She looked in the mirror at her scrubbed, reddened skin and remembered Elia's peaches-and-cream complexion and her perfect golden hair.
"Great," she said. "If my hair does go wild today, I'll look like a brown-headed dandelion." As she watched, her hair started to twist into curly spirals.
She gave up and slipped into her bra and panties, but her clothes were still muddy. The Muck and Mire Show costume on the floor was damp but fairly clean. She didn't relish wearing it again, but if she could go without conditioner, she could wear that ridiculous costume one more time. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, Mom used to say. And when at the Renaissance Faire, do as the Renais- sancers do. Keelie sighed. Was the rest of her life going to be like this? One compromise after another? Maybe Zeke would be good for a new skirt. Not that she was staying, but the red handprints were too humiliating.
Then she sniffed. What was that horrible smell? It smelled like cat pee. The bedroom door stood partly open. Her heart thumping, she looked over at the bed and stared straight into Knot's weird green eyes. His tail swished back and forth as he squatted, strangely, in her suitcase.
Keelie stomped over to the cat and swatted at him. "Get out of my stuff, you'll get cat hair all over it."
Knot leapt up from the suitcase, landed on the bed, and bounded out the door. Keelie covered her nose and mouth. The smell was worse. She looked around for the source of the stink, hoping it wasn't what she thought it was. No such luck.
He'd used her suitcase as a litter box.
"Knot, you are so dead!"
five
"I'm going to kill you, cat," she muttered. She stood outside on the mud-free bottom step, looking for Knot. The foul feline was nowhere in sight. Smart kitty, she thought. Evil, but smart. He probably knew that if she got near enough to strangle him, she would.
At least the rain was gone. The sky was clear and blue. She took a deep breath, then wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff of cooking meat. Probably those gross turkey legs that she'd seen people gnawing on like barbarians. Not for her. She wouldn't buy into the argument that eating with your fingers was medieval. Plastic cups weren't medieval, and there had sure been plenty of people slurping from them the day before.
What she needed was a cup of coffee and some scones. Where was that tea shop?
She pulled at the drawstring of the leather pouch she'd found in her curtained bedroom area. Inside was her rose quartz, better than a gallon of calamine lotion for stopping that wood itch, her money, and the folded map of the Faire site.
She unfolded the map. Her father's shop was on the far left side of the grounds, with the tournament fields on one side of the hill and a lake on the other. It was time to replace the breakfast that the little oat-booger kitty had messed up.
Keelie's hearing locked onto the sound of her father's voice in conversation, followed by a low, appreciative murmur. Another woman, she thought. She should have guessed. Old Pops was the Faire's version of Matthew Mc- Conaughey. All the old chicks loved him.
She stepped onto the still-wet ground and walked to the edge of the booth. Her father was speaking to a tall guy dressed in an oversized tunic. So it wasn't a woman. Good.
She needed to talk to her father, alone, to discuss returning her to California. Father dropped a small leather pouch and leaned over to pick it up. A passing woman in tight jeans and a red halter top ogled his backside, clad in leather pants under his short, belted tunic.
Gross. She walked after the woman. "He's not for sale," Keelie said. She pointed to the other side of the shop. "Furniture's over there."
The woman's eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. Keelie saw her father frown. Whoops. Rude to a customer, ten demerits.
Keelie whirled and left, giving the woman a good view of her handprints. If she wanted to look at backsides, she'd give her an eyeful.
She rounded the corner and stopped by the railing that separated the path from the steeper slope of the hill that Heartwood was perched on. The sight of the activity on the tournament field caught her attention. A man cantered by on a massive warhorse. He wore a tunic and his trousers were tucked into tall, slouchy boots. With his long, brown hair blowing behind him, he looked just like a picture in a storybook.
She scanned the field for Sean.
Whoa, hold it. What was she thinking? They were from two different worlds, and as soon as Dad heard her plan and let her move back to Los Angeles with Elizabeth and Laurie, Sean would be just a pleasant memory.
On the field, a flash of fur the color of fall leaves streaked in front of the big horse. Her heart drummed against her chest. It was that stupid pee cat, about to get squashed under the horse's massive hooves. The rider was looking the other way.
"Knot, get out of there," Keelie shouted. Just because her underwear smelled like a litter box didn't mean she wanted him to end up squished.
Either the cat didn't hear her, or he chose to ignore her. He was chasing a field mouse, and she clutched the wooden railing as the cat followed the panic-stricken mouse back toward the horse in a trajectory that would take him under those dinner-plate-sized hooves.
Stop, she whispered to the horse. Stop. The rail under her hand felt warm. Pine, a tiny part of her mind thought, the rest of her concentrated like a flying arrow on that small bundle of doomed fur. She suddenly felt the presence of every tree around her, distinct, like people in a crowd. Her hands flew up, away from the fence.
A whoosh of air flowed around her, then through her, a breeze that ruffled her hair, though the leaves of nearby trees were still. Keelie watched, astonished, as the horse halted in mid-stride, legs suddenly straight, body leaning back in a hard stop. The rider's surprise was complete, too, as he tumbled over the horse's head to land on the sandy dirt of the ring. Knot ambled up to sniff at the fallen jouster, then hissed and swatted him, snagging his claws in the man's breeches. The man yelped and grabbed his leg.
Had she done that? Impossible. A weird coincidence.
Knot turned and looked toward the hill. He seemed to be staring at her. From here, Keelie could only imagine the eerie green of his eyes. She stuck her tongue out at him. If she had been down there, he would have swatted at her, too. Ungrateful cat. She didn't know why she was even worried about him, after what he did to her.
"I've been upstairs," her father said behind her. He must have missed the drama on the field. His eyebrows lifted. "I saw what happened to your suitcase." He shook his head. "What can I say? We'll need to add underwear to the growing list of supplies you need."
"Yeah. That cat is so busted," she said.
"I didn't leave you cash for breakfast. You must be hungry." Zeke reached into a leather bag and withdrew a tendollar bill. He unfolded it and placed it in her palm.
She looked down at it. "That's it? In California, I can't even buy a latte for this."
Zeke's smile ironed out, then flat-lined. "This isn't California."
Keelie took it. "Can I have more for the washing machine? There's a laundromat around here, right?"
"Yes, by the front gates, behind the Administration Office. Let me get you some cash from the register."
"I'll take the money now, but I'll do my clothes later. Did you know your obnoxious cat almost got himself killed just now?" She told him about what had happened on the field, leaving out the part where the wind had flowed through her and the horse seemed to obey her wish.
Zeke shook his head. "Knot's got a mind of his own, and sometimes we can't tell what he's up to. Come into the shop a second and let me scrounge up some change."
The gangly guy in the humongous tunic kept his back to her as they approached the counter.
"Scott, this is my daughter Keelie."
Scott didn't turn around.
"Scott?"
He turned around, and his face seemed irritated.
"Keelie, this is Scott, my apprentice. I teach him woodworking, and he helps me out. He lives in a room out back."
Keelie didn't smile back either. Not only
did Zeke have time for a stupid cat, he had time to teach this dork woodworking. She followed her father as he went behind the counter. The counter itself was amazing. It was taller than her waist, and the front edge was carved with imaginary animals, locked in a race around the countertop. The bottom was carved to look like roots, as if the shop itself was part of the Earth.
Hand stuck out in anticipation of money, Keelie looked around the shop. The posts that held up the top floor had root-carved bottoms, too. Weird. Must be a Heartwood theme. Her roots were elsewhere, weren't they?
Zeke handed her some bills, then broke open a roll of quarters and scooped up half of them to drop in Keelie's palm.
"Hey, we'll need those today to make change." Scott frowned at them.
"The cat peed on my clothes. I need to do laundry." Keelie matched his frown.
Scott laughed. "Is that why you're dressed like that? I thought Tarl had pitched that outfit after Daisy complained last year."
"Scott, why don't you show Keelie where to eat cheap? I'll her you can show her how to make that ten dollars last a week."
Keelie was mortified. Oh great, she'd be strolling around with fiber-dweeb and people would think they were a couple. Captain Randy, for one. And if Scott saw Captain Randy and her together, he'd no doubt tell Zeke all about it.
"I can't go, Zeke. I have to finish this piece for Mr. Humphrey. He's picking it up on Friday." Scott didn't seem any happier about it.
Zeke clapped a hand on Scott's back. "Don't worry. I'll take care of everything. The Faire's just opened, so this is a good time for Keelie to see the sights before the crowds get in the way."
Ignoring Keelie's outraged stare, he waved Scott toward her. "On Sundays things don't get busy until after one in the afternoon. You can stay out until then."
They set off down the path, each clinging to the opposite side of the path. Scott glanced at her and snorted.
"What?" She couldn't see anything amusing.
"So, now that you have the garb, are you going to join the Muck and Mire Show?"
The skirt. Keelie hated the hideous Muck and Mire Show costume more than ever. It was a symbol, and it was the wrong one. Her Baywood Academy uniform had been the symbol that informed the world that she was somebody. Only the brightest and best connected got into Baywood. The blue and black of the Baywood uniform showed everyone that she was smart and her mother was important. Here she was a goofy-looking misfit.
"Are you laughing at me?" Keelie stopped in the middle of the path, hands on her hips. Scott's eyes widened, and he tried to stop, but laughter just bubbled out of him, the vermin.
"Don't you want me to?" He wiped his eyes. "You're dressed in that outrageous outfit. Like a clown." He hiccupped.
"Look at you. You've been here far longer than me, and you're wearing something that belongs to a giant. At least you have a choice."
She didn't have a choice in anything. Where to live, what to wear. Who to walk down the stupid path with. His laughter was suddenly too much.
She turned and ran. Racing down the hill, she veered right, speeding past a colorful barge tied at the lakeshore, full of fancy-costumed people. She ran past tradesmen setting up shop and artists opening their studios.
She heard Scott follow her for a while, but then she couldn't hear him anymore. Not that she'd turned to look. He'd never catch her looking to see if he was there. She wanted to be alone, to get away. From Scott. From her father. From this whole freakish wonderland.
The air felt good on her face, and her muscles stretched and sang as she lengthened her stride. She loved to run, and the proof, her cross-country racing ribbons, were in the missing suitcase. People looked up as she passed, but no one tried to stop her. She hadn't run for weeks. It felt great.
After a long time, she circled back to the Heartwood clearing. From the path's edge she watched her father and Scott unload lumber. Back to business. No one was concerned about her. She wondered what Scott had told her father about his early return. She could bet that it wasn't the truth.
Her stomach growled. She could use a muffin and a tall latte. She pulled the map of the Ren Faire site from the pouch slung around her waist and examined it. She was tempted to cut through the woods, but she'd been warned to stay on the path.
She started down Water Sprite Lane, hurrying over the bridge she'd passed last night. No voices today. The meadow was full of trees, just as Raven had described. She shut their voices out of her mind and ran.
The teashop was a ramshackle building, half-timbered and leaning. It seemed to be held together by ivy, which grew, dark green and lush, all up and down the sides. There wasn't a rose bush in sight.
Keelie walked onto the deck, which was huge, and covered by an arbor draped in-what else?-ivy. Maybe the ivy had eaten the roses.
Inside, Mrs. Butters was pulling a tray from an oven. The gingerbread woman smiled kindly at Keelie, who didn't return the smile. She didn't want to get used to anyone being nice or friendly to her. It was better this way. Keelie Heartwood was out of this place the first chance she had.
"Good morning, Keelie. What can I get for you?" The gingerbread woman smiled, her little black-raisin eyes shining in her brown face. Keelie resisted the urge to lean forward and sniff her.
"A couple of muffins, please." Too many carbs, but after this morning it was a well-deserved treat.
"What kind do you want?"
"Do you have any blueberry?"
"Of course. But they're for the mundanes. For us I have some with unicorn fruit and crystal seeds. Of course, this may be a bit more to your liking." The woman reverently held out a golden mound-topped muffin speckled with bright bits of red berry. "Fairy winkberry. It's your father's favorite."
"Fairy winkberry," Keelie repeated, hoping she wasn't losing her hearing.
The woman's eyes twinkled. "Yes, fairy winkberry. I don't make these very often, for the berries are rare in these parts, but one of the jousters happened upon a blooming plant near the meadow the other day and brought me back a basket."
Berries sounded more normal than crystal seeds. For all she knew, the crystal-seed muffin could have quartz bits in it. She remembered the toothless guy from the day before. No doubt about it. He could've been a crystal-seed muffin victim.
"Okay. Fairy winkberry. But since it's so big, I'll have just one. And a tall chai."
"I'm afraid I don't have chai, but I do have a lovely herbal tea that goes great with the muffins." She pulled a tray from a stack and put the muffin on it, with a lacy paper doily underneath it.
No chai. Of course not. Keelie remembered going to the coffee shop at the mall with Laurie and the gang after school. Chai and coffee were their favorite hot drinks. This place was totally primitive.
"How about a coffee then, dark roast?"
"Aren't you a little young for coffee? I think Zeke would object." The feminine voice behind her sounded disapproving.
Keelie quickly turned to see who had spoken to her. It was the herb lady, Raven's mother, dressed in purple and white, her billowing sleeves embroidered with little green herb plants. Her bracelets jingled and chimed with her movements.
Heat crept up Keelie's cheeks as she looked down at her mismatched Muck and Mire Show outfit. And the woman smelled divine, like something from an exotic land. Mom had never worn perfume. She'd thought it was unprofessional.
The memory of her mother brought Keelie back to reality. Who was this woman to question whether or not Keelie could have coffee? To call her dad Zeke and pretend she knew what his rules were? Mom let her have coffee. And it wasn't any of this woman's business if she did. Her motherly act was irritating.
She was probably out to impress her dad, Keelie thought. And if that's the case, she's auditioning for a part that doesn't exist.
"I think that's for me to decide," Keelie said. "I'm old enough to make my own food choices."
"I know that your dad eats as naturally as possible, just like your grandmother," the herb woman said, unperturbed.
"Besides, it's going to be too hot for coffee."
She didn't want the nosy herb lady to rat her out, but she wasn't giving in yet. She turned back to Mrs. Butters. "Do you have Coke?"
The herb lady frowned.
"No," Mrs. Butters said. "But the turkey leg stand opens in about an hour, and they sell soft drinks there."
Keelie sighed. What kind of eating place didn't sell Coke? This was taking the medieval theme all too seriously. "Okay, give me the herbal tea."
The muffin lady and the herb lady smiled at each other. Keelie looked away. She didn't want to make friends with anyone who treated her like a child, but the herb lady's gentle smile made Keelie ache for Mom's smile. The smile that said, "No, you can't have it," in a loving but firm way. The one that said, "I love you enough to say no." That smile.
She could feel her throat swelling up like it always did whenever her mother's smiling face appeared in her mind, aware that she'd never see her smile again except in photographs. Mom would never, ever say no to Keelie again. She vividly remembered their last fight. She'd wanted to have her belly button pierced like her friends Laurie and Ashlee. Keelie ran her hands over her stomach. She could do it now if she wanted to. Who was going to stop her, the herb lady? Her dad?
The minute she got back to L.A., she would get her belly button pierced. Mom couldn't stop her, and for sure her father wouldn't stop her. When she came to visit, he wouldn't notice, either. He was too busy with his trees, customers, and that dumb cat to notice that Keelie had done something that she'd always wanted to do. It would be a sign of her independence. And she'd drink gallons of coffee, the strongest she could find.
Keelie absentmindedly accepted the tray with the huge golden-domed muffin and the cup of hot tea. The herb lady handed the muffin lady a green cup just like the one Keelie had seen Father drinking tea out of earlier this morning.
Keelie plopped her tray down on a table in the farthest corner of the deck. She picked up the muffin and touched the bits of fairy winkberry. Probably a cutesy name for cranberries.
The Tree Shepherd's Daughter Page 6
