For The One

by Brenna Aubrey

  On Friday, we traveled to a small community just north of "the Grapevine" in Kern County, about a two-hour drive from where we live in Orange County. It is an area of Southern California where there is lots of open space. We congregate yearly at a large campground nestled amongst rolling, dry and mostly plain hills that surround our lightly wooded site. I had nothing to bring with me this time but my armor and fighting equipment, as well as my hand-sewn, period-authentic tent and living essentials.

  Our clan has set up at the southwest edge of the campground, which we essentially take over for the week. Everyone stakes places for their personal tents, cook areas and booths, where they'll set up their wares to sell. To the north and tucked into a small side canyon, there's a great oblong arena with concrete stands climbing up each side. It is there where the battles will take place--teams fighting it out, in addition to one-on-one duels like the rematch I am scheduled to fight with Doug.

  I'm walking the length of the arena and looking up at the empty stands, trying to work out a strategy for visualization. As I'm attempting to picture what it will be like when we face off in two days, I notice another person at the opposite end from where I'm standing. From her height, body style and coloring, it's easy to determine that it is Jenna.

  I can suddenly feel my heart pound in my throat and my mouth is dry, like I really need a drink. What's confusing is that, at the same time I want to avoid her, I also urgently want to see her again. These feelings are pulling me in two directions like a huge tug-of-war.

  And she's here watching me, which means she's clearly not avoiding me. She might have even sought me out. Slowly, I kick at the dirt clods at the edge of the arena and make my way toward her, my heart speeding up the closer I get. She doesn't come forward to greet me, but she doesn't turn and walk away either. And with each step I take, I realize that I'm craving the chance to see her face again, to talk to her, to hold her, to kiss her.

  But when I finally make it to where she's standing, I come to a stop and watch the ground between our feet. "Hello," I say.

  She takes a deep breath and lets it go. "Hi."

  "I'm glad to see you made it here safely."

  "I caught a ride with Caitlyn and the girls."

  I nod, unsurprised by this information. "It's good to see you."

  Her mouth curves in a small smile. "I missed you."

  I missed her too. I wanted to see her every day. And thinking about that now makes me remember how much it's hurt not to see her. I don't know what to say.

  "Wil--" Her voice trembles and she turns away. I watch as her hands curl into fists at her sides.

  "Yes?"

  "Can we be friends again? Please?"

  I close my eyes and open them. "We're friends, Jenna."

  "I've hated not being able to talk to you this week."

  I think about it for a long moment. "I've hated it, too."

  She takes a step toward me. And then another.

  "Can I hug you?"

  I step forward and fold her into my arms. There's this sharp stab of pain and then this feeling of rightness. Like we fit together.

  Her head shifts and I smell her hair--cinnamon. A rush of feelings and impulses rise to the surface. Without realizing it, my arms tighten around her, pulling her fast against me. That one small whiff has brought back memories--holding her, shaking in my arms, at Disneyland, kissing her on her bed when she was crying, the feel of her small hand when she slipped it inside mine.

  I swallow what feels like a boulder in my throat. "Let's spend some time together tonight," I say.

  She sighs, and I feel her warm breath rush past my arm. She's rubbing her cheek against the cloth of my shirt, causing tension in every inch of my body.

  I want her. And not just as a friend.

  Our time away from each other hasn't helped in that respect. Those feelings are as strong as ever. Stronger.

  We have dinner together--soup and dark bread--and then I set up her booth for her. She decorates it with glittery scraps of cloth and a big banner that says Mistress Jenna's Fortune Readings. We talk about what each of us did this past week, and I tell her about my progress with the visualization. She listens intently and asks me questions, but I'm feeling apprehensive.

  What if I can't win her tiara back?

  I'm worried I'll disappoint her if I don't win. But I've never been more ready than I am now for this fight. And I have to win, because I can't disappoint her.

  I have to show her that I'm worthy of her love.

  Chapter 27

  Jenna

  "Did you do anything fun this week?" I asked, stuffing the last corner of bread into my mouth. The corn chowder soup was spicy and delicious.

  He shrugged. "Just a minor art project. Helped me relax." As William polished off his second bowl, my eyes traveled up his finely sculpted arms--not a trace of excess fat anywhere. The veins crisscrossed his muscles like a contour map under his skin, and I wanted to trace every one of them with my fingertips...followed by my tongue.

  My eyes darted to his handsome face. "What project? A painting?"

  He was quiet for a moment, his thumbs twiddling against each other. Finally, he said, "It's something for you. A sort of apology for the way I acted on Sunday..."

  I straightened. "What? You made something for me and I can't see it 'til we get home? How--"

  "I brought it. It's not very big. I didn't have a lot of time."

  I stand up at the picnic bench where we've been sitting. "You brought it here? Why am I not seeing it right this minute?"

  His eyes widened, and he was staring at me like I was a crazy person. "Calm down."

  I shook my head and playfully slapped the picnic bench between us. "I'm not calming down. You made something pretty for me. I want to see it!"

  "You don't know if it's pretty."

  I put my hands on my hips. "William Drake, if you made it, then it's pretty. I already know that. I have seen your work before."

  Slowly, he rose from his seat, a satisfied smile solidifying, but he shook his head as if exasperated with me and my excitability.

  "Well, you brought it up, so now you have to show me," I said with a smile, holding out my hand to him. "Come on...."

  I knew he wanted to show it to me but he was being modest, so I gently took his hand and urged him along. William led me to his tent, a pavilion that looked a lot like something a medieval nobleman would inhabit while off in the field of war. The floor was lined with a big, thick Middle Eastern-style carpet, and there were cushions and bedding on the floor to one side, with a table and some wooden boxes and crates on the other. His armor was on a stand in the corner next to a small weapons rack.

  It was after sunset, so William lit a modern propane camping lantern. It was generally agreed upon that modern nighttime lighting was needed in our campsites. If we were to go for anything authentic, such as candles or torches, we'd be exposing ourselves to fire hazards and other safety concerns. And though the rest of his tent looked straight out of the medieval time period, the lantern he hung on a hook at the top of the tent did not.

  William pulled out a leather poster tube, and from it he extracted a rolled-up canvas. His actions were slow, halting, as if he feared my reaction. Maybe he'd decided to do that naked picture of me after all...

  But no, the picture that he unrolled across the top of his patchwork silk and satin bedspread was not a naked picture at all. It only took seconds for me to absorb what it was, and once I did, my heart stopped and my eyes clouded with tears. I had no idea how or when I'd catch my next breath.

  Outlined in black and filled with gorgeous watercolors was a view of Main Street USA in Disneyland. But instead of a crowded street, there were only two figures. They were holding hands as they walked down the street toward Sleeping Beauty's castle, their backs to the viewer. There was no mistaking Mickey Mouse, who was holding the hand of a little girl with white-blond hair--me.

  That story I'd told him...from my childhood. He'd remembered. And
he'd rendered it in such loving detail that it made me ache just to look at it.

  Tears streamed down my face, and I wasn't even self-conscious that he could see them. In fact, he stood next to me and, with his big fingers, reached up to sweep them away.

  "I didn't mean to make you sad," he said quietly.

  I shook my head and sniffed, not even sure what I was. Was this happy? Was this sad? Was this so incredibly moved?

  "It's beautiful, Wil. You didn't make me sad. But I've gotta warn you that I'm going to hug you so hard right now--if that's okay."

  "That's okay," he said and opened his arms.

  I grabbed him around the waist and held on tight. This meant that he'd been thinking about me during the week that we'd been away from each other.

  We continued holding each other for a long time, and then I turned to look at the painting again. Crawling onto the bed, I spread it as flat as I could--the corners kept curling up--and took in every detail. "You're amazing, Wil."

  He sank down on the bed beside me. "So are you."

  I shook my head. "No, I'm not..."

  "You are. You've been through so much hardship, and yet you're still a positive person. You help others. You're strong and brave, and you care about other people. You've cared about me, Jenna. You're like a ray of sunlight light cutting into darkness."

  I turned and lay my head against his shoulder, and he reached up to cup it in his large hand. We lay like that in silence for a while. And then, as my lids grew heavy, with sleep-slurred speech I asked him if I could spend the night here.

  William sat up and I helped him pull the bedspread down. Then I kicked off my shoes while he extinguished the lamp. We crawled onto the fluffy bedroll, where I promptly curled in beside him as he held me in his strong arms. And I slept so peacefully--more so than I had in a long time.

  The next morning I woke in William's bed. He was sleeping on his side, facing away from me, but he'd taken off his shirt sometime during the night. I studied the muscles of his back, the way his rib cage slowly expanded and contracted. I wanted to lean over and kiss him, to run my hand down his solid back.

  But I restrained myself--barely. I didn't want to start something I knew that he would stop. The fundamental disagreement between us had not been resolved.

  I swallowed a sudden lump in my throat. Would it ever?

  With stealthy movements, I crept out of bed and slipped on my shoes. I needed to go to the tent I shared with my friends so I could change for the big day.

  It was the first day of May--May Day, or within our reenactment group, the first day of the Beltane Festival. In ancient times, this day marked the beginning of the summer season and honored fertility. There would be feasting, folk dancing and a celebration around the Maypole. After dark, the Beltane Ball would be held around a raging bonfire.

  I couldn't wait.

  When I got to my tent, a few of my friends gave me curious glances. Caitlyn, of course, asked me where I'd been all night.

  "I, uh, well it's not as exciting as you think. I was with William--"

  Her brows shot up, and once again I got that weird feeling from her--something like vague jealousy. "Then it is as exciting as I think. Sir Hottie MacFine likes women after all."

  I had no desire whatsoever to rub salt into her wounds. Caitlyn was a good friend and I didn't want to hurt her, so I chose my words carefully. "He does...and it would have been exciting if our clothes had come off, but they didn't."

  Her mouth twisted. "Well, that sucks." But I could tell she wasn't all that disappointed by the news.

  I turned away to put my bag on my cot, distracted by the box sitting there. "Who left their stuff on my cot?"

  "That's for you, apparently. Johnny came by doing deliveries for Mistress Agnes last night. Said that one was for you."

  "The dressmaker? I didn't order anything from her."

  "Yeah, we thought you'd won the lotto or something," said Ann with a wide grin. "Or robbed a bank."

  "That's what it would take for me to afford her gorgeous dresses..." My eyes skimmed the box. It must have been a mistake.

  "Open it up and see what it is," Ann said.

  But I already had the top off the box, and what I saw literally took my breath away. I pulled the pile of gorgeous blue cloth from the white tissue and held it up. Starting with the palest blue--almost white at the shoulders--there was a gradual ombre from sky blue to cerulean and every shade of blue in between, until it became a deep, dark midnight blue at the hem. The dress was decorated with gold embroidery at the neckline that extended down the long, flowing sleeves. The garment looked like it had been woven from the sky, the clearest blue lake and a midnight starfield.

  "Holy shit," Caitlyn uttered in a harsh whisper. "That is gorgeous."

  "I know," I said in a trembling voice. My eyes flew up to the pale blue at the shoulders--pale, pale blue. Like the Turkish pools. Some long name that I couldn't remember, even though I'd searched for Google images the night he'd told me about them. This dress could not have come from anyone other than William.

  And not only was it beautiful, but it was such a thoughtful thing to do. I sank down on the cot next to me and passed my hand over the exquisite material. It was too much. I shouldn't accept this.

  "I think I can guess who had this sent to you," Caitlyn said in a low voice.

  I looked up, biting my lip. She was smiling. A very small smile.

  Ann sat on the cot beside Caitlyn and put an arm around her shoulder.

  I took a breath and released it. "Caitlyn, I'm--"

  She held her hand up. "Don't say you're sorry. You have nothing to be sorry about. But please, for the love of God, don't break his heart. William is hard enough to reach, but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to know that he's got it bad for you. I think I've mostly just been in denial. Honestly, Jenna, you're the sweetest person ever. You deserve him."

  Don't break his heart.

  Yet as I looked at her and then down at the dress, I felt that strange knot of emotion twisting in my chest. I had to wonder--whose heart was breaking, exactly?

  My chest physically hurt. Like someone had sunk a grappling hook deep inside and was tugging it in the direction of William. And the harder they pulled, the deeper it went.

  I was so confused. I was so attached. Since seeing him again, I couldn't deny that feeling of my heart leaping in my throat. What did this mean? What was my heart telling me? What had the cards told me? And that talk with Alex? And...just...everything.

  With each passing minute, the thought of leaving with the Renaissance Faire became less and less appealing.

  My nose started to sting as I swallowed more tears, and soon I was surrounded by the other ladies in the tent--Caitlyn, Ann, and even their friend Fiona.

  "Hey," cooed Caitlyn. "What's wrong? You don't want him? Because you already know that I'll take him," she added playfully.

  I shook my head and patted the dress again. "I'm just confused."

  "But do you want him?"

  Fingering the delicate glass beads sewn into the bodice of the gown, I knew I didn't really have to think about it. As much as I hadn't wanted to admit it to myself, I did. I totally did. So I let out a breathy, "Yes."

  But...did he still want me? Or had he already mentally tucked me into that group of women who would just hurt him and leave him? Just the thought of being in the same category as his mother, who essentially abandoned him, made me feel ill.

  But then I thought about the way he'd held me last night as we lay next to each other. How his thumb had caressed my wrist, my hand. How he'd laced his fingers around mine and hadn't let go.

  And somehow I knew, deep down, that he never would.

  "I need to go for a walk." I got up and carefully stored the dress back in its box. "I'll be back to help with lunch and to set up for the Maypole."

  "Have some breakfast first?" Caitlyn said.

  "Not hungry. But thanks! I just have some thinking to do."

  And that's
exactly what I did as I made my way along a dusty path that led to the amphitheater where William and Doug would face off tomorrow. I wound up the trail amidst dried-out brush, various types of high desert flora, darting lizards and the occasional beetle. I kept my feet on the ground and my eyes locked on the distant bluish Sierras that cut into the horizon in the east. The sun wasn't that bad yet. As it was still spring, it would be warm today, but not unbearably so.

  I hugged myself as I stood there, feeling small and insignificant amongst all the natural beauty. My doubts and fears felt so insignificant in the face of the massive universe all around me.

  I thought about Brock and me, two tiny specks in that universe. I thought about how much I still loved him. How much I'd held fast to the belief that he was the one person for me. Now my feelings for William were tearing that belief to shreds, and I had to come to terms with that.

  I couldn't help but think of that reading I did days before, specifically the Moon card. The Moon and Earth, two more specks in the universe--albeit much larger specks. The Moon pulled and tugged the tides of the Earth, causing movement in the tides. Causing confusion, uncertainty, untruth. That card was a warning that I'd been deceiving myself.

  Deceiving myself with my own misguided beliefs.

  The realization took my breath away, and I blinked as I tried to catch the next one, knotting and then unknotting my sweaty hands.

  "I don't know what to do," I said out loud to the Universe. The breeze seemed to carry my words away into the distance. My eyes closed, and suddenly I heard a voice in my head.

  Go to him. Be with him.

  My heartbeat sped up, and yet...I couldn't help but feel that pang of disloyalty.

  "Brock, what should I do?" I said to the air, hoping the breeze would answer me.

  Be happy. I want you to be happy.

  Whether it was a spirit or my imagination saying the things I knew Brock would say, I'd never know. But that message was clear in my mind, followed immediately by another.

  Stay, stay. Stay, stay.

  Brock was my past. And how very blessed I was to have known him and to have loved him. But William...William could be my future. If I'd just let him in.

  ***

  I had no chance to speak to William before lunch, as we were both so heavily involved in the set-up for the Beltane celebration. And at the center of it all was the Maypole--a smoothly cut log that had been buried a few feet into the ground by some of the stronger men in our group. At the very top, colorful ribbons were attached, radiating out like the spokes of a bicycle wheel. The end of each green, yellow, red, pink and purple ribbon was staked down in the ground in a circle around the clearing. This was where we would be dancing.