Destiny Pills & Space Wizards

by Jean Davis

  LATE

  First published in Bards and Sages Quarterly 2015

  “Ma’am, there’s a most peculiar man here to see you. He calls himself Charming Eddie,” said Clyde.

  Juliet sipped her tea and checked the clock. George was an hour late. Again. His people kept him very busy. He claimed that being the mayor wasn’t an easy job, but in all the twenty-eight years they’d been married, she’d yet to see a single callous on his hands.

  “What does he want?” she asked Clyde.

  The man had been in George’s employ since before they'd married. His hair had gone white and his skin stretched thin, even more so than his lips, which were now downturned. “He's asking for you, Ma’am. He said to tell you that he’s sorry he’s late.”

  No one was missing from her list of husband-approved visitors for the day: the hair-dresser, the woman who brought vegetables from her garden once a week in return for leniency in regard to her troublesome son, and the two young girls who scrubbed her floors. George wouldn’t like this at all. “Tell him I’m busy.”

  Clyde steepled his fingers in front of his chest. “He’s rather insistent upon seeing you. Are you sure you’re not expecting anyone?”

  “I’m not.” Was this some sort of test George had roped Clyde into? “Why would I be? You know who is on my list.”

  “Very good, I’ll tell him to go away then.” He shuffled back toward the front of the house.

  Her stomach rumbled. Dinner wouldn’t be served until George came home. He was rather firm on that point. No matter that she was hungry, and he was late. She was to wait for him. That was toward the top of his long list of rules. As if she needed a list. Her mother never had to suffer a list from her father. Yet, she knew better than to tell George that. Handsome though he was, the man had a wicked temper.

  She set her empty teacup on the plate. If she couldn’t eat dinner, she might as well have a talk with this Eddie so she could enjoy some light refreshments. That would only be polite, after all. Maybe she’d finally have something of her own to talk about rather than suffering through every detail of George’s day for lack of anything interesting of her own to offer.

  “Wait,” she called out. “Send him in.”

  Clyde returned, his bushy white brows high on his wrinkled forehead. “Are you sure, ma’am?”

  “Yes, and bring us a plate and more tea.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He returned minutes later with a man only a few years his junior. “Ma’am, may I present Mr. Charming Eddie. He held out his hand to the man and then to her. “The lady Juliet.” He bowed himself out of the room.

  “Please, sir, have a seat.”

  He settled a red hat on his lap as he sat. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “Clyde should have taken that.” She nodded toward the hat. Perhaps the old man was finally slipping in his duties.

  “Oh, that’s all right. Don’t blame him. He’s a very fine servant. He tried. I insisted on keeping it.” He held up the hat. “It’s my magic hat.”

  It didn’t look very magical. While it was a bright cheerful red, the edges were worn and tattered and grime tinged the brim. A deep crease marred one side of it. “How, may I ask, is it magic?”

  He picked at the top, as if pulling off specks of lint would help spruce it up. “I bought it from a teller of fortunes when I was a young man.”

  “They’re rubbish, you know. A waste of money.”

  “My mother, rest her soul, said the same thing. She called me foolish for wasting all my coin on the teller's words and this hat.”

  Clyde stepped into the room quietly, sliding a plate of sweets and a fresh pot of tea on the table between her and Eddie. He stepped back and waited by the door, casting her look that declared he wasn’t leaving.

  “Please, help yourself,” she said, reaching for a lemon cake.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Eddie flashed a smile, revealing a missing bottom tooth. He snatched up a cake and finished it in two bites. “That was sweet, but not half as sweet as you that day.”

  The bite of lemon cake stuck in her throat. She coughed it out. When she’d set herself to rights she asked, “What day would that be?”

  “The day I bought my hat, your sixteenth birthday.”

  “How do you know when my birthday is...was?”

  “I was there. Well, I was supposed to be there.” He patted his hat. “It led me to you.”

  “The hat?”

  “Yes. As I said, it's magical.”

  Her gaze slipped to Clyde. He met it with the same skepticism she felt. “Uh huh.”

  “No really. I know it sounds silly, but it’s true.”

  “If you say so.” She'd stopped believing in magic long ago. Childhood bedtime stories were full of it, but she'd never seen any with her own eyes.

  He licked his lips and glanced around the room. She followed his gaze from the fine furniture to the paintings hanging on the walls and then to the silver pieces displayed on the side table that Clyde diligently polished every week. She’d never drunk from one of the silver goblets. Books from all over the world sat in a glass-fronted case. She’d never seen George read one and she wasn’t allowed to touch them. Finally, Eddie’s gaze came to rest on her, seated on her favorite settee, the only truly comfortable place to sit in the whole house, and she knew, she sat around every day waiting for George to come home, to say something nice, to pay attention to her.

  “You’ve done well for yourself,” he said. “Made your father proud with this match, I’m sure.”

  “You knew my father?” Unlike George, her father had worked hard every day. However, he’d never amassed anything close to the fortune he’d always dreamed of. He’d wanted more for her and had never been able to provide it. George had. He’d provided for her father too, until his death.

  “Only in passing. My own father spoke of him often. He was a good man.”

  “Thank you.” She watched the sun sink lower in the sky through the window. What would George say when he came home and found her with this man, eating sweets before dinner? She savored her cake, enjoying every second in case he should walk through the door and take them away. “And your father was...”

  “Big Albert. He felled timber all his long years until he was too feeble to raise his axe. He died shortly after. I buried it with him.”

  “I do remember him. A very big man, as I recall. A giant even.”

  He smiled. “He was.”

  Eddie had a strong jaw, a full head of hair, though it was completely white, and all his teeth but the one. His blue-grey eyes were clear and bright. She had to admit that he was a bit odd, but whether it was how he smiled when he looked at her, his manners and neat attire, or just the sound of his voice, she found herself at ease.

  “You were saying about the hat?”

  “Yes.” He sat up even straighter in his chair, both feet flat on the thick rug, arms woven protectively around his hat. “It was your birthday, you’d made a wish.”

  The teacup shook in her hands. She set it down before she spilled any on her silk skirt. George wouldn’t like that either.

  “I saw you at the inn. You were sitting with your father. I remember thinking that you looked rather sad but beautiful in your green dress. A friend elbowed me and said it had been your mother’s, that your father didn’t have enough money to buy you clothes of your own so you had to wear what she’d left behind when she ran off.”

  She hadn’t thought of her mother in decades, not since George had pulled her into his arms and whisked her away to his estate. She’d left her childhood town and memories behind to begin anew in the city.

  “You had a cake, much like one of those.” He pointed to the plate on the table. “There was a tiny candle in it and you blew it out and made a wish.”

  “How do you know I made a wish?"

  “I could see it on your face. You went from sad to hopeful, your eyes lit up and your face all but glowed. Your father said something and you laughed. I remember that bea
utiful sound to this day.” He smiled softly.

  Her heart sped up and she returned his smile.

  “You looked around the inn as if waiting for what you’d wished for to happen right then.”

  “It didn’t.”

  His shoulders sagged. “I’m sorry. You were so pretty in that dress. I didn’t care if it had belonged to your mother or not. I wanted to talk to you, to make you happy for the rest of your life like you were in that moment, but my friend made fun of me for staring at you. He dragged me out of the inn and teased me for hours for mooning over the fisherman’s daughter.” He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing up and down.

  “But I’d felt something in my chest when you blew out that candle."

  Truthfully, she had too, but when nothing had happened, she'd dismissed it as a stupid fantasy, the remnants of childhood, yearning for the magic of a birthday wish. She'd been too old for such nonsense then and she certainly was now. Yet, a purportedly magic hat sat in Eddie's lap right across from her and her heart beat faster at the thought of it being real.

  "Fearing I was being as foolish as my friend said I was, I went to the market and sought out the teller of fortunes. She told me that if I wanted to find the right woman for me, I had to buy a spell."

  The man might be charming, but he was foolish. She sipped her tea. "I suppose it was a love spell?"

  "No, a finding spell. She pulled this hat out of a chest, said some words I couldn't understand and muttered a few things I couldn't even hear. Then she set it upon my head, telling me it would lead me to the woman I was meant to be with."

  “And did it?”

  His earnest gaze held her. His eyes grew moist. “It led me to you.”

  Her voice shook, “But...”

  “You were in your father’s cart, heading home from the inn. I was wearing my hat, just waiting for something to happen. It fit perfectly, as if it had been made just for me, light as a feather, too."

  "Maybe that was the magic?"

  Eddie shook his head. "Everything was just a little brighter and clearer since she'd put the hat on my head. To be honest, it was very distracting, this magical sort of seeing. I searched the crowded streets for the right woman, as if the last rays of sunlight would shine down and point her out for me. I never noticed your cart until it was almost on top of me. In scrambling out of the way, my hat fell off and it went under your wheel.” His finger rubbed the crease on his hat.

  “That was you?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “My father tried to miss you. The cart ran into a barrel and then a street vendor stand and ended up sideways. I fell out.” She rubbed her arm, remembering the bruises and scrapes. The green dress had been ruined that day, the sleeve and skirt torn beyond repair.

  “My father broke his hand.” Try as she might, she couldn’t remember the face of the young man they’d been trying to avoid. It had all happened so fast.

  “Your horse stepped on my hat.” He rubbed the torn brim. “But it missed me.”

  “Were you hurt?”

  “Hit my face on the cobbles. Knocked out my tooth. That made a big bloody mess. Ruined my good shirt.” He shook his head. “My friend grabbed me off the street and hauled me out of the way while others raced over to help you and your father.” He shrugged. “Mostly bruised, that’s all.”

  “That was the day I met George,” she said. “He lifted me up from the street and carried me aside.”

  She’d relived that moment so many times over the years, remembering how her heart had fluttered at the sight of George rushing to her side. How his hand had caressed her cheek. How his deep voice and refined words had sent shivers through her. It was those few moments that sustained her as the hours dragged on each day.

  She cleared her throat. “Why didn’t you come over to us after the accident?”

  Eddie stared at the floor. “You were in the arms of a well-dressed, handsome man, your eyes all wide and face flushed. I came over, intent on apologizing, but he glared at me and told me to get lost. I went to retrieve my hat instead. A woman stood in the street, holding it, searching for its owner. She had a kind face, and when I claimed the hat, we got to talking. When I looked for you, you were gone.”

  “George insisted that we come to the home he was renting while conducting his business. He said he would get a healer for my father's hand and take care of us. We stayed the night and then the next and the next. Father’s hand never healed right and it bothered him endlessly. He couldn’t go back to work. George offered to marry me and my father approved. He sold our home and what little we had. We moved to George's family estate and I’ve been here ever since.”

  "So you got your birthday wish."

  She had wished for a handsome young man to take her away from a life of mending nets and selling fish. George had done that, but she couldn't bring herself to nod.

  “I married Marta,” he said. “The hat had led me to her like the fortune teller promised.”

  She found herself whispering as if sharing secrets with an old friend. “Was she the one?”

  “I thought so.”

  “But she wasn’t?” She held her breath, waiting.

  Eddie met her gaze again, so earnest, full of regret an longing. "Whenever the hat touched my head, I couldn't stand still. I had to walk, and after finding myself outside the village and far down the road several times, I wrapped it up in a cloth and buried it in the yard." His lips quivered. "I was married. I couldn't leave Marta, not because a magical hat told me I was wrong." He sighed. "It wasn't bad, not like this."

  He waved his hand around the room. "Once I'd buried the hat, we were happy for many years. Dear Marta, she died in childbirth, taking my son with her.”

  "I'm sorry to hear that." She'd never borne a child either, a fact George threw in her face whenever she dared whisper a complaint about his evening absences.

  He took a deep breath. "Alone again, I dug up the hat. The moment I put it on, I started walking. It had this pull to it, drawing me to you. Sadly, a man can't live just by walking. He needs to eat and drink and perhaps buy a new shirt and shoes now and then. Wouldn't do to show up on your doorstep as a naked beggar, now would it?" He winked.

  She caught a giggle behind her hand.

  "As the hat led me from province to province, village to city, to field and forest, I had to find work from time to time. I've been traveling for years, and when I finally came to this city's gates, I knew I'd found you."

  "How?"

  Eddie thumped his chest. "I felt it."

  She swallowed hard, heart racing. Was this what magic felt like? Was it the same thing he'd felt? "May I touch it? The hat?"

  He looked at the hat in his lap, running his hands over it. After a moment, he nodded, holding the hat out over the plate of cakes.

  Her fingers brushed the brim. A jolt ran through her hand, up her arm and throughout her entire body in a single second.

  Eddie gasped. His wide eyes met hers. "You felt that too?"

  She nodded, so giddy she didn't trust herself to speak. That was definitely magic at work. It was real.

  And if the spell on his hat was real, maybe what she'd felt when making that long ago birthday wish had been, too.

  He stared at the hat in his hand, and then finally set it down on the table, appearing utterly at ease even though it was no longer in his grasp. "I had to work for a while, earn enough to be presentable here. Your servant wouldn't have let me through the door otherwise. All the while, I'd been hoping to catch you out of the house. Would have saved us some time."

  “I’m not allowed out of the house."

  “It's a shame for a man to keep such beauty all for himself.”

  A giggle escaped her lips, and this time, she made no effort to hide it in spite of his foolish words. The mirror on her dressing table reminded her of her greying hair and sagging skin every morning.

  “You're too kind. I may have been beautiful once, but that was long ago.”

  “I beg to differ.”

 
Heat rushed over her face.

  Clyde loudly cleared his throat. No doubt he would report all of this to George whenever he finally deemed it time to come home. She struggled to compose herself.

  Eddie glanced at Clyde and then her for a long moment. She should tell him to leave, for both their sakes, but she didn’t want to. "But you found me here."

  He nodded. “After watching your house for weeks, it became clear that you never left it. I’ve watched your husband too, seeing where he goes and what he does before he comes home.”

  She knew well enough what he did when he was working late. One didn't come home smelling of wine and women from reading letters or meeting with citizens. She looked at the darkening sky.

  "He's at the inn, with a blonde on..."

  She held up her hand, shaking her head. She should be mad, fuming even, but tonight, for once, she wasn't. Tears came to her eyes, thinking of all the years she'd wasted within these walls.

  “Ma’am, this has gone on quite long enough.” Clyde inserted himself into their conversation. He approached Eddie. “You’ve upset the lady. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  Eddie stood. “I will not leave without Juliet.” He looked at her. “Unless she wants me to go?”

  "I most certainly do not." She rose to her feet. "I've been upset for far too long. I'm tired of it. I'm done."

  Clyde turned to her and scowled. “Ma’am, I will be relaying this conversation in its entirety to your husband.”

  Faint stars twinkled in the dimming sky. She took a deep breath and lifted her chin high. “Be sure not to leave anything out.”

  Eddie picked up his hat in one hand and held out the other. “Juliet?”

  She took his hand firmly in her own. They marched past Clyde.

  "I'm glad I finally found you," he said.

  "I'm glad you did too, even though you took an awfully long time about it."

  He squeezed her hand and grinned. "I promise I’ll make it up to you."

  “I see why they call you Charming Eddie.”

  Placing the red hat on his head, he led her out of the house and into the night air and they lived happily ever after.