by J. L. Fynn
“What do you do when you have a headache then?”
“I don’t know. Take an aspirin like a normal person.”
She scoffed and gave me a stern look that made me second guess the small joke, but then the twinkle in her eyes returned. “Aspirin comes from a plant too, you lummox.”
“I guess so.” I smiled, relieved she wasn’t angry. “You have me there.”
“All I know is that I’m not going to be able to get to know the sidhe here if I don’t know the plants.”
“Sheep?” I asked dumbly, not understanding what she was talking about.
“Not sheep. Sidhe,” she said. “Fairies, you call them, although they’re not as silly as that term implies.”
“Oh, sidhe,” I said, still having no idea what she was talking about.
Apparently it was obvious to Maggie, who smiled and shook her head. “I’ll tell you about them sometime.”
“I’d like that,” I said. Was she flirting with me? I wasn’t sure. Every word that came out of Maggie’s mouth sounded simultaneously light and momentously important. It was terrifying.
“So where have you been for the last two months?” she asked.
“What do you mean? I’ve been right here.”
“I thought you and Jim were such good friends, but you haven’t been to our trailer once since the wedding.” The way she fidgeted with the basket around on her arm was so cute, I almost reached out to stop her.
“You were off on your honeymoon,” I said, staring down at the ground.
“We got back a month ago.”
“Well, Jim’s been busy moving y’all into your doublewide and looking at plans for the house Pop wants to build him.”
“He’s not that busy.” I chanced a look up at her. She stared absently into the woods. “All he does is drink as far as I can see,” she told the trees.
“He’s off the road. Cut him some slack. It’s how he relaxes.”
“Well, why don’t you come over and relax with him sometime?” she said. “I could wet some tea for you.”
Honestly, I’d been the one avoiding Jim. We’d gone out together a few times since he got back from their honeymoon, but he really was drinking a lot more lately. Jim used to be a fun drunk, but since the wedding he’d been vacillating between mopey and angry. It was hard to watch. And, beyond that, to be perfectly honest, I’d been doing my best to avoid Maggie as much as Jim. I couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing them together as a married couple. It was easier staying away.
“I’ll come by sometime soon.”
“Tommy,” she said, her demeanor suddenly changing, “you think I can’t tell that you’re lying?” She pulled the basket closer to her chest and her shoulders tensed. “What have I done? You were so nice that day when you picked me up from the airport, but you won’t even spend time at your best friend’s house now that I’m there. What changed? You’re not mad at me about that stupid dress too, are you?” Anger shone in her eyes. I’d never seen this side of Maggie before, but it didn’t surprise me, honestly. From the moment I saw her, I sensed she was not someone to be trifled with. But there was something else there too. I’d hurt her feelings, and that felt much worse than her anger. “And it’s not just you. Jim’s barely home most days and when he is home, he drinks himself into a stupor. Am I really that terrible?”
“No, no, of course not. It’s just been an adjustment. For everyone. Jim didn’t even know you were getting married until a week before the wedding.”
“Well, neither did I, and I had to fly across an ocean and come to a new place to live with a bunch of people with funny accents who get to have an opinion about everything I do. It seems to me all of ye have forgotten your Traveler hospitality.”
“No, you’re totally right,” I said, holding up my hands in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’ll come by, I promise. And whenever you’re over this way, we can talk.” I moved toward her to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but then stopped myself and looked around. I lived at the corner of the Village. When I was behind my trailer, it was difficult for anyone to see me from the road, but still. You never knew what eyes were watching, and it’d get people talking if someone saw me touching Maggie. Instead, I lowered my voice in a tone I hoped was reassuring. “It’ll get better. I promise.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“HERE, LET ME get that for you,” I said to Maggie. She was standing behind my trailer next to the tree line, ostensibly so she could pick more plants, but she’d been doing a lot of picking in this area of the Village over the last month. I couldn’t help but think it wasn’t a coincidence.
She straightened up and raised an eyebrow at me. “I think I know what I’m doing. This isn’t the first plant I’ve pulled out to its roots.” Maggie had discovered that the chicory plants’ roots were better for her purposes than the flowers, although I still wasn’t entirely sure what she was doing with them. She pulled on the plant again, her arms straining, but it didn’t budge.
“I do have seventy pounds and six inches on you,” I said. “I should be superior at feats of strength.” I grinned. I loved how she fought with me, always thinking she could do things better than I could. In any other woman the quality could’ve been grating, but Maggie’s resistance just made me want to work harder for her approval.
She stepped aside and motioned for me to try my best, a half smile on her lips.
I bent down and wrapped my hands around the plant’s stalk and pulled. It didn’t give at all. I pulled again, harder, but still nothing. Crap. I couldn’t fail to pull it out now. Not after my bravado. Not with Maggie standing here watching me, her hands on her hips and a twinkle in her eye that told me she thought there was a fair chance I was an idiot. I yanked harder.
Nothing.
I sucked in a sharp breath and pulled with all my might. I could feel the muscles in my neck straining, but I kept pulling, not caring if my tendons snapped.
Finally, the plant came free, but I had so much of my weight straining against it that when it finally gave way, I toppled backward spraying dirt clods in the air and all over myself.
Maggie doubled over and let out the biggest laugh I’d ever heard from her. Even with my wounded pride and throbbing tailbone, I couldn’t help but smile when I looked up and saw her face. It was filled with joy and not a hint of the worry that usually pinched the corners of her eyes. It was the sort of expression I wanted to see from Maggie more often. Always, even.
When she’d finally stopped giggling, she held out her basket, allowing me to deposit the plant into it. I pushed myself off of my back and sat up.
“That was a great feat of strength, that was,” Maggie said, beaming at me.
“Hey, I got it out, didn’t I? I never said I would be graceful, just strong.”
“You’re right there,” she said, “but you better not pick anymore lest you break something.” This sent her into another fit of giggles. If you would’ve asked me a few days before, I never would’ve thought Maggie was capable of something so girlish as giggles, but here she was. She was an enigma.
“See if I ever try to help you again,” I said, standing up and wiping the dirt off my pants. I tried to shoot her an indignant glare, but the smile never left my eyes.
“You’re worse than Bridget Sheedy’s boys. God help me if I ever correct the oldest one. He goes running to his mam every time. They’re going to grow up to be tyrants.”
“I think you just need to learn to go softer on the male ego,” I said. “We can’t handle our lady folk telling us what to do all the time. The trick is to make us feel like we’re in control.”
“You’re probably right about that, I reckon. Michael talks big, but we all know who really runs the show. Bridget Sheedy has her fingers in everything.”
“You know that and I know that, but does Michael know that?” I asked.
“Probably not.”
“Exactly.”
“You think that’s my problem with Jim?” Maggie asked, suddenly serious.
Neither of us had mentioned his name since the first time we met back here, and her bringing him up was jarring.
“No. Jim’s just…it’s hard to explain. You’re not doing anything wrong. Don’t worry about Jim. He likes you well enough.”
“Well enough?” she said. “I’m his wife. He needs to like me a mite more than well enough.”
“He’ll come around,” I said more assuredly than I felt. “Why don’t I help you pick one more of these and that’ll be enough for the day? Sound good?”
“You sure your backside can take it?”
“I’ll manage,” I said.
I wrapped my hands around another plant and pulled with all my might. I braced myself so that when the plant came free I wouldn’t topple backward again, but it didn’t budge. I pulled again and felt the plant give way. I had enough control of my footing that I could’ve easily stayed upright, but as the plant started to come loose, I remembered the peal of Maggie’s laughter. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard, and I needed to hear it again. I toppled backward once more, spraying dirt clumps on top of myself and getting exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Maggie’s laughter filled the air and the parts of my heart that I’d failed to keep closed to her.
I gazed up at her from the ground, her shoulders shaking, tears running down her cheeks. She swiped them away with the back of her hand and again offered me the basket to put the plant in. Once I did, she set the basket down and reached out her hand to help me up. My fingers wrapped around hers and my heart jumped. It felt heavy and weak all at the same time.
Maggie helped me to my feet, but even after I was standing, our hands stayed stubbornly interlocked. We stood like that for a long moment, staring into each other’s eyes until neither of us were laughing.
All I could see was her. All I could feel was the aching in my chest for her to be closer.
I leaned toward her, and I honestly couldn’t say what I was planning to do—kiss her, breathe her in. I wasn’t sure. But then I caught a flash from behind her shoulder. It was Marie Gorman, walking down the street in front of my trailer. Her eyes drilled into mine. For a split second I was paranoid she knew what I was thinking. How I’d already helped Maggie commit adultery, if only in my head.
I wondered if she’d tell anyone what she saw. She’d been brutally dragged two weeks before for suspicion of messing around with a country boy. Word was that she may have even slept with him, an unforgivable sin for a Traveler girl. Boys could get away with a dalliance with a buffer here or there, but not girls.
If the rumors were true, it would be difficult for her to ever find a husband. Even if she were willing to take him with no dowry. Even if she’d be willing to take someone like me, with no family connections or big house. That sort of reputation could follow a girl for the rest of her life.
These thoughts careened around my head in the split second I made eye contact with her. She quickly averted her gaze and kept walking, but that moment was enough to make me realize what a huge mistake Maggie and I were making. If we kept talking like this, it was going to lead to something more. I could feel it and I’m sure she could feel it too. If it ever got out that Maggie and I were messing around, I didn’t know exactly what would happen, but it was the sort of thing that would ruin us—and Jim—for the rest of our lives. Jim didn’t deserve that, and more importantly, I couldn’t allow that to happen to Maggie.
I yanked my hands from hers. “Well, I better be getting back to it.”
A hurt look passed across Maggie’s face, but only for an instant. She could obviously sense that something had changed, but she didn’t question it. “Aye, me as well.”
She picked up her basket and brushed past me, headed toward the doublewide she shared with Jim. I looked back over to where I’d seen Marie, but she was already gone.
CHAPTER NINE
A FEW DAYS later I was lying in bed just on the edge of sleep when a knock at my trailer door woke me. I sat up, and the movement caused a sharp pain to slice through the top of my head, reminding me of how much I’d drunk the night before. I’d been pissed off and bored, so I did what a lot of Travelers did in that situation. Alcohol wasn’t necessarily the most productive of solutions, but it was certainly the most expedient.
I walked toward the door before realizing I was completely naked. I stumbled back toward my bed, found a pair of jeans that weren’t too dirty and yanked them on. I glanced at myself in the mirror as I walked by the bathroom and caught a glimpse of the crazy bed head I was sporting, but a second knock prompted me to stumble to the door rather than deal with it.
“You’re a sight!” Maggie said as soon as I opened the door. She was wearing a green dress that perfectly matched her eyes and was holding her ubiquitous basket. On any other day I would’ve been taken by her simple beauty, but today it infuriated me. That’s what was getting me into trouble. “Just woke up.”
“It’s after eleven!”
“And?” I knew I was being rude, but that was the point. We couldn’t be friendly anymore and that was that.
“My mam always told me that if you sleep in too late, the sidhe will—”
“I don’t have time for your fairy stories right now, okay?”
The light in Maggie’s eyes dimmed and her expression turned icy. “I’m sorry, Tommy. I hadn’t realized your sleep was so important. And drinking, if the smell coming off of you is any indication.”
“Get off my back. You’re not my old lady.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I understand. You’re home. You don’t have a lot to do. But that doesn’t mean you have to act like an eejit. You could do something useful with yourself.”
“Like what?”
“Learn a second language? Read a good book? I don’t know, build something for God’s sake.”
“It’s not like you to take the Lord’s name in vain, Maggie,” I said coldly, then added, “Reilly.” The name burned in the back of my throat, but I made myself say it as a reminder of who she was and why I couldn’t be friendly with her.
“Since when are you so concerned with what the Lord thinks?” she asked. “You think I haven’t figured out what sort of clan this is?”
My scowl was the only response she got.
“I’ve seen the record books that Bridget and Michael keep for Pop. There’s something shady running through every transaction this clan makes. People like you give Travelers a bad name.”
“Oh, really? So you think it would be better if we lived off the dole like your family? At least we earn our money.”
“I don’t see how you can be so sanctimonious about stealing from people.”
“We don’t steal from people! We only take money gulls are handing out. Haven’t you ever heard the Traveler motto that, ‘God put the gullible on earth to be gulled’? When we take gulls’ money, we’re doing God’s work.”
“Oh, please.” She laughed. “You don’t really believe that dreck, do you?”
“Yeah, I do,” I said, my pride thoroughly injured. “And if you think we’re so terrible—that I’m so terrible—why do you keep coming around here?”
“I don’t know.” Maggie’s eyes shone. “I thought you liked talking to me.”
“Maybe I do and maybe I don’t, but you’re married to my best friend. Don’t you think it’s a little inappropriate to be coming by here all the time?”
“I—I didn’t…” she trailed off, anger flooding her face.
“Spit it out, Maggie.”
Her eyes widened to saucers. “If that’s how you feel, I won’t come by anymore.”
“Good,” I said.
“Grand,” she hissed, then turned on her heels and stomped away.
I slammed the door and pressed my back against it, lowering myself to the floor. I banged the back of my head into the door and pounded my fists into the floor. The conversation had gone pretty much the way I’d hoped—I’d driven Maggie away, that was my goal—but somehow that didn’t make me feel even the slightest bit better.
CHAPTER TEN
“WHERE ARE WE going?” I asked Jim as he parked his truck on a residential street uptown. We both needed to get out of the Village, so we’d decided to come to New Orleans for the weekend.
“This is it.”
I looked around trying to figure out what he was up to. We’d already checked into our hotel, and then had climbed back into the truck to hit the bars. I looked around again, but saw nothing. “What’s ‘it’?”
“Haven’t you ever been to Snake and Jake’s before?”
I raised an eyebrow that said I hadn’t.
“Snake and Jake’s Christmas Club Lounge?” he repeated. “Look across the street. You see those Christmas lights?”
“You mean the tiny string at the top of the shack that looks like it should’ve been demolished twenty years ago?”
“Yup. That’s the place.”
“There’s no sign.”
“It doesn’t need a sign.”
I shook my head, but got out of the truck and followed him. The building was no more than eight yards across and even up close there was very little indication that this was a bar. The ramshackle building looked out of place among the family homes on Oak Street, and I was surprised its neighbors hadn’t petitioned the city to have it closed down. Although, for all I knew, maybe they had.
We walked inside. The bar’s interior wasn’t any more impressive than the facade outside. It was one long, empty room lit by only a few dull strings of Christmas lights and candles at the few tables near the front. A large man stood behind the bar and didn’t look too happy that we’d come in. His look suggested we were interrupting him, but there were no televisions or anything else of note in the place, so you’d think he’d be happy for our company.
“What can I get you?” the barman said.
“Abita Amber,” I answered.
The bartender turned his bored gaze on Jim. “Purple Haze.”
“Got it.” The large man gave us our beers, and we walked over to one of the low tables near the door.
“What sort of crappy bar is this?”