by Jane Stain
She let him do that.
Another thing was bothering Vange, too. Emily’s parents had given them a check as an advance on the antiques they would sell in their store. Her dad had cashed it for them while she and Peadar spent as much time as possible with the boys before they left.
And Dad had handed the cash VISA card to Peadar.
So it was Peadar who paid whenever they ate and for the motel.
Why did Dad do that? I’m perfectly capable of handling money. It’s just one more thing that makes me feel like I’m all alone with no one to trust.
Well, I can trust Mom.
And Emily. I think.
Throughout their journey though, Peadar was loving, kind, considerate, and respectful.
So why does he have to be so pig-headed?
Once they arrived in Australia, they took first a cab and then a bus, rented a big SUV, checked into another motel for a week, slept one night there, donned their 16th century clothes again, left most of their luggage at the motel, and drove half an hour to a lovely spot out in the wilderness.
At last, they had arrived at the renaissance faire.
There it was, a reconstructed English village surrounded first by a burlap wall and then by parking lots on all but one side, which was a thick forest. It was made from a different set of props than Emily’s troupe of druids used in the US, but very similar.
It was summer here, on the Friday of a four-day weekend. They had to leave Monday right after the faire closed, in order to make their flight home. Vange’s parents could only afford to watch the kids for a week.
Vange was glad to let Peadar be the one seen buying their tickets. It felt weird, paying to get in. The last fifty times she’d been to renfaire, she’d had a gate pass and been one of the insiders.
But as soon as the two of them entered in through the gate, she felt at home. She found that she was smiling in spite of the curse and all her frustration with Peadar and his silly word.
And then she heard a chorus of strangers’ voices.
“Nice garb.”
“Wow, yeah, you look great.”
“Did you buy that here or did you make it yourselves?”
“Aren’t you hot, though?”
Vange turned around to find a clump of fake Scots.
They were trying to look authentic. A little. Their kilts were pure wool and their leine shirts were pure linen, even if it was all machine made rather than homespun. But one wore plastic glasses, another was smoking a cigarette, all the women wore makeup, and of course most of them had on impossibly colorful boots from Simon’s booth—like Vange’s own.
She smiled for a second, thinking she might run into Simon while she was there.
Well, there was one authentic-looking Scot there, but he ruined the effect when he jokingly joined in on the compliments, saying things they had all heard a thousand times from the customers at the faire.
“Yeah, aren’t you hot? Did you make that yourself? Are you the queen?”
Vange ran to the man and gave him a big hug.
“Ian.”
He hugged her back.
“Vange. OK, before this gets awkward, is that Peadar? And I see you’re wearing matching plaid. Congratulations, Mrs. MacGregor.”
Vange felt herself smiling big. It was the first time she’d been called by her true married name, and despite things being frosty right now between her and her husband, she found that she liked the way it sounded.
Ian broke away from her and reached out to clasp forearms with Peadar.
Her husband met her eyes over Ian’s shoulder and gave her a look that said, “Do you trust Ian?”
Abruptly, Vange grew sad and realized that no, she didn’t trust Ian. They didn’t dare share their plans with him. For all they knew, he was a druid himself by now.
She shook her head ever so slightly ‘no’.
Still looking at her over Ian’s shoulder, Peadar made a grim expression of acknowledgement.
That whole exchange had lasted barely a few seconds, and then Ian released Peadar’s arm.
“It’s great to see you both. Are you here for the whole long weekend? Come on over to Celt Camp and hang out with us. If money’s tight, I can see about getting your tickets refunded and getting you gate passes.”
Vange noted with amusement that the fake Scots who had admired her garb were with Ian, and they were now looking at her and Peadar with even more admiration.
How far I’ve come up in the world of the faire folk in two years. But at what cost?
Out loud, she kept the conversation light and superficial.
“Celt Camp?”
“Heh heh.” Ian laughed. “That’s right, this started after your time. Yeah, that’s what we call the permanent setting the Scots guild has now at faire. It’s really cool. You have to come see it.”
While he was talking, Vange moved close to Peadar.
He put his arm around her waist.
It was comforting, and she felt safe.
She was still mad at him for being so stubborn, but his query about Ian had made her remember that she was far from home again. And that until she found Emily, her husband was the only person she could trust—on this whole unfamiliar continent.
Peadar lightly patted her on the back once Ian finished his spiel, so Vange knew he wanted her to accept the man’s invitation.
She agreed they should accept.
It may be our only hope of getting close enough to Emily to talk to her. They probably have her and her children caged up in this Celt Camp.
Vange smiled at Ian and put on her faire accent, which she wasn’t surprised to hear come out sounding more Irish than Scottish.
“Aye, pray do show the way. Tis eager we are to see the new Celt Camp.”
Ian raised his eyebrows at her Irish lilt.
She just smiled sweetly and shrugged.
So Ian led the way.
They all formed a procession behind him in twos to trudge through the mongers shouting out they had fresh fish for sale and to tiptoe past the fire eaters and the sword swallowers. To stop and share a kiss on the kissing bridge—which Vange found she enjoyed even through her anger at Peadar. And to pass the booths of all the vendors, including Simon, who saw Vange and waved.
All along the way, Vange was planning how to get Emily alone to talk. She was sure she could. Casually so as to not raise suspicion, she asked Ian questions that she hoped would help her plan.
“So is this a castle setting, like we had for the old clan meetings in front of the public?”
Ian seemed like he was still a nice guy and not a druid. He turned his head and showed her a friendly expression as he answered each of her questions.
“Nay, it is a traveling clan village, much like the whole faire is an English village.”
That was amusing.
But Vange kept her mind on her goal. She was proud of herself. A dozen jokes came to mind at every one of Ian’s answers. It was tempting to try and entertain all their followers and make herself popular with them.
But rather than do that and satisfy her mischievous curiosity by asking why a whole highlands clan would be traveling through an English village, she stuck to questions about the cage she had to get Emily out of.
“But there’s something going on, right? Something like the clan chief judging disputes like it was on the castle set?”
Ian nodded.
“Oh, aye. The clan chief and his wife sit in state in our camp. They hear disputes and are the main focus of entertainments. We do all those inside our area now by the way, the Scottish dancing, the weapons demonstrations and such, and we even cook period food for our clan there now.”
“Cool.”
That should work out well for her plan. If there was a lot going on, then she should be able to grab Emily’s hand and excuse the two of them to the privies for a few minutes, at least. And then she and Emily would make plans to be alone later.
The four of them would figure out how to get thei
r kids and Dall out of the worst parts of the druid-MacGregor curse:
-The uncertainty of never knowing when they would be asked to do what
-That bit about not remembering travel to another time unless they were married.
Those poor working conditions had to go. They were unacceptable.
The procession of kilted Scots went along the dirt road through the faire to the edge of the English village.
And there lay Celt Camp.
A dozen large undyed canvas tents stood amid a hundred clan banners that flapped satisfactorily in the wind. The tents were in a half circle, and fifty Scots were gathered in the center. Most were dancing to the bagpipe music.
Vange was surprised how big the camp was. It was set up with its long side against the outer edge of the circular faire road, between it and the forest.
As Vange walked arm in arm with kilted Peadar down the hill to the camp looking for Emily, she saw there was a blacksmith shop in one tent, a leatherworking one in the next, a tent full of looms where women wove the clan plaid…
Where is Emily?
First she looked among the dancers.
Surprisingly, her friend wasn’t there.
Next, she scoured the people sitting off to the side.
Nope.
Out of curiosity, she looked in the clan chief’s chair to see who the unfortunate soul was who had to be the center of attention all the time. And she gasped. The kilted clan chief was Dall. And his dutiful wife Emily sat by his side.
“Surprise,” said Ian, presumably having heard her gasp.
Vange was at a loss for words, and she felt wary somehow of entering the camp, so she kept quiet and stood there holding Peadar in the road while the others all entered the camp and sat down on the handmade wooden furniture.
Ian stayed back with them. He was talking to her.
“Yeah, it’s amazing how fast Dall and Emily rose up in the ranks, but not really since they’re on staff and all. Still, at every site the locals are a bit put off at first, with such new people getting to be in charge…”
But instead of reacting to Ian, Vange caught Emily’s eye and waved.
Emily smiled at her.
Vange waited for her best friend to gesture her over for a hug—or really, to get up and squeal about how glad she was to see her.
But it didn’t happen.
That’s it?
I disappear for two years and all you can give me is a smile, Em?
OK, this is not the real you. You’re magically sedated or something. Arrrgg. This is going to be even harder than I thought.
The clan watched the dancers and clapped.
Vange clapped, but she only had eyes for Emily, except to notice that Peadar was staring at Dall in equal frustration.
In fact, Peadar moved to charge on up there.
Vange almost didn’t stop him. She kind of liked the idea of him going savage on Siobhan. It would serve her right. Almost. At the last second, she squeezed his waist and whispered in his ear.
“If we make a scene, the druids will just kick us out of here and never let us near your da or Emily again. We have to fight them … politely.”
Peadar clenched his fists, but he nodded and stayed with her.
She whispered to him some more.
“Besides, I feel … uneasy about entering this camp. Something about it isn’t right. Look at your da and Emily. They should be running over to see us. Druid magic is at work here, altering their moods.”
Ian seemed oblivious to Peadar’s urge to run up to his father and to Vange whispering in Peadar’s ear. The fact was, the man wasn’t very quick on the uptake.
Was I really interested in Ian, back when we first met? He’s so immature. So clueless to what other people are going through.
Please tell me I wasn’t that bad myself.
Was I?
The handsome young Ian stood by them the while, clapping and watching the dancers—and yammering on about Dall and Emily’s new place in the Scottish acting troupe at the faire.
“…Most of the locals have been in the guild longer than Dall, and some of them were in it before he was born, let alone before Emily was. Heh. But the two of them have this way about them, and everyone has come around to seeing them as the good leaders they are. Yeah, they make really good clan leaders. There was this one time…”
While he talked, Vange looked around for Siobhan.
She hadn’t seen her in any of the places she’d looked for Emily, but Vange knew a druid must be nearby. That was the only way to explain Emily’s lack of enthusiasm at seeing her best friend after two years of no contact. And Dall’s lack of the same at seeing his son.
Aha.
After all of Aideen’s humming, I should have known to look for Siobhan among the musicians. These druids think they’re so slick.
And I guess they are.
But we need to be slicker. We need to stand up for ourselves.
Vange nudged Peadar.
When he looked at her, she tilted her head toward the musicians and gestured like she was playing Siobhan’s wooden flute.
Good, Peadar recognizes the druid woman.
Vange whispered to him.
“As soon as the music stops, I’m going to run over and distract Siobhan. Go greet Dall as a relative and invite him and his wife out with us this evening, loud enough that people hear you.”
Peadar pulled her in for a kiss.
She kissed him back and felt herself reacting to him more than she’d planned to.
Whoa. What was that? Why am I so eager to kiss him even when I’m mad at the man?
But in her ear, he breathily supplied the answer for her.
“We make a good team, my love.”
Their eyes met, and Vange knew he was right. He had hit on exactly the reason she was responding to him as she was. She really enjoyed being on an adventure with him. Solving problems together. She went to kiss him again.
But just then, the music stopped.
Vange squeezed Peadar’s hand, let go, and went running into the camp waving both arms over her head and flapping her droopy leine sleeves like wings.
“Siobhan. Siobhan.”
The druid turned and caught Vange’s eye. She recovered quickly, but Vange could tell the woman was angry she had been interrupted. Vange could briefly see it in her eyes.
Good. Let’s hope Dall comes to his senses enough to make dinner plans with his own son. But I don’t dare look over there to see. Siobhan would notice that for sure.
I know what I’ll do.
Vange ran up and hugged the druid like the long lost friend she should have been.
Siobhan froze at first, but then she hugged Vange back.
“Vange. What a surprise to see you here.”
I’ll bet it is. You thought I would be in Ireland for another ten or even twenty years, huh? Raising a dozen children?
But Vange smiled sweetly at the druid.
“Siobhan. Peadar and I are just here for the long weekend, but Ian says we can get gate passes. Can we?”
Siobhan cocked her head sideways in a sort of disapproval, as if she were older and wiser.
“Well this was a long trip for you, just for the long weekend.”
Heck yeah we made the long trip home to the 21st Century.
No thanks to you.
That was what Vange wanted to say, but she noticed that the local clan members were watching the conversation with interest. No way did she want the locals to know time travel was real. They would worship the druids. So Vange said what she needed to say in a way that only Siobhan would understand.
“Yeah, it was a long trip, but we just had to see all of our old friends from two years ago.”
Siobhan got the message. She looked over to see Peadar and Dall arm in arm and Emily running toward Vange.
“Ian.” the druid called out.
Ian started running over.
He’s so under their spell, and he doesn’t even know it. At least Em
ily knows she is.
Siobhan looked like she wanted to interfere before Emily got to Vange, but she looked over at the straw bales where the clan’s audience sat, on a hillside across the dirt road.
Vange looked over there too.
Good. Siobhan knows she needs to do something or the clan will lose their audience because of all of this down time. Heh. So what? But she’s a control freak. She won’t be able to stop herself from taking charge, now that Dall and Emily are distracted.
Ian arrived before Emily did.
Siobhan ordered him.
“Go ahead and get Vange and Peadar gate passes. They only need them for this weekend.”
“OK.”
Ian ran off.
But Siobhan wasn’t stupid. She raised her voice to project out to the clan and across the road to the dwindling audience.
“Let us have a weapons demonstration.”
Smart. The clan probably can’t do a weapons demo without Dall there to supervise them. Heh, but also not so smart. It doesn’t require Emily to be here, and she and I are the schemers in this family.
Emily slammed into Vange at full speed and hugged her so tight her bodice seemed loose. And Vange didn’t care. She hugged back just as hard.
Finally. Oh, I finally have my best friend back.
Emily was crying.
“Vange. Oh, I’m so sorry, Vange.”
Vange looked around at what was going on.
Thank you, Dall.
Her father-in-law was matching half the clan up into sparring pairs and encouraging the other half to all move over to one side of the area to give them some room.
In this chaos, Emily and I can escape for a few minutes. What’s Siobhan going to say, ‘No, you can’t go catch up for a few minutes with the best friend you haven’t seen in two years?’ She’d have no credible reason to say that. And we need to get out of here before she starts playing music again or humming or whatever, so that at least two of us are always free of that magic they have that lulls you into complacence.
Vange smiled at her best friend and nodded up the road.
“You’re forgiven. But they aren’t. Let’s go for a walk.”
For the audience of local clan members nearby, Vange made a show of unfastening Emily’s solar charger brooch and putting it in Dall’s special clan-chief chair. She commented on only one percent of the reason she had done so.
