WindSwept Narrows: #7 Francine Kendall

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  “Story goes…she was a wee girl…showed up for her first event with her father…wearing a princess costume, complete with tiara,” he chuckled at the image. “My dad had pictures somewhere…I’ll see if he’s got some with him and get you one. She’s always had this regal manner about her, especially in her speech, most likely from havin’ Alister as her dad…one of the boys told her she was a pretty little fancy and it stuck.”

  “It’s an interesting event…almost like being in another time, another country,” Donovan said honestly, accepting the paper wrapped pie.

  “I’m off…preparing for this afternoon. Nice to meet you, Donovan…see you around, Fancy.”

  “Bye, Toby,” Frannie waved and looked around, spotting an empty table near the edge. “Table…I was going to ask if you wanted an ale…but ran out of hands…”

  “I’ll get it…what do you want?”

  “Lemonade, please…” Frannie ignored the steamy meat pie, her eyes wide and taking all the people around her, listening and watching the afternoon.

  He returned to the table with a tall mug of ale and a lemonade, sitting down and biting into the savory pie. She was right, they were beyond good.

  “You’re not eating,” he commented, watching her abruptly snap to the front and begin to pick at the crust of her pie. “I thought you said you were starving?”

  “I am…” Frannie lifted it and took a big bite, chewing thoughtfully. “I get a little caught up in watching and listening and smelling…”

  “This is really good,” Donovan said meeting her gaze over the small table. “You have a lot of friends here.”

  “They’re mostly nice people. Very nice. It would have been most thrilling to grow up traveling from event to event…so much to see and learn,” she said thoughtfully. “These events were partly responsible for my interest in natural healing. They have no one but each other and nature…no health plans…I birthed my first baby here when I was fourteen…I can still remember…it was so exciting…so…happy…” She noticed her pie was gone, delicately licking her fingers.

  “I’m after another…you want one, Frannie?” She shook her head, two hands around her cup of lemonade.

  He could smell a fragrant mix of herbs when he leaned over her, his mouth close to her ear. “I can walk and eat the pie, Frannie. Let’s explore…” He had tossed the empty plastic cup into the recycling bin, his free palm held out to her.

  Frannie looked at the hand held out to her as if seeing it for the first time in her life. She knew the feel of him. She’d held his hand in hers for the last five nights. She slid her palm into his and stood up, fingers clasp as she led him along the large colorful tents of crafts and foods. She led them to the huge expanse of field, the first tossing events about to begin.

  Donovan stood talking with one of the people preparing to toss a huge telephone pole sized piece of wood. Frannie had wandered to one of the booths behind them, talking with the merchant about some oils she had been looking at when a younger man approached her.

  “Hey, Fancy girl…haven’t seen you in a year,” drawled a low voice.

  “Hello Mike,” Frannie knew the voice. He was a year or more younger than she.

  “Still looking fine, Fancy,” he put his palm on her arm, frowning when she pulled away.

  “Please leave me alone, Mike,” Frannie finished her purchase and smiled, turning away from him.

  “Going off to your Nancy boy?”

  Frannie spun on him, glaring angrily. “Don’t call him that,” she warned, pale lashes narrowed.

  “Let’s go have a beer and talk,” he reached for her hand, coming up empty when she backed up a step. “Maybe sneak off behind the tents for a little toss and tumble…”

  “Mike…the lass told you to go…” The woman behind the counter knew trouble when she saw it brewing, working to signal her husband or one of the older men in the area.

  “The lass has taken up with a Nancy boy…” he taunted with a jeering scowl. “She’s too good for the likes of us….”

  Frannie’s palm was up and fist poking in his chest with a thud.

  “I said don’t call him that,” she growled through her teeth as she stepped forward, her finger out with another sharp poke that sent him backing up. “I said…leave me alone. I did not like you last year and I still do not like you.”

  Donovan stopped talking when the palm of the man he was speaking with raised a hand and touched his shoulder. “Take Fancy…I’ll settle the boy…” The man instructed quietly, both of them moving in unison forward.

  “I told you to go away…” Frannie ordered through clenched teeth, her finger poking him again, a little more forcefully. She was about to strike again, ignoring the young man glaring at her when she was suddenly lifted off the ground and carried a few feet away.

  “Whoa, Frannie…” Donovan put one long arm out, circled her waist and lifted her to his side, carrying her off to the side. “What’s wrong?”

  “Damn, Fancy and her Nancy boy!”

  Frannie struggled against the arm, fists flailing and feet off the ground. “Take it back!” She yelled furiously.

  “The hell I will!”

  “Let me go…” Frannie pulled at the arm holding her. “He is not a Nancy boy! Take it back!” She demanded angrily.

  Donovan couldn’t stop his laughter. “Frannie…it’s okay…” he set her on the ground.

  Narrowed pale lashes swung from Mike to Donovan, her feet finding their ground and her voice low. “He is not a Nancy boy,” she said firmly, her hands up and framing Donovan’s face, pulling his mouth to hers without warning.

  Donovan’s palms gripped her waist mostly for stability. He savored the heat and shape of her mouth, the full soft bow of her lips sweeping hungrily through him. Her fingers were spread out over his face, pressing heavily into the hair at the back of his head, circling his neck and clinging to him tightly. Her mouth opened, her tongue warm and seductive until he heard a voice in the back of his mind.

  It was deep laughter, actually, he realized. He set her deliberately back from him, staring into the flushed cheeks and flashing fire in her eyes.

  “Definitely not a Nancy boy,” came the deep chuckle behind him. “Mike has been sent on his way. The boy’s a problem…should have let Frannie take him down…”

  “You were defending me?” Donovan found his voice, trying to casually lead her to the grass to find a place to sit and watch the events.

  “I don’t know if I should apologize for…taking unfair advantage…” Frannie sunk to the ground, sitting cross legged and staring out at the field filling with people preparing for the games. “Yes, I was defending you.”

  “No apology needed, Frannie,” Donovan leaned back on his elbows, following her gaze and shifting the topic to the games. He listened to Frannie talk about each event, outlining and explaining the goals.

  It was after eleven when she took the call from her father and headed back toward the SUV, fireworks going off over their heads. Donovan held her close, the winds whipping up her cloak as she climbed into the back of the SUV and stretched out on the seat.

  Alister looked back at her and smiled. “She always wears herself out dancing.”

  Donovan had images of her twirling and skipping around the huge wooden floor, hands going from person to person as they circled the dance floor. Frannie no sooner stepped off at the end of a song when she was pulled again to the floor, laughing and dancing until the music stopped and her phone went off.

  “She did a lot of dancing and I think we walked the merchant mall three times in-between the sporting events,” Donovan recalled with a relaxed sigh. “I’d never seen events like that before. There’s some serious strength involved.”

  “Fascinating culture all their own,” Alister agreed, glancing back at Frannie. “She’s asleep. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. Depending on the season, we have events of those all over the area.”

  “I did…I honestly did,” Donovan admitted quietly, mull
ing over the words in his mind. “I don’t know how to broach this, Alister. It’s not something that….in the other world, it wouldn’t even arise. But for some reason, Frannie and her world…there are times it feels like she’s from several decades back.”

  “I believe my daughter created her own time period, Donovan,” Alister admitted with a smile. “And I admit, I did nothing to curtail her imagination.”

  “I’d like your permission to court her, Alister,” Donovan heard himself say the words aloud and exhaled raggedly.

  “My permission…” Alister looked over at the man behind the wheel. “That does feel like it comes from another time.”

  “But it feels like it fits Frannie,” Donovan said simply. “You’re very important to her and I don’t want to do anything to strain that relationship.”

  “You do realize the temper you’ll see if Frannie hears of this, but you have my permission, Donovan. You’re a good person, a good man and I like what I’ve come to learn about you,” Alister admitted with a nod. “A lot of men at the games have tried getting Frannie’s attention in the past…she seemed oblivious to them.”

  “I noticed that today. She…almost…she was willing to get into a brawl because someone called me a Nancy boy,” Donovan told him, his chuckle soft and matching that of Alister’s. “She’s fierce….”

  “That’s my daughter. Most of the people at the events are decent, good people. Occasionally, you have some that behave less than with honor,” his head shook slightly. “They don’t last long on the circuit. It’s a very close knit family that tends to protect their own, and Frannie is one of them.”

  Frannie lay staring at the back of the seat she was laying on, working hard to keep her breathing from bursting forth as she listened. She closed her eyes tightly, counting slowly.

  Court her? She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or angry at being considered a possession. She was still pondering that when she heard the gate open at the top of the driveway to the house. She sat up slowly, stretching and yawning tiredly.

  Donovan opened the back door, his hands up and lifting her to the ground. “Thank you…it was a wonderful day…” She declared happily, using her keys and opening the front door for them to carry in the ale her father had bought. “Good night…”

  Frannie sat before the vanity mirror, hands absently working the brush through the long hair. Her lip was pulled between her teeth. She stared but didn’t really see, her mind on the words Donovan had used.

  He wanted permission to court her and he valued her relationship with her father. Why not ask her if she wanted to be courted? Still, it was a very gallant gesture, she admitted with a little sigh before she crawled beneath the thick quilts. Burrowing down and letting her mind drift to their kiss.

  She was deep in the middle of the event grounds when the powerful burst of anger and fear broke into her dream. Frannie was up immediately, taking the stairs two at a time to her study where she fixed the oils that she had left available on the large table. She moved silently through the hall, sliding inside his room and gently began whispering to him, placing the towel over his forehead and holding him tightly against her. His body fought her tonight and she wondered what else was in the middle of his dream.

  Chapter Eight

  Donovan knew it was a dream. He had read up on what she called lucid dreaming and stopped all action, stopped all thoughts. He took in the vision his memory had created even as he heard her voice talking to him, telling him it was time for peace. It was time to grant those around him their dignity and rest.

  She wore one of her dresses, a shimmering white that flowed like liquid silk. He felt her fingers twined with his, holding him, keeping him from stepping into the house reeking of death. She stepped in front of him, her head shaking slightly.

  Then he was in another place, her mouth was on his, gentle but persuasive. He felt her teeth nipping at his lip and heard his own groan when his palms moved to press along her back and suddenly, there was nothing there to be held.

  He sat up in the bed, aware of the tension in his body and the vivid dream he’d been in the middle of. Faint streaks of light were coming over the Sound signaling morning. He’d been so sound asleep he had no idea time had flown by so quickly. He dressed and went out for a long run through the small town, inhaling the fresh sea air flowing around him.

  Alister looked up from his morning paper when Donovan came into the dining area shortly after eight. His answer offered before the question was asked.

  “It’s not like Frannie to be asleep this long.”

  “Miss Francine left the house early this morning,” Nancy said, looking from one to the other. “She had her tote with her and her bag of remedies.”

  “Thank you, Nancy,” Alister waited until they were alone. “It’s not like Frannie to not leave me a note.”

  “Unless she heard us talking last night,” Donovan poured coffee and sat drinking for a couple quiet minutes.

  “I did warn you, Donovan. While I understand the respect behind your request, I don’t honestly know how Frannie would react to such behavior. We see it as a form of respect, she may well view it as a possessive act that would send her back up,” Alister nodded thoughtfully.

  “I’ll deal with it,” Donovan assured him quietly. “First I have to find her.”

  “I’d try the games,” Alister suggested. “She does generally spend a lot of time there over the three days. And if she took her remedies, she may well have had people she wanted to see there.”

  Donovan pulled out his phone and tapped in her number, requesting location. “She has it on…and she is in the vicinity of the games.”

  “She’s not responding?”

  “No,” Donovan slid the phone inside his pocket and worked on breakfast. “She’ll understand once I explain things. She’s a logical woman.”

  Donovan began to notice a pattern as he paid and entered the grounds of the festival. People he was sure he hadn’t met were nodding, waving and offering a bright greeting. Men and women, all of them he guessed were part of the festival itself. Vendors and participants in the games all gesturing and nodding. The sun was shining down brightly and it promised to be a very nice day for the event, the throngs of people making it more and more difficult to locate Frannie. Finally, he went up to one of the booths where he’d seen her chatting with friends.

  “Hi, have you seen Frannie this morning? I was supposed to meet her…” He left the sentence hang, his request met with a bright smile.

  “Aye…Fancy’s all the way to the back end…helping May,” the young woman pointed. “Can’t miss it…it’s a large tent all on it’s own.”

  “Thanks,” he continued along the grass, spotting the tent she spoke of set back from the others.

  “Where’s Liam?” Came a feminine voice, a cross between a shout and a cry.

  “We sent people to find him, Tansy…” May looked over at Frannie with a frown.

  “We shouldn’t have…” Frannie wiped the cloth lightly over her forehead, dipping it into the cool water and repeating before bending over the swollen belly, her stethoscope against it. A strong heartbeat greeted her and she nodded to May. “We need…”

  All three sets of feminine eyes turned when he lifted the flap on the tent. Donovan immediately recognized the scenario and was in the process of opening his mouth to apologize and retreat, when Frannie’s voice stopped him.

  “Donovan! Yes…please…we need your help…” She let the stethoscope fall around her neck.

  “Me? Frannie, I don’t…” his head was shaking quickly, his voice bordering on frantic.

  “Frannie?” Tansy groaned softly.

  “He’s good, Tansy…a good man…and he can help…please, Donovan,” Frannie crossed the tent quickly, taking his palm and leading him to the head of the gurney.

  “Frannie, I’ve never…” Donovan heard her words and inhaled deeply. The woman on the gurney didn’t look much older than twenty, slender like Frannie but with a
very large bump in the middle.

  “I need you to support her back and just hold her hands, Donovan…please…we sent two people out to find Liam but so far…and we can’t wait until they appear…” she took him to the head of the gurney, showing him how to brace his knee on the cushioned board they had set up.

  “Oh god…Frannie…”

  “Breathe, Tansy…” She quickly swiped over her brow again, glancing down at May before checking the heartbeat once more. “We’re good…it’s a strong baby…”

  “I almost have the baby turned…” She said with quiet confidence.

  “Tansy…this is Donovan…he’s strong and good…here…” she took the young woman’s palms and placed them in Donovan’s, smiling up at him with confidence that made him nod. “Breathe, Tansy…no pushing…not yet…almost…”

  Frannie made certain he was positioned for her support before moving off to get things ready. He watched the soft, gentle hands touch and feel around the woman’s stomach, listening every now and then. Only then did he notice she was wearing a large, heavy canvas white apron over her dress, the sleeves shoved up and the wraps she had been wearing around her wrists betrayed to be seen.

  Then he felt the woman begin to squeeze his hands and focused on her. She had short red curls, her head forced back and eyes tightly closed as she worked on her breathing.

  When the tension lessened, he reached for the damp cloth he had seen Frannie dip into the bowl with floating ice, swiping it over the girl’s forehead gently.

  “Got it…” May declared, moving a large basin beneath the table and herself into a better position. “We’re ready now…and it’ll be fast…”

  Frannie went to the middle, her hands gently moving over the pulsing baby. “It’s a girl…”

  “Frannie!” May burst out laughing.

  “I wanted a girl…” Tansy breathed happily. “Oh…May…”