He started laughing, but it turned into a cough, then a groan. His mother plumped his pillows again quickly, cushioning him like a baby then handing him a glass of water with a straw.
He took a small sip, cleared his throat and looked at me again, this time with an unfamiliar solemnity. "I don't know how you saved me Mark, but thank you. They told me if I hadn't gotten to the hospital when I did I might have died. Apparently, they had to put a burr hole to drain some of the pressure. Other than that and my leg, they think I'm going to be okay. They want me to stay a few days to make sure the fluid doesn't re-accumulate, but for now at least, they’re expecting me to make a complete recovery."
I winced. "A burr hole? Like a hole hole?"
He smirked. "Yeah. They drilled a hole in my head with like, a Canadian tire drill. They said it’s something they do to keep my brain from doing a hernia thing or something.”
“Herniating?” My dad offered.
“Yeah, herniating. I don’t remember that part, thankfully. The hole isn’t as painful as the rest of my face. My eye is the worst. They told me the orbit is fractured so I’ll be seeing plastics and ophthalmology in the next few days too.”
“Damn, buddy. I’m sorry to hear that.” What could I say? I looked down at his leg, which was propped up on a pillow and changed the subject. "Did Mandy come by yet?"
He made a slight movement of his shoulder, looking away through the window beside him. Damn. I had touched another sore spot without even trying. Racking my brain for something else to say, I was surprised when he spoke first.
"I had the strangest dream when I was sleeping, but I don't know when or if it even happened.”
I paused. “Oh?”
His voice took on a hollow quality and his good eyebrow raised, giving him a lop-sided appearance as he met my eyes. “I saw you, Mark, and I knew you were going to find me. It was the strangest thing. But I through everything that happened if felt like you were with me, and were going to bring me home. I tried to talk to Mandy about it but she got jealous.” He snorted. “Girls. Apparently I was supposed to be thinking of her while unconscious.”
I swallowed hard. Mandy was a nice girl but too high strung for me. So not my type. Paul was more laid-back, kind of like my dad, and he was usually able to take that stuff in stride.
"Did you want me to talk to her at school tomorrow, try to explain for you?"
Paul started to shake his head but stopped immediately and moaned. "Ow. I keep forgetting not to do that. No, don’t waste your time. She was already starting to get kind of demanding about things with work. Complaining I never spent time with her. Now this happened and well, let's just say I'm reconsidering if I want to spend time with someone who drains my energy. Especially when I need all my energy to get better."
I expected to see sadness in his face, but to my surprise he was clear-eyed. At least, the one I could see. He had definitely come to a decision.
"Are you breaking up with her?"
He shrugged again. "Maybe. Maybe I’ll let her do it. Something tells me a guy who might not be graduating high school or attending any of grad parties on her arm may not be what she's wanting in a guy right now." His lip curled up. “Besides, I'm in no rush. Sounds like I'll be here for at least a week, maybe more. Plenty of time to see how it goes."
We talked awhile longer, but Paul’s energy was flagging and as his good eye began to drift shut, my dad touched my arm.
"We should go, Mark. It's time for us to get that thing."
I nodded agreeably, easily catching my dad’s attempt at an awkward extrication. I realized his actual secret identity may actually be an agreeable, good-natured fumbling father and was impressed.
Was that how he slid under the radar on jobs?
I made a mental note to ask how he managed it. Maybe I could work on my own version.
As we said goodbye to Paul, I hoped it wouldn't be long until he was back at school. It was good to see him awake and talking, but it would be even better when he was back to normal.
Chapter 15
The end of school was a breeze. Even with exams to write, nothing fazed me. I'd already been through something far more terrifying than senior Calc and it was easier to convince myself I’d studied enough after managing to literally wrest my friend from the jaws of death.
That didn't mean everything was easy though. Mandy had been dramatic at school, as expected, telling everyone who’d listen to her how heartbroken she was about her poor boyfriend being kidnapped and almost murdered. I did my best not to roll my eyes when she could see me, but worried I’d give myself accidental eyestrain the rest of the time.
When I saw her sneaking out with another one of the guys from the hockey team however, I quickly called her on her behavior. As Paul had predicted, once caught in an awkward situation, she made short work of dumping him. I had my suspicion that was the impetus behind his dramatic recovery. Without her dragging him down, he was back and able to write exams only two weeks after I did.
He never returned to work though.
The owner and his wife visited and brought flowers, but because they needed a worker immediately and Paul would have to spend the summer recuperating, they amicably parted ways. I thought it was nice they gave him a few weeks’ cash pay for a parting gift, considering they weren't rollin’ in it. Luckily insurance covered all his medical bills.
I had just left Paul's room – he had been transferred to the rehab hospital a few days earlier – when I had the strangest sensation, similar to the one I’d had when I'd realized my career path was all wrong.
The same as the one I had when there was something I needed to find.
Looking around the lobby, I saw a girl with dark blond hair and a taller man with the same hair color walk out, leaving me alone to carefully examine my surroundings. Nothing struck me as unusual or directed me toward it. It would have been nice to have a sign saying ‘here I am’, but clearly that wasn’t in the cards today. As the feeling faded, I shook my head and exited the hospital. Maybe I was overtired.
That night I heard the most amazing music in my dream.
The voice was so rich and beautiful I wondered if I was getting a glimpse into heaven. Like a bell ringing into a clear blue day, the same feeling swept over me that I’d had earlier in the lobby. I knew it was for the same reason, but when I tried to see who was singing, there was only a thick fog rolling across the ground.
The voice began to fade, but I couldn't let it go.
I shouted into the darkness. "Who are you?"
I could still hear the voice but it was farther away, like she was moving.
Or maybe it was me?
I ran toward her, knowing the same way I’d known where Paul was that the owner of this voice was going to determine the direction of my life.
If only I could find her.
But how? Wasn't I going to go to university and join CSIS like my dad?
The feeling was more insistent than my confusion and pushed me onward.
I tried to run but my feet seemed to stay in the same place as the fog deepened.
Just when I'd given up hope of seeing who was singing, the fog parted. One bright ray of sunshine blinded me, revealing a tall girl in a purple dress.
She stood alone as if in the center of a stage, hands clasped in front of her, face tilted up as the song brought golden beauty to the world.
Dark honey blonde hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, and I was left awestruck, my feet rooted in place as I listened. When her song died away, she opened her eyes and she looked straight into mine.
The intense blue pierced me, lodging like an arrow in my gut.
I woke up panting, bewildered, but with a deep knowing beyond even my finding ability that it was her.
It would always be her.
And someday soon, when the time was right, I would find her, too.
Ready for a special excerpt?
Sign up at http://hmgoodenauthor.com/ for more information on A
Destiny Found, sequel to The Cursed Heart and The Lost Soul.
Coming soon!
Stay Tuned!
https://www.subscribepage.com/hmgooden
Mother May I? by Chelli Larsen
Copyright © 2019 by Chelli Larsen
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
FIRST EDITION
www.chellilarsen.com
Created with Vellum
To all of those that run on uneven legs and climb mountains with only one good arm. To the people that stand up for what is right, especially when it’s unpopular. I wrote this story just for you.
Fairy tales often depict the perfect hero that saves the beautiful heroine. As lovely as that is, I wanted a heroine that was just as flawed as you and me. Rather than be rescued, I wanted her to find the strength we all have inside of us. Whether your struggles are visible or not, we all have them. That doesn’t mean we don’t deserve a happily ever after.
So, to all those that are bravely defying the structures society has placed on them. And to anyone who feels lost in the in-between, unlovable, or forgotten. This story is for you. Go out and be your own hero. I can’t wait to see you fly.
Part I
Romy
Chapter 1-
Romy - Nine years old
Romy raced as fast as her uneven legs would carry her down the garden path. The taunting screams from the local village children still ringing in her ears as she stumbled over the uneven ground.
“Stupid!”
“Ugly!”
“Deformed!”
“Retarded!”
The hateful comments taunted her as if they were on auto repeat playing again and again, each more sinister than the last.
The village children had stopped chasing her more than a mile back, but Romy kept on running as if the hounds of hell were on her hells. She didn’t stop until she saw her old papa, plowing the fields.
In a move that was so utterly heart wrenching it nearly drew tears to her father’s eyes. Romy threw herself into his strong arms and allowed the emotion she’d been holding at bay to finally release.
“Child, whatever happened to upset you so?”
Romy’s Papa was the perfect mixture of tender hearted, and tough forest folk. She melted into his embrace.
Papa patted her back and began to rock her back and forth, much like he had when she was a small child. Romy had suffered with nightmares when she first came to live with Papa. There had been many sleepless nights as Papa sat by her bed and sang lullabies in a language she didn’t understand.
“I can’t help you Romy if I don’t know what’s wrong.”
Romy tried to answer, she really did. However, the words were frozen in the back of her throat, or perhaps tangled up in the huge ball of emotion that was lodged there. The tears wouldn’t stop falling no matter how hard she willed them away. Angrily, Romy swiped at them with her fingers.
“You were right, Papa,” she said thickly. “You are always right.”
They didn’t deserve her tears. How often had her papa told her that? Romy knew that her father could smell the rotten vegetables that were still clinging to her cloak. It permeated the air even now. The shame was threatening to drown her whole.
Why? Romy chastised herself. Why had she attempted to take the radishes to Mr. Johnson? Hadn’t she known what would happen? Hadn’t Papa warned her?
“Romy, please, tell me what happened,” her father begged as he pushed the thick black curls back, exposing her tear streaked cheeks. “You look miserable.”
She felt miserable.
“Now,” Papa said firmly. “What did they do?”
Finally, able to manage a few words, Romy shook her head. “It’s nothing, Papa.”
“Bah!” Papa scoffed. “This does not look like nothing. This is definitely something.”
Romy shrugged in his arms. Refusing to meet his eyes she said, “You know that I am not like other children.”
His brow raised. “Do I now? And here I was under the impression that you were just a child yourself.”
Romy finally met his gaze. Scowling at her papa she said, “You know what I am.”
Papa’s jaw jutted out. He was every bit as stubborn as Romy. “I know you are speaking nonsense.”
“Nonsense?” Romy began to list her imperfections. “My legs are uneven, so I limp when I walk. My arm is misshapen and doesn’t bend properly. My brows are far too thick for my face. My mouth is too large, and don’t get me started on my hair.”
Papa’s pretended to evaluate Romy. “I can see your brows, they are strong and deliberate, just like you. I see your hair, it is wild and free, just like my daughter’s heart. Who wants legs of the same length? That is boring.”
“Papa!” Romy stamped her foot impatiently. “You are being ridiculous. Besides, you have to love me, that’s what Papa’s do.”
“No, child. That’s what Papa’s should do.”
Romy went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Why do the children hate me? I know I am not much to look at, but I am smart! I can do everything they can!”
“Listen to me, Romy. Those children they are nothing but magpies, squawking about nonsense and trying to be heard over the other. You, Romy, you are a raven; wise, brave, and strong. Why do you wish to be a magpie when you are far superior?”
Romy sighed discontentedly. Her papa would never understand what it was like to be hated and reviled on sight. She just wanted to fit in, to have a friend. Instead, the children seemed to delight in tormenting her.
“Who was it?” Papa demanded, turning and looking back down the path toward the village. “I will go and give them a piece of my mind!”
Romy shook her head, knowing far better than to snitch on anyone. In the end, it always ended up worse for her.
“It doesn’t matter,” she replied. “If it’s not one it’s another.”
Papa grunted. “So you have said, but I would imagine that it does matter a great deal. Was it the city dweller children or that boy with magic?”
Romy twisted her fingers behind her back in an attempt to cover her lie. “It was neither. I didn’t know them.”
Papa stared at Romy for a long while. Attempting to avoid his knowing gaze, Romy focused on the things around her. She heard the rustling of leaves as the breeze danced through the trees. Its soft caress brushing her skin. Sadly, with it brought the smell of the rotting fruit.
Frowning, Romy tried to connect with the comforts of the forest. Papa had said there was a time when the forest was filled with other forest folk. But now there was only Papa and Romy.
Papa blew out a frustrated breath. “That is a load of pig swill if I have ever heard it. However, I won’t force you to tell your secrets. Now, let’s put some of that energy into these peas, shall we?”
Pig swill.
Romy couldn’t help the way her lips began to twitch, itching to turn into a full smile. Papa always had a way of making Romy feel better.
She couldn’t help but be grateful that he had dropped it the subject, but she knew it was far from over. As much as she wished to stick her head in the sand and pretend that the problem would go away. Things of that nature only got worse when you didn’t deal with them.
Chapter 1
Chapter 2-
Romy took her Papa’s hand and followed him back to where he had been working in the garden. In the nine years she had walked this earth, Romy had known heartache, abandonment, and sorrow. But it wasn’t until Papa that she finally knew love.
He was a simple man. He loved God, the forest, and plants—in that particular order. Romy liked to think that she fit somewhere up there with God. She loved the things that Papa did as well. She honestly did. But sometimes she had different ideas of how to go about things.
“Papa, why can’t I just help the peas a
long?”
Papa turned to her with a scowl. “Romy, there is beauty in the process of growing something from a seed. You don’t have to rush everything, child. Sometimes the best things are given to those who are patient enough to wait for them.”
Romy cocked her hip to the side, helping to alleviate the ache in her hip. It was on the tip of her tongue to argue, and clearly Papa could see it.
“Romy listen to me. I know you are young, and I am just an old man who tells you what to do.” Papa made a funny face that caused Romy to laugh. He smiled softly at her laughter before he continued. “Child, you must never let anyone find out that you have magic.”
“Papa, you have told me that so many times that I am not likely to forget.”
“And yet you want to openly spell the plants to produce more fruit. You would also cause the weeds to pluck themselves if you had the chance.”
“It’s not a bad idea,” Romy muttered.
“Don’t you realize that they would try and take you away from me?” Papa shook his head. “There are three types of people in our world Romy. The forest folk, the city dwellers, and those with magic. There are so few who have the gift of magic these days that wars are fought over them. The become commodities and not people. I won’t have that for you. You deserve better.”
Romy bit her lip. “I understand.”
“No,” Papa replied. Shaking his head sadly. “You think that I am being hard on you, and perhaps I am. But I have seen the way they treated my people. You would think we were garbage beneath their feet. Now they have all left and it is only me.”
Kingdom of Villains and Vengeance: Fairytale retellings from the villain's perspective (Kingdom of Darkness and Light Book 2) Page 17