The Fox

by Arlene Radasky

  “What? Driving in London is easier? Don’t be a bloody galoot! Just pull into the turnouts when you see headlights and wait for them to pass. The Hielans will appreciate you not trying to race them through the straights. Too many tourists try that and lose so let’s keep the natives happy, right?” said Marc, reaching into the van and pulling out an overnight bag. How unfair that he packed for tonight and I didn’t.

  “Yes, we Highlanders use our road kill in haggis, remember? So do take care on the lo-o-ong road back,” Matt said. I laughed. They climbed into the van and waved as they left.

  “I have reservations at the Caorann Inn for us. Come on let’s walk. It’s a few blocks from here.”

  “Right. I’m glad it isn’t raining. It’d be a mess to work in the morning if it were. I’ve something I want to look at, and I wouldn’t want to do it in a storm.” Here I go again. Why do I feel the need to talk? I know. Being alone with Marc is making me nervous. I want to be here but what do I expect? “I’m glad George is coming. I know we’ll find something great and I want him here to see it. He’s helped me all through my career, and even before, in school. I appreciate him.”

  “Aine!”

  “Yes?”

  “Shut up!”

  We walked quietly the rest of the way to the inn, watched over by Ben Nevis, the air smelling of the expected rain.

  The inn was built with the magpie construction that was so popular, trying to look historical. It was modern inside, and I was glad to see the farce wasn’t carried any farther than the exterior. Marc had reserved one room with twin beds.

  “When I called, they were full except for this room. We’ve shared tents before so I figured we could share this room. I thought of calling somewhere else, but I’ve stayed here and liked the location, the view, and the name of this place. So….”

  As I walked to the window, I noticed the room smelled like Mrs. Dinglberry’s inn, lemon wood wax. I lifted the curtains and said, “There’s a gorgeous view of the mountains, even with the clouded sky. But the name? Caorann? Rowan? Why do you like the name?”

  “It’s the wizard tree. I thought I could use a bit of magic to get you to stay here tonight. It is my favorite tree because of its magic. Wizards, witching wands and such.”

  “Hmm. Well, here we are,” I said as I turned to the hospital-cornered beds. “Which bed do you want? These are longer than the beds at our inn. I’ll bet your toes hang out over the end of those elfin beds,” I said, chuckling. “This will be a treat for you tonight. Well, I need to go to the store to get the things I need for tonight. Where did you say it was; close by?”

  “Not too far, but I don’t think you’ll need much,” he said as he picked up the overnight bag, opened it and dumped it out on the bed. Out fell his change of underwear, toothbrush, and shirt, followed by my undies, bra, shirt, and shampoo. He’d even remembered to bring my toothbrush and hairbrush.

  Surprised, I went through the items. “Wow. You take big chances, Marc. How’d you know I’d say yes to staying?”

  “I knew you couldn’t resist helping me pick up George. Here,” he said, unzipping a side pocket of the bag. “I hope you won’t be upset by my touching it without your permission, but I hoped you’d share a bit with me tonight.” He pulled out my precious bottle of Lagavulin, wrapped in a towel.

  “Oh, thank you, this is perfect. A dram of the lovely will hit the spot right now. Would you pour for both of us, please?”

  We made ourselves comfortable in the overstuffed armchairs that crowded the room, sipped our drinks, and discussed the day. “We’d a bit of good luck finding more pottery and the set of postholes today. The pottery should be able to give us a date. The postholes are a sign of inhabitation. We may have a hillfort!” I said. “My name will finally be first on an excavation report. I’ve been waiting a very long time for that to happen.”

  “Yes, I agree, it looks as if there might be something here. Let’s give it a bit more time before we start claiming what it is, however. It could be a simple travel hut for a hunter, and we won’t find anything else. We’ve only been digging two days. You should’ve heard the story I told George to get him to come here! You’re going to owe me for a long time. We’d better find something big soon, or he may disown you as a friend.” Marc smiled. “But don’t worry. Yes, your name can go on the report first.”

  Suddenly, a flash over-filled the room with light followed by a loud, rolling, rumble reminding me of boulders being tossed in a flooding riverbed.

  “What the–? Oh my gosh. It must be pouring,” I said as I got up and walked to the window. It was covered in rivers of water.

  I’d been standing there but a few seconds when Marc came up behind me. I felt his body heat. Oh, please touch me, I thought. My breath left my body in a rush. I loved this man, I was just realizing it again after so many years. My mind was spinning. After Brad, I swore off love forever. Marc kissed the back of my neck.

  That did it, any resistance I’d had was gone. And he knew it. I melted against him and he caught me in the circle of his arms. He smelled like the ancient earth that we were digging in today, full of mystery and truths. I turned to face him on tiptoe, barely reaching his Adam’s apple, and kissed him as he leaned his face down to mine. His beard was softer than I thought it would be, and I inhaled the fumes of the aged Lagavulin on his breath. I reveled in the sense of protection I found next to him. His hands came up into my hair and cradled my head. I was enchanted. Yes, Caorann was the right name for this inn.

  We broke apart, breathless. I looked into his eyes. “Marc. Where did this come from?”

  He wrapped his arm around my waist, and said, “Aine, I loved Darlene. I’m glad I’d those years with her.” He paused for the length of one breath. “But, you were my first love. I was working up the courage to ask you to marry me when Brad stepped into the picture so many years ago. It killed me to watch your career fall by the wayside, and I thought you were out of my life forever. I tried to tell you that he wasn’t doing right by you a long time ago but couldn’t.”

  “You knew and just stood back and watched?”

  “You needed to find out on your own what a loser he was and fight it on your own. That was the only way you’d be free from him,” he said.

  Memories slammed into me, and I tried to catch my breath as he said, “Look Aine. I was disturbed when I left your room the other night, but I figured I’ve known you for a long time and you’ve made some stupid decisions in your life but you’ve never seemed crazy. I don’t owe you anything. Hell, you owe me. You left me for Brad.”

  I cringed when I heard the pain in his voice but kept my eyes on his. There was nothing I could say in the face of the truth of his words.

  “I went a bit crazy for a while. I decided that I’d never love anyone else. I was really messed up. I followed everything that you and Brad did and watched you as he took your life away. Don’t get me wrong. Darlene was wonderful. I’m glad she was a part of my life and I never cheated on her. I loved her and she still has a place in my heart but she never took your place. You had a hold on me that I can’t explain. I never seemed whole. Now, maybe we’ve another chance, and even though I am scared of getting hurt again I don’t want to miss it.”

  I stood rooted to the floor, not able to move. I was petrified and humbled. He was trying to forgive me. Tears stung my eyes. “I am sorry, Marc. What I did was so wrong. I’ve no excuses. But I think I paid for it.”

  “Yes, I guess you did.” He circled me again, with his gentle bear hug, lowered his head and used his mouth to cover mine in a deep, long kiss. I tasted the tip of his tongue. Feelings of order, of things being right in the universe, came over me. I’d not felt this way since he and I were together in college. He was my life partner, my teacher, and my love.

  “Aine?”

  “Um, yes?” I answered, breathing fast.

  “I wanted to do this right. Is this romantic enough?” he whispered into my ear.

  “Shut up.”

/>   One of his hands came down from my hair and settled in the small of my back and pulled me closer.

  We didn’t want to let go of each other and waddled to the closest bed. I began to laugh, and Marc covered my mouth with his and gave me something else to do. Oh my God, it’d been years since I last made love, wanted to make love, and I’d feelings I thought were gone forever. My heart tattooed against my chest, my breath was ragged, and my conscious thoughts were gone. I’d one thing on my mind, and from his reactions, fast breathing, drumming heartbeat, and one noticeably hard item, I knew he felt the same way.

  We sat on the edge of the bed and Marc’s hands began to explore my back. He grabbed my tucked in shirt and began to pull it out of my pants. We were still kissing but without the earlier panic. We knew we’d be here for each other and time didn’t matter. My shirt was above my waist, and his warm hands touched my cool skin. Fire and ice. I melted even more. His hands crept up under my shirt and came to my bra. I knew one truth: if he stopped for any reason, I’d die. I prayed he knew how to undo this bra. He did. His fingers cupped my breasts, and his thumbs circled and gently pinched my nipples.

  I pulled back from him, unbuttoned the top two buttons on my shirt, and pulled it over my head. He let my bra slip to the ground.

  “Aine. You’re perfect. I knew you’d be. Beautiful,” he said as he lowered his mouth to a nipple, licked and sucked it. My back arched to meet his mouth and I gasped.

  Now, I wanted more. “Let’s get your shirt off,” I said. I reached over and started to unbutton it when he jerked the shirt off, popping a button across the room. “I brought another shirt for tomorrow, don’t worry,” he said, and grinning, when he saw my surprise.

  He turned the lamp off, and the only light in the room came from under the bathroom door, just enough to let us see what was necessary. We pulled off the rest of our clothes, climbed under the down spread and started kissing again, his tongue exploring my mouth and mine teasing his. His hands were velvet, rubbing all over my body. He explored tender spots not touched in years and I was ready to explode. I brushed my hands down his furry chest, into the curve of his taut waist. His stomach began to vibrate and heard an intake of his breath. I slid my hands down his thighs. This time he arched and groaned. We were together in lust and love.

  When it was over, I cried tears of completion and happiness. I kissed his neck and shoulders as he lay on top of me. He wasn’t heavy. I wanted to be covered by him, still have him inside me, kissing the top of my head for a very long time. When he rolled off, I rolled with him and snuggled. “The world seems right when I’m with you,” I said. “I think I’ll need a lot of this.”

  “Me too. Do you think we stand a chance?”

  “God, I hope so. I hope you can forgive me. I’ll try to make it up.” I kissed his hairy cheek. “I want another drink. Do you?” I scooted out of bed, found his shirt and put it on against the coolness of the room. I poured two fingers of scotch into our glasses. Sniffing the pungent odor of iodine and peat mixed, I handed the tumblers to him to hold as I climbed into the bed. I piled my pillows against the headboard, and retrieved my drink. He balanced on one elbow, took a swallow, and looked at me.

  “After I sew the buttons back on, I think I’ll give you that shirt, it never looked like that on me,” he teased.

  “Humm. Cute. Sounds like a beach romance.”

  Suddenly, I smelled a very strong scent. “Do you smell it? Do you smell the smoke?” I asked, sniffing and turning to Marc. I saw the confused look in his eyes and said, “She’s here. I smell peat smoke. Get me some paper and a pen. Quick, from the desk drawer, hotel stationary, anything. Just get it.” He brought them back as I sat my glass on the floor. I took the pen and paper from him just as her thoughts started running through my mind.

  “Who is here? What’s wrong?” demanded Marc.

  “I’m fine. Just let me be quiet for a few minutes and then I’ll tell you.”

  Jahna was here. I closed my eyes and let her thoughts put pictures into my head. She stood in the spot on the mountain where the sun shone at sunset. She was there with someone, looking back at her village. Several homes stood on the hilltop, farms in the surrounding valley and three hills in the distance. I could feel her happiness. She loved this spot and she shared it with those she loved, a man and a child, their daughter. I could feel the two standing beside me. I saw her home, the one closest to the gate, with the unusual small alcove. Something was heavy in my hands. She looked at a bronze bowl. It wasn’t the one I found last year, this one was different. A big, red forest fox ran in across the path in front of them. My mind went blank. The pictures were gone. Jahna was gone. I wrote down what I could remember, although the scene seemed burned into my head. I wrote about the sights and feelings that ran through my mind and drew a picture of the bowl. I sketched three ravens as I saw them on the outside of the bowl. When I was done, I slumped in exhaustion, and the paper and pen fell to my lap.

  Marc leaned over and took me into his arms. “What the hell was that? I thought you were having some sort of seizure or something, and then you started writing. What happened?”

  “I’m sorry, but Jahna came. I felt her touching me several times today and wanted to get everything she told me on paper so I didn’t forget it. I saw the hill-fort, Marc. It’s there!”

  “Your ghost? Your invisible friend, Jahna?” he asked as he leaned back on his pillows. “Did she show you where to find some money to pay the crew with?”

  I remembered the invisible friend poem my girlfriend made up when we were kids. I picked up my glass of scotch, put my folded notes in my pants pocket so I’d find them tomorrow, and went into the bathroom to take a shower. I didn’t say a word.

  I had just stepped under the hot spray when the bathroom door opened, and Marc walked in. “All right. I’m sorry. I promise to try not to make fun of you about this again.” I thought about his apology for a nanosecond, accepted it, and invited him into the shower with me. He kissed me and we made soapy love again under the warm spray of the shower.

  The next morning we rose early, breakfasted, and walked to the train station. The rain stopped about an hour before we went out, but the air still hung heavy with the ozone from the lightning storm. The gutters were full of fast-running water as we crossed the streets.

  We arrived at the train station by seven-thirty. People were milling everywhere waiting for the train from London to arrive. Some waited to greet lovers and family and others with luggage were ready to start an adventure. A loud din surrounded us. I glanced up at Marc as he looked out over the crowd. I grasped his arm to keep him close, and he leaned to hear me. “I know what happens to me is very hard for you to believe. It would be hard for me to believe except I’m living it. I’ve never told anyone else, not even Brad, and I want to keep it that way. Please don’t mention it unless we are alone.”

  “Okay. I haven’t and won’t tell anyone until you do. By the way, do you get warnings when this is going to happen? Does it ever happen when you’re driving?”

  “Yes, I smell peat smoke. Sometimes just a whiff and sometimes it’s thick. Last night it was heavy and no, it’s never happened while I was concentrating on something, like driving. I need to be relaxed.”

  “Good. Let me know when you smell it and I can get a drink and turn on the TV so you two can converse in peace,” he suggested as he continued to survey the crowd.

  Pulling on his sleeve to get him to look at me, I asked, “Marc, all this must seem strange to you but you’re still here. Why? Most people would’ve run at my first mention of Jahna. I couldn’t believe you didn’t go downstairs and tell the team about her. I was surprised the next morning when you weren’t on your way to Wales and you’re still here after last night. Why did you stay?”

  He pursed his lips and nodded as if deciding to answer my question was difficult.

  “Okay. Here’s my confession. I don’t know if I believe in ghosts, but I’ve an aunt in Ireland who talks to the dead, o
r so she says. My uncle says she got bored with him and wanted to bring some excitement into their marriage. She says that isn’t true, but she does love being fey. My uncle doesn’t fully believe her but says it doesn’t harm anyone. No one else admits to it although my cousin seems a bit strange at times. Of course, that could be just because she lives in Ireland. They seem happy. And, ghosts are a big part of this island. They’re woven into our history. And who knows, this may be that one piece of information that will lead us to our pot of gold under the rainbow,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

  Thank God for his Irish aunt. I decided I’d have to meet her someday.

  The train arrived in all its thunder and confusion. We watched for George among the detraining passengers, me jumping up and down trying to see past the bodies of those around us, Marc calmly looking over the heads of the crowd.

  Then Marc waved and yelled, “George! Hi! Over here!”

  CHAPTER 9

  JAHNA

  75 AD MAY-JUNE

  The oak fires of Beltane were cold, the home fires cleansed and restarted. The proper sacrifices were made and rituals observed. Lovern had seen his fox vixen with two new pups this spring so all was well in his mind. Mine was dark with foreboding. In it lay a heaviness that did not allow recognition.

  Twelve bloody moons had passed since our marriage. I slept with mistletoe under my head, and making a sacrifice to the god Lug often crossed my mind. Lovern had not voiced any concern about my not being with child. He told me what the gods wanted to happen would happen in their time. I was the impatient one.

  My mother requested – no, demanded a grandchild. I hoped to give her one before she died. My mother, at forty sun cycles, was one of the last of her generation. All her childhood friends were gone and she bemoaned it every day. Gray now streaked her bronze hair, and her blood cough caused her to lose strength. She wasted, eating only soup. I worried that I would not be able to ease her pain.