He tip-toed back to the table, grabbed the keycard, and then realized that he didn’t have any shoes. Darn, he must be half-asleep—he wasn’t as clever as he thought he was. He grabbed her sandals. They were closer and would work for the quick trip to the edge of town. He opened the door, took one more look back into the room—still feeling like there was something missing—and saw it. The map and police report Billy had given him was inside his bag, which was on the chair, scooted under the table. He propped opened the door with one foot and reached in. He tipped the back of the chair toward him with his fingertips and caught it, just before it fell to the floor. Hmph. He might have a career as a cat burglar—if he made a checklist of items needed before setting to work!
He eased the door shut and performed the same awkward clubfooted dance to the car that he had used at the pool—the asphalt was still hot, even at night. Leaning against the warm metal of the Prius, he pulled his pants on over his sleep shorts, dropped the sandals to the ground, and inched his toes in far enough that they’d stay on his feet. A quick tug and wiggle into his shirt, and he was dressed.
Ready to roll, James opened the door, put one foot inside, and groaned. Hmph! Wrong side of the car, Melbourne!
Operation Deception, take number two. James winced as the engine turned over. Hopefully she hadn’t heard it. He checked the gauge to make sure he had enough fuel, backed up, and drove into a parking space on the other side of the motel. He turned on the car’s interior lights and dug into the valise until he found the map and the official police report Billy had given him. He looked again at the back of the envelope and the markings he had made while talking with James Bradford—JB as the gentleman’s gentleman liked to be called—at the Club. Besides his list of what to bring and when to leave, he had also subconsciously drawn a map on the envelope. Hmm, it was strange, yet familiar. And maybe something worth keeping, too.
He looked over the police report and map again. The location was pretty straightforward. It should be easy to find, even if he wasn’t familiar with Greensboro. He’d better head out and get it done quickly, though. Leah was an early riser, and he wanted to at least look like he was asleep before she got up.
Ӂ
It had only taken 45 minutes to get to the highway exit, but from that point on, he was lost. Was he supposed to take a right turn before or after the house with the windmill lawn ornament? Didn’t these people believe in street signs? And how could he tell which was the third road on the left when the streets and driveways all looked the same size? It didn’t help that it was a new moon tonight and there weren’t any streetlights. It was as dark as the inside of a black bear’s gullet at midnight.
After twenty minutes of dead ends, u-turns, and curse words, James pulled onto the shoulder of the latest wrong road, and put the car in park. Crap, no doubt about it, he was lost. Not only was he unable to find his destination, it was beginning to look as if he’d have to wait until daylight to find his way back to the highway. How could he have been so stupid! Why did he feel the need to keep this a secret? He could have waited until morning, told Leah about his plan, and let her come with him. This was her town. She definitely knew her way around it better than he did. It would have been so simple, both of them working together, one driving, the other navigating—and in the daylight. It was doubtful they would have got lost.
James reclined the seat and shut his eyes. Okay, a little inspiration here would be appreciated, whoever is in charge of conniving, lost, and misplaced bastards. Surely, the way of the world—or spirits of the forest, or whatever—would help him. Or God. Leah said He was the One who would help.
“Okay, here goes. Lord, I’d appreciate a little direction here,” James beseeched, both nervous and humble. He hadn’t prayed in ages, but knew that an insincere heart was worthless, no matter what the situation. He opened his eyes again and looked at the almost empty passenger seat next to him. The envelope with his scribbling on it was facing him. He looked down at it, out the window, and then chuckled in relief.
He knew where he was now. What he had ‘doodled’ the day before—the drawing his ‘subconscious’ had sketched—was the map he had really needed. “Okay, thank You, Lord,” he said, half-wondering, half-certain that—but one-hundred percent grateful to—the superior power who had shown him the way. He wasn’t at his destination yet, but James now knew the right route to take.
Leah’s little car drove directly to the site without James hesitating or making even one more wrong turn. His autopilot was the ‘Superior Being’ who had guided his hand in drawing the map the day before. The former Doubting Thomas was beyond happy, enveloped in a full-body smile—if there was such an anatomical possibility. The warm, contented feeling assured him that he was doing the right thing—that everything was going to be just fine. “Thanks again,” he said, at peace in his cocoon of confidence.
James drove a quarter mile down the road, turned at a big billboard, and then a few hundred yards more to the spot. The police report’s very detailed description of the area verified that he was at the site of the disappearance. He really didn’t need it to confirm what he already knew, though. Dani, aka Evie, Leah’s mother, had been through here recently. He could feel her emotional traces—almost smell her. Hmm. Would a bloodhound be able to track her back in time by her scent? Nah…well…maybe, but he didn’t need to get distracted right now. He’d have to remember to ask Leah about that later.
He left the motor running. Remnants of the ‘do not cross’ tapes the police had set up several days earlier, caught the car’s headlights and seemed to glow—brilliant yellow stripes slicing through the otherwise nighttime-darkened landscape.
It appeared that high winds had come through and completely blown away one side of the taped perimeter. James wanted to ensure that no one—other than he and Leah—went between those trees. He wasn’t being selfish, either. Passing through the time portal might kill someone if he didn’t know what he was doing. Well, maybe, maybe not, but a child with an active imagination playing Revolutionary War hero in this ‘hot zone’ could inadvertently travel back in time, and then where would he be? Totally confused and out of his own era. No, he would take precautionary measures for everyone’s safety and for his and Leah’s personal needs.
James stood across from the tree adorned with streamers of lemon-pudding-yellow tape, studying the scene of the disappearance. Suddenly, a full body shiver rattled him. It felt as if he was looking at an old photograph. No, it was more than that. He could swear that he had seen this place—been here before—but how could that be? This was the first time he had ever traveled this far out of Greensboro proper.
He looked across to the other tree, its bright ribbon no longer tied on, but tangled amid the low-growing shrubs beneath it. He had no way to verify it, but he felt in his gut that it had once marked the other side of the time portal. He grabbed at the tape with a forked stick, then tugged it toward him, gathering it around his bent arm like a coil of rope. He wasn’t going near that spot until it was time.
What he knew to be the real time portal was directly across from the area cordoned off for the stolen car. There were plenty of similar old trees in the area, but he knew they weren’t the same. He counted over six trees to the left, then walked over to the sixth one, making sure he stepped on grassy patches, avoiding the dusty areas. He wasn’t stealing anything, and the police were probably done with their investigation, but he didn’t want to attract attention, either. The shoes he was wearing, Leah’s sandals, would make a definite, distinct impression in the soft ground. True, there were dozens, maybe hundreds of shoe treads just like them, but he didn’t need to be careless.
“You look like a good candidate for most mysterious tree of the year. Allow me to dress you for the occasion,” he proclaimed with mock pomp and a quick bow to the tired old magnolia, thick in the middle with its multi-trunked base. He strung the other end of the tape to its sister tree fifteen feet away and stood back to appreciate his deception.
James walked back to the grassy knoll where he had parked the car. Six trees to the right of the taped trees: that would be easy to remember. “Right, I want six kids,” he said. He started the engine and put it in gear. “Time to go home to the future missus, little purple Prius. Maybe I can get a little nap before it’s time to get up.”
James pulled into the motel parking lot and turned off the headlights. He didn’t need them to find his parking space, and the light shining in the window might wake her. It was still dark, thankfully, and no one was stirring. He leaned against the car, took off his day clothes and her sandals, and gathered everything together. He paused, looked back, and then had another, ‘Ah, crap’ moment as he realized that he had forgotten his bag again. He opened the car door with the key rather than the button so the lights didn’t flash, then grabbed the bag and the map. “I can’t let her find you, little one,” he said as he stuffed the envelope back into the zippered pocket, “at least, not until it’s time.”
James swiped the keycard in the door and heard Leah snort. Crap, was she up? He opened the door slowly in case she was still asleep. No use being noisy and awakening her if she wasn’t already.
Phew! She was still asleep, but looked restless. He set down his armload of clothes and goodies, and stood next to the bed, stepping out of her shoes right where he had found them. Hopefully they weren’t dusty. It was too dark to see, and he didn’t want to chance waking her with a quick cleaning.
After he said his silent prayer of thanks, his mind was at peace. His muscles, however, were still tight and tired from his furtive middle-of-the-night foray. He stepped around the bed, pulled back the sheets, and lay on his back, letting the coolness of the bedding take away the tension. His hope that it wouldn’t take long to fall asleep was the last thought he had.
*24 A Bad Morning
August 7, 2013, 7:00 AM
“Aaaahhh!”
The sudden noise—louder than a cherry bomb exploding at the end of his nose—sky-rocketed James out of bed. His heart pumped with an exaggerated force, his breathing as rapid as if he’d just run a four-minute-mile. He stood resolute, wide-stanced, fists raised in anticipation of a battle. His adrenaline-fueled reaction to fight had overridden the ancient run and hide reflex, but he was still disoriented,
He sucked in a lungful of air. It slowed his heart rate and cleared his head. He realized now where he was: in a motel room with Leah. His eyes darted back and forth across the room, searching for clues as to what could have happened to cause her to scream so loud and long.
And then he saw it.
Leah was the upheaval. She was still asleep, though—unaware of her actions—and experiencing a category five nightmare.
James stared as she thrashed on her side of the bed—his hands lax at his side, helpless. He didn’t know what he should do. Should he try to restrain her so she didn’t hurt herself? Shout at her to wake up? Shake her?
She suddenly stopped screaming, but had not awakened. Her body was tense, arms held close to her side, rigid, as if bound to a plank. But her head remained active, tossing side to side sharply, resisting the unseen assailant, her eyes squeezed tight in fear. Her chin, with jaws clenched tight, was tucked into her chest, as if trying to avoid opening her mouth. Her hands jerked up suddenly, crossing in front of her face in a classic gesture of self-defense.
Should he waken a person in a bad dream or not? James didn’t know. He’d never read about it, nor did he have any personal experience with it. He had shared a bed with Leah longer than he had anyone. Even when he was married, Clotilde had insisted on separate bedrooms. He had to do something, though, so stayed low, away from her erratic wild punches, and reached over to shake her arm.
“Aaaahhh,” she shrieked at his touch, then added kicking to her physically active dream. Now she was chaos personified. Her body was contorted, twisted upon itself, a pile of pajamas, limbs, and long brown hair thrown together in a haphazard manner. She was miserable in her unconscious state, and he didn’t know how to help her. It was as if she were on fire…
Fire. That’s what he could do—he’d treat her as if she was literally on fire. He sidled around the bed, grabbed the ice bucket, popped the top to make sure the cubes had melted, then stood above her and poured a steady stream of the chilly water onto the top of her head, hoping to douse her burning rage and fear.
“What the fu…” she screamed as she bolted out of the bed and out of her nightmare. “What’d you do that for?”
Leah was angry, but free of her terrors. And that was a good thing. Her being victimized by the nightmare demons was scary, even for him. He could only imagine what it was like for her on the inside of those hallucinations.
“You were having a bad dream…” he started to explain.
“Then why didn’t you just pinch my arm or something,” she snapped.
She wasn’t yelling, but he could tell by the hostility in her eyes that she wanted to. He shrugged his shoulders and stayed mute. She’d figure it out as soon as her rage subsided. Right now, she was probably still half-asleep. Never argue with a drunk or someone who just woke up. That was common sense, and it didn’t take a psychology degree to understand that.
Leah grabbed the wet pillow and threw it across the small room, hitting the mirror on the dresser. She stomped her bare feet on the way to the bathroom, then slammed the door behind her.
Oh, well, he thought. At least she’s not fighting off the bogeyman or whoever it was.
“Crap! James, would you hand me my purse, please,” Leah called in frustration from the bathroom. The door opened up a crack, and she thrust out an arm.
He picked up her little bag and put the strap in her hand. “Here.”
“Thanks,” she said curtly, and shut the door hard.
He heard the sink running, toilet flushing, and then the shower started. It looked as if he would have to wait for his turn at the toilet. How rude, he thought.
As it turned out, it was a very quick shower. Leah came out wrapped in the undersized bath towel, clutching another towel—wadded into a bundle—close to her chest. “It’s all yours,” she said, nodding to the opened bathroom door, almost urging him with her eyes to leave the little sanctuary that was both their bedroom and living room.
He picked out clean clothes from his bag and went into the bathroom, hoping that their life would be back to normal after he was done.
The shower felt good, just as good as it had the day before, good. He let the stress of the last few minutes wash down the drain with the suds from his shampoo. The little bar of soap felt like a palm-held lubricant. He wiped it under his armpit, foregoing a washcloth, then across his chest to the other side. As his hand slid past, his thumb bumped his nipple, giving him a small jolt.
That’s what he needed: a jolt. But he wanted more than a small one. She was done in the bathroom, at least for now. He’d take his time and his pleasure in the shower. A few more swipes across his body for cleanliness, then it was time for sudsing for happiness.
He was a fast responder, even if he did say so himself. He didn’t know about other men, and frankly didn’t care. He knew what felt good to his body and, although he normally didn’t pleasure himself more than once or twice a month, he now had stimulation—at least, mental and visual stimulation—with the lovely lady, Leah. Every time she touched him, he got little quickenings of electricity up his arms, down his spine, then up between his legs. She had kissed him—albeit as a friend and not a lover, or even as a boyfriend—a couple of times. He took those little memories and compounded them, multiplied them in his emotional database, until they were passionate kisses and caresses. In
his mind, it was her hands stroking between his legs, up and around his cock. He leaned his chin over his shoulder, opened his mouth wide, and made oral love to his own flesh-substitute for her breast, rolling his tongue in wide circles, lips gently gliding across, resisting the urge to suck hard. It would be difficult to explain a love bite suddenly appearing on his upper arm. He couldn’t—rather, didn’t want to—stop the compulsion for a quick nip to his own skin, though, so went ahead and clenched a bit of flesh between his teeth. It was all that was needed to send him over the edge with the spasms and spurts of self-induced ecstasy.
At least clean-up in the shower was easy. He turned the water temperature to cool, inhaled in a few slow, deep breaths to compose himself, then shut off the water. A brisk drying off, quick tooth brushing, and a second swipe of the towel through his hair, and he was ready to face his fantasy female in the flesh. “Down boy,” he said softly as he looked down and rearranged his privates. “You’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Same time, same station.”
“Are you going to be in there all day?” Leah asked, not even trying to hide her irritation.
James pulled the door open quickly, startling her. “Nope, we got places to go and maybe people to see. Ready for breakfast? I’m starved.”
They left the motel room in silence. Her face was blank, but he knew she’d be back to normal soon—or at least he hoped she would. He wasn’t going to let anything bother him this morning. He was still enjoying the afterglow of his liaison in the shower with Lady Fingers.
Leah pulled into a different Mom and Pop café for breakfast. The sign said ‘seat yourself,’ so that’s what they almost did.
Aye, I am a Fairy (The Fairies Saga Book 2) Page 21