Aye, I am a Fairy

by Dani Haviland

  “Then I went to college. It was a whole different group of people, but unfortunately, many of the same self-absorbed types were there, too. I almost fell for it again, the same old line. The man was an Adonis. He had dark hair, broad shoulders, and an infectious smile,” she turned to James, dipped her head, looked him in the eye, and grinned. Yes, she’d let him know without words that she had a history of weakness for his body type.

  “Anyhow, I went out with him a few times and he was gracious enough. I wasn’t close to any other female students, so I hadn’t heard the stories about him. He took me to a nice restaurant, then asked me to his apartment to show me his artwork. Really, I fell for that. He gave me a glass of wine, and well, let’s just say that I didn’t know to poke my finger down my throat when I felt my mouth tingling and my hands start to go numb. He, well, pretty much had his way with me. I woke up the next morning in the back seat of my car. I was sore—physically sore you know where and also where you don’t want to know where—and had a headache that I hoped, really hoped, was going to kill me.

  “I didn’t know how to go about having him arrested. I didn’t think I could prove anything anyhow. But, I didn’t want him to rule me by intimidation, either. I wasn’t going to quit college or give up on getting my degree because of him. I went on to graduate with honors. And him… Well, let’s just say that I wore out three felt-tipped markers warning women about him in every bathroom stall within a five-mile radius of that campus. If he ever scored again, it was with someone from out of town and with a very strong bladder.”

  “Oh, I am so sorry,” James said, and reached up to brush the hair from her forehead. “No one should have to go through that alone. Is that why you haven’t let a man get close to you?”

  “I’m close to Billy, and he’s a man. And I’m close to you, and you’re a man,” she said. “So, now that I’ve told you about my experiences, what about you? Are you a ‘Joe Stud’ in England?”

  Leah was grinning, but not in a happy way. James could see that after her painful revelation, she had subconsciously become aggressive, and was trying to put him on the defensive.

  “Well,” he began, “I was always the youngest and the shortest in school, so staying a virgin until college was not only possible, but losing my virginity—other than to my right or left hand—was an impossibility.”

  “Improbability,” Leah corrected.

  “Improbability,” James said, accepting the correction. “When I got to college, I was still very young and very short. But, I grew taller at about the same time as the fact that my family had money was disclosed. I had lots of older women chasing me. The younger ones, the ones my age, were still in upper school. I received lots of warnings about women from both my father and my grandfather; that is, Bruce and Marty. I took it under advisement, but still managed to have an awkward, shall we say collision, with a much older and richer woman. You see, because she had more money than me, I figured that she wasn’t after the family fortune. That type of woman came later. Anyhow, this older woman was a collector. After we had our encounter, she told me that I was her 212th virgin. Believe me when I say that I was quite put off with women for quite a while.”

  Leah tried to control the growing smirk on her face, but couldn’t. James saw it, and knew it for what it was—she thought she had just found out why he was gay. Let her think it. At least that would be a non-biological reason.

  She managed to get her grin under control and asked, truly curious, “But why did you get married if you didn’t like women?”

  “My father—Bruce, who was actually my older brother—insisted. He said I had to get married and provide an heir for the Melbourne line. I didn’t see what the hurry was. I had just turned 27, but he was insistent. He wanted to make sure all was in order before he left. He had another one of his year-long mountain climbing expeditions to start. ‘I’m certainly not going to have any more children—you were enough of a hassle,’ he said. I don’t see how I could have been a problem for him since he was never around. Ugh, he really was a mean older brother. But I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. At least he died doing what he enjoyed.”

  “That still doesn’t explain your wife, or ex-wife. Did you love her?”

  “No,” James replied quickly and flatly. “Sorry, she’s a painful subject.” Leah started to say something, but he stopped her. “No, you told me about yours, so I’ll tell you about my horrible incident. Sorry, I don’t mean to belittle yours—they were far worse. It’s just that for me, this turned me inside out and literally ended a dynasty.”

  James took in a deep, settling breath, and began. “One night, a nice looking woman came into the restaurant where I was dining and sat down and started a conversation with me. Her flattery was well spent on my naiveté. I had no upper school or college romances to learn from and never had married parents. Or rather, I should say, I never had both a mother and a father living with me who I could see interact. I was a sucker. She was a pro and knew how to, how do you say, get me hot and bothered? Well, she did that a few times, then said that she wouldn’t have sex with me until we were married. I was okay with that. Shoot, I would have danced on top of Buckingham Palace bare-assed naked in order to get her into the sack. When Bruce found out that there was a woman in my life, he was so excited. Excited, but never even bothered to meet her. He pulled all sorts of strings so I could get married in a hurry—before I changed my mind, I suppose.

  “The wedding date was only two weeks after I had met her. Grandpa—Marty—was out of the country at the time. I told him about her on the phone. He warned me that I was not in love, but in lust, and suggested I go to a whorehouse and spend a couple grand to get it out of my system. In retrospect, it would have been money well spent. But, no, I listened to Bruce and got married.

  “We were to honeymoon on a cruise. She said she wanted to wait until we were in international waters to consummate the marriage. She spent those first few days in the cruise ship’s casinos, playing the slots. She had quite a love affair going with this one bank of one-armed bandits, but I digress. We were headed to Greece. It seemed like days—I guess it was days—before I found out that we were, and had been since our first day out, in international waters. You see, I finally insisted on asking the captain myself. She had always volunteered to find out ‘if it was time yet,’ as if she was happy or excited about it.

  “Anyhow, we were officially in international waters, and I was going to get laid by someone who wasn’t more than twice my age. Of course, she wanted a big dinner first with lots of champagne, and well, from what you tell me, you’ve never had sex with someone who was drunk on her, or his, butt. Well, it’s disgusting. And then she got sick and was puking all over the place from eating bad shrimp. Needless to say, her food poisoning ails continued the rest of the cruise.

  “When we got home, she always had a headache or was on the rag—sorry, that was crude—but regardless, she always had an excuse. I finally had to resort to bribery with jewelry. So, we had sex two more times. But, damn, I don’t know why I even tried after the second time. She always had to have ‘just a wee dram to help her get in the mood.’ Her wee dram was half a bottle of whisky. She had to be slobbering drunk before I was allowed to touch her. Do you know what that did to my masculinity?”

  “Uh, I could only guess,” Leah said hesitantly. “So, how come you’re willing to marry me?”

  “I am not willing to marry you, I want to marry you.” He shrugged his shoulders, unsure of what to do or say next. Finally, he blurted out, “I just know it’s the right thing to do. And I don’t want us to be two single people traveling back in time together. That could be dangerous for you.”

  “Okay,” Leah conceded. It wasn’t what she had hoped her fiancé would give as the reason he wanted to marry her. Maybe he was just a tongue-tied Limey. Hopefully, he would get more romantic with time. At least he was a decent man, and a good marriage could grow into a great marriage with that as a start.

  Leah stood up and
groaned as she stretched. “I’m tired. Let’s get that nap and then have some dinner.” She stumbled back to bed. “Don’t let me sleep too late,” she smashed a pillow over her head, “because then I won’t be able to sleep tonight….”

  And then she was out.

  **37 Wardrobe Master

  August 11, 2013, 9:00 PM

  James was glad they had taken time out for a nap, but now she was cutting z’s and he couldn’t sleep. He had almost hoped—well, really had hoped—that the two of them were going to get a little frisky before sleeping. Their little lady and gentleman show at the mall had them both wound up. Unfortunately, their revelations about past experiences had made them both uncomfortable and put the kibosh on that possibility.

  Give it time, Melbourne. You two haven’t even known each other a week, and you’re already engaged to be married and sleeping in the same bed.

  Yeah, and that’s the extent of it—just sleeping and a marriage of convenience.

  Who are you trying to tell the marriage is just for convenience, Melbourne? You know better and have known it since the first time you locked eyes with her in the bar. Five minutes after meeting her, she was yours!

  Yeah, but don’t you think that she’s just using you? She admitted she knew you had money, and she doesn’t care that you’re gay. Is that going to be her excuse for not wanting to have sex with you?

  No! She only accepted the money for necessities, and that was with reservations and tears about not being able to fend for herself. She’s had bad experiences with men and is comfortable with a gay—or supposedly gay—man, so just let her fall for the real me without the sexuality. The animal instincts for both of us will kick in when the time is right.

  Yeah, right, if she isn’t so pissed off at you for deceiving her by then that she never wants to speak to you again.

  No, no, no—that was her supposition, her belief in those tabloid stories. She never asked if I was gay. And I’m not a cad, have never taken liberties with her, and have treated her with nothing but the respect that she or any other woman deserves.

  Yeah, well, well…

  James’s body wasn’t tossing or turning, but the opposing passions of doubt and confidence were waging a cutthroat game of clay court tennis in his brain, knocking about the ball of his relationship with Leah—first with the racket of self-assurance, returned with the paddle of enflamed distrust, then back again, self-assurance finally winning out. The defining moment came when he realized that Billy was on his side. No, Billy was on their side. Her best friend Billy had given the two of them his blessing. That should erase any lingering doubts she had. She trusted him more than anyone, or had trusted him…

  James was also the only other person who knew the real secret of what had happened to her mother, Dani Madigan—that she had traveled back to the 18th century, was suddenly youthful, and was the author of at least one of those mysterious, much sought after letters. And in just a few days, he would be escorting Leah back in time to see her mom. Now, if only there was someone staying behind in this era whom he could trust…

  Bzzz! Bzzz!

  The vibration of the smartphone woke him up. He must have fallen asleep, at least for a short time. He put his hand beside him, automatically reaching for Leah. He had a moment of panic—she was gone. He heard the toilet flush and breathed a sigh of relief. Then it hit him. He was going to be waking up next to her, or very close to her, for the rest of his life.

  “What are you purring about?” Leah asked, and threw a hand towel at his head. “You look too happy.”

  James grinned at her question, then produced a mock frown at her statement. “How can you be too happy?” he asked, as he grabbed the towel and scooted up into a seated position. He’d wait until her head was turned to give it back to her.

  Her face pinched, twisted, and then grinned as she sported a series of exaggerated emotional masks, searching for an answer. “Well, I guess it would depend on what you were happy about. I mean, if you’re happy about someone else’s misfortunes, then any happy—including too happy—would be wrong.”

  “Nope, this definitely was not a negative issue. Remind me about it tonight when we get back from dinner and our visit with Walter. Right now, I want to get going. I feel like eating Chinese food tonight. How about you? It’ll be a long time before we can have General Tso’s chicken again.”

  “Sounds good to me. Maybe when we go back, I’ll make my own version, General Cornwallis’s chicken—chopped and skewered and roasted over a slow-burning flame.”

  James shook his head at the mental image she had evoked. How ironic that this soft-hearted woman who had recoiled, even shuddered, at the inference of using heavy-handed interrogation methods on the man who had attacked her, was now suggesting cooking a chicken in effigy of the British general who had, or would, wreak havoc on early-American patriots.

  “Okay,” he said, “but I want to see you chase down a chicken, chop off its head, and pluck it first. Come on, let’s go before you spoil my appetite. We won’t have too many more chances at easy meals. Oh, and we need to make sure we take salt with us.”

  “And a pan, too. We can roast a chicken or squirrel or whatever, but it’s hard to skewer oatmeal,” she said dryly, then turned to the door.

  James wadded up the towel and tossed it at her head as he rolled out of bed. She turned around and caught it, her hand popping up in front of her face just in time to intercept the terrycloth ball.

  “So, I’ll remember the oatmeal; don’t you forget to bring a pan,” he said. “And dishcloths, too,” he added, as he waved the small towel, “because I doubt there’ll be automatic dishwashers available to us.”

  ӁӁ

  After they finished dinner, James called Walter and got the address and directions to his house; he would be home in fifteen minutes, he said. That left them just enough time for a little chat and to let their supper settle.

  The sun had set and the warm, sultry air actually felt good after being inside the air-conditioned restaurant for an hour. James inhaled deeply. He didn’t know if he was psyching himself up to feeling better about ‘natural’ air, or was it that non-Freon-modified air was just fresher? Well, whichever it was, this evening the atmosphere was pleasant, almost invigorating.

  Leah walked out a couple minutes later, came over to the car, and leaned against the side of it with him, wearing a frown so intense, it almost looked painful.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I have to sell this car. It’s going to be a pain to get it done at the last minute, and then what do I do with the money? I don’t have any family—here and now, that is.” If possible, her frown deepened. “And it’s not just the money, either. What if it doesn’t sell before we leave? I don’t want to just give it away. Well, I can’t do that because I still owe money on it, and if I let the bank take it back, it will ruin my credit and… What’s so funny?” she asked, insulted at his sudden mirth.

  James chuckled, “Why are you worried about your credit rating?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess that’s just how I was raised,” she said, her mouth twitching until it became a smile. She tried to stifle the laugh that was sneaking in, then gave in to it, too. “Yeah, right, we’re going 230 years into the past, and I’m worried about a credit rating that I won’t even be around for!” She laughed again, then composed herself. “I think I’ll just sign everything over to Billy. I don’t want to do it as a will because then everything will be held up in probate courts or whatever for seven years since they won’t find a body…”

  Leah looked at James for verification of her last statement. He nodded and said, “They won’t find our bodies unless they go back with us. No, they won’t find a body, so go on.”

  “Well, Billy can dispose of all of my assets as he sees fit. I know he’s partial to the orphanage he grew up in and well, I think they did a great job with him, so I’d like to help sponsor them, too.”

  Leah looked back at James for validation on her little
impromptu estate plan. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you frowning now?” She punched him gently in the arm. She wanted to tell him that he was mood swinging—was he on his period?—but bit back the smart aleck remark.

  James’s eyes shifted with the feeling that she was about to make a remark about him being an emotional woman, but rather than respond to it, he ignored it. However, maybe now he had an answer to his earlier dilemma—who would take care of his family estates? “So, you have the utmost confidence in Billy?”

  “I trusted him with everything before you came along. And if you weren’t here, he’d still be my number one.”

  James now had something else to smile about. He let his radiance shine, but stayed mum.

  “Oh, happy now are you, my number one?” she chided.

  “Yes, and for two reasons, but for right now, let’s go see Walter. I think we’re going to have to alter the pants I’m getting, and his sister may have a shift for you.” He wasn’t ready to tell her that Billy might have more estate monies to take care of than just hers.

  ӁӁ

  Walter’s home was easy to find with the street address and his directions. “Just look for the one with the tallest sunflowers,” he had told James. The huge double-wide trailer was on a heavily planted corner lot, not too far from the hospital. There were sunflowers and clusters of assorted shrubby plants covering the lot, with nothing to suggest a design or plan in their layout, at least as far as James could see in the glow of the moth-haloed street light.

  Walter came out to greet them. “Come on in. Hey, look at this first,” he said with pride, and pointed to the first cluster of plants inside the gated yard. “See, these are the wife’s little herb gardens. She put them in according to the use of the plants. Turns out that wasn’t such a good idea since the creeping thyme is a small, low-growing plant, the Echinacea is a tall flower, and the horseradish is invasive. The initial plan kind of got out of control, but the wife knows which ones are which and what they’re used for. She’s a healer in the re-enactments and gives talks on the herbs and all that stuff. Come on in and meet her.” Walter led the way, opened the screen door, and let them in.