints in her sleep, Margarith… and she was aware of us being there, watching her.”
Margarith looks at the woman in front of her and tears stream down her face. “But she’s not in pain?”
“No, no she’s not.”
“I... I do believe you, but can I see for myself? I have never seen my Carmina sleep quietly.”
Esmeriska’s charming laugh echoes through like a wind-chime, “It is your house and your child, I dare anyone try and stop you!” She holds her hand out to Margarith.
Margarith pushes the door open and Liam
smiles at her invitingly. The big young man looks similar to the guardians of treasures; proud and cautious. Margarith hovers over Carmina, tucking a stray hair behind her ear before putting her own hand to her mouth, covering her trembling lips. Tears shedding down her cheek, she whispers, “Thank you” to Liam who responds by pressing a kiss on Carmina’s hair.
“Thank you,” he whispers after a while, making a wordless promise to the Elder in the room. Carmina is safe with him.
Margarith moves a bottle of water closer to Liam. “Wake her at lunch if you can. She must eat... I hate to have to, but it is important.”
“And you must feed too Liam… shall I send John to-”
“No, mother,” he answers a little too fast. Esmeriska gives Margarith a knowing look before Liam continues.
“If there’s more of the meaty stuff, I’ll have it, but we hunted well last night, I’ll hold.”
Both women understand his reluctance to leave Carmina’s side, so they don’t press the matter.
Carmina sighs “Liam” again and his arms tighten, assuring her he’s still there. Margarith and Esmeriska leave the chamber, their conversation hushed and excited.
“My baby-girl is sleeping!” Margarith says in disbelief.
“And my big boy is going to live on love and water,” Esmeriska jokes.
John finds Jarrod hacking into a piece of wood mercilessly. There is no reason for it but John surmises that something is eating at his new-found buddy.
“I think it is dead.” He declares, picking up a piece and pretending to look for a pulse or heartbeat.
Hidden Carmina Page 7
