by Holley Trent
“And when’s this working out thing supposed to start happening?”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Happens at a different time for everyone. I try not to know too much about folks’ business, just what I need to treat them.”
“Understood.”
“See you in four weeks, Miss Lady.”
“I take it I’ll still be here in four weeks, then?”
“Honey, I don’t know if you will or won’t be. I’m setting up the appointment anyway because that’s what responsible doctors do.” He pulled his hands from his pockets, opened the door a crack, and told her, “Get that prescription filled and try to get some lunch down. I want you to gain five pounds as soon as you can. Baby’s gonna need it.”
“I’ll try.”
He nodded and left.
Lora finished dressing and met Mrs. Callahan out in the waiting room where she was diligently knitting what appeared to be the longest scarf on the planet.
“How’d it go?” she asked cheerily. She looked up without dropping a single stitch.
“I’m…having a girl, apparently.”
“Mm-hmm. You told me that.”
“When?”
“When we brought you.”
“Why didn’t I put that in the note to myself?”
“Probably because it didn’t matter. Boy, girl, either way, the tot’s making you sick. Doc give you anything for that?”
Lora held up the prescription sheet.
“Oh, goodie.” Mrs. Callahan put rubber stoppers on the ends of her needles and shoved her work-in-progress into her tote bag. “So, we’ll swing by the pharmacy and get some lunch while we’re there. They have a cute little soda fountain, and they make the best grilled cheese in town. Do you think you like grilled cheese?”
“As far as I can tell, I’m not lactose intolerant.”
“Ooh! Then you can get some ice cream, too. Butter pecan, if they still have any. They get it from a dairy not too far from here. The recipe hasn’t changed much in sixty years.”
“Why fix what isn’t broken, hmm?”
“Exactly!”
They stepped out of the clinic’s back door, and Lora started moving toward Mrs. Callahan’s truck, but Mrs. Callahan hooked her arm and pulled her toward the corner of the building. “Come on. We can walk and save the gas needed to start up that old engine. Just a couple of blocks from here, and I’m sure there’s no parking in front of the pharmacy this time of day, anyway. Little old ladies around here like to park and never move. I wish someone would do something about that.” She let out a little growl.
Lora arched a brow and gave the former old west town a good once-over as she walked. Driving in from the farm, she hadn’t been paying much attention. Mostly, she’d had her eyes closed and was trying not to heave.
The place was small, but quaint. The whole downtown area was condensed into an area of just a few blocks long and wide. She could probably walk from one end of town to the other in under ten minutes if she’d been feeling good.
“How long have you been living here?” Lora asked the bubbly blonde lady.
“Oh, forever. I think at one point, we all thought we’d have to just give up and move somewhere else. Population was so low we could barely sustain the place.” Mrs. Callahan waved at the mail carrier as he passed.
“What happened?”
“Honey, folks just got old and died, and young folks who went to college didn’t come back because there weren’t any jobs here.”
“But it’s okay now, right?” Lora made a demonstrative sweep of her hand to indicate the not-quite-bustling environs. “The place isn’t dilapidated, and I see plenty of cars parked around.”
“Oh, yeah. We’re okay now, for the most part.” Mrs. Callahan paused them in front of a stone bench and pointed across the street. “That little shop right there—you see the one with the pink and white awning?”
“Yes?”
“That’s the coffee shop. Well, coffee shop and office supply store. Pretty much everyone around here does double duty. When you can stand the smell of coffee again, you can visit for one of those cappuccino things and some fun sticky notes!”
Lora snorted. “Okay. Maybe I will.”
The pharmacy’s door chimes clattered, sparking some distant—perhaps unimportant—memory that she couldn’t quite hold onto. It flitted away and any associations she might have had with it drifted back into the ether as the noise receded.
“The drug counter’s all the way at the back,” Mrs. Callahan said, guiding her down the aisle. “We’ll put in your prescriptions and eat while you’re waiting on them.” She called out, “Hiya, Fred!” to the pharmacist working behind the counter.
“Hey, Faye. Lose your pressure pills again?”
“Lord, no.” Mrs. Callahan—Faye, apparently—leaned against the counter as Fred walked around from behind the drug shelves. “The mister made me start keeping my pills in one of those little dispensers. You know, the ones that have the days of the week printed on them?”
“Yep. I sold it to him.”
“Oh.” Faye furrowed her brow. “Well. He hot-glued it to the bathroom counter, and I can’t hardly brush my teeth without bumping into it anymore. Never forget to take my pills, though.”
“And that’s all that matters.”
“Got some scripts for this young lady here.” Faye ferreted the prescription notes out of Lora’s hands. “Fred, this is Lora. Lora will be staying at the guest house for a little while.”
Fred’s mouth formed an O of recognition, and he pulled the slips closer to him. “Sure can’t keep an empty house, can you folks?”
Faye grimaced. “Not lately, but that’s okay. Least we can do, right?” To Lora, she said, “Remember what I was telling you about how darn near everyone had moved out of town? Well, Fred was one of the folks who came in.”
“What drew you here?” Lora asked.
Fred flicked at a corner of the stack of prescriptions and stared at some spot over Lora’s head. “Oh, you know. Seemed like a good opportunity.”
“Now, now.” Faye clucked her tongue. “Don’t be coy.”
“Ugh. Fine. Ended up here because I was running from something, and once the danger cleared, I figured I’d stay.”
“And there you have it,” Faye said. “I’d venture to guess that’s what a lot of folks who live here now would say.”
“So, they’re all like me?” Lora asked.
“More than seems fair, but no. Some ran for other reasons,” Faye said quietly. Then, to Fred, she said, “How long, do you think? We’re gonna get some lunch at the counter.”
Finally, Fred looked down at the slips and leafed through them. “Oh, won’t take long. These are easy. I guess the doc sent the insurance particulars over already so I wouldn’t have to ask. Ten or fifteen minutes at most. I’ve just got a couple of delivery orders to fill before Nell gets back to pick them up. Go have your lunch. They’ll be waiting for you by the time you’re done, I’m sure.”
“Thanks,” Lora managed to say before Faye pulled her away. Obviously, she was in a hot hurry to get herself a grilled cheese sandwich.
They climbed onto a pair of neighboring stools and waited for the lady behind the grill to shuffle over. There was an odd disconnect between her youthful face and the silver of her hair. Unless she had a colorist who dyed hair with magic rather than artificial pigments, the coloring was her own.
Magic…
Lora furrowed her brow and dragged her thumb against the ridged metal edge of the counter.
Something in the back of her mind had called out, “Yes! That!” when she’d thought of magic, but she had to be grasping at straws—looking for any explanation of what happened to her.
Lora must have been staring without realizing because the woman laughed as she shoved her hands into her apron pockets.
“Before you ask, it’s bad genes. My hair started going gray when I was nineteen. By the time I was twenty-five, I didn’t have a speck of brown left.”<
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“I didn’t mean to stare,” Lora said. “There was something…” Disconcerted, she squinted at her. “Have I seen you before? Have we met?”
The lady picked up a spatula and turned her back. “You’re new here, right? Why would you ask that?”
“I don’t know. I just had a strange déjà vu feeling, but more than that. Stronger than that.”
“Maybe it’s a side effect of the tea.”
“How do you know about the tea?”
She laughed and pulled a stack of bread slices down from the shelf. “All the newbies end up drinking the tea.”
“Oh? Have you?”
“Nope. What do you want on your sandwich?”
“You want ham, Lora?” Faye asked, tapping her arm. “I’m going to get ham and cheese this time, Shea. Miracle Whip, as always.”
“Ham’s fine,” Lora said.
She presumed ham was fine, anyway. For all she knew, she could have a multitude of food aversions she simply hadn’t experienced since waking up.
“How’s the mister?” Shea asked, back still turned.
“Oh, he’s all right,” Faye said. “Working hard as always.”
“When will I get a chance to meet him?” Lora asked. “Today?”
Faye grimaced. “Well, maybe not today or tomorrow, but soon.”
“I just want to ask him a few questions. Can I call him? He has to have a cell phone. I don’t see why he can’t just take a call while he’s out in the fields.”
“She’s stalling.” Shea carried the sandwiches to the grill press and set them atop the griddle. Giving Lora a pointed look, she said, “I don’t know why my mother and father do things the way they do them. Maybe they just like for folks to live with the mysteries for a while.” She shrugged.
Faye sighed.
“Just tell her, Mom.”
Shaking herself like a duck shedding water, Faye groaned. Then she turned to Lora and took off the reading glasses she’d put on to examine the back of a hot sauce bottle. “Okay. Sometimes the tea has side effects, and it takes a little while for them to pop up. Keeps us all safer if we wait out the first few days.”
Lora put her hands reflexively over her belly. “What kind of side effects?”
“Just some that tend to make people’s true natures clear.” Faye gave Lora what was probably meant to be a comforting pat on the shoulder, but she wasn’t feeling especially at ease. “I doubt you’ll have to worry about that, but some of the folks who are from where you are have experienced some unsettling reactions.”
“Do they know me?” Hope sprang eternal.
“No,” Shea said quietly.
Oh.
“Because they can’t remember?”
“No. Because they were gone before you got there.”
“Why don’t they go home? Why are you holding them here?”
“They’re here for the same reason you are,” Faye said. “They can go home, but they’re waiting to.”
“Waiting until what?”
“Until they can go without taking trouble with them.”
“I don’t understand.”
Shea grimaced and lifted the handle on the press.
The flash of a tattoo on the back of her hand made Lora reach across the counter and grab her wrist without thought. The tattooed image was a little Viking boat with a red and white sail. It was inciting and evocative and she didn’t know why. She hated that feeling of lostness and of the suggestion that there was trouble following her that she couldn’t even recognize.
“Why’s that familiar?” Lora demanded. “I know that picture. Why do I know that?” She gave her head a hard shake and dropped Shea’s hand. “And that awning outside of the coffee shop. It’s the wrong color. It’s supposed to be red and white like that sail. Why do I think that?”
“Shit,” Shea muttered. “I don’t think the tea worked right.”
“Why do I know that boat?” Lora demanded.
“Whether or not the tea worked, I still can’t say anything to you yet,” Faye said. “Not until the mister says I’m clear. We just want to do this right so the shock to you’s not so bad. We’re not dealing with completely normal circumstances here.”
“What am I dealing with?”
Mrs. Callahan took a deep breath and accepted the sandwich her daughter slid across the counter to her. “There are people…around who aren’t quite typical. They’re not like you or me. They’re—”
“Mom, spit it out,” Shea said. She gave Lora a sandwich, too. “Rip off the Band-Aid, as the saying goes.”
“They can work magic,” Faye said in a rush. Then she cringed and huddled in on herself as though she thought Lora was going to blow up.
But Lora peered down at her grilled sandwich, ruminating on the melting cheese escaping from one corner. She pondered if her body would actually let her keep the food down. The buttery grilled bread was certainly enticing.
“Um…did you hear her?” Shea asked.
Lora cleared her throat and picked up a sandwich half. “I heard her.”
“You’re not freaked out?”
“I suppose I don’t feel like I’m supposed to be.” Lora took a tentative bite of the sandwich. When her gut didn’t immediately recoil at the sharp flavor of the Miracle Whip, she swallowed.
“Huh.” Shea pushed away from the counter and grabbed a rag from the sink.
Faye leaned forward, trying to catch Lora’s gaze.
“You want to ask me something,” Lora said matter-of-factly. She took another bite of sandwich. She was hoping she’d be able to finish the whole thing and get a jumpstart on the five pounds she was supposed to gain. Dr. Moore had said the baby was measuring fine, but that she needed a healthy vessel to have her best chance.
“Well. I don’t know what to ask,” Faye said. “Do you remember anything else?”
“Do you have any seltzer back there?” Lora asked Shea.
Shea gave her head a slow shake. “I can probably open a box of La Croix or something, though, and sell you a can.”
“That’ll do. Thank you.”
Shea padded out into the drugstore proper and headed to the soda section.
Lora took yet another bite of sandwich. “The Miracle Whip does something for that cheap lunchmeat.”
When Shea returned with the box of sparkling water, her bouncy silver ponytail sparked another murmur in the back of Lora’s mind.
Not a ponytail, though. Long hair worn loose and that cascaded down a back covered in plum-colored leather. She chewed and pondered. “I wonder who that was,” she said quietly to herself. “I think she dyed. A blonde…”
Shea cut her mother a look.
Faye grimaced. She hadn’t yet touched her sandwich.
Lora pointed to it. “Are you going to eat that?”
“By all means. Take it.” Faye slid the foil-wrapped thing over to her.
“She had magic,” Lora said chewing. “Somehow. I can’t remember. What was she doing? No, wait. She was there to…” She narrowed her eyes as if squinting would help her better see into the past.
It may have been silly, but the action must have dislodged something in her brain. She snapped her fingers, remembering. “A bodyguard of someone. A friend, or…attached to someone I worked with? I think she could make people forget things. Ooh!” She snapped her fingers again. “Her name is Caryl. I think she has a twin. They… There was another. A friend who visited. And she knew about the baby, but she didn’t say anything. Where was this? She was…”
That was all. That was all she could root out.
“Damn.” She gave her fist a gentle pound against the counter’s edge and then resumed eating.
“Maybe you should call Dad,” Shea said drolly.
“Yep,” Faye said, pink-cheeked. “I guess I should.”
CHAPTER NINE
Norseton, the Next Morning
Mallory
Turning around in the front passenger seat of the van, Mallory gave the men behind her warni
ng looks. “I want to make something perfectly clear before we drive out of that gate.”
They were idling near the gatehouse and about to drive out of Norseton towards points south. That was where her instincts were leading her, and she hoped she’d find out soon enough if they were wrong. The werewolf who’d been behind the steering wheel, Vic, was having a chat with his pack brother Darius, who was manning the gatehouse. While Vic was out of easy earshot, she wanted to give the Viking and the fairy some critical reminders.
Already, Asher was slumping remorsefully in his seat.
Keith was surly and unapologetic, as always, and kept flicking his fingers against his seatbelt buckle.
“Keep the squabbling down to a minimum. I get enough of that from my kids, and I expect it from them. Y’all are grown-ass men. I don’t know what’s gotten into the two of you lately. I could have sworn that you weren’t so hostile a couple of months ago.”
“He’s just showing his true colors.” Asher pushed his long, mouse brown hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears. “I expected it. That doesn’t mean I have to lie down and let him roll over me.”
“Another wheelchair joke.” Keith scoffed and dragged his hand across his unkempt dark red beard. The bastard wouldn’t let anyone shave him. He looked more like a Viking than anyone in Norseton at the moment. Apparently, full beards hadn’t been the trend there since the eighties.
“See, this is what I have to deal with,” Asher said. “He can turn anything into an offense even when none was intended.”
“You don’t have to deal with me at all.” Keith stared through his window. There was nothing to see on the left side of the van. Just a few cacti in the distance. He was a master of vicious snubbings.
Mallory sighed. The argument they were in the middle of was one she’d intervened on time and time again, and she always ended it the same way. “Keith, do you regret saving Asher from that falling tree?”
He rolled his eyes. “No.”
To Asher, she asked, “Are you grateful that he risked himself to save you?”
