by Angie West
***
“Hush now, I think she’s waking up.”
“Well, I dare say, it’s about time.”
The voice broke through my subconscious. I opened my eyes to find my new uncle and a man in a brown tweed coat peering at me with hopeful anticipation.
“Uncle?” I made a face when I heard the sound of my own voice. Hoarse did not even begin to describe how terrible I sounded.
“Here, drink this. Sip it slowly, now,” the man in the coat cautioned.
My uncle helped me into a sitting position while the other man held a cool glass to my dry lips. I tried to raise my hands to take the glass, but it just wasn’t happening. I gave up and accepted the help. The cool water felt good, although my voice still sounded raw.
“I’m sorry I threw up in your carriage.”
“Don’t you worry about that, child.”
“I think the nap helped. I’m hungry, though, if it’s not too much trouble…”
“She can eat some soup today. Make sure she takes it slow, and remember to keep up on her pain medicine, at least for today. Giver her one pill every four hours,” the doctor instructed my uncle before turning to me. “If you wait until you have a headache to take it, you’ll be in pain a lot longer than you have to be.”
“I will make sure she takes her pill. Thanks for coming out, Todd.”
“Anytime, Bob.” He smiled at my uncle, whose name was Bob, apparently, and turned back to me again. “This probably goes without saying, but you’re going to be weak today.” He checked his wristwatch. “It’s four o’clock in the afternoon right now. Rest and stay in bed for the night. Have a good breakfast in the morning, and you can walk around a bit after.”
“Will do,” I promised.
“Call me if you have any problem.” He took his leave and Uncle Bob reappeared in the doorway, carrying a tray.
“Here, let’s get you propped up, Annabelle.”
“Thanks. I’m so weak; I can hardly move a muscle. That must have been some nap—I feel like I slept for hours. Was that the doctor?”
“Yes, love, that was the doctor. And yes, that was some nap. You’ve been asleep for three days.”
“Three days! Ouch!” Yelling was still a bad idea.
“Hush now and be careful of your head.”
“Well, am I going to live?” I was only half joking.
“You most certainly are going to live. You have a concussion. You’ve also got several bruises on your face and a rather nasty bump on your forehead. You had a small cut on the back of your head, too. It was dirty and the doctor thought infection might set in, so he gave you a shot three days ago.”
“An antibiotic?”
“Yes.”
Interesting, I thought, taking another bite of the chicken soup. I could tell it was homemade, and I eyed the old man in front of me with renewed interest.
“This is very good.”
“Marta will be pleased to hear that.”
“I thought that perhaps you made it,” I confessed.
“Me? Oh, no I am not much good in the kitchen, dear. Although, I don’t recall ever being in a kitchen…”
I laughed. “Maybe you should try it sometime.”
“Maybe so,” he hedged.
“Is Marta your wife?” I asked, then wished I could kick myself. Marta was probably someone I—Annabelle—should know.
“No. My wife, rest her soul, has been gone for nearly twenty years. Marta is my housekeeper.”
“Oh, I am so sorry.”
“You don’t remember Marta?”
“Um—well, I remember a woman, you see, so I just assumed.”
“No, it’s okay, dear. The doctor said you might have some memory loss for a while.”
Actually, my memory was just fine, but I was not about to tell Bob that.
“Um, I’m sorry about your wife.”
“Yes, although I guess I wasn’t surprised. I think I always knew she had it in her.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, to tell you the truth, my son—he doesn’t much favor me. Looks more like his mama, and I have always wondered.”
“Okay. Wait,” I interrupted. “What are you talking about?”
“My wife’s affairs; what are you talking about?”
“I was talking about her death,” I answered slowly, thoroughly confused.
Bob’s laugh rang out and he had to catch his breath before he spoke again.
“Oh, merciful child, she’s not dead. She ran off with an insurance salesman that came to our door one afternoon.”
“Oh. Well…I am sorry to hear that.” I could feel my face heat up.
“Then again, I suppose that might not be true.”
“She didn’t run off?”
“Oh, no, she ran off all right. But she might be dead by now, come to think of it.”
I accepted another bite of soup and glared at him.
“Well, she could be,” he said innocently. “I haven’t seen her in twenty years.”
“Right; so about Marta?”
“Marta was originally my nanny. Came to work for me a few months after Pam took off. Your cousin was eight years old.”
“How is he?” I hoped that I had guessed correctly.
“Oh, he’s fine; just fine. Went away to school around the same time you disappeared.”
I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to respond to that. But since I seemed to be on a roll, I decided now was as good a time as any to fish for a little more information. “How is my mother…?” I asked hesitantly. I was taking a huge chance by mentioning a relative I knew absolutely nothing about, but if I had any hope of pulling off this whole Annabelle thing, I had to do it right. And Bob would undoubtedly think it was unusual if I didn’t ask about my—Annabelle’s—mother. I only hoped she wasn’t dead… Although, if she was, I could probably blame it on my ’temporary amnesia.’
“Fine, love, she’s just fine. She’s up north for the season—you know how she loves the snow. She’ll be beside herself when she finds out you’ve finally come home.” He beamed.
“Yes, I suppose…” Now that we were talking, I hoped he wouldn’t question my ‘disappearance.’ He did, a second later.
“If you aren’t up to it, just tell me, but I wanted to know—”
“Where I have been?” I supplied helpfully.
“Yes.”
“Oh, but it’s such a long story, Uncle Bob.”
He brightened at that. “So you do remember?”
Damn. “Well, yes.” I wet my lips. “It’s a long story you see.”
“Yes, dear, you said that already.”
“Yes. Yes, I did. Well, I…I don’t know where to start.”
“Did it have anything to do with that boy?”
“Boy?”
“I suspected back then that you were secretly seeing a boy. I could never prove it, but these past few days, you’ve been talking in your sleep.”
Oh, this ought to be good, I thought.
“Did I? What did I say?”
“Most of it made no sense.”
“I bet,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.” I coughed. “You were saying?”
“You called for someone named ‘Mike’ quite a few times. Was he important?”
“Yes, very much so,” I said softly.
“Your boyfriend, then?”
“Yes,” I lied. “We, um, we ran away together—seven years ago. We were going to get married, but he…he left me.”
“You were going to get married without your dear old uncle Bob?” he bellowed. “Why, I won’t hear of it.”
“No, of course I wouldn’t,” I reassured him. “He left me once we got to Coztal, anyway.”
“More fool he, I say.”
“Thanks. So…”
“But that still doesn’t explain where you’ve been all this time.”
“I joined a…band of gypsies.”
“Gypsies?”
/> “Yes, the gypsies. I’ve just been roaming around until now.”
“With men?” he demanded.
“No, no, they were all women,” I said, thinking of the sprites and the rainforest nymphs.
“Well, okay then.”
“We were captured four days ago by the guards in a rainforest east of Lerna. At least, two of us were.”
“Oh, Annabelle, what did they do to you?”
“I helped the other woman escape,” I said matter of factly. “They were not happy about it.”
Bob sniffed a little as he studied my battered face.
“Well, child, was it worth it?”
I touched the lump on my head and considered that for a moment.
“Yes,” I finally replied with a smile. “It was. She was worth it.”
