Tamiko and the Two Janitors (Amaranthine Saga Book 3)

by Forthright

  “What’s the use of trying to communicate through touch if I don’t know what you mean? Based on my training, touch is a challenge, inviting retaliation.”

  He smiled ruefully and asked, “May I borrow your phone?”

  Before she could ask why—again—Tami clattered down the back stairs. “I can’t believe I slept so late! Where is everyone?”

  Melissa pointed, and Tami disappeared into the next room for a few seconds, then she was back, grabbing things from the coatrack and rummaging around for keys. “I’ll be back as quick as I can,” she promised breathlessly. “Right after I pull that forum post.”

  The door slammed, the screen door slapped, and a few moments later, an engine rumbled to life.

  Jiminy sighed. “May I borrow your phone to call a friend?” he asked for the third time. “I need his know-how to get the wards tuned, and as an added bonus, he might be able to do a little discreet assessing of the entire Reaverson clan.”

  “Someone from the enclave?”

  “Yes and no. He doesn’t live on campus but visits pretty regularly.”

  Melissa unlocked her phone and handed it over.

  Mouthing his thanks, Jiminy pushed his chair back, tapping in a number from memory as he moved to the back door. To her surprise, he beckoned for her to follow. Once outside, where the porch kept the rain off, he switched to speaker.

  “Moshi moshi!”

  Grinning, Jiminy said, “Hey, Kip. My friend and I need a little intervention.”

  “Jiminy! Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

  “Melissa, Kip. Kip, Melissa.” And without further ado, Jiminy dove straight into a lengthy explanation of the discovery of a tree, the size of the property, the proposed establishment of an enclave, the limitations of his resources, and an earnest plea for back-up.

  “How urgent are we talking, kiddo?”

  “Is tomorrow too soon?”

  “Tomorrow’s a school day.”

  “This weekend then?” Jiminy suggested. “That would give me time to send for another series of crystals. Maybe I can even get them delivered, spare Joe having to tote them for me.”

  There was a long pause on the other end of the line.

  Jiminy raised his eyebrows and asked, “Kip?”

  “Where did you say you were?”

  “An orchard up in Archer—Red Gate Farm.”

  “Are we talking about the Reaversons?”

  Melissa spoke up, explaining her role. “Tami’s definitely an unregistered reaver, and the rest of the family should be assessed. Especially her brother.”

  On the other end of the line, Kip blew a raspberry. “Okay, here’s the deal. Tami knows me, but she doesn’t, you know? She’s a friend, and I’d do anything to see her safe, so I’ll be there tomorrow, after she leaves for work.”

  “Tomorrow,” Jiminy agreed. “Thanks.”

  “No worries,” Kip said. “I’ll clear it with Ash. He’s around here somewhere. I’m sure he won’t mind making my excuses to Principal Reaverson.”

  Ash. Kip. The two janitors. Melissa grabbed Jiminy’s arm. He shot her a baffled look. Leaning into the phone, she asked, “Are you at the school?”

  “Uh-oh. Worlds collide. Probably for the best, in this case.” A smile warmed his voice. “Hey, does this mean Tami talks about us at home?”

  Jiminy, who’d caught on, pushed for an answer. “Kip, are you at the school?”

  “Yep. It’s beauty night at Landmark Elementary. We’ll be here ’til all hours, sudsing the terrazzo.”

  “She’s on her way,” Melissa warned. “How long have we been talking? She might already be there!”

  Jiminy groaned. “Kip, are you … comfy?”

  Something clattered on the other end of the line, and Kip swore softly.

  The call abruptly ended.

  TWENTY

  We All Fall

  Tami pushed her speed even though she was worried that leaving Biddie would strain their nascent bond. Was this tension a symptom of something going on in her soul, or was she stressed for completely ordinary reasons? Like inadvertently betraying a family secret.

  “It will be fine.” Joe had promised to look in on Biddie. She could be home again in under an hour. “Ten minutes on the computer. That’s all I need.”

  To her dismay, Coach was still in the parking lot.

  What were Ash and Kip doing here so late?

  Determined to get in and out with drawing attention to herself, she splashed to the side entrance and paused to tighten her ponytail. She’d be quick. She’d be quiet. The last thing she wanted now was for Ash to see her looking a wreck. She’d dressed in the dark—lavender yoga pants, a shrunken tee promoting a past year’s corn maze, one of Joe’s quilted flannel shirts in lieu of a jacket, and a battered pair of slipper flats that definitely leaked. Counting on the cover of darkness and a quick getaway, she’d cut every possible corner. Which meant she wasn’t even wearing a bra.

  Tami rested her forehead against the cold metal of the door. “Please, please, please let them be on the other side of the building,” she whispered. Gathering the necessary resolve, she slid her key into the lock, opened the door far enough to assess the long, empty hallway, flung the door wide, and took off at a sprint.

  Only after it was too late did it register that the floors were extra shiny.

  And there were soap bubbles clustered on its gleaming surface.

  And that her shoes not only had holes, they had zero traction.

  With a yip of surprise, Tami’s feet flew out from under her, and she hit the floor with enough force to send her into oblivion

  Someone was talking. Were they talking to her?

  “–mi? Tami!”

  Why was it so hard to open her eyes? Light and dark swirled one way, then reversed. She blinked a few times, and a face swam into focus. Ash. He looked scared.

  “Are you okay?”

  She could hardly hear his voice over the roaring in her ears and hoped in a detached way that she wouldn’t be sick in front of him. Or on him.

  He touched her so gently, testing bones, checking pulse. He shouted something urgent, but Tami was more interested in the warm hand at her shoulder. This might be the first time he’d touched her. So standoffish.

  And then Kip was there—all vivid freckles and fur. No, it must be his hair. Red hair. His hand was in her hair, gently probing, and she squinted, trying to understand the sensation that whispered for attention. But the pain was louder.

  Tami felt bad. Worry looked all wrong on Kip’s face. He was supposed to be smiling, and his eyes should be sparkling. Even his eyes were all wrong. What was it about his eyes? She blinked slowly, and the strangeness was gone.

  “Trust us,” Kip begged, touching her forehead with the tip of one finger.

  When she blinked again, her eyes didn’t open.

  “What did you do?” demanded Ash.

  “Encouraged her to sleep. It was just a little nudge. No harm done.” Kip pointed to his tail. “Or did you want to help me explain this?”

  “Definitely not.” He gathered her into his arms, heart slamming, thoughts reeling.

  Kip’s hand settled on top of his head. “You okay?”

  “Definitely not,” he repeated. His every instinct—or at least what he understood about them—had fixated on Tami. She was his choice, and the consequences were terrifying. His lifespan was taking the Amaranthine course, so he was doomed. Tami’s lifespan meant she’d leave him lonesome. Not that he’d really be alone. Well, not unless Kip went off with some pretty redheaded squirrel lady and ….

  Ash swallowed against the hopelessness of his situation and asked, “Have you ever been in love?”

  His best friend offered a bland stare. “If I had, wouldn’t you be the first to notice?”

  “Guess so.”

  Kip steered him toward the nurse’s office. “Kith-kin aren’t exactly in high demand, and besides, my friend needs me.”

  It had never occurred t
o Ash that Kip might have put his future on hold in order to keep him company.

  “You aren’t inconveniencing me, Ash. I don’t want any other nest than the one we share.”

  “But what about … all the good things that are part of having a bondmate?”

  “I haven’t met a female yet—in or out of the clans—who makes me feel the right kind of frisky. Maybe I will someday. Maybe I won’t. What does it matter?”

  Ash supposed there was some truth to that. Tami hadn’t been something he could have planned for or avoided. She’d just sort of happened. Maybe it would be the same for Kip. A cute squirrel lady could come waltzing into their lives. If she was a good cook, Kip would fall head over heels and go chasing her through the trees, then settle down in a nest of his own, with freckle-faced babies with names like Willow, Birch, and Rowan.

  He asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Sure, I’m sure. Our arrangement suits me. If I still lived over the bakery, you gotta know my mom would lovingly haul my fluffy tail to all sorts of marriage meetings. Not my idea of fun.” Kip offered a prosaic shrug. “There’s no avoiding the usual festival matchmaking, but I’m a champ at hide-and-seek and hard-to-get.”

  Ash’s head and heart and hands were full of Tami, whose pull on him was impossible to ignore. He wanted her in ways he couldn’t fully understand, but he also wanted Kip to be happy. After everything Kip had done to give Ash a nest of his own, he struggled against the possibility of parting ways.

  “Geez, you’re hopeless.” Kip kissed his forehead. “Stop fretting. I’ll be here for as long as you need me. Same as always.”

  She opened her eyes to the barren whiteness of an unfamiliar ceiling and florescent lighting. Random facts skittered through her thoughts, failing to make sense. Joe was unhappy about something. Melissa was a reaver. Biddie was a tree. Her feet were cold. Wards would keep the children safe. Was she late for work?

  Someone was holding her hand.

  Turning her head, Tami winced. There was a tender spot on the back of her head. But the room was making more sense now. She could remember driving in. This was the nurse’s office at school. And the one holding her hand was Ash. He knelt beside the bed, watching her face with big, mournful eyes.

  She gave his hand a little squeeze. “Hello.”

  “Hey. You okay?”

  “Never better,” she said wryly.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault. I was running in the halls.” She laughed a little. “I feel foolish.”

  “Don’t.”

  Tami couldn’t think of a thing to say, not when Ash was so close and still clinging to her hand. If her head wasn’t throbbing, she might have appreciated the romantic potential of the situation. “Ow.”

  He stiffened. “Do you need anything. Aspirin or … something?”

  “Yes, please.” She propped herself up on her elbows.

  Ash took no time at all bringing a paper cup of water and a single dose in a sealed packet. Handing her the former, he tore open the latter. But instead of putting the two white tablets in her waiting hand, he lightly touched one to her lower lip.

  She opened her mouth to accept it and self-consciously washed it down.

  In the same way, he fed her the second tablet.

  Tami was stunned by the intimacy of the gesture, and he seemed similarly entranced. She lay back. Casting about for something to say, her attention was caught by the single blue paperclip affixed to the collar of his coveralls. She gave it a casual poke. “You’re as popular as ever.”

  Ash dragged his attention sideways and fished in his pockets. He silently displayed the day’s haul, nine tokens of affection in an array of colors—silver, gold, violet, yellow, and an especially aggressive neon pink.

  “But this one’s special?”

  A quick glance. A firm nod.

  All at once, Tami realized she hadn’t chosen a neutral topic. “Is it mine?”

  “Yes.”

  He was wearing her paperclip, like a knight wearing his lady’s token. Why was everything about this man so distracting? She hoped her infatuation wasn’t a testament to her age. At twenty-nine, had she fallen hard for the first handsome, unattached man to cross her path?

  No. She’d met Kip first, so she’d fallen for the second handsome unattached man. Tami wasn’t desperate; she was discerning. Very discerning. And at this range, Ash was easy to read. Regret. Reluctance. Helpless longing.

  She supposed that meant it was up to her. Taking hold of the clipped collar, she held him still while she brushed her lips across his.

  He gasped.

  Tami tried another kiss, light and coaxing.

  Ash surprised her by wrapping his arms around her. Their positions made the embrace a little awkward—he’d pinned her arms and hidden his face in her hair. But he held her to his heart with surprising strength, and she could feel the way it was pounding.

  “I shouldn’t,” he whispered.

  It was little late for that. “You may.”

  His muscles tensed and trembled. “I want to.”

  “Well?” Tamiko couldn’t imagine why he was holding back. She’d kissed him first.

  One of Ash’s hands shifted to cradle the back of her head. “You’re hurt. And … stuff.”

  “Kiss it better?” she suggested.

  He moved by degrees, little muzzling touches with his nose, a careful brush of lips at her temple, her cheek. Ash drew back enough to meet her gaze—dark eyes soft as his smile. “Kip’s coming.”

  “Oh,” she breathed in disappointment.

  Ash dipped down to kiss away her pout. “Later,” he whispered. “Can we talk?”

  “Later,” she agreed. Given everything going on at home, Tami knew she’d have a lot of explaining to do. Hopefully, the particulars wouldn’t scare him off.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Seeing Things

  Joe took to the orchard long before sunrise, hoping to reclaim some scraps of normalcy. If he could find them.

  Last night, Melissa had needed to go pick up Tami at the school, then have her checked for concussion at a clinic. For the first time in years, Joe spent the night in her room, holding tight to her hand and listening to a sleepy confession that didn’t really come as a surprise.

  Ash.

  He didn’t exactly mind that his sister was in love. Maybe it was a good sign that the guy had a tree-sounding name. Bound to one in the morning, kissed by another in the evening. There was symmetry there, and the balance made it easier for Joe to believe that both were meant to be.

  If only he knew what it meant for him.

  When Joe returned to the house for breakfast, Melissa and Tami had already left together for work. Mom was reading to Biddie, and Dad was serving breakfast. So Joe dropped into the chair beside Grandad’s and accepted a plate.

  Halfway through the quiet meal, Mom called from the family room, “Reaver Foster texted. He’ll be here soon, and he’s bringing help.”

  “What kind?” asked Grandad.

  “Another ward, I assume.” Mom breezed in, depositing Biddie on Grandad’s lap. “I’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee.”

  Working together, she and Dad had the breakfast things cleared away and a fresh batch of applesauce muffins waiting when Jiminy rapped lightly on the kitchen door. “Sorry for dropping by so early.”

  Joe glanced at the clock. It was coming up on seven.

  Dad handled the welcome and introductions, and Jiminy returned the favor, introducing a man with red hair. Heavy work boots and a flannel shirt gave him the air of a lumberjack. A big, friendly lumberjack whose freckled face never lost the hint of a smile, as if he was always glad about something … or he always had a secret.

  That notion stuck with Joe, which was probably why he took a longer look than he usually did with strangers. He couldn’t have explained what he expected to find, exactly. The redhead seemed more suited to physical labor than Jiminy. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to the elbow, revealing fine red-gol
d hairs and freckles on his forearms. His lashes were pale, and his eyes were a clear brown. Sideburns left long. Strong jaw, clean-shaven. Eyebrows in motion—an expressive face.

  He looked like a nice guy. He looked completely human.

  So why was Joe so certain he wasn’t?

  Kip loved Tami’s folks. Good people. But Joe had him a little worried. He’d zoned out during the introductions, then retreated to a corner, stealing glances and avoiding eye contact. At one point, Kip was sure he would escape, but Mrs. Reaverson got between her son and the door and gave him something to keep his hands busy.

  Joe sat at the table, shelling a brimming bowl of mixed nuts.

  It was like an open invitation.

  While Jiminy answered old George Reaverson’s querulous questions, Kip eased over and took the chair across from Joe’s. Picking up one of the silver nutcrackers in the bowl, he joined the quiet labor.

  Joe tensed.

  Kip had always gotten along better with the rowdy kids, but he took a page from Ash’s book and kept his big mouth shut. Quiet could be companionable. Silence could be shared.

  Slowly, the man relaxed.

  Interestingly, his calm affected Kip’s mood, as if Joe were setting the emotional tone for the whole room. It looked like Jiminy had been right about this one. There was more to Joe Reaverson than met the eye.

  He was definitely warded, but not in the same way as Tami. If Joe had been packing crystal, Jiminy would have pegged him in an instant. No, this was sigilcraft—strong, subtle. Kip could tell the ward was anchored somewhere over Joe’s heart. A necklace? A pendant?

  At this range, Kip was catching an enticing array of emotions. And something that set his hairs on end, making him wish he’d chosen a closer chair. Curiosity was scurrying under his skin, enough to get him into so much trouble.

  Take it slow. If things went the way Ash was hoping, Joe would be family. Plenty of time to get used to one another, to let trust take hold. But … patience wasn’t really Kip’s area of expertise.