by L-J Baker
“You weren’t there.”
Flora frowned. “I couldn’t do it. I’m not strong like you. I couldn’t have acted like nothing had happened. Not with you so close.”
Rye didn’t know what to say, so she kissed Flora. Flora managed a smile.
“We can make us work,” Flora said. “I know it.”
“Are you sure you’d not prefer… prefer someone who –” Rye scowled. “That Frond person.”
“Frond? Frond Lovage? What has she got to do with anything? Oh! How can you be so smart and so dense at the same time? Lover, I didn’t get buds for her. Nor any of the others I’ve ever dated. Only you, Rye Woods.”
Flora guided Rye’s good hand up to her hair to feel one of the knotty lumps. “You are my budmate.”
Rye frowned. She drew her hand down by stroking Flora’s hair and caressing her cheek. Part of Rye was confused, part dazed, part elated. Flora loved her. Still. And wanted to make it work. Infinity wasn’t such a bad place.
Over Flora’s shoulder, Rye glimpsed Mr. Summerbank at the table looking through some papers. She dropped back to reality with a hard bang. She was holding Flora, but they were inside the detention centre, not Flora’s apartment or even the municipal park. All this talk of love and a future together was happening inside four grey walls.
“Fey,” Rye said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Life is shit. And I’ve dropped us in it pretty deep, haven’t I?”
“It might not be as bad as you think. Mr. Summerbank said that your statement had a powerful effect. He needs to take a detailed written account from you, but he’s cautiously confident that the adjudicator will find in your favour.”
Rye shrugged. “I’m sorry. For doing this. To you. To us. To Holly. I’ll never be able to repay you for –”
Flora put her hand over Rye’s lips. “You were doing so well. No backsliding.”
Rye reluctantly grinned.
“I can imagine this place isn’t very conducive to positive thinking,” Flora said. “But Holly is safe and you will be too, soon.”
Rye shook her head. “No. I’ve messed up good and proper.”
“Mr. Summerbank says he feels you have a very good chance of beating the repatriation. He’s the expert. Try not to let yourself get too gloomy.”
“It’s not just that. Even if they don’t send be back, I – Fey. Babe, I did something really stupid. Um. I blanked out again and beat up a policeman. They’re going to put me in prison for that. Then throw me out of the country afterward. I’m sorry.”
“I know about those charges. We can fight them, too.”
“But I did it!” Rye couldn’t meet Flora’s gaze. “I bring all this on myself. I don’t know why. Or how. I don’t even remember what I do. Maybe… maybe it’s best that they lock me up. Then I couldn’t hurt you. I couldn’t bear that.”
“I don’t think you would.”
Rye shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to. I would rather hurt myself than harm you. But I don’t know what I’m doing. It nearly killed me when I thought I’d harmed Holly, and that’s what got me arrested. Maybe… maybe there is something wrong with my brain. Something doesn’t work right in me, babe. What I do isn’t normal. I’ve been thinking that I probably need someone to help me sort it out. Therapy. A shrink.”
Flora stroked Rye’s hair. “Far stronger than me. I am utterly in awe of you sometimes. Yes, my love, I think you need help with that. And I’ve never loved you more than right now.”
Rye tentatively glanced up. “Yeah? Even though I’m… I’m some violent freak? A head-case?”
“You’re not a freak. I’m no expert, but I don’t think we have to delve too deeply to see where things went a little astray for you.” Flora slipped her arms around Rye’s waist to give her a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sure someone can help you. We can start the ball rolling straight away.”
“You think I can get counselling in prison?”
“It may not come to that, with extenuating circumstances and a first time offence. I’ve been assured that it’s not as bleak as it may appear.”
“But it’s going to kill any chance of getting my citizenship through refugee status,” Rye said. “That’s what they said at immigration. About a criminal record.”
“We can talk with Mr. Summerbank about it,” Flora said. “But I was hoping you wouldn’t need to apply as a refugee.”
Rye frowned. “Babe, they’re not just going to let me stay.”
“They will if you marry me.”
Rye blinked. “What?”
“Marry me. Why do you look so shocked?”
“Marry you?”
“Of course. We love each other. We both want to spend the rest of our lives together. We’re determined to make our relationship work. Is that not what marriage is all about?”
“But –” Rye frowned and shook her head.
“But, what? Are you about to say something stupid?”
Rye didn’t know what she was going to say. Marry Flora? Rye frowned down at the second button of Flora’s blouse without a single erotic thought in her head. Without any thought in her head.
“Stay with me. Be with me. Always. Crazy in love. My budmate.”
“You… you’d do that for me?”
Flora looked incredulous. “Do what? You make it sound like self-sacrifice. This is what I want. To be honest, since I’m guessing it would be hard to frighten you any more at this point, it’s what I’ve wanted since the first weeks of our affair. This is not a quickie wedding to beat immigration. We have plenty of evidence of that. Some supplied by a certain magazine.”
“You want to marry me? Despite –”
“I wouldn’t let you get away from me even if they extradite you to Fairyland. I’d follow. I’d find a way. Barefoot, if necessary. On the other hand, you being married to a United Forestlands citizen will throw a rather substantial stick in the works of that proceeding.”
Rye shook her head. Nothing seemed quite real. Too good to be true.
“Lover,” Flora said, “I want to be with you and have your babies and –”
“Babies?”
Flora smiled. “Perhaps I’m getting a little ahead of myself. Oh, Rye, you’re my budmate. Trust the buds. It’s the oldest dryad saying.”
“One of these days, you’re going to have to explain this bud thing properly. I’m feeling like there’s still a lot I’m missing.”
“I promise.” Flora looped her arms around Rye’s neck and looked into Rye’s eyes from close range. “Well? Will you?”
Rye felt another of those utterly calm moments brought on by an unexpected certainty. “Yes. Yes, I want to marry you.”
Flora beamed and kissed her.
Rye might have liked to continue their embrace, but she heard Mr. Summerbank stifle a cough. She crashed back to an ugly reality that had everything to do with extraditions and prisons rather than loving embraces and lifetimes together for happy couples.
“I hope you don’t mind a long engagement,” Rye said.
“Actually, I wasn’t planning on very long.” Flora reached into the front of her blouse as she turned away. “Uncle Basil, would you mind?”
“Of course, Flora.” Mr. Summerbank stood and slid a green form from a folder.
Rye frowned. “Babe, if they send me back to –”
“Hold out your hand.”
Flora looped her thin gold neck chain over her head. She unhooked the chain and let the pendant slide into Rye’s palm. Only it wasn’t a pendant. They were two matching gold rings.
“I couldn’t bring my purse in here,” Flora said. “Do you like them? I had to guess your size. A friend designed and made them. They’re probably a bit too arty farty for you. We can choose different ones later if you hate them.”
Rye was too astonished with the wider implication to form much of an opinion about rings.
Mr. Summerbank tapped on the far door and asked the guard to step inside.
“Witn
esses,” Flora said. “We need two.”
“Now?” Rye said. “We’re going to get married right now?”
“Yes,” Flora said.
“But… but don’t we need to –”
“Mr. Summerbank has the licence. I applied for it a few days ago. Just in case. He’s registered as a celebrant.” Flora’s smile faltered. “Am I being too pushy again?”
“A bit. A lot. Yeah.”
Rye turned to see Mr. Summerbank asking the female guard to step inside.
“I suppose this is something you’re just going to have to get used to,” Flora said.
Rye stared at her. Flora smiled and put a hand on the side of Rye’s face.
“I love you,” Flora said. “I promise I’ll work on my pushiness. Okay?”
Mr. Summerbank halted near them and smiled. “Are we ready?”
“Don’t work too hard on it,” Rye said to Flora. “I think I need it sometimes.”
Flora smiled broadly as she slipped her hand into Rye’s. It was a great way to start a wedding ceremony, even one conducted in an interview room at the Scrub Street Detention Centre.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rye fingered the ring on her thumb. She had done that a lot in the last three days. It was the only tangible evidence she had that she had not dreamed about marrying Flora. This was a wedding ring with some weird engraving twining around it. And too big for her proper finger. But it was the ring that Flora had pushed onto her finger when Mr. Summerbank married them.
Married. To Flora. Surely that was a dream?
Although, had it been a dream, Rye would not have spent their wedding night, and the two following ones, alone in a cell. Her imagination would also have dispensed with broken wing and arm. Both would hamper consummating their marriage.
The door lock whirred and the door swung open.
“Out you come, Woods,” the guard said.
Rye obediently stepped outside. “What is it?”
“Your lawyer.”
Rye hoped that this meant her lawyer and Flora. She had expected Flora to visit her. Surely, now that they were married, they’d be allowed to see each other?
The guard turned left at the end of the corridor instead of right.
“Aren’t we going the wrong way?” Rye said.
“Nope. Trust me, Woods, I’ve worked here fifteen years. I know my way around.”
The unprecedented burst of loquacity surprised Rye.
They herded her into a room where Mr. Vervain, the young lawyer, waited.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Woods,” he said.
“Um. Hello. Yeah, I guess I am.”
“Allow me to offer my congratulations,” he said.
“Um. Thanks. What is this about? You need to take more photographs of my wings and back?”
“No, Mrs. Woods. I’m here to facilitate your release.”
Rye blinked. “Release?”
“Yes. The repatriation request was declined. I have a copy of the full text of the adjudicator’s response and reasoning for you.”
Rye thanked him automatically. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. “Is this because I’m married to Flora?”
“No, ma’am. Although, that did complicate the case for the applicants. The adjudicator drew heavily on the suffering you expected should you be returned. It was your evidence, Mrs. Woods, which determined the case.”
Rye put her hand to her chest because she needed to feel something, to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“Now,” Vervain said, “this brings us to the criminal charges against you.”
“Oh. Right.” This wasn’t a dream after all. “What happens?”
“We’ll need to build a defence,” he said. “First, though, would you like to be released on bail?”
“I get a choice? Does anyone ever say no?”
He smiled. “Your wife has asked me to ask you if you have any problems with her posting the bail for you.”
Rye grinned. “No. I don’t have a problem with that.”
“I’m relieved to hear it. I had no relish for passing on the message Mrs. Withe asked me to convey in the event you declined.”
Rye smiled and signed the forms he offered her. She was very tempted to ask how much the bail was, but resisted. She had promised Flora that she would work on her problem with money. Now was a good time to start. And it wasn’t as though she was going to run away and cause Flora to forfeit the bond. She had run away from her problems for the last time.
The guard took her through to another room where they brought out a bag containing her possessions. She had to sign for them before struggling to dress in her own clothes. The guard helped her.
Vervain waited for her on the other side of the last barred doorway. He and a guard accompanied Rye to a sturdy door. It opened to the outside. She stepped out and looked up. Sky. Sunlight.
“This way, Mrs. Woods,” Vervain said.
He indicated a guard post beside a gate. As she walked toward it, Rye saw a taxi carpet on the other side. And Flora. Rye smiled and walked faster. The guard passed them through. Rye trotted down the steps and walked into Flora’s embrace.
Flora was laughing and crying at the same time. Rye just wanted to hold her.
Flora broke off to offer her thanks and her hand to Mr. Vervain. Rye assured him that she would remember to report in to the police tomorrow.
Finally, Flora and Rye climbed into the back of the taxi. Flora instructed the driver to fly them to Whiterow Gardens.
“I could’ve come in my carpet,” Flora said. “Except, I want to touch you and concentrate on you.”
“Thank you for bailing me out.”
Flora looked expectant. Rye guessed she was waiting for some comment about the amount of money, and for Rye to say how she could never pay it back. Instead, Rye bent to kiss her long and deeply. Flora’s arms slipped up around Rye.
“Mmm,” Flora said. “I’ve never kissed a married woman before.”
“Me neither. I think I could get used to it.”
Flora smiled. “You don’t mind? No regrets, now that you’ve had time to think about it?”
“I love you. More than anything.”
Flora’s hands became a little more exploratory as if she, too, needed the reassurance of touch to convince her that this was real. “Elm, I’ve missed you.”
“Mind the wing, babe. Fey, you are a dream.”
Flora smiled and pulled Rye’s head down for another long, hot kiss. “You taste nice. But you need a shower.”
“Or a bath. I’d need help. With this arm.”
“I think it must be my wifely duty to scrub your back. And other bits.”
The driver coughed.
Rye sharply glanced at him and her cheeks warmed with a blush. Flora put a hand to her mouth but failed to stifle giggles.
Rye tried to settle as comfortably as she could between accommodating her broken wing and wanting to be in constant contact with Flora. She clasped Flora’s hand as if she would never let it go. Flora snuggled against her. Rye rested her cheek against Flora’s hair and smelled that faint trace of pine sap. Oddly, that small touch finally convinced her that she really was with Flora and not still back in her cell dreaming. Rye reverently pressed a gentle kiss to one of the knotty buds in Flora’s hair. Just when everything seemed right, she realised something was missing.
“Where’s Holls?” Rye asked.
“Waiting for you at home,” Flora said. “I asked her if she wanted to come, but she said she’d rather wait.”
Rye frowned. “Fey. She must hate me a lot.”
“Hate you?” Flora straightened to study Rye’s face. “Why?”
“Because of… um… what she heard about me. At the hearing.”
Flora stroked Rye’s jaw with the back of her fingers. “I have a confession to make. I outed you to Holly before the hearing. It was unavoidable with her living with me and the discussions we had with the lawyers. Now, I’d hate to be one of those wives
who says ‘I told you so’, but I did tell you that Holly had probably guessed about you. About us. And I was right. It was neither news nor shocking. She thinks it’s scathing that we’re a couple. Or were. Which reminds me.”
Flora released Rye so that she could rummage in her purse.
“I didn’t mean about being gay,” Rye said. “Well, I suppose I did. But not mainly.”
Flora pulled her ring out of her purse and offered it to Rye. Rye accepted it with a frown.
“I haven’t been wearing it.” Flora held her hand up. “I think you have to be the one to tell Holly that we’re married.”
“Oh. Right.”
Rye awkwardly pushed the ring on Flora’s finger. Flora finished settling it into place and kissed Rye.
“So, what else are you fretting about?” Flora said.
“Um.” Rye scowled down at their joined hands. “Mother.”
“Oh. Lover, I don’t think –”
“I did it. Right in front of Holls when she was a little kid. I think I hit mother with a stick. It must have been. I remember dropping it. I suppose I should’ve told you before we got married.”
“Was this one of those times when you went blank?”
Rye frowned at the patched knees of her pants. “The first, I think.
I can remember what happened before it and afterward. I can’t recall actually doing it. But I must have. I’m sorry.”
Flora was quiet for a long time. Each moment was an agony for Rye. Rye could understand if Flora wanted to distance herself from a killer.
“Holly hasn’t said anything to me about this.” Flora tightened her clasp on Rye’s hand. “Darling, I think it’s a miracle that you didn’t kill more people on your way out of Fairyland. I don’t blame you for this. It doesn’t make me love you less. It can’t be easy for you to carry around. Which is why I think it would be so good for you to talk to a professional about your past. And get some things sorted out. To get some resolution for your sake. We can find you a therapist as soon as you feel up to it.”