by Robbi McCoy
“Can you believe it?”
“Yes, I can,” she assured him.
Dena took hold of his arm, smiling up at him.
Sophie took a closer look at the display. The huge scarlet flower sat upon a rectangular wooden cart with wheels. On the side of the cart was a sign that read Cakes by Klaus. Raven and Kyle stood in front of the display, looking up at the giant stamen with their mouths open in abject admiration. Katrina Olafssen was on the other side of the display, holding a tray of aebleskiver. She was dressed as usual in her long skirt and white blouse, her hair in the traditional braided bun.
Dena looked up at the stamen protruding over their heads and said, “Don’t you think it’s…stimulating?”
Sophie declined to answer. “There are a lot more people here than I expected,” she said.
“Oh, yes,” Klaus answered, “it’s a big turnout.”
“Is John Bâtarde here?”
Klaus nodded. “He came by a minute ago. He had the most gorgeous boy in tow.” He pointed to the edge of the clearing. “There he is.”
Sophie peered in the direction Klaus pointed and saw Bâtarde with a drink in hand talking to a woman in an Elizabethan dress. Next to him was a small young man who, from this distance, looked a lot like Raven Landry. Both of them were standing in front of a thick wall of rhododendrons.
“Excuse me,” she said to Klaus and Dena before moving closer to Bâtarde, keeping to the shadows, until she could get a clearer look at his date, who looked more and more like Raven. He was dressed in a navy blue jacket and dress shirt, had a small goatee and similarly understated mustache.
As she stood on her toes peering over the shoulder of a man dressed in a purple velvet cape and blue leggings, someone tapped her on the shoulder. She gasped and spun around. It was Raven. Kyle stood beside him.
“Check this out,” she said. “What do you make of that young man?”
Raven stared, squinted his glittery eyes, then looked astonished. Kyle looked equally perplexed.
“It’s me,” Raven said, unbelieving.
“It is you,” Kyle agreed, staring again.
“What a handsome fellow,” Raven announced, recovering his good humor. “What’s he doing with that ugly old man?”
“That bulky old man,” Kyle suggested.
Raven turned to Kyle, his mouth open.
“That’s the guy who broke into our house,” Kyle explained. “Looking for information about Eno.”
“Him? That’s the guy who caused me to accuse and misuse you, my poor darling?”
Kyle nodded solemnly. “I can’t believe you’d think I could ever be interested in him.”
“And that’s the guy who stole Poppy,” Sophie said.
“Fie! Fie!” Raven declared. “We should call him to account!”
Kyle was still staring at Raven’s lookalike. “The resemblance is uncanny. Were you maybe triplets instead of twins?”
“I would know if I were triplets,” Raven said, “if I had a brother. But I have to admit that if you dressed Wren up in an outfit like that and slicked back her hair and put a little mustache on her...”
All three of them stood silently watching Bâtarde’s date for a moment, the same idea apparently entering all of their minds simultaneously.
“Oh, my God!” Raven breathed.
“What’s she doing with him?” Sophie cried.
“She did say she was going to keep an eye on him,” Kyle reminded them.
“Let’s hope an eye is all she kept on him,” Raven joked.
Sophie frowned at him. “I need to talk to her, to let her know I’m okay, but I don’t want Bâtarde to see me.”
“Maybe you should have worn a costume as I suggested,” Raven said haughtily.
“Keep an eye on Bâtarde for me. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Sophie took a wide path around to the edge of the clearing, then slipped through a hedge and approached Wren’s position from behind, hidden by the descent of darkness and the shrubbery. She knelt close to the ground and moved closer to Wren’s legs, keeping an eye on Bâtarde, who spoke excitedly a few feet away, facing the woman he was talking to and unlikely to notice Sophie, as long as she could get Wren’s attention quietly. She reached through the branches of a rhododendron and tugged gently at her pant leg. Wren shook her leg without looking around.
Bâtarde happened to turn just then and smile at Wren, sending Sophie’s pulse into a panic, but he didn’t notice her and returned to his conversation. She stood, intending to tap Wren on the shoulder, but Wren took a step forward, away from the bushes, so Sophie panicked and made an unplanned lunge for her, clamping one hand over her mouth and the other arm around her waist and dragging her in a single motion into the bushes where they both fell to the ground. Sophie held her hand tight over Wren’s mouth as Wren fought against her until she could maneuver herself into a position where they were facing each other. Wren’s eyes opened wide in surprise and she quit struggling. Sophie released her mouth, then put her finger to her own mouth and crawled further from the party with Wren following on all fours. They reached a paved path where both of them stood.
“Come here,” Sophie instructed, taking hold of her hand.
She led Wren swiftly down the main path, then left the path and jumped a rocky creek. Wren followed as she continued up the bank to an old wooden gazebo, a place Sophie had been several times, an isolated, densely wooded area of the park she knew was infrequently visited, especially at night. The sound of music and laughter came to them faintly as they both fell onto a wide bench beside one another, breathing rapidly and laughing hysterically. The vertical posts of the structure supported well-established vines that were leafed out in full summer foliage, creating a private bower of lush growth all around them. Through the lattice above them the full moon shone vivid white through an opening in a cloudy sky, casting a romantic glow over their hideaway.
“You’re safe!” Wren breathed, taking Sophie’s face in her hands and kissing her, her little mustache tickling Sophie’s upper lip.
“You look so butch!” Sophie pulled Wren roughly to her and kissed her again, more urgently, crazed with the desire she’d tried to resist for the last two weeks. She smothered Wren’s mouth and neck and face with kisses. Wren too was breathing hard, groping Sophie’s body with obvious need and possessing her mouth anxiously.
Sophie pushed Wren down on the bench, lying beside her, reaching between them to unbuckle her belt.
“Sophie,” Wren whispered, “what if someone comes?”
“I don’t care. I have to have you. I don’t care about anything. I don’t care that you’re married or that your husband and brother are lovers or how any of this came about or what it means to us. All I care about is that I love you and I can’t fight it anymore. I’ll take whatever you can give me.”
“But—” Wren moved to sit up.
Sophie touched a finger to her mouth. “Explain later.” She covered Wren’s mouth with her own, stopping her from further conversation, then slipped her hand under the waistband of Wren’s trousers, into the warm, wet, waiting wonder of her womanhood.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Here come the lovers, full of joy and mirth.
—A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act V, Scene 1
She’s mine, mine, all mine! In her heart, Sophie rejoiced with uncharacteristic abandon. She felt like she could take a running start and lift off the ground like a plane. Now that Wren had explained the situation with Kyle, she knew there was no obstacle to their being together. Wren looked just as happy as she was. She couldn’t stop smiling a cute, goofy smile, understanding finally why Sophie had been so aloof. Understanding, too, that they were both madly in love with one another, the most perfect situation two people could ever find themselves in on this planet, or, Sophie was certain, any other.
She didn’t want to return to the party and she knew Wren didn’t either, but there was still the problem of Poppy’s kidnapping, so they reluctantly made their way back to t
he clearing where the crowd was still substantial. Sophie glanced about for Bâtarde as she and Wren walked hand in hand to where Raven and Kyle stood listening to the musicians.
“Where’ve you been?” Raven asked.
“Around,” Wren said evasively. “Where’s Bâtarde?”
“He’s here somewhere.”
“You were supposed to watch him,” Sophie scolded.
“And you were supposed to be gone only a couple minutes. It’s been over a half hour.”
Sophie looked sheepish and evaded Raven’s gaze.
“That’s my suit you’re wearing, isn’t it?” Raven frowned at his sister. “Hey, where’s your mustache and goatee?”
Wren reached up to feel her bare face as Sophie giggled. Raven and Kyle looked at one another meaningfully.
“You boys look fabulous, by the way,” Wren said enthusiastically.
“Thank you!” Raven curtseyed low. When he lifted his head, he said, “Oh, look, there’s Cleo.”
He waved toward a statuesque woman with long, straight black hair with a prominent white streak along one side. She caught his eye and returned the wave, starting their way. She wore a black silky gown split up the left leg and a long purple cape. She had a gold tiara on her hair and carried what looked like a jewel-encrusted goblet large enough to hold a half a bottle of wine. On her forearms were metal cuffs and on her chest a heavy silver medallion. She presented a formidable image, a cross between Xena, Warrior Princess and the evil queen in Disney’s Snow White.
“Who is she?” Sophie whispered.
“Raven’s boss,” Wren said. “Cleo Keggermeister.”
“She’s Hippolyta!” Raven announced as she stopped in front of them. “Queen of the Amazons.”
As they were introduced, both Wren and Sophie mumbled a greeting and then simply gaped at the woman as she chatted with Raven. Before tonight, Sophie had known Cleo Keggermeister in name only, as the woman who had captured the heart of Ellie’s father and had destroyed Cassandra’s career. She was an attractive woman and must have been very beautiful in her youth. There was a hint of the exotic about her, the untamed beast.
“Such a turnout!” Cleo gushed, sounding tipsy. “Best ever. The decorations, the music, everything’s perfect!” She looked up at the sky. “Nearly perfect. I hope it doesn’t rain. Are you boys having a good time?”
“Enchanting!” Raven proclaimed.
“How about that cupcake monstrosity? Isn’t that wild?” Cleo cackled gleefully, then stopped mid-cackle. She was distracted by the man in the Athenian helmet and white robe standing by the wine booth. “Do any of you know who that is?”
Raven shook his head.
“My guess is Theseus,” Kyle offered, “Duke of Athens.”
“No, no, you idiot,” Cleo said impatiently. “Obviously, he’s dressed as Theseus. I mean, who is he behind the helmet? Nobody seems to know. I think I’ll go talk to him and see if—” She let out a high-pitched cry of alarm, no longer looking at Theseus. Instead, she was glaring at something across the clearing.
They all followed her gaze to Cassandra, dressed as usual in her brown cape, pulling her dog Spot in the red wagon behind her, threading her way methodically through the crowd.
“What is that crazy woman doing here?” Cleo demanded. “Who let her in?”
“It is a public park,” Raven pointed out. “And we did invite the whole town.”
Cleo frowned with her entire face. She then took a defiant gulp of wine and stalked off. More than ever, she looked like the evil queen plotting her revenge on Snow White. When she had gone, Sophie, feeling protective of Cassandra, said, “Who does she think she is, the queen of Egypt?”
Wren shrugged and put a soothing arm around Sophie’s waist.
A short person in a furry brown head with huge black eyes, long ears and long eyelashes stepped up to them. A donkey costume, Sophie realized. The donkey leaned on the arm of a tall, husky man wearing a cable-knit sweater and brown cords. A simple black mask covered his eyes and nose, Zorro-style, his only concession to a costume, leaving his wide, square chin and mouth exposed. No sooner had they arrived than Zorro spotted Katrina Olafssen and her tray of Danish pastries and was off in her direction.
“Raven, you’re fabulous!” said the donkey. “Wanted to say hi, but had to wait for you-know-who to leave. Is this your boyfriend?”
“Tammy!” Raven called. “Great costume! Yes, this is Kyle. Tammy’s our Dogberry, honey. And a stupendous one at that!”
Kyle bowed from the waist.
“You two are a riot!” Tammy laughed a muffled, hollow laugh.
“This is Wren,” Raven said, linking his arm in hers. “You remember her? And her friend Sophie.”
Tammy tilted up the donkey head to get a better look. “You look exactly like your brother in that getup!” She spun to the left, then to the right, peering out the snout of her costume. “This here’s my husband.” She spun around again, trying to locate him. “Where’d he go?”
“He’s over there,” Sophie said, pointing to where the big man was popping one of Katrina’s aebleskivers in his mouth.
Tammy laughed again. “Of course, he’s looking for food. As usual! I’ll introduce you later. At least I got him off the damned boat for the evening. This is a red-letter day!”
As she stepped over to his side, Tammy’s husband took a second aebleskiver. “I haven’t had these in years!” he declared with obvious zeal.
“Take as many as you want,” Katrina urged. “Ja! Big boy like you needs his Danish pastry like mama’s milk. You’re as big as my Klaus. Nice healthy boy.”
He took three more, which fit easily in his palm. Tammy took one and shoved it through the donkey’s snout almost up to her elbow, trying to reach her mouth. Even with the added height of the elongated head, she didn’t come fully up to her husband’s height. The two of them made a comical pair. To facilitate eating, Tammy removed her donkey head to reveal a round pink face with cheerful eyes.
“Aebleskiver, Sophie,” Katrina offered, stepping toward her. “Klaus thought we could take advantage of the crowd to hook some new customers. He wants to sell these, you know, in his store.”
“He told me,” Sophie said, taking one. “I think it’s a great idea. No jam?”
“I put it inside this time. This is my picnic version.”
Wren grabbed an aebleskiver for herself before Katrina moved on with her tray, its contents rapidly disappearing. Sophie bit into the pastry and the gooey red jam inside oozed into her mouth.
Wren turned to her brother. “Annie Laurie?” she accused. “What were you thinking?”
Raven looked surprised at both her tone and question.
“Oh, that was me,” Sophie explained. “I’m the one who called Bâtarde. I just didn’t want to give you away.”
Wren turned to Sophie and her expression softened. They both looked up as they felt the first raindrops. Sophie took Wren in her arms and held her close. There was so much she wanted to say now that she knew the truth. Starting with an apology.
Wren pulled Sophie closer and kissed her. Sophie felt herself getting lost in the soft luxury of Wren’s mouth.
“What the hell!” said a nearby male voice.
Wren and Sophie both turned to discover John Bâtarde standing a few feet away, scowling at them. He stepped toward Wren, clenching his right hand into a fist.
“You think you can make a fool out of me?” he said, lunging toward her.
She leapt backward and held out her palm. “Stop! Even you wouldn’t hit a woman, would you?” She pointed to her hairless face.
He stopped and stared, then his fist dissolved as he seemed to recognize her.
“You’re Wren Landry!” he declared. “I knew you looked familiar.”
Wren took hold of Sophie’s hand. “Yeah, that’s me. So what?”
“I knew it all along,” Bâtarde sneered. “You and your goat farmer are in cahoots!” He pointed accusingly at Sophie. “That’s why you w
ere so determined to keep her secret. You’re lovers! But the jig is up. Your reputation will be ruined. The name Eno Threlkeld will be worthless.” Bâtarde threw both his arms into the air like a ringleader at a circus and made a booming pronouncement to the night. “Eno Threlkeld! You are exposed!”
Tammy’s husband paused in the act of bringing the last of his three aebleskivers to his mouth and turned abruptly to face them.
“Are you speaking to me?” he asked.
Bâtarde frowned at the interruption, irritated. “Who are you?”
“I’m Eno Threlkeld. I thought I heard you say my name.”
All five of them stared wordlessly at the man, who then removed his mask. Sophie, Wren and Raven gasped in unison.
Klaus? Sophie thought, but quickly realized this man who looked remarkably like Klaus Olafssen couldn’t be Klaus. She peered more carefully at his broad, clean-shaven face, his light blue eyes, the reddish tint of his eyebrows. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Eno?” Wren ventured. “Is that you?”
“I am Eno Threlkeld,” he repeated firmly. “Do I know you?”
“Oh, my God!” she blurted. “I’m Wren Landry. You remember me, don’t you, Eno? From high school? And Raven? You must remember him?”
As Sophie looked at Raven in his Titania costume and Wren made up like a man, she tried to imagine this bewildering scene from someone else’s point of view. Eno peered hard at Raven’s face.
“Eno!” Raven cried, pulling both falsies out of his costume at once. “It’s me!”
Eno’s eyes lit up as he recognized them and an exuberant round of hugs ensued between the large man and the small twins, the girl masquerading as a boy and the boy masquerading as a girl. It was a strange but satisfying image. Still, Sophie was perplexed by how much Eno resembled Klaus, a fact that had not yet been explained.
The three old friends finally broke apart, revealing that Eno had tears in his eyes. His aebleskiver was now smashed into his sweater, its sticky red center smeared across his chest like he’d been stabbed in the heart. He didn’t seem to notice.
“You’re married to Dogberry here?” Raven asked.
