A whistle blew. Doug got up and motioned for me to follow him to the pool. Our coach, Will Rollins, introduced me to the team and told them that I was thinking about joining.
“Okay, warm up, five hundred on the top,” he barked.
I looked at the clock and it was two minutes till seven. I slid into the pool and took a few strokes before I started my five hundred-yard warm-up swim.
Afterwards, Coach Rollins had me do each of the four strokes in fifty-yard sprints. It was great being in the water. After fifteen or twenty minutes of evaluations, he asked me to line up against Naomi for a timed fifty free. I’d told him my times, but he didn’t act like he believed me. He said that he didn’t have time to check with my team back in Florida, either. Naomi would be my first victim, though she didn’t seem concerned at the moment—she was smiling and talking, not at all focused. At the whistle, I hit the water and the rest of the world went away—I was in the zone, accelerating with each stroke. I finished well ahead of her.
“Twenty-three point nine O’Shea, that’s crazy fast,” Coach Rollins said, smiling at his stopwatch.
Ten minutes later, he told us to line up for a hundred free. Everyone was watching us this time, including Doug. I looked over and saw Dad smiling from the stands. Then I glanced over at Naomi—she focused this time, not looking at anything but the pool. I put my goggles on and focused. Again, I hit the water and went right into the zone. I could tell I was ahead of her and I hit my flip-turn cleaner than she did. I had no sense of where she was on the back half. I touched and lifted my head at the finish. I’d beaten her again.
“Fifty-two point zero O’Shea and fifty-three point five Miller.” He stared at me like I had two heads.
Naomi swam over to me, smiling. “Oh my god, those times are fast enough to win state … you’re not too far from state record time…” She paused to breath, “…and fifty-three five is my personal best ... you slaughtered me.”
“Thanks,” I said, catching my breath.
Naomi was smiling. “Yeah, no problem … by the way … I can’t wait to see you beat Misty Blair from Conway … she’s never been beat in a meet ... you’re faster than her.”
I got out of the pool and Coach Rollins called me over. “Your times, you were serious?”
“I’ve gone faster, a lot faster,” I said. “I haven’t been in the water for five weeks.”
Coach Rollins grinned. “That changes today, O’Shea. We practice once a day, every day, except Sundays. We’re on dry land part of the day Tuesdays and Thursdays, so bring your running shoes—now, go catch another five hundred for me. I just have to see you in the water again.”
I gave Dad a thumbs-up as I went back to the pool. He’d probably already figured out that I was on the team—at least he was grinning like he had.
When practice was over Doug swam up to me from the other side of the pool. “Hey, you weren’t joking.”
“No, I wasn’t. I’ve been swimming since I was four. Wanna race?”
He smiled. “Um, no, you’re faster than I am.”
“What, afraid to get your ego bruised?” I taunted him.
He laughed and pulled his swim cap off. “Yes, that is exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I can’t throw a football to save my life.”
“Somehow, I doubt that.”
TEN
A BREAK
The first half of the semester in Eureka Springs flew by, and I made several new friends, just like everyone said I would. Life in Arkansas had not turned into the tragic hillbilly-filled nightmare I assumed it would. In fact, many parts of my life were better than ever, and some things were completely unexpected.
At six o’clock in the morning, I was not only awake before my alarm went off but I was actually in a good mood. The sun wasn’t quite over the mountains yet, but it was light and warm outside. Sitting on my bed, looking out the open window, I was absolutely blown away by the scene in front of me. The Weald had bloomed. Warm for the last three weeks, it seemed everything that could bloom, was. I’d never seen anything quite like it, nor had I smelled anything like it either. The fragrance of spring filled my room and the beautiful picture framed by the windowsill was surreal. I’d never imagined living in such a place—until this week, I didn’t know one existed. It reminded me of those scenic oil paintings set in garish frames one might find in home décor stores at the mall. Too many flowers and too fanciful to be real—a romance novel cover without the lovers.
In just a few weeks time, the cottage garden transformed from lifeless trees, shrubs and decaying leaves to the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. The Redbud trees started the show, and the Dogwoods, Service Berries, Flowering Crabapples, Hawthorns, Wild Plums, Cherries, and a half dozen other flowering trees followed them. Aunt May and Sara took turns telling me the names, but I couldn’t keep up.
My ancestors had been responsible for most of the flowering plants and trees in the Weald, added especially for the Fae—hence the profusion of color. Walking with Sara yesterday, I noticed that masses of blooming trees dotted the entire peninsula. Not only was the cottage garden in bloom but the entire Weald put on a show.
One of the most spectacular sites occurred along the driveway. For a half-mile, the cornucopia of blossom-laden trees growing elsewhere in the Weald had been upstaged—scores of American Yellowwoods, like giant white wisteria, flanked both sides of the way. The yellowwoods were Lola’s addition, and they made the approach to the cottage seem ethereal. Walking down the drive to the cottage, I swear I felt her presence.
As recently as yesterday I told Sara that I hadn’t made up my mind about staying here, but as much as I loved Florida, I realized that I couldn’t leave the Weald. For some reason, I felt I owed it to Lola. Her touch was everywhere and we were connected. Well, I can be honest, I wasn’t going to leave Gavin either. Nonetheless, I kept the decision to myself.
The cottage garden itself was beyond anything I’d imagined before we got here. The flowers were relentless—when one was spent, three more popped up to take its place. The wisteria, roses, and azaleas were all in full bloom. Over the last few days, one legion of tulips after another vied for the spring sun. A few weeks ago, tens of thousands of Narcissus in every shade of white, pink, and yellow painted the mountain in vibrant swaths of color. The soft pinks and yellows of last week made way for the vibrant purples, violets, and blues this week.
Each day we’d driven into town, I noticed that the bloom cycle in the Weald seemed ahead of everywhere else. A few trees and flowers bloomed elsewhere, but the rest of the Ozarks seemed far behind. Sara denied any personal responsibility.
She just smiled. “No, not me, and that is all I’m allowed to say.”
As stubborn as all the Fae, she said nothing else. But I got my answer nevertheless. There was definitely Fae involvement, and I could probably thank the local Greek god.
“Sara, I am curious about the gardens and the profusion of blooming things.”
“How so?”
“Why bother with it? I mean, I know that you like beauty and all—experiencing the physical world—but you’re immortal. The life span of a flower to you is little more than a flash. Besides that, how many spring blooms have you seen—doesn’t this get old?”
“Maggie, do you enjoy the Fourth of July?”
“Yeah, sure,” I admitted
“Do you watch the fireworks ... every year?” she asked rhetorically.
“Ah, I didn’t think of it that way. So, you appreciate temporary things?”
“I’m afraid that is one of the downfalls of working so closely with the Fae.” She shook her head. “You’re constantly reminded of your mortality. Listen Maggie, you shouldn’t worry so much about time, or whether we value you less because you’re mortal. Some of the most beautiful and important things in my existence have lasted for only a moment.”
Once again, she picked up on the things I hadn’t said.
She was pleased w
ith my progress, though. Every morning I’d practiced with Gavin, and I was getting better. I could turn any stone he altered back into its original shape. Next, he taught me how to change stones into new shapes based on nothing more than an image in my mind. With practice I could make them into any shape I wanted, but I couldn’t make them larger or smaller. I was also utterly incapable of turning stone into wood. Gavin kept encouraging me, though, and I kept trying. Sara encouraged me too, showing me the trick herself on numerous occasions.
Since the Earth trial, Sara and I had become friends. It was easier once I learned to separate my thoughts, keeping the safe images in the front of my mind for her and the rest of the Fae to see, and hiding my private images behind a screen. She stopped studying me when we spoke. Liking her was much easier as a result, and liking her was important to me now. Until the trials were over, she was the one Fae that kept me sane as I worried about the Water trial and Chalen’s role in it.
The Council had confirmed Gavin as my Treoraí, but I’d found a flaw in his otherwise perfect mantle. He was stubborn. Very stubborn. He didn’t share my concerns about Chalen. Gavin was absolutely supportive in every other way—he made me feel like the center of his world when we were together. But he’d made up his mind and side-stepped each of my attempts to un-make it.
So it was up to Sara. Every time I thought about the trial, and allowed an image of Chalen to appear in the front of my mind, she calmed me. She also promised that she’d remain as close as possible during the trial. The Fae were supposed to remain neutral during the trials, she said—they were elemental referees. Sara said that either I have a connection to each element or I don’t. The trials were nothing more than a simple test to determine that fact and awaken my connection to them. With Chalen, though, I got the distinct impression that he wanted me to fail. I believed he’d take pleasure in it.
Though I hadn’t actually seen him in months, he was always close. The foreboding feeling I got each time I felt him watching shook my confidence. My mind screamed for me to be careful. Sara thought it was little more than him intentionally putting off bad vibes, forcing negative energy on me for his own sadistic pleasure. She told me that he was forbidden to alter the outcome of the trial—Seelie and Unseelie alike had agreed to the terms. Still, each time I thought about the Water trial, images of sharks, piranha, and crocodiles haunted me. I was careful to keep those images hidden behind the screen, as I knew he could use the images in my head against me.
I’ve got to stop thinking about it.
Listening to my inner voice, I glanced at my alarm clock. It was six-thirty in the morning, and I needed to get ready for school. Before I went for my bath, I drew a deep breath through my nose—the smell was intoxicating. “Ah,” I said to myself, “the benefits of having an immortal gardener with the world’s greenest thumb and a compulsive need for sensory overload.”
A perfect morning—it was warm outside and today school was out for nine glorious days. Spring break started today at ten minutes before three o’clock, and on Sunday I would turn sixteen.
* * *
Time stood still for much of the day. I tried not to look at the clock or my watch very often, so naturally I stared at both all morning. At lunch, Gavin met Candace and me at our usual spot as we mulled over fish sticks, mashed potatoes and green peas. Ronnie and several others joined us like clockwork.
My relationship with Rhonda had devolved. Her initial uneasiness grew into thinly veiled contempt by February. By spring break, she was in full-blown loathing. She’d given up any attempt to feign civility several weeks ago. I didn’t do anything to purposely rile Rhonda—I just did what I felt like doing without concern for her acceptance. The effect was the same regardless of my motive.
Swimming six days a week with Doug only made matters worse, as did the fact that Doug and I were good friends. So, as much as she hated it, Rhonda attended our practices whenever she could, giving me her hawk-like, frigid stare each time I glanced her way.
After winning my third swim meet this season and setting state records in one hundred yard free, fifty yard free and one hundred yard breast, she made the comment at lunch that it was probably easy for me because, “your people are naturally good swimmers. Isn’t that how so many of you got into the country?”
Few people found humor in the joke, but she snickered, completely oblivious to the fact that she just had a near death experience. Though I contemplated taking her out, I employed my usual strategy. I simply laughed and reminded her that I was three-quarters Irish and one-quarter Cuban, and nobody swims to the U.S. from Dublin, or Havana.
When I looked up from my salad, Gavin was staring at me. I was uncharacteristically quiet during lunch, and I didn’t bother to hide any of the images in my head. He looked down at Rhonda and rolled his eyes when he glanced back at me. I gave him a quick, faint smile and he returned it. In my head I wrote, sorry, didn’t mean to be so quiet today.
He silently mouthed the words, “It’s okay.”
The bell sounded and he walked me to Chemistry. Before I went into the room, he took my elbow in his strong fingers. “Don’t let her ruin this weekend for you. Your sixteenth birthday is a very special milestone.”
I looked at his chest for a moment, and worked to keep the goofy grin off my face. I slowly lifted my eyes to meet his. “I plan to have a great day, Gavin. And by the way, thanks for the flowers.”
He got an exasperated look on his face. “Sara!” he whispered.
“No, Sara didn’t say a thing. I figured it all out on my own, thank you very much.”
“Well, Happy Birthday, Miss O’Shea,” he said in a deep, husky whisper. He flashed his best smile and my knees got weak.
“I’m not sure how to say thank you properly. You see, Gavin, nobody has given me spring before.” I could feel the goofy smile spreading across my face, floating on the surface of my thoughts, right next to my desire to kiss him.
“Well, as long as I’m your Treoraí, it will always be spring on your birthday.”
The sentiment in his voice touched me and it caught me off guard. For the first time there was something powerful in his words and the way he looked at me. There was emotion in his eyes and I felt a connection between us. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but my heart raced nonetheless.
“Well, the Fae certainly know how to give a girl flowers,” I finally managed. I left him standing there and took my seat. He stared at me for a few moments before he disappeared down the hall.
My god, what just happened?
* * *
At dinner nothing could hold my attention because my thoughts were on a continuous loop. Even as Candace and Ronnie and I sat around the table talking and laughing, my mind wandered back to Gavin. Every afternoon for ten weeks he met me at nine minutes before three o’clock, standing next to his blue Maserati. It was the same each day, until today. After he disappeared in the hall, I didn’t see him again. I spent the rest of the day thinking about the look he gave me, and the energy I felt between us. So many thoughts raced through my mind, each competing for my attention, that I didn’t know how to sort them out. I tried to stay focused on the present, but I kept drifting back to his eyes. What was it I felt? Was it real?
The rational part of my brain told me that I made it all up—I was overreacting. I’d been caught up in the moment, grateful that he’d made spring come early for me—I mean, really, who wouldn’t be? He was perfectly normal and unchanged--still the beautiful, unreachable immortal. I said it silently and tried to believe it, but doubt crept back in. Why did he ask Ronnie to drive me home without telling me himself?
Someone called my name. I heard Candace ask a question and I focused on her as hard as I could. I missed it. To deflect, I asked her a random question about her boyfriend, Phillip.
As she started to answer, my chest tightened and a drop of icy sweat ran down my spine. Perhaps Gavin did feel something for me. Maybe I’ve completely blown it. Oh god, what if he realized that I was enamor
ed with him? Could he have seen through my screen and learned the truth? I could keep images hidden but what if the emotions came through anyway? If he did figure it out, he might be gone forever. If he learned that I was in love with him, that I’d been weak, he’d give up his role as my Treoraí and move on to some other part of the world until I was gone. Waiting sixty or seventy years would be nothing for him.
I’d let myself go into complete panic mode at the table, and fought to regain control. Fear gripped me by the throat, and I couldn’t get enough air. I excused myself from the table and said I’d be right back.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind me, I fumbled to get my phone out of my pocket and turned on. I pulled up his number and paused—next to the number was the picture of him I took on the lake edge several weeks ago. No, I wasn’t going to call him in this condition. I swallowed a long deep breath and slowly exhaled. When I looked in the mirror I saw panic on my face, and it made me angry. No, I was past anger—I was pissed.
“This is the most pathetic you’ve ever been,” I scolded the wet eyes looking back at me. “He isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
I said it again and felt a little better. I repeated it several times until I calmed down. I flushed the toilet for effect, washed my face and walked back to the table with a smile. I held it together while we sat there, and I managed to focus on what everyone said.
ELEVEN
A KISS
Saturday flew by. I’d spent the morning shopping in Fayetteville with Ronnie, Rachel and Candace. It was the kind of day you wish could last a month, so of course it went by in an instant. That night I went to bed sublimely happy. With Candace asleep a few feet from me, I lay staring at the wood beams in my ceiling, unable to sleep, letting my mind wander aimlessly about everything that was happening in my life.
A few hours later I woke up and looked down at Candace as she slept. It was six in the morning, and I was wide-awake. I lay there for a little while and found myself playing with all the same thoughts I had last night. And then some. I began to worry again. Gavin still hadn’t called or come by. One cryptic text was all I got yesterday. That’s okay, he’ll be here today. I refocused—my party would start in a few hours. I remembered thinking about this birthday when I was a little girl—it seemed so impossibly far away.
Weald Fae 01 - The Steward Page 14
