by Red, Lynn
The old man chuckled. "Not that sort, although they are often one in the same, I think. No, he's been heartsick, you see. For so very long. But after you were here, he was singing."
"That's a metaphor, right? Spring in his step, that sort of thing?"
"Not at all, young miss. Very literally singing. Nothing I'd ever heard of, but then again, I don't like anything made after about 1952. It's all too modern."
"I... made him sing?" For some reason, that struck Jamie in a place she'd never quite felt pangs of emotion, of longing, before. "Literally sing. Really?"
"You helped heal a sick heart. You mightn't know it," he said, taking another draw and blowing out a plume of spicy, sweet smelling smoke. "There it is, though. I've known him for three years, known his aunt and uncle much longer - and never seen him act like that. Prancing about, talking everyone's ear off about you."
"Prancing?" Jamie asked with a heavy dose of incredulity in her voice. "Ryan Drake pranced?"
The old man just chuckled, his surprisingly round cheeks dimpling as he smiled. "But, he's in trouble," his eyes darkened just a little, though he kept smiling.
"I'm sorry," Jamie cut in, "I forgot your name. I feel awful, but—"
"No, no, don't worry. You probably never knew it. For all his stout heart and courage, Ryan lacks in social grace. I'm Martin Long. Very good to finally meet you."
Her head swam slightly as she took his ancient hand and shook. The skin on his hand felt like stretched leather, but when the man gripped her hand, there was strength there she didn't expect. He motioned for her to sit in one of the two swings he had on his porch. Jamie did, tucking back her wings and crossing her legs. Martin sat opposite, sighing as he relaxed into the ancient, cast-iron swing.
"If you've only been here six years, where did all these houses come from?" Jamie asked. It was the first time she'd thought to be curious about something so obvious.
Martin shrugged. "Some of them are the remnants of an old... miner camp, or possibly fur traders. The old Jamesburg was much wilder than the new one. Though memories of it have faded. Also, Ryan built a lot of them. My house, though, was old. This swing, too, was old even by my standards, and I'm obviously no spring panda."
Jamie chewed her lip, thinking back to what Ryan told her - which was startlingly little, now that she was thinking about it. The pieces of his mysterious life were hard to assemble, probably even if she knew more about him. "I just wish we had more time," she said, accidentally out loud.
"Oh?" Martin asked.
"I just," she grumbled. "I didn't really mean to say that out loud. But I just... the one night we had, the few days we spent together, it was enough for me to know that we had something special, that I felt with him like I never did before, but—listen to me. I'm babbling at someone I hardly know. Sorry."
"Oh, on the very much contrary," he said with a broad grin, and another puff of his pipe. "I know exactly what you mean and how you feel. Often we don't have much of a choice of who we love, or of how we love them."
"I think getting mixed up with me got him in trouble," Jamie said, the words spilling out in less syllables than they should have had. "I’ve gone everywhere I could think to look, but this seems different. I don't know what sort of place he calls home, you know?"
The panda got a distant, reminiscent look in his eyes. "He is... he is a special sort of person, you know this. You've felt it. But home is not something Ryan has. Or had, may be a better tense to use. Where he goes when he's trapped," he trailed off for a moment. "He always seems trapped, and yet he stays. He stays to care for us, because we have no one else, except each other."
"He's never run before?" she asked, deflated.
"No, he has," Martin corrected her. "But never like this. Never without a word. Although I suppose he's never had to take off in quite such a hurry as he did this time. Cora and Tom - ah, Marmite - they told me what Mr. Danniken did. He's as brave as Ryan, I think."
That was the first time she'd ever heard Erik called "mister" anything, and the notion struck her as slightly funny, if not a little absurd. "I guess when things get down to desperate you really see what's inside someone, huh?"
She'd been rocking herself back and forth, slowly, and hadn't even realized it until her foot dragged along the ground, and she got a toe-full of gravelly sand.
"Erik's so... I mean, he's normally so full of macho bullshit, er, sorry for my language," Jamie said. Martin waved her off with a smile. "I can't believe he's doing this. It's so not Erik."
Martin smiled for a long moment. "I think it is very Erik. Underneath all of our exteriors, whatever they are - gruff, thick, angry, joking - most of us know that we could all be in such a place. Most of us know someday we will. I talked to him for a few minutes," he coughed lightly. "He looked inside himself. I think having the cub did it for him, as it does for many of us. Change of perspective, and all that."
Jamie was nodding, but obviously distracted.
"But you didn't come to listen to an old man ramble and philosophize, did you? And don't be bashful."
Jamie chuckled a little. "Well, no, I suppose not. Although, I don't mind. You gave me a lot to think about." One of her wings twitched. The cold was starting to get to her, which always happened if she didn't eat enough, or sleep enough. Which lately? She'd been doing entirely too much of not enough. "I guess I came here because I thought maybe someone would have a clue where he went. But if you're telling me he doesn't have any place that he really feels at home, or safe, or—"
"I didn't say such a thing," Martin had another lingering grin. "There are places I'm sure he feels all of that. What I said was that he hadn't had one."
"Before... me?" Jamie asked, half confused and half understanding.
Martin nodded. "You two, you have a connection, you told me about it. And if a person is willing to spill their heart to an old panda who they hardly know? That's a strong thing. Very strong. So strong that the heart, the soul, won't let it stay inside."
Jamie started gnawing at her bottom lip again. "Do you think he went," she trailed off, shaking her head. "No, that's impossible. We hardly know each other."
"You're wrong again," Martin said, standing slowly from his swing, and twisting back and forth. "You know each other's hearts. Each other’s past? That's a list of facts, that's checked baggage. You can come to know that. But you know his heart and he feels yours. Do not underestimate that, dear child."
Jamie took a deep breath.
"It's all just so fast," she said, also standing.
"The heart knows when things are right," Martin said. "All we have to do is listen. Fast, not fast, in the scheme of things, all our lives are flashes against the darkness. A flicker, a blink, a spark. Be glad your heart knows so well. Many of us? No such luck."
"He never said anything?"
"To me? No. But I can tell from how your eyes have relaxed, that you've had a thought. Follow your heart, Jamie. Next time I see you, I want to see you with him, not alone."
"Thank you," Jamie said, allowing herself the indulgence of a smile. "I think... you've made a lot of things make a lot of sense."
He shook his head as he turned to open the door. "No, you made sense of your own thoughts. I just... nudged you along. Oh," as he grabbed the doorknob, he turned back over his shoulder. "And when you find him, will you tell Ryan something for me?"
When, she thought, not if.
"Yeah, of course."
"Good. The Cowboys lost. He owes me twenty bucks." With a chuckle that turned into something approximating a cackle, the old panda shuffled inside, and let the screen door slap shut against the frame.
Smiling, Jamie looked back up at the sky. "If you're there," she whispered, "I'll find you."
With her wings stretched wide, she caught a gust, pointed east, toward the cave. I’ll find you, Ryan. I won’t stop until I do.
-17-
“I wish they made high altitude heaters.”
-Jamie
Cold air, frigid from the hi
gh altitude and blowing ice crystals, had Jamie slightly worried about her wings freezing up, but the briefest dips and drags were plenty to keep her from going full icicle. Still, by the time she finally wheeled around in a long, slow circle around the cave she and Ryan had shared, she was sapped.
Her feet hit with a click, and she peered inside. It never got to be less jarring when the weather in the air was vastly different from what it was on the ground, and that time was no exception. The chill from her flight along with the oddly balmy late-fall weather had her going between shivering and sweating, like a flu with no sense of purpose, but a lot of plucky ambition.
“Ryan?” she called out into the dingy, earthen-smelling darkness. She didn’t remember the cave smelling quite like this, but then again, she was a little taken away from reality. “You in here? I need to see you.”
She felt his presence, heard his breath, before he spoke. “Ryan?” she asked again.
His feet padded softly in the dark. Hearing, but not seeing, she turned in the direction of the sounds. “We gotta—”
He interrupted Jamie with a kiss that forced her head backward until he caught her with his hands, digging his fingers into her hair, and holding her in place. “I want to run,” he said, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “I want to take you, and go somewhere, and never look back. I can’t live with putting you in danger, and I can’t live without you.”
“I get a choice, too, right?” she said, pulling away from his lips with a gentle suck. “I’ve got my own brain, remember?”
“I just don’t know how,” he said in a soft, almost defeated voice. “I don’t know how we can be here and not be constantly looking over our shoulders. I don’t know how I can live in a place and just be normal, just be... me. All because of my father, my past, I don’t know.”
Jamie interrupted him, that time, when Ryan seemed to get just a little too upset. Her tongue swirled into his mouth, she tasted blood on his lips when she pulled away. “What happened?”
“Oh,” he wiped at his mouth, stepping out of the darkness so she could finally see him fully. “This? Nothing. No, I know that look,” he said. “Really. It’s nothing. Charging around through the forest is dangerous. You run into things.”
Jamie quirked an eyebrow, and gave him a little smile. “I’m not leaving,” she said flatly. “This is my town, these are my people, and you are my mate.”
Mate. Even thinking of him like that makes my brain get all sticky. But to actually say it?
“Mate, huh? That sounds so formal, especially for a couple of crazy kids like us. Why not just... I dunno, a civil union?”
“Shut up, I’m being serious. I’ve made,” she thought back Jenga’s advice still rolling around in her skull all these days later. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I’ve kept a lot of secrets that made me miserable. I’m sure you’ve done the same thing.”
A brief nod was his response.
“Yeah, well, I’m not going to do it anymore. I’m not doing the secrets and the hiding. And to be honest with you, if you’re scared of the DIPS or whatever they call themselves, finding you here? Where the hell do you think you’re going to run?”
“You’ve got me there,” he stepped closer and ran the back of two fingers down Jamie’s forearm. “Out of the country? Iceland? Too cold?”
“Been there,” Jamie said. “It’s nice. But it isn’t home. You need one as badly as I do, and you know it, no matter how detached bad-boy you try to act, there’s a reason you gave everything up to run here and keep those people safe and fed. Your heart’s as big as your,” she coughed.
He furrowed his brow. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But we’re not safe here Jamie, someone’s going to find me and drag me in for what I did. Even though I didn’t do anything wrong, I sure as hell pissed off people you don’t want to piss off.”
Suddenly, something stuck in Jamie’s brain. Branson hadn’t really been angry or furious or anything else. He’d be more irritated at Erik for going over his head than anything else. “Are you sure they want to catch you?” she asked.
“Uh, well, what the hell else would some suited-up agent from a government police force want? And it’s not DIPS it’s DPIS, Department of Paranormal—”
“Yeah, I know,” Jamie cut him off. “But I’m not sure about this guy. He seems more curious than anything else. Seems more like he’s fascinated with the town, with everyone in it, but then again, I’ve been wrong before.”
“And I’d say you’re wrong this time,” he said. “Or at least, taking a hell of a risk by not trying to run, hide, or, hell even pretend I’m not here. What did Erik say to him?”
Jamie shrugged. “Said he hadn’t seen you for a while, that you never paid taxes so there was no record of you, that—”
“Is bullshit!” Ryan spat. “I pay every single—”
“Yes, yes,” Jamie raised her hands. “Yes, you pay them. He was covering for you, Ryan. Covering for you right before he packed up half the town in school buses and went to fix up all those houses.”
“He what?”
“It’s a long story,” she said with a little smile. “But he made good on what he said. Or at least, is in the process of making good on it. Did you know there was dry rot all around the front door of that ridiculous house you live in?”
The blank look on Ryan’s face said it all.
“Do I look like a contractor?”
“In the flannel shirt that’s always at least halfway unbuttoned?” Jamie asked, running her hands along the inside of his as-described shirt. “I mean, I’ve never seen one with a chest quite like this, or that gets all furry when he gets excited, but...”
The two allowed themselves a brief laugh. “He’s trying, Ryan. Whatever you did to those diamond companies made a hell of an impression on Erik. I’ve never seen him get so, I dunno, full of purpose? I mean, yeah, he always keeps his word, but damn did he ever get excited about it this time.”
“I stole a half billion dollars’ worth of unrefined rocks, shipped them out of Congo in an unmarked train, and gave them all back to the communities that the mining industry destroyed. Every last damn one of them.”
Jamie’s jaw hit the floor.
“Every rock, every piece of dust. My father always kept a part for himself, and I did too for a long time, but then I realized it wasn’t my piece to keep. People bled for those stupid rocks, they died for them. Whole families lost. What right did I have?”
“Hold on,” she said. “Did you just say a half billion? Like with a ‘b’?”
“It took a lot of doing,” he said. “And it wasn’t just me, not by a long shot. That was the only time my dad, my uncle and I ever got along for more than an afternoon of football and Budweiser.”
Jamie had to laugh. “Boston?” she asked. “He was—”
“He’s a pilot. Or was, until his eyes got too bad. Flew the rocks out once they hit the Ivory Coast. Cote d’Ivoire if you want to be more correct.”
“Right, and more French,” Jamie added. “You’re serious right now.”
“My dad died six months afterward. My uncle thinks it was one of the warlords getting back at him, but I’m not so sure. He did smoke a lot too, though I don’t think cigarettes can shoot you.”
Jamie was just shaking her head, and began to pace slightly back and forth in a circle. “I mean, I knew you were a jewel thief, but...”
Ryan chuffed a laugh. “Not gonna lie, I did my fair share of petty break-ins and larceny, but that was mostly for the thrill. I never managed to get a handle on it, so after a couple short stints in juvie, I went big. I mean, relatively still petty, but big.”
Finding a rock tall enough to sit on, Jamie sat, still shaking her head. “You just called jewel thieving ‘relatively petty’ didn’t you?”
“Well,” he shrugged. “Just being honest.”
“Okay, so you stole a bunch of diamonds, processed them, and just gave them back? How? And I’m not even asking out of a sense of greed, I
mean physically. How the hell did you do that? Boston flew the plane... but that doesn’t explain much of anything. How did you get into the country? How did you process it all?”
“Thick as thieves?” he said with a quirk of his eyebrow that once again irritated Jamie with how it made her stomach wiggle and her heart yearn. “It was a lot of work, lots of really ridiculous planning, but there it is.”
“And the house?”
“A gift. Or inheritance, however you want to put it. Dad died, I got a massive pile of money and I blew it all building that place, and setting my aunt and uncle up. I meant to leave, but, well—”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” Jamie said, running her fingertip along the inside of Ryan’s wrist.
“You’re not the only one.”
Without warning, Jamie clenched the sides of her head. “Something... pounding,” she managed to eke out, “throbbing, I—”
Ryan didn’t hear it until a few seconds later, long enough for his concern for Jamie to reach an apex. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, dragged her further back into the cave, and threw a blanket that he kept there around her shoulders. “Hold your ears,” he said. “It’s getting closer.”
“What is?” she asked, grimacing at the throbbing, pulsing sound that flooded her ears. “What is it?”
A flood light burst through the mouth of their safe haven. Ryan pulled her under his arm, trying to blot out the sound as he squinted at the light. “I knew it was going to happen,” he hissed.
Jamie was still writhing around, and still clutching the sides of her head, even as she nuzzled against her bear and tried to get ahold of herself.
“Mister Drake,” the voice came. It was calm, cool, and so damn disconnected it could only belong to one person. “Good to see you again.”
“You son of a bitch,” Ryan growled. Jamie, clutching his arm, felt the fur start to slide out as loafer heels clicked on the stone.
“Why does it always have to be a cave? Why don’t you ever try to hide at the Four Seasons?”
Jamie blinked, but the throbbing in her head was so powerful she couldn’t open her eyes for more than a second before the pain took her.