by Jane Stain
“Thank you so much,” Emily told him, “but can we do that some other time? Because we’re having dinner with Dall and Ian tonight.”
“Sure.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Emily’s mind eased a bit when Simon and his family had gone under the burlap wall behind their booth to eat and she sat with Vange in their lawn chairs, giggling over the pictures Vange had taken of her and Dall kissing.
Emily was a bit worried about her parents seeing the pics Vange had posted on her Facebook wall, but maybe that was a good thing. It would tell them the story for her and save her the trouble.
“Ooh hoo hoo. Girl, you were going for it.”
“Can you blame me?”
“Nope.”
Still huddled over Vange’s phone, the two of them high fived.
“Well, glad to see you’ve become one of us … both of you.”
Emily looked up to see the biker with the dog tattoo smiling at her, surrounded by his gang. They were sexy in their own way, all leather and muscles, so of course Vange made them feel welcome.
“Hi, I’m Vange, and this is Emily.”
Stuffing her phone back in her shorts pocket under her long skirts, Vange stood up and pulled Emily up.
Tattoo guy spoke for the group.
“They call me Dog, and this is my crew. We run the archery range.”
Vange put on the charm.
“Dog, eh? You look kind of like The Rock.”
Dog flexed his bicep with the dog tattoo on it.
“Heh, I get that all the time…”
Now that she had an eye for such things, Emily could see that Dog and his crew’s costumes, like hers and Vange’s, were period enough for working in a booth, but they weren’t good enough for belonging to a stage cast—such as the Scots, the peasants, the nobles, or the mongers.
Nope, Dog and his ‘crew’ looked like what they were: a motorcycle gang dressed up as 16th century archers. They looked friendly, though.
Dall’s voice came from behind her. “Are ye lasses ready tae come sup with us?”
Emily jumped up, but what she saw made her pause a moment.
Ian had a restraining hand on Dall’s shoulder and was looking at the bikers.
But Dall’s posture was relaxed, his smile amused, his hands far from his claymore.
Emily gave Dog and his crew a brief smile. “It was nice meeting you. I’m sure we’ll see you around.”
“I’m sure you will,” Dog said, smiling back at her a little longer than she was comfortable with. It wasn’t a leer, though, just a friendly smile, so she didn’t say anything.
Emily made her way over to the arm Dall held out for her and took it happily, reveling in the now-familiar butterflies his touch gave her. But Dog had made her too self-conscious to lose herself in Dall’s eyes, which was what she wanted to do. She told herself they would be in a more private setting soon enough, and that she would get her chance.
To her surprise, Dall and Ian took her and Vange under the burlap behind the booth, instead of down the street. Oh yeah. The faire was shaped like a big donut, and the hidden center ‘backstage’ area was right here. She felt silly for being surprised, but it turned out she wasn’t the only one.
Vange laughed. “Ha. I forgot backstage was right here, heh.”
Ian was nice about it. “Yeah, while the faire is open, we only come back here through the stages. It keeps up the illusion of the English village, because people are used to seeing actors go behind stages. But after hours we go right through the fake buildings.”
Emily started to feel disappointed about the break in the illusion of the fake English village, but then she was distracted. Everyone was rushing straight through the backstage area to crowd onto the straw bales in front of one of the larger stages, which were visible now from the center of the donut, thanks to the burlap being lifted pretty much constantly. She saw why. Going through the backstage area would be much faster than walking all the way around the donut shape of the faire street.
“What’s going on over there?”
“That’s our dinner show,” Ian explained. “Opening Saturday only, everyone does night versions of their day plays. Short Shakespeare is doing their night-show right there. I’m so excited for it. Come on. We’d better grab our food and get over there before we have to stand while we watch it.”
The night-show was even funnier than the day version. Romeo and Juliet referenced movies and TV shows, texted each other, played jump rope, and pretty much threw the period out the window—along with any residual reverence for The Bard that the Short Shakespeare acting troupe might have harbored.
Thanks to his being good friends with pretty much everyone, Ian had managed to find the four of them seats on the crowded straw bales up front. Emily liked this for two reasons—and being up close to the action of the play was a distant second reason.
She and Dall were crowded so close to each other, their thighs actually were touching this time, albeit through two long peasant skirts and the thick wool pleats of a great kilt. As always, he was a perfect gentleman, but just that contact alone had all her nerve endings humming. Even better, though, the crowd was so distracted by the performance on the stage that no one noticed the two of them getting lost in each other’s eyes whenever they turned to each other in reaction to something funny, which was often.
“Aren’t you guys going to eat your sandwiches?” Ian said.
“I get yours if you don’t start eating it in the next ten seconds,” Vange chimed in.
Well, almost no one noticed, but Emily didn’t care. She was having the time of her life. Just by being with her, Dall made her feel amazing: light and a little dizzy, and happy. In the back of her mind, she knew that was just chemistry, but mostly she just enjoyed it.
Emily hadn’t noticed Siobhan there before, but when the night-show was over, Ian and Dall’s cast-mate approached them, or rather, Hailey did. She had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and wasn’t wearing her hat, which Emily figured explained why she hadn’t realized the woman was there before. Now that she saw her in street clothes, she figured Siobhan / Hailey was about 30, which was seven years older than her and Vange.
Siobhan was saying, “Emily, Vange, congratulations on getting passes. You know, you don’t have to drive all the way home tonight just to drive back again in the morning so you can hawk for Simon. Stay here, with me. I have plenty of room in my trailer. In fact, let’s go there now so you can hang up your peasant clothes to air out so they won’t itch tomorrow. I have hoodies you can borrow too, because it gets a little chilly out here at night. Dall and Ian can come get you in a little bit. You won’t miss any of the night-shows.”
Siobhan’s offer was too good to pass up gracefully. Emily wanted to stay right here with Dall all night under the stars, lost in each other’s eyes until they succumbed to sleep, but she wasn’t bold enough to say so.
“This isn’t a trailer, it’s a mobile home,” Vange said when Siobhan took them to it.
Yeah, it is. Wow.
“Heh. Hardly,” said Siobhan. “I only have the one bedroom. You and Emily will have to sleep on the couches.”
Once the two of them were inside, but before Siobhan came in, Vange elbowed Emily. “OK Em, I know you would rather be in Dall’s tent, but you have to admit it’s nice not having to go outside to get to the bathroom.”
Unable to deny anything her friend had said, Emily just shrugged and nodded.
“You’ll stay with me for the run of the faire: at least Saturday nights, and Friday nights, too, if you want to avoid getting up early to drive out here Saturday mornings,” Siobhan said as if she were Mary Poppins and the two of them were little kids—complete with little hugs for both of them, one in each arm.
Emily wrinkled her brow at Vange behind Siobhan’s back, trying to say, “Who does she think she is, bossing us around?”
Vange gave her that knowing look again.
Emily shrugged again, but she felt like
something odd was going on.
Why is Siobhan so intent on us staying with her? We’re practically strangers.
Twenty minutes later, their costumes were hung up, they were back in shorts and T-shirts under some of Siobhan’s hoodies, the couches were made up for them to sleep on, and they had both called their parents to explain they wouldn’t be home that night.
There was a knock on the trailer door.
Siobhan called out, “Come on in, guys.”
Ian had changed into jeans and sneakers, but Emily wasn’t surprised to see Dall still wearing his great kilt and boots. He did have a matching cloak with him now, though.
Dall was eyeing her bare legs and smiling.
Emily was shy when it came to speaking her mind, but acting was her specialty, after all. She struck a few leg-model poses for Dall, up on tip-toes with one leg bent.
He turned beet red.
This was fun.
She posed some more.
“Hae a care, lass, or I canna promise tae keep control o’ myself,” he said with a kind smile.
She had only known him 12 hours now, but Emily’s gut told her this highlander was the real deal, a true gentleman. His sexy accent didn’t hurt. She kept saying things to him just to get him to talk so she could hear it.
“I can tell that you have good control of yourself. It’s one of the things I admire about you.”
What? How had she allowed herself to say that?
“Och, nae I must needs tell ye what I admire, lass.” He took both of her hands. “Ye think tae play a part. Howsoever, you are the most genuine lass I hae e’er met. I ken what ye are thinking by the look in yer eyes. Indeed, yer eyes tell me more than anyone else’s words e’er said.”
Emily’s eyes teared up, his speech was so moving.
He dried them with his thumbs and looked at her with such admiration, she had to draw several deep breaths before she had enough of that control she so admired in him.
Siobhan helped. “You kids better get going if you want to catch the rest of the night-shows. They’re tonight only.” She kind of shoved them out of her trailer, and Emily was grateful.
Ian and Vange stayed with her and Dall the whole evening, but Emily only had eyes for Dall. It seemed he only had eyes for her, too. She didn’t get hung up on what she had done to deserve him or why he picked her out of all the much finer-looking women at the faire. She tried to stay 100% in the moment and to relish each and every second. She figured she would have plenty of time to second guess herself about it later, when she was alone in her room at her parents’ house. He was here with her right now, and she was going to be all here with him.
She walked from night-show to night-show on Dall’s arm.
Each time they arrived at their straw bale, he spread out his cloak for her to sit on so her legs wouldn’t get scratched up. He was still wearing his cloak, for the warmth.
So this meant she sat next to him with their thighs pressed together.
Every time they laughed, they looked at each other and laughed together.
It was the best Saturday night ever.
Vange and Emily figured Siobhan had saved them ten dollars per weekend in gas money. The next morning, they tried to give that to her as a hostess gift, but she refused it.
“I tell you what, though,” Siobhan said, “I will take that money toward serving you hot breakfasts here in the trailer instead of you always eating cold sandwiches from Dall’s cooler.”
They were about to refuse.
She added, “And Dall and Ian are welcome to eat breakfast with us here, of course. Let’s start now.” When the two of them smiled, she whipped out her phone. To Emily’s disappointment, she called Ian. Of course Dall really didn’t have a phone, though, just like he didn’t have jeans or sneakers, his own tent—or any money.
Hoping and praying Dall was just a time traveler and not a deadbeat, Emily checked the charge on her own phone. Almost dead.
Siobhan saw her checking it. “I was just getting to how you can keep your phones charged up the second day of each weekend. Here’s a solar charger for each of you. I filled them from a wall outlet at home Friday, so they should be ready to go, but put them in the sun whenever you can. Your phone draws on them faster than the sun fills them up, so always keep the charger as full of sunlight as you can, and only plug your phone in when it’s charging.”
Emily took the shiny plastic thing and stared. It was the same size as her phone and looked multicolored when she wiggled it under the dining room light. She’d had no idea such a thing existed. This would give her access to all the files she stored on her phone no matter where in the world—or where in time—she went. She would always be able to access the complete works of Shakespeare. And her first-aid textbook. And… She looked up, meaning to give a vigorous thank you, but Siobhan was halfway into the bathroom.
“Get dressed, ladies,” their hostess called out.
After they donned their costumes, Vange and Emily helped Siobhan prepare Denver omelets, Coffee, hash browns, and freshly squeezed orange juice. When the guys arrived, they all sat down together. While she was helping dish up plates, Dall took the seat closest to Emily and sat there smiling at her. She sat down next to him. The guys ate three times as much as the women and made satisfied grunting noises.
They all helped Siobhan clean up, and she made it clear they were to come here every faire morning for breakfast, then helped the guys walk Vange and Emily to Simon’s booth. It was now a given that Emily held Dall’s arm while they walked.
It was new when Dall lifted Emily’s hand to his lips and kissed it.
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she actually swooned at that.
Still holding her hand, he was saying, “We’ll come for you in two hours, when it be time for the clan dance. I’ve made you my partner now, lass, and I do not wish to do the dances with you not by my side.”
She was thinking yeah, and after that I’m going to get you alone awhile so I can ask you a few questions.
Out loud, Emily just said, “I’ll be looking forward to it.”
She and Vange were stowing their sneakers, T-shirts, and phones in the covered bench and hiding the solar chargers in the sun when they heard a parade coming. Sadly, there were no bagpipes this time.
Emily looked up. This time, it was the English peasants parading. Now she could hear them singing:
Awake, awake,
The day doth break.
Good craftsmen, open your stalls.
Alight, alight,
Shake off the night.
The faire is open to all.
As the peasants approached, Emily got a good look at their costumes. She saw several things about theirs that she wouldn’t be able to change about hers: leather bodices looked really cool, it was best to use drastically different fabric for each piece, and of course, the older and more weather-beaten it was, the more period a peasant costume looked.
But she did notice a few things she planned to implement. They all wore old leather belts which passed through and thus held pouches of various shapes and sizes—almost like Batman’s belt. Their belts also held objects that dangled from leather cords: wooden spoons and bowls, sheathed eating knives, small musical instruments, and profession markers such as spindles and wooden washboards. Also, all the women hid their hair, either inside muffin caps or inside snoods under their hats. Emily made note of this, just in case.
“Those who don’t have five years to allow their clothing to become weather-beaten soak it in an infusion of black tea for that period look.”
Emily jumped and let out a little squeal. “Eek.”
The voice had been right in her ear, and she hadn’t seen the speaker coming. She saw now that it belonged to a sun-darkened older man wearing one of the druids’ homespun linen robes, with a flower garland on his head like a hat.
“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to startle you, just to avoid embarrassing you by allowing anyone to overhear my advice. I’m Aiden.” He h
eld out his hand.
Haltingly, she took it. “I’m Emily, and your advice wasn’t embarrassing. Thank you for it. I think it will help.” She looked back at the peasants, who were now parading by, singing and beating drums and playing wooden flutes.
Right in her ear, Aiden hissed, “I’m certain the black tea will help, but here’s my advice: you won’t get much time alone with him. We cannot allow it. But learn as much about him and his home life as you can.”
When Emily turned to confront him about his advice, the man was gone.
Emily was all aflutter as usual with her hand on Dall’s arm as they paraded to the stage where the Scots danced. Knowing what to expect didn’t diminish that at all. She smiled at the plan she had for finding out about Dall.
Just like the day before, they paraded up onto the stage, smiling at their audience of hundreds and clapping to the bagpipe music while three women did that skipping dance. Once more, Dall took her hand and pulled her into set dance after set dance that reminded her of square dancing in fourth grade PE class.
But instead of whispering with Vange whenever the two of them turned, Emily whispered a question to Dall whenever the dance brought the two of them together.
It was the perfect opportunity.
No one can overhear anything over bagpipes.
Dall smiled and treated it as the game it was—and the next time the dance brought them together, he answered each question.
“So who do you live with, over there in Scotland?”
“I live with my clan, o’ course.”
The set circled.
“Who all is in your clan?”
Dall’s eyebrows scrunched up.
Their corners turned them.
“Who shares your hearth?”
“Och, lass. Dae ye ask if I am marrit?”
Their opposites stepped up to greet them.
