by Iris Kincaid
It was, at the very least, quite flattering. Gemma was very interested to hear how Roland would receive the news.
“Gemma and I are going to get married.”
“You’re going to . . . get married?” Roland sputtered.
“Yes. She’s going to wait for me, until I grow up, and then we’re going to get married. And we’re going to do everything that married people do. We’re going to kiss and go to the movies together and drink coffee and go out dancing. We’ll buy a big house together. And Gemma already has a cat. But maybe we’ll get a dog. A lot of married people have dogs.”
Roland looked at Gemma pointedly. “So, you proposed marriage to Gemma, and I take it that you were accepted?”
Gemma grinned at his discomfort. “It was my very first marriage proposal. Not only was it from a very attractive and worthy young gentleman, but a girl can never be certain if another proposal is ever going to come her way.”
“Hmmph. Dax, marriage is a very serious affair. It’s something that you have to think about long and carefully.”
“We’re not going to get married until I’m twenty years old. So, that’s a long time to think about it carefully. And in the meantime, I can just be her boyfriend. But now, I know who I’m going to marry. Are you ever going to get married again, Daddy?”
Roland arched an eyebrow. “Not if the good ones are all taken.”
Gemma had had no idea how miffed Roland was going to be about the proposal, but it delighted her no end. At one point, when Dax was preoccupied in the corner playground, Roland took the opportunity to make his own move. “I think that you and I should have dinner. There are things that we need to talk about. Do you like Italian?”
First a proposal. Then a date. Nice.
*****
Luigi’s was several degrees upscale from the sports bar that Gemma had gone to with Otto. It had elegance and ambience galore, and prices to match. Roland didn’t appear to care. He was, in fact, a bit nervous, confirming to Gemma that they were indeed on a first date.
“It just occurred to me that I don’t know very much about your background at all,” Roland noted. “I’m not even sure what you do for a living.”
“I guess you could say I’m in a pretty big transitional point in my life. So, I’m unemployed. And I need to get a job pronto. But more than that, I really do need something bigger than just a paycheck. I need to know what I want to do with my life. A career, I guess. A direction. A calling. Like you have with teaching.”
“Well, we all certainly go through that moment at one point or another in our lives. Mine came quite early. But that reminds me. It may seem a bit trite, but have you ever taken the Wellings Aptitude Test? It wasn’t part of our school program, but I came across it at the library and just took it on a lark. It gave me the handful of professions that I was the strong match for.
“I didn’t think anything of it at the time. But I came across it just a couple years ago, and there it was—Professor. Even at fourteen years old, this was my apparent destiny. So, I don’t want to make too much of it, but perhaps give it a try. I keep some available for my students, and I could bring a copy, if you’d like. It might provide a little insight. One never knows.”
“That sounds great. I’d love to have a look at it. It would be nice to get something figured out. Right now, things feel so up in the air.”
Roland cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, the reason I asked you out tonight was to explain something important to you. Something important about my situation. Because you do deserve an explanation. You’re a very attractive woman, and I’m sure you’ve wondered why I hadn’t asked you out before. What was holding me back. And I would like to explain.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Dax is growing up without a mother. Which is far from ideal. Of course, I realize that. And I’m still what most people regard as a young, marriageable age. But, whenever I meet someone . . . whenever I date someone . . . there’s always this issue hanging in the air. An elephant in the room, if you will.”
“Are you calling Dax the elephant?”
“Precisely. Dating and romance. These are all the fun things. Casual things, for most people. But when you have a small child, then casual doesn’t work anymore. Or if it is casual, that person should not meet the child. Because they’re not going to be around for long. But if they are going to be around for long, then they’re going to have to love your child. Not just a little, the way that a babysitter might, or a nanny might, or even like his favorite aunt might. But . . .”
“Truly, Madly, Deeply?”
“Has anyone told you that you watch too many movies?” Roland chided, although he could not hold back a small chuckle. “As a matter of fact, yes. She would have to be capable of feeling that intense love, a mother’s love, for someone else’s child. She would have to want it to be her child and love it as her child. Which I realize is rather too much to ask. And since we’re a package deal, in addition to that unlikely capacity for love, she would have to be uncommonly fond of me as well, which is rather too much to hope for. So . . . there it is. That’s why I can’t go out with you. I hope that you understand now.”
“You asked me out, on a date, so that you’d have a chance to explain to me why we can’t go out?”
Roland nodded sheepishly. Their lobster pastas arrived, which Gemma dug into with gusto.
“I sure hope you haven’t been losing any sleep over this . . . issue. Because it’s a moot point, really. Not only do I now have a boyfriend, but I also have a wedding date. It’s not for sixteen years, and at twenty, my groom won’t even be of drinking age. But that will save money at the reception, don’t you think?”
Roland had anticipated that this communication would be received with anger or gloom or . . . something not quite so cheery. Perhaps he was really just being a pompous, presumptuous boob about everything. Goodness, what an appetite Gemma had for her meal. He’d never seen anyone enjoy themselves so thoroughly. She closed her eyes to savor the lobster as if she had never tasted one before. Perhaps he needed to try and let life just unfold in its own way. Be a bit less uptight. After all, when in Rome . . . or America, as the case may be.
*****
Though Roland deposited Gemma safely at her apartment door that night, sleep was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she wanted to stretch her legs, clear her mind, and enjoy the beauty of Oyster Cove by moonlight. With her stamina, she was able to walk briskly for hours and eventually found herself quite a long way from her neighborhood.
She also found herself in the vicinity of a high-crisis situation. She could smell the fire several blocks before she could see it, and she quickly ran in its direction. It was a tall three-story house, and the flames were coming from the first floor. The neighbors had started to gather outside in a panic.
“Mr. Phillips hasn’t come out yet. I know he’s in there. His car is here.”
“Where’s the fire department? He doesn’t have much time.”
Everyone agonized. The fire was about to devour the first floor. After that, collapse was imminent. No time to waste. Gemma ran to the front door, against the screams and protests of the onlookers, and dashed in.
Mr. Phillips had collapsed at the bottom of the stairs from apparent smoke inhalation. He was a large man. Maybe pushing 300 pounds. But if she could bench press that amount, she could certainly get this man out of the house. Gemma did have the presence of mind to drag him, rather than to fling him over her shoulder, which would have looked like an impossible feat to the folks outside.
As it was, they stared in wonder as she dragged out their fortunate neighbor. They crowded around him, and someone started performing CPR.
“Aren’t you Miss Helpful. But did you intend to leave the child?” said a familiar voice behind Gemma.
She whirled around to see Zelda Beale, in all her creepy glory.
“Child. Is there a child?”
“All the way on the third floor. I really do question your pri
orities, saving this man over a young, defenseless child.”
In an instant, Gemma was back at the front entrance, quickly checking the first floor and running up the stairs, checking the second floor, and then the last flight of stairs. The smoke was becoming unbearably thick. But she couldn’t find a child. There was no child! And she could hear the stairs collapsing and feel the house shifting. She opened the third-floor window and looked out into the big crowd, where Zelda Beale was laughing herself into hysterics.
There was no child! Zelda had just tricked her into running into a burning building, about to collapse. The ground was looking very, very far away, and the crowd was getting hysterical at the sight of her at the window. She was going to have to jump, but not right in front of them.
Gemma ran to the back of the house, opened a window, and looked outside—no one there. She felt her heart pounding. This wasn’t something she had tried before. But no time like the present. She gritted her teeth and jumped.
She hit the ground hard and fell into a crouch, but she remained on her feet. No pain. No pain! She could hear the sounds of the fire sirens arriving. Her first inclination was to leap over the back fences and disappear, but a lot of people had seen her in the house, and she needed to reassure them that she was all right. She certainly didn’t want a firefighter running into the house looking for her.
So, she quickly ran around and presented herself to the crowd, making some vague reference to a back stairwell that she was able to get down. Mr. Phillips was reviving nicely, to her relief. And Zelda Beale was nowhere to be seen. She noticed a lot of people pointing her out to the fire chief, and then pointing at Mr. Phillips, and the chief shaking his head in disbelief. Time for her to make a quick exit. At least it was so dark that no one was likely to recognize her.
CHAPTER NINE
“No, I don’t believe that Zelda was trying to kill you. At least, not directly,” Delphine tried to soothe Gemma. “But she is trying to humble you. Or rather, Lilith. So many of our kind love to be feared, whatever their level of power. Killing is, of course, the ultimate way of establishing that fear. But, she can put you in a dangerous situation and take the responsibility, should you be killed. Or, should a man in a burning car be killed. No, I haven’t quite ruled her out for that occurrence.”
“What is she going to use Zander Knox’s ashes for?”
“It can only be intended to inflict harm on others. But it’s not my intention to alarm you, my dear. Not when there’s so much for you to adjust to. Not just your new powers, but life! How deeply transformed your life has been in such a short amount of time. Tell me. How are things going? How do you find the world? Are you meeting good people?”
“I made a new friend. Cute as can be. He thinks the world of me, and I’ll be seeing him tonight.
“Intriguing.”
“He’s four years old.”
Delphine laughed. “Does he have a father?”
“Does he ever.”
“Why don’t I put on a pot of tea, and you can fill in the scintillating details? I can give all the love advice you require.”
Lilith fumed. “Do not encourage her. We have seen, time and time again, that love will distract the girl from her obligations to me. We must get more information on Zelda.”
“All in due time, Lilith. Consider what this young woman has been through. If nothing in the world elicits your compassion, consider her but one month ago. And wish her some happiness.”
“Indulge her if you must. But do not let her lose sight of her duty to me.”
Same old Lilith. Death had done nothing to diminish her self-centeredness.
*****
For two people who weren’t dating, Gemma and Roland were certainly seeing an awful lot of one another. Tonight, Gemma found herself at the Carmichael household, courtesy of an invitation from Dax. The boy had specifically promised Gemma a hot dog feast, which Gemma greeted with great enthusiasm, even though Roland couldn’t help but feel that she deserved a slightly fancier offering.
But Dax was the party planner, so hot dogs it was. Followed by a congenial, low-key gathering in the living room that was ripe for a bit of livening up.
“Gemma. There’s a girl in my class who has a pony. She might invite us over to ride it. Have you ever ridden a pony?”
“I have not. But it sounds like an awful lot of fun. I think you’re going to enjoy that.”
“I think I’d like to get a pony. I’d take really good care of it.”
Roland was just about getting ready to protest when Gemma pointed at him and said to Dax, “Why would you need to buy a pony, when you have a fine pony right here?”
She looked pointedly at Roland, daring him to rise to the challenge. Dax waited to see what would happen with bated breath. Was his dad really about to become a pony?
What the heck. Dignity is vastly overrated. Roland dropped down on all fours and allowed an ecstatic Dax to mount him and ride him like a horse. Gemma was extremely impressed, particularly with the whinnying, which was unexpectedly on point.
“He sounds just like a pony,” yelled Dax happily.
“Of course,” Gemma said. “What do you expect a pony to sound like?”
The “pony” trotted around the room, giving Dax the loudest, most fun time he’d had in living memory. Gemma was equally entertained. Roland had said that he didn’t know how to play. All he really needed was a little gentle prodding and a very appreciative audience.
When the pony got tired, Gemma suggested that Dax go to the kitchen and find a carrot to feed him. Which was greeted as another marvelous idea. Dax returned with a small bag of baby carrots and proceeded to feed the pony, who was still on all fours. It was a lovely evening.
Later, the subject of movies came up. “That movie theater that we go to every week . . . Gemma needs to take me. Gemma, will you take me to the movies? It’s in the mornings. And they call it Mommy and Me. So, everybody’s there with their mommy.”
Roland shook his head. “Dax, Gemma is not your mommy,” he said gently.
“Neither are you,” Dax yelled. “And you take me all the time. I want Gemma to take me.”
Roland threw up his hands apologetically.
“Well, I do love movies. What day and what time is Mommy and Me?”
“Wednesdays, ten AM, at Margo’s Movie House,” Roland said.
“Margo. You know, I think actually might know her husband. And I think that Wednesday morning sounds like an ideal time to watch a good movie.”
“Yeah!” Dax agreed.
It was everything that Roland had worried about. Dax was becoming completely attached to this new person in their lives, and there was nothing Roland could do to stop it. And now he was no longer sure that he wanted to. There are few things better than seeing your child so happy. It even caused him to cave in when Dax insisted that Gemma read him his bedtime story and tuck him into bed.
Getting Dax to sleep was the easiest thing in the world. Roland had provided very tasteful but seriously sleep-inducing stories, much more suitable for a child six or seven years older than Dax. But as she watched him drift off to sleep, she considered Roland’s words earlier about the difficulty and the challenge of loving a child who wasn’t your own. Roland was a very smart man, but there, he was completely clueless. Loving Dax wasn’t difficult at all. It was the easiest thing in the world. And it was too late to undo.
Back downstairs, Gemma was surprised to find Roland in a somewhat preoccupied and agitated state.
“So . . . I was at the gym this morning, and Otto mentioned that you two had a marvelous time when you went out to dinner. He’s a good fellow, that Otto, and he certainly does have . . .”
“Biceps?” Gemma offered.
“Well, we all have biceps, don’t we?”
“Not like Otto’s.” So, Roland was feeling a bit insecure. How sweet. “But you should know, I’ve always been partial to books over biceps.”
They exchanged a big smile and Roland let out a sigh o
f relief. “And sports bars?”
Gemma shook her head. “It was okay, but I really remember wanting to be outside that evening. The sky was clear, and the stars were about to come out. I love the stars.”
That was all that Roland needed to hear. Five minutes later, he had dragged a thick picnic blanket out to the backyard, and he and Gemma were on their backs, doing their best to impress one another with locating the constellations.
“That one is called the big turtle,” Gemma said. “You see how those lines form a curve? That’s the curve of a turtle’s back.”
“Where on earth did you learn that there was a constellation called the big turtle?” Roland asked incredulously.
“A . . . a friend told me.”
“Boyfriend?”
“No. His name is Bruce, and he’s an orderly at the hospital that I stayed at. Do you know what Lou Gehrig’s disease is?”
“Yes. Stephen Hawking, right?”
“Right. And my condition wasn’t specifically Lou Gehrig’s, but it was equally severe. And I was at the life-support unit at the hospital for eight years. I couldn’t move my arms. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t feel anything. I couldn’t feed myself. All I could do was blink. For eight years.”
Gemma waited silently for a few minutes for that information to sink in. “I thought that it would be like that forever, but I got some miracle experimental treatment, very recently, and it brought me back. It gave me my life back. I don’t even like to think about those horrible years except for remembering the three friends that I had there—Bethany, my roommate now, would come and read to me, and Ping-Pong, who was the therapy cat for the whole ward, and Bruce, who would put together all these movies for me to watch and help keep me entertained and distracted.
