Renhala

by Amy Joy Lutchen

  “What have I got to lose? Okay, hook me up. Guess I need some kind of action, right?” She has absolutely no idea the kind of “action” I’ve had lately.

  “Wow,” Amber stammers, evidently surprised by my reaction. “We’ll come pick you up about six.” The phone clicks without a goodbye, and I realize she didn’t want me wiggling out of this one somehow.

  With a couple of hours yet before the love couple arrives, I decide to take Kioto for a quick walk. She loves watching the squirrels romp around on the many maple trees at the park, so that’s where we’ll head. I show Kioto her leash and immediately, her tail starts wagging. “Walk?” I say to her. She barks one loud “Hell yes” at me and we walk out my apartment door.

  She stretches out her legs, her head scanning everywhere, looking for those sly squirrels. As we get closer, I see a recognizable figure standing amongst the kids at the playground. I decide to walk along a trail of nearby trees so I’m not noticed.

  “You are so weird! Why don’t you just play like everyone else?” squawks a small-framed girl with black ponytails and a Hello Kitty T-shirt, standing hands-on-hips, facing Philip.

  “Maybe if you would actually think before you start running around like chickens with no plan of action, I could help formulate a wonderful strategy,” says Philip, aggravated. I hope he doesn’t do something stupid.

  “Weirdo!” The girl storms away toward her mother, and Philip turns to me. I wander on over to him.

  He looks especially forlorn, and it’s not pretty on him. “I don’t think this whole seven-year-old thing is doing you any good,” I say as I look to the girl and her mother. “Karen at home?”

  His eyes agree with me before he even speaks. “I think I am finally bored of this seven-year-old life, especially when most are so absentminded and cannot even focus!” He says this last part loudly toward the little black-haired bully.

  “Ladimer, you have so much to offer, but it’s not for grade school.” I smile at him.

  “Thanks.” He slowly slips his hand in mine, fitting perfectly, as we walk home together in silence.

  Chapter 17

  Surprised

  I pretty myself up, wearing dark form-fitting jeans and a cute short-sleeved cashmere sweater. I sit and wait like a nervous schoolgirl for Amber. Finally, around half past six—Russell seems to be a good influence over Amber’s tardiness—my door buzzer screams, my heart beating faster than I thought possible. I let Amber up, and as she enters, I hold my breath and fear for my neck, for a sexy little goth vampire has crossed the threshold of my home. She’s got on a tight little black number, accessorized with a long, black chain necklace disappearing into Neverland. Her velvet corset dress is practically painted onto her torso, and is tied with a deep red bow, begging to be untied as she bends over, welcoming Kioto first.

  She loves dogs as much as I do, but not dog hair, hence the Amber-donated lint brush in the front closet. Amber and Kioto say their warm hellos as she bends over; her blond hair falling softly over her shoulders and her necklace spilling from her chest, revealing the silver-heart BFF charm I gave her when we were in high school. She quickly shoves it back into her corset, finally acknowledging me with a nod.

  “Oh, thanks,” I say. “Don’t you want to rub noses with me or scratch behind my ears? No, wait, you might drain me with your fangs.”

  “Don’t be jealous,” teases Amber. “Maybe you can get some of that yourself later, after we all have dinner.”

  My deadly stare is ignored. “You better not embarrass me tonight,” I warn her. “Who’s the mystery man?”

  “You’ll see. He’s cool, and very cute. Russell likes him, too. He’s the perfect gentleman.”

  “Since you guys are in love with him, I guess we’ll just arrange our wedding plans tonight, huh?” I say.

  We both check the clock in sync and decide to go before the mystery guest decides to leave the restaurant before we show up.

  Russell waits for us like a good chauffeur, and I give him a peck on the cheek. “My, my Russell. You smell good,” I purr. Amber hisses at me like a cat.

  “I’ve heard you’ve been hanging out with my grandfather. Having fun?” Russell looks at me through his rearview mirror.

  I don’t know what to say at this point, because I don’t know what Amber is privy to. She shows no interest as she fixes her makeup. I pause longer than I should, trying to come up with something smart. “Uhh, yes. He’s a great cook, and I’m learning so much from him.” I applaud myself for the fast thinking, but then I’m crushed as Amber gives me the “Yeah, whatever” face. She turns up the music, and I sink back in my seat, wrinkling my newly steamed sweater. As Russell sees my look of contemplation, he shakes his head for my eyes only.

  We arrive at La Scarola and as we enter, I slip a peek at my armpits, making sure I don’t have any wet marks, because it feels like I sweated at least a pint on the car ride. The maitre d’ informs us that one guest has already been seated, and he proceeds to take us to our table. I glance back at the front door, thinking it’s only a sprint away, and maybe nobody would even notice I’m gone, but my chance is lost as we arrive at our table. Our mystery guest sits facing us, and as I look up, I can’t help but laugh.

  “Nice to see you again, Conner,” I say. “Small world, ain’t it?”

  “What? How do you know him?” Amber seems perturbed that I’ve pulled one over on her, by no action on my part.

  “I know Cherry, too, don’t I?” I say. He nods.

  He looks adorable this evening, and when he stands to push in my chair for me, he briefly touches my shoulder. I feel a static shock and jump.

  “Sorry.” He laughs, quietly, a hint of the Irish brogue peeking through.

  Amber frowns. “What fun is a blind date when you’re not blind?!” she says, angrily. I squeeze her hand. “You never even told me that you met someone—a male—by yourself.” I let go of her hand both because I feel she is pushing her limits, but speaks the truth.

  “Let’s check out these menus,” I suggest. “I’m starving.”

  After a quick rundown on who’s ordering what, we nibble on fresh bread dipped in olive oil and parmesan. Dinner arrives after a brief wait, we enjoy the food slowly, and it’s wonderful, both in the sense of taste and tasteful conversation, which ranges from breakfast cereals to world peace. I drink two glasses of wine, and convinced that it’s not the taste I’m after, I don’t order another. The wine does, however, affect my bladder, so Amber and I excuse ourselves and take a trip to the ladies’ room.

  “So, it seems like you two are really hitting it off, huh?” Amber makes kissy faces to herself in the mirror. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he? And that accent,” she says. “Kailey, really, how do you know Conner?” She says this with a hint of seriousness in her voice.

  “I met him at the park,” I reply. “We were both walking our dogs.”

  “Oh, okay. Whatever.”

  “I think I like him, but I’m not rushing anything.” My lipstick needs a touch-up, so I reach blindly into my purse, searching for a tube.

  “No need to wait for anything, Kailey. Learn to take what you want,” Amber babbles as she examines herself for panty-lines.

  A bit of frustration makes my mouth speak without thinking. “You tell that to your boyfriends?” I stand perfectly still, tube in hand, as I wait for the backslap.

  But it never comes. Instead, Amber takes a deep breath and says, “You know I need to get myself some of that, especially these days.” Amber eyes my hand. I’ve accidentally grabbed my travel pepper spray.

  “Hey, you know me,” I say. “I have about three of these at home, so please, take this one.”

  She grabs it, reads the label, and throws it in her purse. “Thanks, Kailey. I really appreciate that. Let’s go back and give those boys their dessert.” I smack her on the arm, and as we’re leaving, I sneak a kissy face at myself in the mirror. I can’t help it—she’s a bad influence.

  Before we reach the table she s
ays, “Don’t ever judge my taste in men again. I’ve found the perfect one.” Without waiting for a reply, she allows Russell to pull out her seat and scoot her in.

  When the waiter comes back, I order what I knew well ahead of time would be my dessert: “Can I have the almond dark chocolate tartufo with the homemade candied lemon-peel biscotti?” I grin ear-to-ear as I talk.

  “Um, sorry, miss, but that table over there just got the last tartufo dish,” jabbers the waiter. “Would you like to try the blueberry cream cake with the orange sorbet instead, maybe?”

  Saddened, I decide to peruse the dessert menu once again. But Conner then calls the waiter over, leans toward him, and whispers something in his ear. A quizzical look comes over the waiter’s face, and suddenly, he disappears into the kitchen. Then he returns and exchanges glances with Conner before he explains to me that there is indeed one tartufo order left, and he’d be glad to serve it to me. I, of course, accept.

  I then lean into Conner, basking in the good feelings flowing from him, and whisper, “What did you say to him?” I breathe in his cologne, and then blush as he notices.

  “Oh, I used to work in a kitchen. The workers always save a bit of each dessert for themselves. I asked him nicely to let you have one.”

  “Well, thank you. I owe you.” I wink a little wink at him, his grin widening.

  When I finish, I feel so bloated, but it was all wonderful going down. “I vote we are done for the evening,” I say, feeling the food coma about to hit. “I can’t put another thing in my mouth.”

  Amber smirks at me and raises her eyebrows, which immediately causes me to scowl at her as she mouths, “I can.”

  Conner pats his own belly. “Yeah, me too.” Both boys miss Amber’s distasteful gesture.

  Russell and Amber are playing footsie under the table, so I kick them. Amber pouts, and chirps, “Geez! Okay, yes. We are, too. Let’s settle up and get you home.”

  Russell isn’t quick enough as Conner leans in and swiftly grabs the black, padded envelope and sticks a gold card in it. Amber’s eyes rise at the sight of gold. “I got this one,” he says.

  “No, here, let me add to it,” I insist, “or at least give the tip.” But he shoves my hand away.

  “Let the man be a gentleman,” Amber says. “Thank you, Conner, for your wonderful generosity.” Amber smiles at him, her breasts taunting him.

  Suddenly, I feel a slithering sensation from her that stirs my nerves a bit, catching me off guard and for I cannot believe what she’s feeling: jealousy. I can’t believe the position I’m in. Amber is jealous of me.

  “Not a problem. Please let me perform yet another courtesy and drive Kailey home,” Conner says. “You two need to get home quickly.” He stands up as the waiter approaches to take the envelope.

  Amber stands up and pulls me aside as Russell and Conner converse. “Kailey, I know how you are with men.” I open my mouth to defend myself, and then decide not to, because she damn well knows me that well. “Timid and stuff,” she whispers, “especially after what happened to you. Maybe he’s not for you. We will take you home. You don’t have to be scared. I can spend the night if you like.”

  “But see, that’s just it, I’m not. Not this time.” It’s true. I feel quite comfortable with Conner, and though I want to second-guess myself, I don’t. “You brought me here to set me up, and look. You were successful. He can take me home.”

  Her righteous smile gives me the satisfaction that maybe she’ll settle on what I’m feeding her. “Fine, if you say so,” she says. She stares at me oddly, either holding in some remark glorifying her accomplishment at setting me up or fighting her inward struggle between stealing her best friend’s new prospect and attacking Russell once they get in their SUV. But then, she turns back to Russell, tossing a sidelong glance at me before picking up her purse.

  We all exchange our goodbyes and head to our cars. I know before we even walk to it that Conner’s is the huge black Hummer looming before us. “Oooh, cool. I’ve never been in one of these babies,” I say. “You must work for the gas alone.”

  “It’s worth it when everyone on the highway gets out of your way.” Conner smiles at his car like a husband should smile at his cherished wife.

  We get in, and it’s quite the smooth ride. The smell of his cologne lingers, along with the sweet aroma of vanilla. “Do you let your dog in this?”

  “Yes, of course I do. She’s well-behaved and pretty much lies down the whole time.”

  “You do have that certain power over dogs, don’t you?” I say. “Maybe others, too?” He doesn’t comment, which scores him points on my test.

  He just smiles, and we drive home, listening to some awesome music. He’s got some classical, and some good eighties, and some fifties and sixties, which I actually adore. The last song we hear is “Johnny Be Good.” Sweet smells, good music, and a full belly create an absolutely enjoyable combination, making me smile at absolutely nothing.

  Lightning suddenly flashes in the sky, startling both of us, making us laugh melodiously.

  The car pulls over to my curb, and my happiness is suddenly replaced with fear of the unknown. I don’t know whether to give him a kiss or a nice “Thanks.” But before I have time to really get over-the-top anxious, though, he leans over, practically brushing his lips across my ear, and whispers softly.

  The next few seconds flash by so fast, I don’t know what hits me. I hear something that’s not English as he then leans into me firmly with a kiss, catching me totally off guard. I know that he expressed his attraction to me, but I don’t know how I know it. The feeling of vulnerability sneaks up quickly, and we are suddenly both standing in a slightly foggy Renhala.

  Chapter 18

  Defensive

  “Whoa!” exclaims Conner.

  I grab my monk’s spade off my back without even a second’s hesitation, but as we stand face-to-face, I see that Conner has in his hand a short, quick kind of sword, runes engraved all over the blade.

  The terrain around us screams Gernwood, as a few particularly nasty puddles bubble with goo.

  “How did you do that so quick, Kailey?” he says. He sees me staring at the weapon. “I had to pull my weapon in defense,” he states, slowly. “Please, put yours away.”

  “What the hell did you whisper to me?!” I shout. “What are you—or who sent you, I should say?” I don’t budge as I filter his words and the idea that I possibly just brought us to Renhala. “I didn’t bring us here,” I retort, snotty.

  “Actually, yes. You did,” he says. “I’ve traveled before, and know when I do it. And I am most certainly not going to voluntarily bring us here, of all places. You, are evidently new to this, so, Kailey, please put the weapon away,” he says. “I’m putting my weapon away. I mean you no harm.” Conner again speaks some language I cannot recognize, and I put my monk’s spade on my back, slowly. Somehow I know he will not hurt me.

  “What are you?” I stand my ground, but at the same time, struggle not to run to him on account of the scary noises approaching from behind me. They sound far from human.

  Conner sees whatever is behind me and appears quite nervous. “I’m bringing us back home. Why you chose this area specifically, I do not know.”

  In a blink, we’re standing outside his Hummer.

  “You carried us into some dark territory, Kailey,” Conner says. “Don’t do that again.”

  “What do you expect when you’re playing mind games with me?” I argue. “Did you not know I’m karmelean? If you mess with me, I will return the favor graciously. Whoever sent you should do their research first!”

  He nods, but for what reason I do not know. “I apologize. And nobody sent me. Why would you think that?” he says. “I like you, and I’m drawn to you. I only wanted you to know, and felt that you thought the same of me. I did take advantage with that kiss, and feel ashamed of what I did, so please forgive me.” He smiles. “But it’s nice to know we can both be open about Renhala.”

  My s
tance is one of kung fu, or in actuality more like tai chi, and not yet forgiving. “I accept your apology, on one condition,” I say. “Tell me what you are.”

  A sigh escapes his perfect lips, and he hunches his shoulders as rain starts to fall from the sky. “I am known as a soulspeaker. There exists an ancient form of communication used long before any languages evolved, and I possess the ability to speak it. I am able to speak to another’s soul in a way that they know my true intent—the truth—in my mind, if you will. I can speak truth directly to your soul. There. Yeah, and the ‘Irish’ accent...” He then shakes his head no. “Wasn’t born in Ireland.”

  “That makes perfect sense now. Yes, thank you.” I try to seem all together and matter-of-fact, but really, I’m shaking in my boots. I quickly gather myself and my purse in hightail fashion. I hold my purse against my chest, as though he can hear my heart beating as frantically as it is. “Thank you for everything tonight,” I say, “and if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go in now and retire for the evening. Good day to you.”

  He looks like a heartbroken teenager standing before me, solemnness like a weight in the air. The rain begins to fall heavily over us, but I can still feel both his emotion of regret, and embarrassment.

  He speaks, but very sadly: “I totally understand. And again I’m sorry for my actions. That’s all I can say.” He then says it in soulspeak.

  I move toward him, point at him to stand still, and say, “Stay.” I cannot help but lean in and give him a quick peck on the cheek, despite his actions this evening. “This would have sufficed,” I say. “Conner, I’ll see you again soon. Bye.” I turn and walk toward my building. He waits until I have unlocked the main door and stepped inside, then slowly drives away.