The Farmer's Daughter: The Dragon Dream: Book One

by Robin Janney

  “I see Dr. Evans on Wednesday. I’ll be fine until then,” the young woman said, looking at the clock. “Did Craig say when he’d be back?”

  “Not for a while.” Becky looked at the clock herself. It was almost time for Angela’s break. “Did you two break up?”

  The girl was quiet, coughing into the back of her hand. “I don’t know.”

  Becky was at a loss for words. The two had been miserable since New Year’s and Angela’s cough had started soon after. “It’s close enough to your break. Go on and take it.”

  “Thanks.”

  Angela disappeared without another word but could be heard coughing as she walked down the aisle.

  The deli manager sighed when David appeared out of nowhere. “I tried. You heard her: she’s fine.”

  “I heard. I don’t know what they’re fighting about, but the father in me wants to sit them down and make them talk it out.”

  “The mother in me agrees with you. But do you think we could even get them in the same room right now?” Becky stood and waddled over to the counter. “Damn it, here comes Flo. I swear she needs to get a new hobby.”

  “There’s nothing else to do in this town,” muttered David. He backed away saying, “I’ll talk with you later.”

  “I’ll be here,” Becky said as he disappeared down the aisle. She pasted on a smile for her customer. Thankfully the other woman didn’t hang around, just ordered a bowl of potato salad and left. The deli manager busied herself with cleaning the counter even though it didn’t need it. When Angela returned before her break was over, Becky watched the girl turn the corner and start folding pizza boxes together. Her face was flushed, and she seemed angry.

  “Angela?”

  “Yes?”

  “Everything okay?”

  “No. But I don’t want to talk about it.”

  That was nothing new. She’d been saying that phrase a lot since New Year’s, and not just to Craig. She’d been dressing more conservatively too, like she had been when she’d first started. More so, if possible.

  Becky sighed. She puttered around, straightening boxes and Styrofoam containers. Ten minutes before the end of her shift at seven, she smiled joyfully as Nora Thompson approached the counter. “Hi Nora! Let me see that baby!”

  “Of course!” Nora passed her wiggling son across the counter and Becky cradled him.

  “Who’s a good boy?” Becky cooed, and the baby laughed. “What can we get for you, Nora?”

  “Kenny was talking about pickled eggs and I thought I’d stop in to see if you have any made up.”

  Becky nodded and waved her hand towards the cooler just down the aisle from the deli. “There aren’t any in the cooler?”

  “I didn’t see any.”

  “Angela, can you check to see if we have any more pickled eggs made up?” She looked over as Angela made more noise than she needed to while complying with her request. “Everything alright back there?”

  “It’s fine.” The girl coughed. “No, no pickled eggs. I’ll start the next batch.” Another cough. “Do you want me to set some aside for you, Nora?”

  “Please,” replied Nora. “At least six.”

  “Will do.”

  Becky nodded. “Well, you’d better get this baby back home.” She lowered her voice. “I have no idea what Angela has or if she’s contagious. I wouldn’t want…”

  “Angela Carman!” Craig’s voice rang through the store. “My office! Now!”

  Nora looked as startled as Becky felt. In the entire time Craig had owned the store, he had never just yelled out for an employee. They both looked over at Angela.

  The young woman looked resigned. “I’ll be back.”

  W hen Craig returned to the store, having spent time at the dojo he usually frequented, he found David lounging in the office chair reading a book. He had missed another one of Angela’s Saturday karate classes, this time at her request and it was just one more thing bothering him. His workout this afternoon hadn’t helped.

  “How’s everything?” he asked, shutting the back door behind him. He tried sounding light-hearted, but knew he failed.

  “Same as always,” David answered. He lowered his book to the desk and rose from the chair. “The only mishap we had this afternoon was Angela dropping a jar of mayo and cutting her finger.”

  “Is she alright?” He frowned as he shed his coat and hung it on the coat rack next to the hutch containing the surveillance equipment.

  “According to her, she’s fine. She informed me she’s had worse paper cuts before.” The manager shrugged. “Who am I to argue with that?”

  Craig smiled faintly. “I bet she has too. If I wasn’t worried about her cough, I’d make a joke about it.”

  “We’ve all tried telling her she needs to see a doctor,” said David, moving around the desk to shut the office door. “She actually denied having a cough when I said something to her yesterday.”

  “I don’t think she’d listen to me right now. I can’t even apologize to her because she walks away whenever she sees me.”

  “She’s a stubborn girl when she’s angry,” the other man said sitting in the wooden chair. “Always has been.”

  “So I gather. Look, why don’t you take off for the night? I can manage things from here.”

  “Sounds good to me,” he replied, hopping to his feet. He donned his coat quickly; probably afraid Craig was going to change his mind. “Maybe you’ll get lucky and the store will clear out enough for you to try apologizing again.”

  “I hope so. Either that or she’ll consent to counting the drawers with me. Don’t forget your book.”

  David grabbed his book from the corner of the desk. “I’ll walk out front and let them know you’re here.”

  “Thanks.” He waited for the manager to leave and shut the door behind him before reaching to the drawer where he kept his sketchbook.

  It wasn’t there.

  Which was odd, to say the least. He had reserved the drawer for his sketchbook since day one. Both his managers knew not to go into the drawer. A quick check of the other drawers revealed it resting neatly in the center drawer.

  “Angela.”

  Craig stood angrily, crossing to the hutch with the surveillance equipment and opened it. He pounded the keys until he had the camera feed he wanted. He’d only been gone a few hours, and he knew who he was looking for.

  He slammed the doors shut after he’d seen enough and crossed the room quickly. Jerking the office door open, he stepped out into the hallway and called out loudly. “Angela Carman! My office! Now!”

  Stepping back into his office, he waited impatiently for her appearance. She walked slowly into the room, no doubt having taken her time to get here. Coughing into the back of her hand, his girlfriend stood just inside the door.

  “Yes?”

  “Shut. The. Door.”

  She did so, obviously reluctant.

  “Did you like them?” he asked, continuing to annunciate each individual word.

  “What?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Angela!” Anger boiled in him, and he struggled to control it. “I know you looked at my sketchbook, even though I told you I wasn’t ready to share it with you. I watched you on the tape!”

  She coughed again. “What tape?”

  “There’s a camera in the corner!” He pointed.

  She followed his finger and swallowed hard. “I didn’t know that.”

  “Obviously.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Well? Since you just had to look, did you like them?”

  “Y-yes.” She tried swallowing a cough, didn’t completely succeed. “I thought they were amazing. I don’t…”

  “You’re lucky I don’t fire you,” he said crossly. His voice rose as he took steps towards her, his finger punctuating his points. “This is my desk, in my office, in my store and you had no right to look at those sketches. It’s none of your damned business what or who I sketch.” He ran a hand through his hair, some of his anger fading. Bu
t not enough. “Dammit, Angela! Why? I wasn’t ready for you to see them. Is this your way of getting back at me for New Year’s?”

  At some point during his tirade, Angela had retreated from her boss until her back was against the door. Her hands were in fists, and her head was lowered. He almost didn’t hear her say, “No…I just…I’m so tired of our secrets, Craig. And I didn’t think you’d mind when I saw you’d been sketching me.”

  Craig saw the tears on her face, the trembling of her body but he hardened his heart. He told himself that her difficulty breathing was due to whatever cold she had. “You were wrong.” He turned away from her and sat back down in his chair.

  “Are…are we breaking up?”

  His head shot up at that. “What? No! Just…just go before I change my mind about firing you.” And he looked back down at his desk, turning papers upside down as he wondered if that’s what was actually happening.

  “I…I’m sorry,” she whispered before the door shut behind her.

  The silent room seemed to mock him.

  He flipped through the sketchbook, his heart sinking. So, she knew he did sketches of her. Without her knowledge or permission. And she had stood there, letting his anger batter her. When she was the one who had more right to be angry.

  Why had he threatened to fire her?

  Especially after she had said she liked the sketches. He winced at one of the more…suggestive sketches. It was a rude awakening for Craig. How could he think he was ready to kiss her if he wasn’t willing to even let her see these sketches?

  And now all he could see were her tears.

  What a fool he’d been.

  Rising from his chair, he walked out to the deli intent on apologizing in front of whoever might be there. But all he found was Becky, David and Nora Thompson. Nora was taking her baby back from Becky, and all three seemed disturbed.

  “Where’s Angela?” he asked, stepping behind the counter. His heart was suddenly pounding in fear.

  “She left,” Becky answered first, leaning heavily against the counter. No doubt his deli manager was tired from being on her feet all day.

  “Said you gave her permission to go home.” David was taking his coat back off. “Since you’re already short-staffed, and Becky’s at the end of her shift, I’ll stay and cover for her.”

  “Damn.” He had told her to get out, hadn’t he? She’d obeyed him quite literally.

  The three of them stood there looking at him.

  “Craig,” said Nora. Her quiet voice was compassionate, but firm. “Go after her.”

  “Nora’s right,” Becky chimed in. “I’ll stay if you need me to.”

  He looked at his manager, who was nodding in agreement. “Go fix this,” Dave was saying. “I don’t know what’s happened, but you need to be more assertive in your attempts to apologize.”

  Somehow, he didn’t know how or when, these people had become friends. “Thank you.”

  He left them without another word. Retracing his steps to the office, he slipped out the back door without bothering to grab his winter coat. When he parked next to her new Buick, Craig’s first thought was how her apartment was too dark. She had talked about leaving the electric candles in the window behind the table, but they were off. As he took the steps to the long porch which wrapped around the building, he saw she’d taken them out of the window.

  He rapped on her door. Once, twice, three times.

  Be assertive David had said. Where was the line between being assertive and being aggressive? He didn’t know, and he didn’t want to force her into anything she didn’t want.

  But he didn’t want to lose her either.

  Turning away from the door, he surveyed the parking lot. He was parked between Maggie Witherspoon’s red convertible and Angela’s Buick. He didn’t know who the crappy yellow van belonged too, or the rusty jeep. Other tenants he assumed. The old station wagon probably belonged to the Dodge’s since the parking lot around it was taken care of the best. None of it felt right, but he could see nothing out of place.

  He sighed and walked back down the steps.

  ‘You’ve lost her’ the demon had said in his dreams last night, and it looked like he’d been right.

  35

  W hen the phone rang, waking Craig from his nightmare he was almost thankful. He sat up in bed, looking at the time. Who would be calling him before six a.m.?

  “Who is this?” he asked crossly.

  “It’s Angela…” She coughed, and it sounded painful. “I can’t come to work today. I’m running a fever.”

  He tried not to sound as irritated as he felt. He’d had enough of her stubbornness. “And you’re calling me now because? You don’t come in until after your classes.”

  “I’ve already called my professors. Second day of classes and they’re not happy, but…I didn’t see the point of getting back up later. I just want to sleep.”

  She sounded more miserable than she had the day before. Irritation dissolved and was replaced with something gentler. “Angel, can I come up and talk with you? Please.”

  “Not…not today. I don’t feel good. I’m not sure what’s left to say anyway, except maybe goodbye.”

  “Angela…” But it was too late, she had hung up. “Dammit!”

  Was it too much to ask for a second chance? Why was it so hard for her?

  Because he had hurt her deeper than he’d realized.

  “God, Craig, you’re an idiot.” His fingers dialed her number quickly and he waited. But she didn’t pick up, instead allowing her answering machine to take his call. Her sweet cheerful greeting was gone, replaced with dull wooden words. He waited patiently for it to come to an end. “Angela…I can’t take this anymore. I’m dying inside. I’m sorry. If I could just talk to you, I could mend this. I…”

  The line went dead before Craig could tell her he loved her. An agitated Princess hopped up onto the bed, nudging his arm. He patted the dog. “I’ll let you out in a minute.” He broke the phone’s connection and was met with dead air when he tried to redial her number.

  “What the?” He’d deal with the phone later. He needed to see Angela.

  Fifteen minutes later, he was pounding on her apartment door, not caring if he woke any of her neighbors. “Angela! Come on!” He gave up and decided to go in. The door opened, a chair clattering to the floor. “Angela, where are you? I need to talk to you.”

  There was a groan from the living room. “I’m on the couch. It’s easier…” She coughed. “I can barely breathe, Craig. I don’t want to talk.”

  He crossed through the kitchen, through the archway into the living room. She was curled up on the couch, already rising to a sitting position. “Then all you have to do is listen.”

  “No…no…I can’t take any more.” She struggled to her feet and wrapped her blankets around herself. “I’m sorry, Craig. I can’t say that enough. I’m sorry I looked at your sketches, I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you leave on New Year’s. It was for the best…I’m…No, God, just please leave…I can’t do this again…”

  She turned and started towards her bedroom.

  “No.” He cut her off before she could disappear. Swiftly, he hoisted her over his shoulder and took her back to the couch. Even in his need to mend their relationship, her weak protest was alarming to him. He sat her down and knelt in front of her, capturing her feet between his knees. “Angela Destiny Carman, you need to hear what I have to say and you’re going to listen to me even if I have to sit on you.”

  She looked startled, and her hands fidgeted in her lap. He took them in his. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Angela. For everything. For yelling at you when I had no right to. I mean, where do I get off even thinking you invaded my privacy when you’re the one I’ve been sketching for months? You don’t owe me an apology for anything. I’m sorry for New Year’s too. There are things I need to explain, but you’re so angry and it’s killing me.”

  Her breathing was short and rapid, and he wasn’t sure if it w
as her illness or anxiety. She wasn’t looking at him, but at their hands. He let his thumbs move in a soft caress over her white knuckles.

  “Are you sorry for starting or stopping on New Year’s?” she asked, her voice low.

  “Both.” Feeling hope kindle, he reached up and brushed damp strands of hair away from her face. Her face was so red. “I’m sorry I put us in a situation we’re clearly not ready for, even though we both want it.”

  “You…you want me? But you left.” Fresh tears were falling down her face.

  “I did. Will you let me tell you why?”

  Her breathing wheezed, and she turned her head away from him to cough. “I…Oh God, my head hurts. Your sketches made me look so pretty. If that’s what you see when you look at me…”

  “Angela, I see so much more. I can never fully capture what I see when I look at you. Give me the word, and I will stop sketching you until I have your permission.” How sick was she? This conversation wasn’t going anywhere close to how Craig needed it to, but at least she was talking to him.

  “But you made me look beautiful. Like you wanted me.”

  He flipped his hand on her face, feeling for her temperature. Angela had said she was running a fever. It felt like she was burning up. “You are beautiful,” he said.

  Her breathing hitched. Her voice caught as she spoke. “You really think so?”

  “I do. And I do want you.”

  “I just don’t understand. I guess, you can sketch whatever you want. I won’t look again without your permission. Just…whatever else you have to say, can you do it without squeezing my feet?” She wiped at her cheeks with a hand.

  “Crap.” He released her feet and sat next to her on the couch. Pulling her gently into his lap, Craig cradled her against him. “Sorry. Better?”

  She nodded. “I haven’t felt pretty since Derek. He always called me his ugly little bitch. When you left…he said it was because everyone thinks I’m a slut and you didn’t want me because you thought I was a slut too.”

  “No, I’m so sorry, honey. It’s not that. I never thought that. What…” He took a deep breath and prepared to release her if she wanted up. What was the best way to say this? “What almost happened to you, did happen to me.”