Cuffing Her

by Emily Bishop

  Meanwhile, the storm growled and spat above me, a creature preparing for its attack. Finally, I hopped down and stood facing Aurora’s lot, hands in the pockets of my jeans, burning from the inside out.

  “I have to find her,” I grunted.

  “Hello.” Light and airy, I recognized the voice instantly, though the last time I’d heard it had been at the fairgrounds on the same night I’d met Aurora and this had all started.

  I turned and offered the popcorn girl a smile. “Felicity,” I said.

  “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t think you’d remember me,” she said and twirled one of her pigtails. “That’s so cool!”

  “Of course, I do. Best popcorn I’ve ever had. And you pointed me to the fortune-teller’s tent,” I said.

  “Yeah.” She craned her neck and spied the empty spot I’d been obsessing over. “I’m sad she’s gone.”

  “Did you see her leave?” I asked, and hope exploded in my chest again, fireworks, sparking and flashing in the dark. “Aurora, did you see Aurora?”

  Felicity wrinkled her nose. “Well, yeah. I kind of helped her pack up her tent. I hope you’re not angry with me because of that. I tried to talk her out of it kinda, but it didn’t work.”

  “She went to the fairgrounds!’

  “Yeah.”

  I itched to set off. “Thanks, Felicity. Have a good afternoon.” I brushed past the girl and made it two steps—

  “Hey, wait!” the girl yelled. “She’s not there anymore, now. She’s already left.”

  “What?” I looked back.

  “Yeah, she packed up and left I think. I mean, I didn’t see her leave exactly but when I walked home, her RV was gone from the fairgrounds.”

  All those fireworks fizzled out. “So, you didn’t see which way she went?”

  “No, sorry. But—”

  I gripped my forehead and massaged my temples. Gone. She couldn’t be gone. Christ, how had it come to this?

  “Mr. Tombs?”

  “Yeah.”

  The teenager shuffled over, shivering from the wind, her arms crossed over her red and white striped uniform. “I think she didn’t want to do it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think she likes you.”

  I blinked at her. Shit, had this girl seen the news reports, the blurred pictures of Aurora and me? Jesus, that’s not humiliating at all.

  “She left because she was scared, I think. I don’t know much about love and romance but it looked to me like she was afraid. and that was why she ran. Maybe, if you find her, you can convince her to stay.” Felicity spun toward the empty lot again. “It’s going to be awful quiet without her around. Awful boring.”

  “Thanks,” I said, because what the hell else could I say? The whole point of my presence here was to find her, yet no one could tell me where she’d gone.

  “If it helps, I saw Mama Kate heading toward her RV before I went to help my sister pack up the popcorn machine.”

  “Mama Kate?” I asked.

  “Yeah, she’s the old lady of the forest. She’s friends with Aurora. I think she might know where Aurora went, but I can’t be sure. I mean, I don’t want to tell you that she knows and then she doesn’t. I—”

  I marched over and Felicity cut off. “Where does Mama Kate live?” I asked.

  “Th-through there,” Felicity said and pointed to the forest, behind the chromed-out RV. “There’s a clearing a few minutes’ walk in. She should be there, now. I think. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” I replied. “Thanks a lot. You’ve been helpful.” I smiled again, broader this time, by way of encouragement, and the teen gave me a double thumbs up. “Where do you live? Are you going to be OK to get there in this?” I pointed to the clouds.

  The wind whined, now, a low groan between the vehicles.

  “Yeah. I’m right over there,” she said and pointed to the black and silver lighting strike RV. “I’ll be fine. You go ahead. And, Mr. Tombs?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I hope you find her. You guys make a cute couple.”

  “Thanks, kiddo,” I said and patted her on the shoulder.

  I made for the forest, slipped a little on a patch of wet grass but kept my footing. The forest during a storm—what fresh fucking hell was this? Two of my worst nightmares mixed into one. I hadn’t told Aurora, but the forest creeped me the hell out. At least, being alone in one did.

  I wasn’t exactly cut out for hiking. Probably had something to do with my LA lifestyle, but I’d never backed down from fear, and I wouldn’t now. I charged between the trees, and the light dropped by half.

  It was murky, quiet but for the rumble of thunder, and the starting patter of rain on the canopy overhead. I drew my cell phone out of my pocket and tapped the flashlight app to illuminate the twigs and mulched leaves on the forest floor.

  I scanned the trees, tried orientating myself, but it was futile. All I could do was head inward and hope I’d find this Mama Kate’s camp before true dark. I strode along, over rocks and roots, thankful for the ankle boots I’d bought at Nancy’s clothing store.

  “A visitor,” a voice rasped, from behind a tree trunk to my left.

  I froze and moved the flashlight over, searched for the source of noise.

  “I know your face,” the woman hissed and stepped into view.

  Gray hair trapped beneath a long, turquoise scarf, broad hips enclosed in a long, swishy skirt that brushed the roots and dirt. Her eyes were diamonds in her skull, glittering in the dark, and beads clattered as she moved toward me.

  “Who are you?” I asked, though I already had an inkling.

  “They call me Mama Kate,” she replied. “But you already know that.”

  “How—?”

  “Boy, why else would you be out here in the middle of the storm if you weren’t lookin’ for me? Use your brains.” Kate crooked a finger. “Come now. I have a fire and food at the camp, and we can talk about what you need.”

  “I don’t have time. I don’t—”

  “She won’t go far before you find her, Tombs,” Mama Kate said. “The universe won’t allow it, you mark my words. Now come.”

  I hesitated. I’d never been good with this type of stuff, and a couple weeks ago, before meeting Aurora, I’d probably have laughed if I’d been told I’d wind up in this situation, in a dark forest with a mysterious, magical lady leading me deeper into the trees, but now? I had to know what she did, or I’d lose the one woman I truly loved.

  “Come now. I don’t have all day for your love problems.” Mama Kate set off at a blistering pace, much too fast for an old woman in a skirt with hips that wide.

  I hurried after her, the flashlight’s beam slicing through the gloom, illuminating grass then bark then the undersides of the leaves. I gave it up for a bad job and switched off the app.

  Five minutes of walking and finally, we entered a clearing. Rain pattered down from the heavens, but Mama Kate beckoned to me and led me into a large tent, the center of which held a small portable stove, a fire warm in the grate.

  “Sit,” she said and dragged a camping chair toward the stove. “Sit and warm your hands. You’re shivering.”

  I did as I was told and scanned the interior. It was small but well lit. Candles sat atop a side table against one canvas wall, and next to it, a camping cot piled with neatly folded blankets and a few flowery cushions provided a touch of femininity. Crystals and books, haphazardly stacked, lined the shelves of a bookcase near the entrance.

  “Coffee?” Mama Kate asked and lifted a camping kettle. “Tea?”

  “No, thank you. I came for information. Aurora—”

  “Oh, you’re a hasty boy, I see. I told you I have the information you need, and I told you the universe won’t let her go far from Moondance. You two are intertwined now. The minute you bedded her, you wound your fates together.”

  Jesus Christ. This was too much. “Look, if you don’t know where she is, I’m wasting my time here. I should go
.” The spatter of raindrops on the tent’s roof increased in intensity. It was a rush of noise, now. It reminded me of an audience’s applause, albeit mocking.

  Mama Kate raised one gray eyebrow. “Both of you are stubborn,” she said and put down the kettle. “I’ll tell you which way she went, Tombs, but only after I have a promise from you.”

  “A promise?”

  “That you’ll be good to her. That girl has been through enough,” she said. “All she’s ever wanted is a home and love, and all she’s ever gotten is transience and rejection.”

  “Big word,” I said.

  “It means change.”

  “I know what it means,” I replied.

  “Then shut your trap and listen.” Mama Kate settled into another of the camping chairs, and it creaked beneath her bulk. “I want that promise from you, or I won’t tell you where she’s gone. And the promise will come with a spell. You hurt her, and I put a curse on you.”

  “What?”

  “You heard it right. I curse you, so your balls shrivel right up inside your body and never come down again.”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” I said. “That’s a little farfetched. And you don’t have to threaten me to get your point across. I would never hurt Aurora, not intentionally, I can make that promise, right now.”

  “It’s not good enough,” Mama Kate said. “And you don’t know enough to make that promise yet.”

  “What am I missing here?” I asked. “I love her, and you seem to know that. I’ve made the promise. Now tell me where she went.” The last part came out in a growl.

  Mama Kate reached over and patted my cheek. “Such a pretty face. You got anything between those eyes? Listen to what I have to say.”

  I kept my mouth shut. If I didn’t, I’d snap at her and never get the information I needed.

  “Good, see? You can control your temper. Now, what you’ve got to know about Aurora is all she wants is a home. And a baby.”

  My jaw dropped.

  “Oh, relax, she’s not going to trap you into anything. Why else would she have run?” Mama Kate rolled her eyes. “You slap a penis on a human and all of a sudden he’s allergic to children. Lord help the world. Now, listen. Her mother, Libby, did her best for that girl, but I can’t say I agree with all her choices.” Kate sniffed. “She should’ve settled down long before she came to Moondance, but it wasn’t none of my business. After she died, Aurora lost it all. Lost the love of family, and the care of the people here.”

  “I know.”

  “Aurora needs a family and a home like she needs to breathe. She won’t let it happen because she thinks her momma’s death is her fault. Libby jumped in front of a car and pushed her out of the way. She died to save her baby.”

  I swallowed. I knew parts of this, but it was still hard to hear the second time around.

  “That’s why I’m telling you, if you’re going to go after the girl, it can’t be because you like the way she moans between the sheets.”

  My cheeks grew hot. “That’s not—no, that’s not why.”

  “You got to want more with her. A family. A home. That’s what she deserves, and if you can’t promise me that you’ll give her that, I’m not telling you where she went. Simple as a pimple on an ass cheek.”

  The analogy threw me off for a second.

  “Well?” Mama Kate asked. “What do you say?”

  I pictured my Aurora, standing here, in her long skirt, her loose shirt and that soft smile on her lips, the ones that’d been red from my kisses. Her long curls falling to her shoulders, her palms cupping a rose quartz crystal as she told me all about its meaning, eyes alight. She was precious to me, perfect in the sway of her hips and that cheeky attitude.

  I took a breath. “Yes,” I said. “I promise.”

  Chapter 28

  Aurora

  Raindrops splatted against the windshield, and I turned on the wipers, smearing the water away. I’d already switched on the high beams but it didn’t help too much. The road was wet, and it was another couple miles till I hit the freeway.

  Mistress sat in the passenger seat, no belt since she yowled at me every time I tried putting it on her. Her ears were pricked up, and her yellow eyes focused on the bobblehead figure of a hula girl on my dashboard.

  My kitty was used to traveling, by now, but she was pretty quiet for a change. Usually, she’d meow or purr, wash herself, wander around in the back for a while. The unusual behavior set off another cluster of thoughts, all centered on doubt.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  What if I’ve lost the one person I’m meant to be with?

  Would Mom have run away like this? Or would she have stayed and fought?

  Mom? Mom who dove in front of a moving car to save my life? No, my mom wouldn’t have run away from anything. She’d have faced it head on. That in itself brought more shame to me than I could handle.

  No, I wasn’t just running for me. It was for Jarryd, too. I’d complicated his life and career.

  He couldn’t possibly produce Pride’s Death with Felicity as the star with all my drama hovering in the background. It would ruin all his planning, all his work.

  Sell out. That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re scared, that’s all this is about. You’re a god damn coward.

  I slowed and scanned the signs on the side of the road. “There was a shortcut here,” I said. “Right here. A dirt road we can take that will get us on the freeway, quicker, Mistress. What do you say?”

  Mistress flicked her tail. Apparently, she didn’t agree with the choice.

  I pumped the gas and the RV lurched. The lights flickered. “What the –?”

  This time, my cat did meow, and it was more of a yowl than anything else.

  “What now?” I muttered and inched my foot forward on the accelerator, changed gears. The engine grated, and sputtered, clicked, turned over, and fucking died. The RV cruised along, carried forward by momentum, and I steered it onto the verge.

  “Oh, god,” I said. “Oh, shit. This was exactly what I needed.” I pulled up the handbrake then cut the RV’s headlights and rested my forehead against the wheel.

  I was trapped on the road out of Moondance, in the middle of a storm. Rain poured down on top of the roof, splashed the windscreen.

  I tapped my palms on the wheel, choking back tears. It wasn’t enough that I’d made the decision to leave, the universe had to taunt me one last time. All I wanted was to get away, and I couldn’t even do that right.

  Now I was at the mercy of the elements and any stranger who might drive past and decide, “Hey, that’s a great RV. Why don’t I steal it?”

  “Ugh, don’t think like that,” I said. “It doesn’t help. Everything’s fine. We’ll figure this out.”

  Mistress hopped off the passenger seat and meandered off. Sorry, bitch, you’re all on your own.

  “Classy,” I called after her. “Real classy.” I cut the cab lights then sat there, listening to the torrential downpour, the roar of it above my head. I sat back and shut my eyes, and immediately, Jarryd rose from the depths of my memories.

  Naked Jarryd, with the sheet around his waist, his abs defined, glistening with sweat after one of our sessions together. His smile was lopsided, his nose still adorably crooked in one spot, and those eyes—they bored into my soul, right through the past to the present, crystal blue and seeking me.

  I sat upright and focused on the present again, opened my lids, shook off the heartache that wouldn’t come loose. “No,” I said. “You’re not going to dwell on him. Not now.”

  And the only way to keep my thoughts free of him would be to take action.

  I got up then walked through to the kitchen area, past, to the bedroom. I fumbled through my closet, brought out a rainslicker and slipped it on. The arms were worn from use—this had been my mother’s—and the yellow was faded. but it would do the job.

  Mistress had already perched on my pillow to wait out the storm. Or perhaps, she’d given up on me at la
st.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said then trundled back toward the side door of the RV. It wasn’t as if I had the tools or the will to figure out what had gone wrong with the engine, but I had to take a look.

  The RV hadn’t broken down before but I had been a little lax with maintenance since I’d arrived in Moondance. I’d been lax with everything thanks to—

  “Nope. Don’t think it. Don’t.” I inhaled then opened the door and hopped down onto the side of the road. My flat-soled pumps splashed in a puddle, and I cursed under my breath. The rain slammed into the hood of my slicker and flattened it against my skull.

  This wasn’t rain, it was a friggin’ downpour.

  I slipped and slid my way toward the front of the RV then fiddled with the little clip that opened the flat front of the hood. It clicked, and I did a mini-victory dance. First step of the futile mission completed.

  I heaved the flat hood up, hooked it into place then peered at the engine, still hot and ticking from the ride. I squinted into the dark compartment but there wasn’t enough light to see much, and I sure as hell wasn’t about to risk my cell phone in this. It wasn’t one of those fancy waterproof models.

  “Well,” I said, loudly, over the rain. “This was a good idea. Second best idea I’ve had all week.”

  I fumbled with the catch on the side of the hood, shaking my head at myself. What had I expected? No flashlight, no rubber boots, no experience fixing engines, and now, the damn hood wouldn’t come down.

  I grunted and strained, poking at the hook that held the thing upright. “God damn!” I yelled. “God damn it all! Bitch. Shit! Motherfucker!” Man, that felt horribly good. The screaming, not the scraping my finger against the hook a billion times. “Bastard! Bitch!” I shook my fists at the rainclouds and jumped up and down on the spot, throwing a mini-tantrum. “Do you think this is it?” I yelled. “I’m not going to take this lying down. I’m trying to run away and I’m going to damn well run the fuck away, whether you like it or not.”

  The clouds, of course, didn’t reply, other than to increase the pressure of rain. Lightning arced through the darkness, splitting, chaining, and was followed by a crack of thunder so loud it almost split my skull in two.