Wilde's Meadow

by Wade, Krystal

  Arland and I look up to Muriel again. She smiles and waves, nearly falling from the second story of the red barn.

  “She’s just a child, Arland. Look at her. The tough girl act is over. We can’t leave Muriel by herself, not if the world is frozen, and especially not if the world isn’t frozen. What will happen when men show up here to work the fields and deliver supplies? Men who will surely discover she’s alone!” I clutch the letters in my fist. These stupid cryptic clues are, well, stupid.

  “Give her time. Her excitement will wear off. Muriel is well-equipped to care for herself. Maybe the time alone here will give her time to deal with her grief—”

  “Or wallow in it.”

  Grabbing my arms, Arland pulls me into him. “Shall we sleep on it? We can make our decision in the morning … the real morning.”

  Everything in my body tenses. So many people are counting on us to come back and lead them in war, and Arland wants to sleep? “We can’t just leave everyone.”

  “We have been gone for less than two days. Flanna and Vanora will not be able to convince Bheagans for maybe another week. Mharans and Gaothans will be especially difficult for Perth, Rhoswen, Brit, and Tristan. One night with regular food, sleeping in a regular bed, and enjoying regular bhean chéile and fear céile activities will not kill us.”

  A flash of my bed and us in it passes through my mind, as does guilt. “That doesn’t feel wrong to you?”

  “Can you answer a question for me?”

  I nod.

  “Should we leave Muriel here or take her with us?”

  Backing away, I stare at his green eyes. Sometimes answers aren’t always black and white; sometimes not evaluating the gray areas means people lose their life. Muriel will be safe from the war here, but there are dangers in this world, dangers with the same result: death. “I don’t know.”

  A faint smile cracks one side of his face, but I know Arland wants to grin ear to ear.

  Part of me wants that, too.

  “Then we stay. One night. We will eat, relax, and think about the decision we have to make.”

  “One night?”

  “For Muriel.” Taking me by the hand, Arland leads me through the alley doors, back into the barn.

  We collect Muriel, then head for the house.

  I can do one night with Arland, but will it be enough?

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You have to make sure the stove lights,” I say, showing Muriel how to use the gas range. “If you leave this on for too long without igniting the flames, the house will explode.”

  “Explode? The magic here may be greater than that of the magic in Encardia.” She sighs, then turns the black dial.

  The electric starter clicks over and over, then a flame poofs on the range.

  “Now, turn the knob to the heat setting. They are numbered. We’ll start with five because it’s a medium heat.”

  Muriel does as instructed, then places the large pot of water on the grate. “I can handle it from here. I have helped Flanna in the kitchen many times.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Go take your bath or shower or whatever it is you said you wanted to do,” she says, pushing me toward the stairs. “You have taken care of people long enough. A night to be normal will not hurt you.”

  Arland laughs. “Good luck convincing her, Muriel.”

  I scowl at him and his smug look. “You can lean against that table and be cute all you like, but none of this makes me feel very good. This seems too easy. Sunshine, food, showers, decisions … .”

  His humor fades, his expression falling. “Do you mean unfair? Everyone else is in some difficult place, trying to convince former enemies to join our efforts, and we are here, in a world that no longer has time, trying to figure out how to fix it?”

  I turn around and stomp up the stairs. Their efforts to make me feel better aren’t working, but they both have valid points. Earth is still. For some reason, the decision about Muriel’s future home is important enough that Mom made it a requirement to decide before I can read the second letter.

  The stairs squeak. Arland is following me, but I run into the bathroom and lock the door. He’s so eager to love me, and I want him—I really, really want him—but something about this all scares me. Enjoying ourselves. Leaving Muriel here. Everyone else out in dark, horrible worlds … .

  “I love the scenes of your childhood hanging in the hall,” Arland calls. “What game is played with a white and black ball?”

  I push aside the purple shower curtain and turn on the faucet. “Soccer. I only played for a couple years before I got bored.”

  “Did you wish to play and then decide you did not like it?” His voice is quiet, contemplative.

  “Gary said I should try everything. I think he wanted me to have a different life, one not involved with the horses. But he realized pretty quickly that I wanted to farm.” Stepping inside the cold claw-footed tub, I pull the water diverter. Hot water bursts from the showerhead, washing away the filth from my face, and sliding down to my toes. Too much time has passed since I’ve showered. Chills break out along my skin. This feels so good.

  The smell of my shampoo is surreal. My hair actually feels silky smooth. The baths with Arland are wonderful, but—who am I kidding? Baths with him are better than anything. Listening to his heart, being so close to him, our skin touching … .

  Grabbing my towel from the rack on the wall, I step out, wrap up and go to the door.

  I open it and find Arland standing there with a big, beautiful smile, eyes roaming up and down. “Feel better now?”

  “No.” I take him by the arm and tug him into the bathroom with me, gently kicking the door closed. “Take off your clothes.”

  He shakes his head.

  “Why not?”

  “You did not say please.”

  Dropping my towel, I climb back into the shower. “Please?”

  His armor drops to the floor with a thud, then his belt jingles. Arland holds the curtain, warily staring at the modern shower.

  “This won’t be like our baths in Encardia, but I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry I keep pushing you away. I’m worried about … about a lot of things.” So many things: my sister, Flanna, Perth, Rhoswen, Cadman … not things, people. I love them all. I’m responsible for them in so many ways. Being separated is torture.

  Heat floods my face, resting behind my eyes, and weight presses on my chest. What if the Bheagans hurt Flanna or Vanora? What if the Gaothans don’t trust my sister, or innocent Tristan?

  “I am sure they miss you as well, Kate, but this is where we are supposed to be.” He clenches his teeth but climbs in beside me, taking my hands in his. Arland moves closer and closer, until we’re both standing under the constant stream of hot water, bodies pressed together. “Our people need us. They depend on our ability to save their lives. Being here is not any easier on me—I have family fighting in this war, too—but we are here, together, for a reason.”

  He presses me against the cold tile walls, leaning his strong, well-defined body against my bare skin, and touches his lips to mine. My heart races. So much time has passed since we were this close, since I felt his love, his intensity. I love him; I need him. Now. Every day. Forever.

  “I love you,” he whispers, water bouncing off his face and onto mine.

  “And I love you.”

  A permanent grin is plastered to my face. I don’t care if I look ridiculous or not. I will not ever again feel guilty about spending quality time with my husband. Our love is what will win this war and end the reign of Darkness in Encardia, and I cannot let anything stand in the way.

  “Something smells good,” Arland whispers, nudging me from my bed, but I don’t move.

  Instead, I stare at the plastic stars on the ceiling, the ones Brad and I put up when we were in middle school. Lying next to Arland in the bed I’ve shared with Brad so many times, with my lavender quilt tangled around our legs, doesn’t feel wrong. If Gary weren�
��t trapped in time, I might be a little nervous about this, but the fact everything stands still tells me life is so much bigger than what he’d think if he caught me in bed with a man … husband or not.

  “Do you think she’s destroyed the kitchen?” I ask, turning over to gaze into Arland’s eyes.

  His touch holds so much warmth and tenderness as he tucks hair behind my ear and scoots closer to me. Arland’s strength and passion for life, and every person he knows, makes me incredibly lucky to be able to call him mine.

  “I am sure the kitchen is—”

  Pots and pans crash together, echoing throughout my family’s thin-walled farmhouse.

  Arland laughs. “I am sure nothing is burned, at least.”

  I kiss his slightly crooked nose, then roll out of bed. “I’m going to check on her.”

  Groaning, he follows me and opts to wear pajamas from Gary’s room. Arland in black sweats and a tight, white T-shirt is a very odd combination.

  “You don’t have to come.” I slide a cotton tank top over my head, then climb into a pair of gray and white striped pants. “These clothes seem alien to me now. I’ve grown accustomed to the gowns I slept in back home.”

  “Do you know what home is anymore?” He shakes his head as though he’s quite sure of the answer already.

  “Home is … .” A heavy weight presses on my chest, not nearly as tight as the burden of worrying for the others, but only slightly. Do I know where home is anymore? Certainly wherever Arland lives is where I want to be, but what place calls to me? Where do I want to live when this is all over? Do I want to be a Leader of Encardia or a farmer in Virginia? “You’re right. I don’t know. Wherever home is, it’s with you.”

  Taking my hand, Arland crosses the room and we head downstairs. He stops as we reach the last step and see the kitchen is not on fire. “You look good here. I like it, too.”

  My heart smiles for me. “You mean wherever I go, you’ll follow.” Not a question. A statement. I love him, and he loves me. We are a family.

  “Hey, Kate! Flanna would be jealous if she knew what incredible cooking tools you have here.” Muriel peeks up the stairs, her face white with flour, her tunic covered in kitchen mess. “I made bread and chicken stew.” She holds up a pan with a beautiful loaf of steaming bread. “Nothing is rotted. All the food is fresh and warm, though I doubt supplies will last long, since nothing is actually … you know … doing anything.”

  We burst out laughing. She’s so proud of herself, so at ease, and so capable.

  “I don’t need a night to sleep on it. Muriel should stay here, assuming we can figure out how to maintain food supplies for her.” I lean into Arland, and he wraps his arms around me.

  “Do you want to tell her?”

  “Not yet. Let’s eat first.” I sigh, a good, relieved sigh. “Did you find the dishes?”

  She grabs my arm and yanks me into the kitchen. “I found so many wonderful things. I hope you love what I made.”

  Pointing at the table, Muriel smiles expectantly. She’s set out my mother’s fine china, napkins, and glassware. Heat rises from the stew in her ivory tureen. Muriel places the loaf of bread on a serving platter next to a bowl of butter. I’m not even sure how she knew to do this, how Muriel knew this was proper.

  “This is incredible, Muriel.” I look at the butcher-block countertops and in the sink. Everything is clean, organized. “You did all this while we were showering?”

  “And while you were resting.”

  My cheeks burn. She’s so innocent. Muriel has handled this kitchen better than I ever have.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  Arland pulls out my chair for me. “Have a seat.”

  Muriel bounces up and down, then runs over to her chair and waits for him to do the same. “My parents used to set up formal dinners, so when the war was over, my brother—”

  Tears well in her eyes, but she smiles anyway.

  Arland and I remain quiet. We don’t need to say anything. I sit down and allow her to have her moment.

  She shakes her head. “So we would know how to exist as civilized people.”

  “They taught you quite well, Muriel.” Arland does his gentlemanly duty and offers her a seat. “This is a finer setting than anything I saw as the son of a High Leader.”

  Her face beams with awe, her eyes wide and mouth open. “Really?”

  “Yes,” he says, sitting across from me. Arland places his napkin in his lap, then grabs his silverware with the grace of … a man in high society. I guess that makes sense, but I’ve not seen this side of him. I’ve witnessed the warrior Arland, the man who barely eats because he’s too concerned with what’s going on around him. I’ve seen the outcast Arland, the man who refuses to eat with Leaders because he believes them to be scum. But I’ve not seen refined Arland. They are all amazing.

  He winks at me, grabs the ladle from the tureen, then offers Muriel some soup. She lifts her bowl, and he fills it with the yummy smelling stew. He does the same for me and then himself. Celery, carrots, chicken, even noodles. How long were we upstairs that she was able to prepare all this? Noodles take hours to make from scratch. The chicken is tender and falling apart.

  I dip my spoon into the stew, then take a bite. Salt and oil and deliciousness. “Mmm. How did you make this so fast, Muriel? It’s incredible.”

  She shrugs. “You were upstairs for at least four hours.”

  Arland and I drop our spoons. No way were we upstairs that long. Did we fall asleep?

  “Did I say something?” Muriel asks, breathing heavily, looking from Arland to me, tears finally spilling over her eyes.

  “Four hours, are you sure?” My heart races. I’m not quite sure why. I just know something is weird. Four hours would be enough time to cook all this, but we were upstairs for only an hour, hour and a half max.

  “We need to tell her, Kate. You have already made the decision, and I think we need to go back to Encardia. Now.” Arland stands, every visible muscle tense and taught.

  “But we don’t have Gary or Mr. Tanner yet.” I grab Muriel’s hand before she breaks down any further. She’s clammy and whimpering. “It’s okay. Something tells me although we’re not trapped in time, time isn’t moving quite as we think it is.”

  He leans across the table, expression dead serious. “You have made the decision, Kate. Read the letter.”

  “What decision?”

  I take a deep breath. “Do you want to return to Encardia, or would you prefer to stay here?”

  “By myself?” She sits forward and wipes the tears from her eyes.

  “Yes, assuming we figure out a way to keep food coming in while we’re away.”

  Muriel glances around the kitchen, then at the table, and half-smiles through her pain. “My parents are dead, and so is my brother. This place has everything I need. I do not want to return to Encardia.”

  “Then you can stay—”

  “And we need to go.” Arland rushes up the steps.

  “Where are you going?”

  He leans over the railing. “To get our clothes, armor, and the letters. We are leaving.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  We gather at the railing by the arena. I’d stand inside, but my Paint has her legs stretched like she was galloping around with Gary on her. I’m not about to read this letter, potentially starting time again, just to have her run over us.

  “Okay, we’re as close to him as we’re going to get.”

  “What does the next flap say?” Arland asks, reading over my shoulder.

  “Patience.” Hands shaking, I pull open the next piece of Mom’s origami puzzle. “Hold the world in its graceful slumber, maintaining this near-permanent summer, but free those who Katriona needs, and release the animals so the girl they can feed.”

  A rooster crows, and we all startle. No lightning. No gigantic display of godly power like when we pulled the portals close to us in Encardia. Just read a few words and in an instant, the spell breaks. Weird.
r />   “The last words on the page say: wait ten minutes for Mr. Tanner.”

  Arland taps my shoulder. “I believe it worked … .”

  I look up and meet eyes with my stepdad. He pulls on the horse’s reins and trots her over to the railing.

  “Kate.” Gary stares at Arland, then me, then Muriel. “Why are you here, and what are you and your friends wearing?”

  What did Mom do to him? I live here—or lived here, but to him I’ve only been gone a couple weeks. On vacation. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

  He climbs from the gift he gave me then pushes through the gate, leading her toward the stalls. “Your mother made it clear I would never see you again.”

  “I don’t know why she did what she did,” I say, rushing after him.

  Arland and Muriel stay by the fence.

  “It wasn’t fair. Mom should have told you the truth. You’re family. But then again, she never told me the truth either.” Or she told me only what I needed to know.

  Gary removes my horse’s gear, then turns right and lets my horse into the pasture. Makes sense. He needs to clean out the stalls first. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course not, and I don’t think I can explain it to you right now. There’s not enough time.”

  We stand on the bottom rail of the fence, a favorite act of ours, and watch as she trots away, tail perked up. Her brown and white coat shines in the bright, morning sun.

  Gary glances at me and laughs. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  Looking down at myself, I know he must think I’ve lost my mind. My armor—armor—is stained with red, covered in dirt, and makes me look like I take those dinner and jousting restaurants way too seriously. “If I answer your question, you won’t believe the words I speak.”

  “And you talk differently.” My stepdad turns and places his hands on my shoulders. “No, you look different. Still the same beautiful girl, but more mature.”

  He looks behind me; it doesn’t take a genius to know he suspects something of me and Arland. Gary is a parent; they know these things.