“James…” Leah’s voice squeaked.
“Come here,” he said, reaching out for her, but without the strength to get up for her. “Let me hold you.”
“He’s my stepfather,” Leah whispered, as she leaned into him. “Ian Kincaid is my stepfather?”
“No, he’s not. And Wee Ian can hear you. Can’t you, lad?”
“Aye, I can. Are ye a fairy, too?” he asked. “Both of ye?”
Marty walked into the scene, saving James and Leah from having to answer immediately. He looked down at Leah, glanced at James, and then winked. “What’s going on here? Is everybody taking an afternoon nap? Scoot over and let me have some of that shade. What’s that in your lap there, lad? Looks like you have some of what I call trail mix. What ya got in there, Leah?”
“It’s granola with cashews and chocolate chips. But I guess I shouldn’t have used the chocolate. It melts in your hands before you can get it into your mouth. Do you want some?” Leah’s heart was beating rapid fire. The appearance of Marty and his chit-chat were only delaying the need to answer Wee Ian’s question.
“Sure, how about if you just put a tad into this handkerchief.” He reached into his front pocket, took out the red bandana, shook it out, and held it open to receive a little afternoon snack.
Marty sat between Wee Ian and his son and daughter-in-law, munching on his morsels, making inane comments to fill the air with words, but not information or knowledge. It got to be a waiting game after about ten minutes. Marty wouldn’t move and Wee Ian didn’t know if he could speak in front of the older man. It was becoming uncomfortable. James reached over and held Leah’s hand, squeezing it in a request for a little visual tête-à-tête.
The glances back and forth between them confirmed that they were in accordance—Wee Ian could be told they were ‘fairies.’ James looked over at his father and gave him a quick eyebrow lift that said they wanted some alone time with the young man.
“Well, I guess I’ll go down to the creek where it’s cooler and do something creative,” Marty said. “Or maybe I’ll see if there’re any huckleberries upstream. At least, the color of the bushes looks to be about right. Does anyone need anything before I leave? Any…ahem…well, anything?” He had almost said, ‘Any dead bodies removed,’ but thought better of it considering the precarious health of Ian Kincaid.
Leah heard—or sensed—the words that Marty had cut short. He seemed to be an impetuous and garrulous man, but did think at least two words ahead before he spoke.
“We’re fine,” she said, answering his request about needs. “Just don’t get lost. It was a lot of trouble finding you this time. I wouldn’t want to have to go through that again.”
“I’ll mind,” he said, “and thanks for coming. We’ll all sit around and catch up this evening when it’s cooler. So long, for now.” Marty grabbed the reins of his gray mare and walked down to the creek bed, following it upstream to the hoped for stand of wild berries.
James quietly watched his father leave. He wanted Leah close, but it was too hot to snuggle. Instead, he moved his hand next to hers, barely touching it. She tapped him back with her pinkie, letting him know that she could feel him. That small bit of tactile contact they shared was enough, though. There was no rational explanation for it, but he could practically feel her energy trickle charging into him. And right now, he needed her strength.
“Now, as to your question,” Leah returned her attention to Wee Ian, “would it make a difference if we were fairies?”
Wee Ian cocked his head and thought about it for a full minute or more, and then explained. “My da said that Evie was a fairy. He said that’s why he couldna stay with her. He was glad his cousin—his name’s Wallace—could be there for her, though. They’re probably marrit now. She’s a nice lady, but still a fairy. Da said he was afraid she’d leave him and go back to her own time and her own people. He said he kent other fairies before, and they always left. Except one, and he wouldna tell me who she was. But he did say that even though she left once, she came back again, but it was a long time later. I think I ken who it is, but I dinna want to ask him. It makes him sad to talk about it.”
Neither Leah nor James spoke. They could tell there was more to his story, and he was still working up to it. Finally, he asked, “It’s all right to be a fairy. It’s not like ye can change bein’ one or anythin’…can ye?”
Oops! Now it was time for an explanation. “Would it be all right with you if I was a fairy…and my husband, too?”
“Aye, it’s all right with me. So, I guess that means ye are, right—the both of ye?”
James felt compelled to speak for the both of them. “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but aye, I am a fairy, and my wife, too.”
Leah giggled then tried to regain her composure. James continued, “And since you believe in fairies, do you think they’re bad or evil?”
“No, why would I think that?”
“Just making sure,” James said, “Just making sure.”
Wee Ian started picking at his granola again. “What’s this one?” he asked, and held up a twisted yellow triangle.
“That’s dried pineapple,” Leah said, letting James regain his strength by staying mum. “It’s real juicy and messy when it’s fresh, so they dry it out like you do jerky or apples. I don’t think you can grow it around here, though.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. If it didn’t grow around here, then where did she get it? Ergh! Watch what you say, woman!
But Wee Ian hadn’t paid any attention to her remark. His mind was elsewhere. “Does that mean my da is part fairy now?” he asked, then took a small nibble of the pineapple ort, trying to make it last.
“Uh,” James and Leah chorused softly and awkwardly at the same time, then looked at each other.
“I don’t think that changes with blood,” James said without much conviction.
Leah looked over at him and was glad that he hadn’t expounded on the subject. This one was definitely a good topic to be left as a mystery. But either way, Wee Ian didn’t seem too concerned. He was having a good time playing with his food, content that, at least for now, his father wouldn’t be getting into any more trouble.
***50 A Second Injury
August 17, 1781
Later that afternoon
“I think he has another wound,” Wee Ian said. “But I think that maybe James should help me with this one,” and looked from her to the man dozing under the tree.
“What? He’s not a doctor. I’m the nurse, rather healer.” Leah saw the look of both embarrassment and worry on the boy’s face. “Oh, my God, did they…?”
“They must have done it jest after they sold me to that Captain. He wasna missing any parts when I was with him.” He huffed, then kicked a stone into the brush away from their little campsite, frustrated. “Bring yer bag if it willna bother ye to look,” he said, and led the way.
Leah grabbed her backpack then paused. “James, come with me, please. I..I’m not sure I need your help in a medical sense,” she stammered, “but I think I do for moral support.”
She wrapped her hand around James’s inner wrist, then pulled back hard to help him stand. Earlier, he had hastily whittled off side shoots from a stout stick for use as a walking cane, but she insisted he steady himself with a hand on her shoulder, too. It was only a few feet to Ian’s custom-built hospital ward, but he appreciated her help.
Wee Ian waited for them, his dark eyebrows furrowed with concern. His father was modestly covered, but the bloody breechclout was untied, just lying across his loins.
Leah growled in self-loathing. Because of the urgency to repair Ian’s neck wound, she had never even thought to check if he was injured anywhere else. She bit her bottom lip then squatted next to him. “Lord, give me strength and wisdom and everything else I need for this.”
The words were soft, but heard by both of her assistants. “Amen,” James said.
“What he said,”
Wee Ian added.
Leah reached for the water bottle. Wee Ian had been watching her closely, and anticipating her need, placed it in her hand. “Thanks.” She poured the now lukewarm water onto the terrycloth washcloth. She pulled back the breechclout and saw that his thighs, pubic hair, and scrotum were matted with brown, clotted blood. She placed the cloth over the entire area and dribbled more water over it. She needed to soak off the dried blood and wipe the area clean to see what the damage was. She dabbed the area to make sure the wet cloth was in contact with the skin, sighed deeply in frustration, then looked up to see two pair of worried eyes staring at her.
James and Wee Ian were there for her emotionally, and would do anything asked of them, but there was nothing to do but wait and be ready when she needed help.
The only positive side of this scenario was that Ian the elder was unaware of what she was doing. What had been done to him was brutal and horrendous. But having a strange woman wipe and prod around his privates while he was awake and aware would have added humiliation and shame to the atrocity. Sometimes a coma could be a blessing.
Leah used the edge of the cloth to start the cleansing. Ian flinched when she first tugged the skin to wash it, but he never woke.
“James, hand me the goggles again, please, And Wee Ian, the water bottle…”
She irrigated the wound by exerting slight pressure on the sides of the squirt top bottle. It wasn’t sterile water, but it would have to do for investigating the wound. Without asking, Wee Ian and James each grabbed one of her patient’s knees and spread them out, affording her a better view of the injury.
Leah put the magnifying goggles on her face and leaned in close to see the cuts. She sighed in frustration: she was in her own shadow. She stood up and moved to let the sun flood the area to be examined. When she was able to focus, she saw that the hackers had stopped short of any permanent damage. Apparently, the bloodletting had been enough for them. Or someone or something had made them change their plan. Ugh! Or they were in a hurry to kill him. Leah shuddered at the horrible thoughts that were streaming into her head. “Stop that,” she said under her breath. She wanted those images to cease and commanding them verbally to do so was the only way she could think of to do it.
“Stop what?” James whispered.
Leah looked at him, pursed her lips, and gave the slightest of head shakes. Now he could tell what she was trying to do: clear her bad thoughts. He gave a quick, soft snort to let her know he understood.
Wee Ian looked back and forth between them, scowling. He could see that they were both aware of what had happened, but he wanted to know, too. This was his father who had been hacked and knifed…and possibly more. “Stop what?” he echoed.
Leah didn’t want to lie to him. He’d probably be able to tell the difference, anyhow. “Stop the evil deeds, the killing, maiming, all of…all of this senseless… Ergh!” she hissed in exasperation.
Wee Ian nodded like a bobble-headed plastic dog—he understood. “So, is he still a man?” he asked softly, his words breaking apart and losing substance as they hit the air, his whispered fear and terror as audible as a scream.
“It looks worse than it really is. I mean, his penis is still intact. It looks like they tried to castrate him, but they didn’t get the job done…thank You, Lord. He has several slices to his scrotum and inner thighs, a deep stab wound in his left testicle, but they missed severing the tendons securing the testes. I need to clean it with more than just plain water, though. Wee Ian, will you bring me that other bag over there? It has more of my supplies.”
Wee Ian placed the bag in her hand without comment, only giving a nod that seemed to say, ‘Here ye are, ma’am,’ without a noise, and then returned to his surgery-side observation post.
Leah used the sponge-tipped swab to clean the cut areas with the orange-colored antiseptic solution. She dug into the medical supply section of her bag and found the adhesive tape. “A butterfly bandage would probably be better than stitches. I mean, he isn’t going to be moving around for a few days. This way, no stitches need to be removed. He can pull the tape off by himself in a week. I’m sure he’ll be awake by then and be glad that he won’t have to have someone else remove his sutures.”
Wee Ian leaned in to get a better look at Leah’s ministrations. She saw that he was interested, so moved aside for him to get a better look. “See, the plumbing is all intact and the testes—the balls—look like they’re going to be fine. Although…”
Leah didn’t finish her thought, and that fact wasn’t lost on either James or Wee Ian. “What do ye mean ‘although’?” the son asked suspiciously.
Leah glanced over at James and gave him the ‘just trust me on this’ look. “Well, since you know I’m a fairy, I’ll tell you that there were some ‘fairy deeds’ I saw before I came here.” She realized as soon as the words were out of her mouth, it was the wrong approach. She changed her explanation, but still fumbled with her new choice of words. “You, see… I mean… Oh, shoot. Do you know what a surgeon is?”
Wee Ian nodded. “He takes out teeth, spills yer blood into a pan, and puts leeches on ye. He’s kinda like a healer, but nae as good.”
“Well, yes, they usually heal with cutting, and there’s blood around, but the surgeons where we’re from are better than the ones around here. There’s a procedure that I watched, actually assisted in…” Leah looked over and saw she was losing Wee Ian. “What I mean to say is that he may not be able to make babies again, but the…the…”
“Ye mean the cock’ll work, but there willna be any more sperms?” Wee Ian asked.
“Exactly!” Leah exclaimed, then exhaled in relief. The bandaging was done and so was the explanation.
“So you’ve assisted in a few vasectomies?” James asked with a sly grin.
“Yes, I have,” Leah answered with a modest shrug. She straightened up and added, “And that’s why I would say that even though he’s been stabbed in the testes and sliced in a crude attempt at castration, the ligaments are still intact. The vasa deferentia may have been severed, but men don’t need to have that little vessel intact. Shoot, they pay good money to have it cut! If he ever settles down and gets rid of that anger, I’m sure he’ll make a good husband and be able to serve his wife well. But hopefully, he’s already had all the children he wants.”
“Well, he’s had at least one great son. He couldn’t ask for anyone smarter or more loyal, that’s for sure.” James looked at Wee Ian. He was sitting cross-legged in front of his father, head bowed—a young lion cub protecting his battle-scarred and ravaged elder.
The boy couldn’t help but hear James. He knew he was smart enough—smarter than many boys his age—but it was nice to hear someone praise his father for having a good son. He lifted his head and smiled as sweetly as a skinny, half-naked, worried boy of eleven could. “Thanks.” He swallowed hard and sniffed twice. “I’m sure he woulda appreciated hearin’ it. I’ll let him ken ye gave him the compliment when he wakes.”
***51 Finally Here
The three of them returned to the shade of the tree and enjoyed an encore of their light repast in silence, no one feeling like the subjects of fairies and blood needed to be expounded upon or explained. Ian was sleeping soundly, an occasional snort coming from within his brush-walled castle. Marty came up to the little gathering, set down his handkerchief full of huckleberries next to the trail mix bag, then leaned back against the tree next to James, letting out a long, contented sigh. The world was at peace for all of them.
Well, almost all of them. Leah was happy that they had made it to their destination safely, and that Ian looked as if he was going to survive, but she was still eager to find out where her mother was. She knew it was too late in the day to head out, no matter where they were. James still needed time to recuperate, and there was Ian to consider. But, whether they were going or staying put, she still wanted—needed—to have a plan; something to look forward to, at least.
She looked over at the pensive boy and
asked, “If we leave, do you think you can take care of—I mean, see to—your da’s needs with Mr. Melbourne’s help?”
“Oh, he can call me Marty. I’m more comfortable with that,” Marty said. He gulped as he realized that he had just interrupted Wee Ian’s answer. “Oops, sorry. That was rude.”
Wee Ian looked at the gray-haired man from head to toe, literally. He was an older man, to be sure, but looked strong. He was nice, but just a wee bit silly. The boy nodded his head. “Aye, I can handle Da with or without Marty’s,” he stressed the name, “help. He’s welcome to stay if he likes. If Da stays asleep for the healin’, he willna be much trouble.” He turned back to look at his comatose father, the man’s mouth hanging lax, eyes squeezed tight, as if in pain. “I think he’ll be asleep for another day or so. He’s drinkin’ water from the reed, and if I can get a squirrel, I’ll make some broth.” Wee Ian frowned in recollection and looked over at Leah. “Do ye happen to have a spare pot to cook in?”
“Uh, no, we don’t even have one for us,” James answered. Damn, one more very important item they had forgotten. Maybe Gibsonville was nearby and they could buy one there.
Marty piped in, “I have a pan and I’d be more than happy to share it. And I even have an onion for the stew or broth or whatever you decide to cook. Or I can cook.” Marty was about to say more, then realized that he was being too chatty again. “Um, I think I’ll go down by the stream and look for some watercress. Mighty tasty stuff,” he said in parting, then trundled downhill toward the creek.
“Don’t take too long,” James called after him. “I still need to talk to you.”
Marty didn’t turn his head, but waved his hand in acknowledgment that he had heard him. He’d have to face him soon enough.
There was an awkward silence among the remaining group, but it didn’t last long. Out of the blue, Leah suddenly asked, “What happened to the horses that belonged to those bad guys?” She scrambled up from the ground and stood on tip toes, as if she could search better with the extra couple inches that that afforded. She looked beyond the trees and scrubby bushes, then turned and checked behind her in all directions, wearing a slight frown, as if she was merely searching for a mislaid coffee cup.
Aye, I am a Fairy Page 43
