“Damn right, I am,” Ruthie said with an authoritative nod. “You catch yourself a rich husband, and all your problems will disappear.”
Eve wondered what planet she was from. Or was that what century? “And I suppose his being handsome and charming is just an added bonus,” she drawled. “So I won’t have to close my eyes and think of God and country when we make love.”
“Now you’re getting it,” Ruthie said. “But you need to strike while the iron is hot.”
Eve stood up and walked around the counter, figuring she better get Ruthie out of there before she strangled the clueless woman. “If you’re looking for Mom, she’s at the library searching for books on making butter.”
“Oh! That’s why I came over,” Ruthie said, picking up her package. “Mabel’s book finally came in.”
Eve took the paper bag from her, surprised by how heavy it was, and continued walking toward the door. “Thanks for bringing it over. I’ll give it to her as soon as she gets back.”
Ruthie didn’t follow. “Um…Mabel hasn’t paid for it yet.”
Eve spun around with a forced smile and headed back. “How much do we owe you?” she asked, reaching under the counter for her purse.
“With tax, it’s fifty-eight dollars and thirty-five cents.”
Eve straightened. “Sixty bucks? What is it, a dictionary or something?”
“I had to call six different distributors before I found one that had it,” Ruthie said. “It’s a special edition.”
Eve opened her wallet, saw only a ten and two ones inside. She snatched a credit card out of her wallet with a sigh of defeat, and headed for the door again.
“I’ll walk you back, so you can run my card through.”
“I have to charge another four percent if you use a card,” Ruthie warned her, pulling up her hood as she finally followed. “That’s what the processing costs me, and the price I gave Mabel was for cash.”
Eve stepped into a blast of wind so strong, it nearly yanked the door from her hand. “Holy cow, that’s quite a gale!” she said, tugging the door closed once Ruthie made it outside. “And it’s gotten dark all of a sudden.”
“I told you it was starting to storm,” Ruthie said over the howl of the wind.
Eve glanced up and down Main Street, noticing that very few people were out and about, and that vehicles passing through town had their headlights on. She held on to Ruthie as they rushed to her book and gift shop.
Ruthie went over to the ancient television behind the counter and turned it on. “Let’s see what the weatherman is saying,” she said, switching channels to the noon news out of Portland.
The weather forecaster stood in front of a map of New England. Perfect mid-May weather was visiting them for the next three days, he claimed; sunny days topping out in the fifties and clear nights in the high thirties. No frost predicted for the coast, though some mountain valleys might touch the high twenties. A storm was forming off the Carolinas, but was predicted to turn out to sea long before it reached the Gulf of Maine.
“Is that guy on drugs?” Eve asked. “We have gale force winds!”
Ruthie switched to a Bangor station. “Enjoy this stretch of fine weather, people,” the forecaster said cheerily. “This is Maine, after all, and we know it won’t last long.”
“They’re both on drugs,” Ruthie said, just as her store’s plate-glass windows shuddered with a strong gust of wind.
“Ring me up,” Eve said, handing Ruthie her credit card. “I have to get back and make sure my awnings are secure. The last thing I need is for them to get ripped off my storefront.”
Eve fought the wind back to her own store, took down her open flag, and made sure her awnings were cranked tightly closed. She finally went inside, shoved her card and the sales slip in her purse, then pulled Mabel’s book out of the bag.
Her mother had paid sixty dollars for a book about dragons?
“My heavens!” Mabel said, stumbling through the door. “It was sunny when I went to the library, and when I came out, the wind was blowing so hard I took two steps back for every one forward. And it’s so cold, it feels like it’s going to snow.”
Okay…time to try out Kenzie’s suggestion that she play along with her mother’s little delusion. “The book you ordered finally came in,” Eve said, lifting it for Mabel to see the cover. “The artwork is beautiful, and the binding feels like real leather. I didn’t know you were interested in dragons.”
Mabel set her library books on a stove by the door and slowly walked over as she unbuttoned her coat, her gray eyes apprehensive. “I’ve just recently become interested in them.”
Eve turned the book toward her, took a calming breath, and said, “Did you buy this for William?”
Her mother grew even more guarded. “William?”
“The friend you meet on your morning walks. Did he get you interested in dragons?”
Mabel clutched her coat to her chest. “You’ve seen William?” she whispered.
“No, but I’d like to. Maybe I could go with you one of these mornings, and you could introduce me to him.”
“Oh, but I can’t. I promised William I’d keep his existence a secret.” Mabel stepped closer. “He thinks he’s ugly, and doesn’t want anybody to see him.”
“Except you?”
She frowned. “He seems to be comfortable with me, for some reason. I think it’s because I didn’t scream the first time I saw him. He was sitting on a rock by the ocean, sunning himself.” Her eyes brightened. “It was a glorious sight when he spread his huge wings and flew off. He’s really a magnificent creature.”
Eve’s heart thumped painfully. “William has wings?”
Mabel started leafing through the pages of the book, then stopped and pointed to one of the drawings. “There, that’s him. William looks almost exactly like this painting of an ancient Celtic dragon.”
Eve stared down at the large, fierce-looking dragon. “If William looks like this,” she said, picking her words carefully, “then he certainly is a magnificent creature.” She looked at her mother. “Does he…talk to you?”
“Oh, yes. He has a wicked accent, though, and sometimes I can’t understand what he’s saying because he uses words I’ve never heard.” Mabel slipped off her coat, set it on the counter, and started leafing through the book again. “He wasn’t born a dragon, you know. He can talk because he’s really a man. His full name is William Killkenny, and he’s a ninth-century nobleman from Ireland.” She made a disgusted face. “An old witch turned him into a dragon when he asked her to move off his land because she was scaring the villagers.”
“How terrible,” was all Eve could think to say.
“You know why she turned him into a dragon?”
Eve slowly shook her head.
“Because in ninth-century Ireland, dragons were everyone’s idea of the big, bad bogeyman, and the witch claimed she wanted William to experience what it was like for people to shun him.” She tapped the book with her finger. “That’s why I bought him this book. I want him to see that dragons are really beautiful beasts, and how in most societies they’re revered as symbols of powerful magic.” She closed the book and ran her hand over the padded cover. “I know it cost a lot of money, but I wanted to give William a sense of his worth. He has very low self-esteem.”
Eve was totally, utterly speechless.
“I have to read this thoroughly before I give it to him, so I can figure out which element he is: fire, water, air, or earth.”
Eve couldn’t stop fixating on the word bogeyman. Why did it ring a bell?
She suddenly sucked in a silent breath. Maddy had said she thought she’d kissed a bogeyman the night they’d crashed the truck and gotten drunk.
“Um…exactly how big is William?” she asked.
“Around the size of a large horse.” Mabel looked up and shrugged. “Maybe a little bigger than Curaidh.”
“And you say he has wings, and can actually fly?”
“Oh, yes.
He has huge, powerful-looking wings.” Her mother giggled. “I think he actually blushed when I said they were like gossamer. They’re silky and delicate-looking, but when he let me touch them, I realized they’re quite tough.”
“Y-you touched him?”
Mabel nodded. “Once he got really comfortable with me, he even started showing off a bit.” She leaned closer and whispered, “He lit a twig on fire with just his breath because I asked if he could breathe fire.”
Eve didn’t know whether to burst into tears or scream. Either her mother was further gone than she thought, or she was the one who needed a reality check. Because honest to God, the dragon Mabel had pointed out in the book looked exactly like the animal Maddy had ditched the truck to avoid hitting.
She plopped down on her stool. “But dragons aren’t real; they’re mythological creatures,” she said softly.
“I thought so, too,” Mabel said, picking up the book and heading for the back office. “Until I met William.” She stopped in the doorway. “Eve?”
“Yes?”
“You believe me, don’t you, that William is real? I mean, you don’t think that I’m just imagining him, do you?”
How in hell was she supposed to answer that? If she said yes, then she would be encouraging her mother’s delusion. But if she said no, she could drive a wedge between them so deeply, it would split both their hearts in two.
“Never mind,” Mabel said sadly, turning away. “I’ll just ask William if you can meet him. Then you’ll be able to tell me if I’ve lost all my marbles.”
“Wait. You mean you’re not sure yourself?”
Her mother rolled her eyes. “I’ve just spent the last ten minutes telling you I talk to a dragon, Evangeline. How can I not question my sanity?”
Chapter Eleven
“We have to go tend the animals,” Daar said, turning from the window, his eyes dark with concern. “I doubt Kenzie will be back for a long time, so ye have to help me feed the livestock.”
“Is Curaidh in the barn?” Eve asked.
“No, Kenzie rode out on him.”
“In this weather?” She stood up from the table, where she’d been trying to skim the cream off several gallons of milk. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon, Father. It’s getting dangerous out there.”
“He won’t be back tonight.” Daar grabbed his coat off one of the pegs. “And we need to milk the cow before she becomes uncomfortable.”
Oh, goody. She couldn’t wait to try that. “What makes you think he won’t be back? Where did he go?”
“I don’t know where he went, girl,” he said, thumping his cane on the floor. “I’m not his keeper.”
“Yeah, well, milking cows wasn’t in my job description, either,” she grumbled, grabbing her rain slicker off the peg. She walked to the living room as she slipped it on. “Mom? Daar and I are going to the barn to feed the animals. We might be gone awhile, because we also have to milk the cow.”
Mabel looked up from her dragon book. “You want me to come help you?”
“No, you just sit tight. You have a flashlight handy, in case the power goes out?”
“Right here,” Mabel said, nodding at the table beside her. “And you better take one with you.”
“Don’t worry, I will. If you get tired of reading, you can always skim cream.”
Mabel laughed, waving her away. “I never tire of reading. Go milk your cow, Evangeline. You just might discover that farming suits you.”
Eve walked back through the kitchen. “Okay, Father, brace yourself,” she said, pulling up her hood and opening the door.
The wind ripped the screen door out of her hands. It was no longer blowing a gale; it felt like a hurricane! When Daar stepped out beside her, she looped her arm through his. “Hang on, we’ll keep each other from blowing away.”
They made it to the barn, and Eve pulled open the door and looked around. All the inhabitants seemed warm and cozy, and totally oblivious to the storm raging outside. They also appeared quite happy to see her and Daar, probably because, to them, humans meant supper. The goats started bleating, the mares stuck their heads out of their stalls and softly whinnied, and the piglets started squealing. The puppies jumped up from their bed of straw and started wagging their entire back ends.
Daar said something to them in what she assumed was Gaelic as he scurried away, only to return and shove a bucket of grain at her. “Go out to the coop and feed the chickens, and gather the eggs,” he instructed. “And make sure ye latch the coop door behind ye. We don’t want any fox in the henhouse tonight.”
“No fox worth his pelt would go out in this weather,” Eve replied, stepping into the storm.
By the time she fed the hens and started back to the barn, the cold rain was coming down so hard it stung her face. She’d have to warm her hands before getting up close and personal with the cow’s udder. Goats she could handle, but cows could kick.
“What’s next, Father?” she asked as she started to take off her slicker.
Daar tossed an armful of hay into one of the mare’s feeding bin. “We need to water the animals. Kenzie ran a hose from the house until he can install a water line. Ye’ll have to go turn it on at the house.”
“Lovely,” she growled, rezipping her slicker and heading back out into the storm. She ran to the house and tried to twist the spigot, only to discover the water was already turned on. She spun around with a curse, and nearly made it back to the barn before she slipped in the mud and fell flat on her back. The rain pelted her face, and she cursed again.
“What took ye so long?” Daar asked when she stumbled back into the barn, winded, wet, and wanting to strangle someone. “Here, this is for the goats,” he said, handing her a small sack of grain. “We don’t have to milk the nannies tonight; their babes can take care of that chore for us. When you’re done feeding them, start filling all the water buckets.”
It took them another twenty minutes to get everyone fed, watered, and bedded down for the night. And then Eve found herself sitting on a stool, her face about ten inches from a cow’s belly, wondering if priests had divine permission to lie. She was damn sure Father Daar could milk the cow; she’d been watching him toss hay and spread straw with a pitchfork for the last half hour. His claim that he couldn’t do this was an outright lie.
He just wanted to watch her make an udder fool of herself.
“Ye just give them a tender squeeze at the top, then urge the milk out with a gentle tug,” he instructed, standing bent over behind her.
She took hold of the two closest teats, the cow jumped in surprise and kicked over the bucket, and Eve scrambled backward off the stool.
Daar cackled and set the bucket back into place. “Ye might want to warm up your hands first.”
Damn. She’d forgotten. She sat down on the stool again, blew on her cupped hands, and eyed the cow—who was eyeing her back. “Does she have a name?”
“The farmer told Kenzie she was number six forty-three, just like that tag in her ear says. But I call her Gretchen, after Kenzie’s mother.”
“Why?”
“To annoy Kenzie.”
“But he’s your friend. Why would you antagonize him like that?”
“Because it’s the only power I have left. You intend to talk all night, girl, or give poor Gretchen some relief? At the rate you’re going, it’ll be time to milk her again before you’re done.”
Eve slowly took hold of the teats again. Gretchen didn’t flinch this time, and after a couple of false starts, Eve was able to get milk to come out.
It took her twenty minutes of tender squeezing and gentle tugging before Daar told her she could stop. Then she had to strain the milk through a cloth into a metal pail, and then carry the milk to the house while trying to keep Father Daar from blowing away.
And if her initiation into farming hadn’t been adventurous enough, when Eve finally drifted off to sleep that night, her curiosity about where Kenzie was somehow transformed into them being together, in
a spine-tingling, toe-curling, passion-charged embrace.
Then, finally, he kissed her.
And damn if she didn’t go weak in the knees like a proper romance heroine!
“Eve. Wake up,” her mother said, shaking her shoulder. “Wake up!”
Eve bolted upright into absolute darkness, broken only by the sharp beam of a flashlight. “What’s wrong?”
“You have to go save Kenzie,” Mabel said, pulling back the covers.
Eve shook off the last vestige of sleep as her feet touched the floor. “What happened? Did his horse throw him? How bad is he hurt?”
“I don’t know how badly he’s hurt. Just hurry.” Mabel said, handing Eve a pair of pants, then going to her bureau and pulling out some jerseys. “You need to dress warmly.”
“Where is he?”
“Somewhere on the cliffs on the west side of the point.”
“Did you call 911?” Eve asked, pulling a turtleneck over her head, then pulling a sweater down over it. “Who found him? Is the person downstairs?”
“The electricity’s out and so are the phones. There’s no one to help us. Here’s some heavy wool socks.”
“If there’s no one, then who found Kenzie?” Eve repeated.
“William dragged him onto a sheltered ledge well above the tide, then immediately came here to tell us.”
Eve froze in the middle of zipping her pants. “William?”
“He had to run here, because the wind was blowing too hard for him to fly.”
“Mom! You can’t expect me to go out in this storm because an imaginary friend told you Kenzie is hurt.”
Mabel pulled her into the hall. “We don’t have time to debate my sanity, Evangeline. Kenzie could be dying! Come on, your boots are downstairs.”
She was damned if she went, and damned if she didn’t. A dragon had told her mother Kenzie needed help…but what if he really was hurt? She couldn’t take the chance of not going to look for him.
Lightning flashed through the windows as they made their way to the kitchen, where a kerosene lamp was already lit. Eve sat down at the table to put on her boots while Mabel started filling a backpack with emergency supplies. Father Daar walked into the kitchen, and as soon as Eve straightened from tying her laces, he slid something over her head.
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