by Jill Jones
“What is this?” she asked, turning to Jack.
“Hot dogs, ice cream and a band. Looks like a party to me,” he grinned. Then he glanced toward the musicians and gave a hearty laugh. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“What?”
“The group. They call themselves the ‘Louisiana Cajun Swamp Water Zydeco Band.’” He continued to laugh until tears came to his eyes.
“What’s so funny?” She had no idea what the name meant, or why it should be comical.
“It’s just strange to see a band like that here, in Cornwall of all places,” Jack said, wiping a tear from the edge of one eye. “Louisiana is a state in the southern part of America,” he explained. “They like hot food called ‘Cajun’ and a certain style of music called ‘Zydeco.’ You don’t see Zydeco bands that often even in the States. I never dreamed I’d see one here.”
As if on cue, the band struck up a lively number, and with a whoop several of the bystanders partnered up and began to dance in the plaza. Keely stared in amazement at the uninhibited swaying and swinging of the men and women who laughed and made strange gestures into the air in time to the music. A bubble of laughter formed in her belly, and it rose with a tickle upward until it spilled from her lips, and she joined Jack in the pure joy of the moment.
Then to her surprise, he took her other hand and led her into the dancing. “But…I do na know how…” she protested.
“Look around. There’s nothing to know,” he shouted over the din.
He began to move in time to the music, and she felt her own body take over and give way to the zesty rhythm. He guided her with both hands, shifting weight from right to left and back again, then turning her in circles until she was dizzy. The musicians were merciless, rolling from one song into the next until the dancers were flushed and breathless. Just as Keely thought she might pass out, they finally took a break.
“Oh, Jack,” she gasped, holding her side and laughing. “I have never done such dancing.”
“Did you like it?” he asked, drawing her away from the throng to where it was cooler on the grassy bank.
Keely’s face hurt from smiling. Her side hurt from the frenetic exercise and from laughing so hard. But everything else had ceased to hurt. The night, the music, the man by her side had all worked magic to ease the dark fears of her dream. “Aye,” she said, catching her breath at last. “I liked it all right, Jack.”
“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could say a word, Jack slipped away into the crowd, leaving Keely slightly panicked at being alone. Her heart began to beat heavily again, and worry trickled back under her skin. What if he didn’t come back? Keely knew he would, but his absence reminded her of how very alone she was in this unfamiliar world.
Her worry faded moments later when Jack reappeared, carrying two objects, rounded on top and pointed on the bottom. He handed her one. “Hope you like Cherry Garcia.”
Keely had seen ice cream cones in pictures, but she had never tried one. “Cherry Garcia?”
“Cherry ice cream with chocolate chips.” He bit into his with relish, surfacing with a dab on his nose. Keely giggled and reached to rub it away.
“‘Tis heavenly sounding,” she said, not wanting him to know she’d never tasted such a thing. He might be embarrassed at her ignorance, as he had been at the chemists’ shop. She licked her way around the cone. “‘Tis heavenly tasting.”
“My favorite,” he told her, taking her hand easily and beginning to stroll along a side street. “I asked around. Seems this is some kind of special American festival they’re having tonight. That’s why the Louisiana music and the hot dogs. They’ve even got Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.” Keely had no idea who Ben and Jerry were, but they made very good ice cream. As for Americans, Keely thought she liked them even more than Cherry Garcia.
Chapter Thirteen
The only thing wrong with most Zydeco music, Jack decided, was that it did not allow a man to take a woman into his arms for a slow dance. And he had a keen desire to do exactly that with Keely Cochrane. Watching her move as she danced to the fast numbers, he’d felt those selfish motives begin to get his attention again, and he had to work to quench the appetite of his desire.
His own motivations aside, however, he had overcome his earlier doubts about the wisdom of encouraging Keely to leave Keinadraig. He was glad he’d helped her to escape her island prison. He thought it would have been a crime unto itself for this vivacious, spirited woman to have languished the rest of her life in that throwback medieval society. She belonged to this time and this place, to hot music and cherry ice cream.
And to him?
Jack knew better than to let those kinds of thoughts wreck his objectivity, but he found the idea as appealing as the ice cream.
They finished their cones as they wandered along a narrow street and peered into several shop windows, where Keely exclaimed about the abundance and luxury of what she saw displayed there. “We do na have shops on Keinadraig,” she explained. “Only I with the pub, Mistress Olthorpe who bakes bread, and John Lange, who organizes the distribution of food and other goods brought onto the island, had small stores, but they are not like this. They’re in the front rooms of our houses.”
So that’s why he had seen no signs of commerce on the streets of the village. “You had no choice of clothing?” Jack continued to be amazed by the limitations of the world she had come from.
“Not much,” she replied wistfully. “Once a month, we prepared a list of what we needed, including clothing, and my uncle took it to the mainland and did his best to find what we wanted.”
“He shopped for the whole village?”
Keely shrugged. “Aye. ‘Tis part of his job as the Keeper. Few are allowed to meet with people on the outside.”
“I see.” Jack thought that was one of the most bizarre things he’d ever heard, but he brushed it off. He didn’t want to talk about the strange habits of the Dragoners. He wanted Keely to look forward, not backward. He heard the music begin again one street over.
This time, instead of breaking into another frenzied tune, the band leader began singing a slow love song, one Jack had requested when he’d gone for their ice cream and secured with a considerable contribution to the charity the band supported. Jack grinned. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
Oblivious to the other dancers, Jack took Keely into his arms as they reached the town square, and with an effort, managed not to hold her too tightly against him. She was relaxed and happy, and he wanted her to enjoy this first glimpse of her new life without apprehension of any kind.
“Girl, you look wonderful tonight,” the singer crooned in a very non-American accent.
“He sounds like a Cornishman,” Keely said, leaning away slightly and raising her face to look up at Jack, who was more than half a foot taller than she. “I thought you said the band was from America.”
“Nope. Just the music. I talked to the lead singer when I went for ice cream. The band’s from a town up the road about five miles.” He grinned again at the thought. “They just like the Zydeco sound and put together a group that plays at local gigs for charity.”
“Gigs?”
“Engagements. Like this. They play for tips to raise money to help underprivileged children.”
Keely looked thoughtful. “Do they know these children?”
Jack shrugged. “I doubt it. Why?”
“It…it just seems odd they do this kindness…for strangers.”
Jack didn’t know how to reply to that, so he just swung her around and gathered her into his arms, humming the tune to the song in his head, glad he’d requested it. This girl certainly looked wonderful tonight.
Too soon, the number was over, and “Joe Boudreaux” and his Louisiana Cajun Swamp Water Zydeco Band reeled into another spicy round that drew throngs onto the small patch of concrete in the square.
“Want another go, or would you rather sit this one out?” he shouted to Keely.
Sh
e tossed her head back and fluffed her thick hair away from her neck. “I think I have had all of the Louisiana dancing I can take for this night,” she said, laughing gaily. “Unless ye wish to stay?”
Jack slipped his arm around her waist and led her away from the lights and the music. When they reached the quiet of the lane that led to the inn, he said, “What’s your pleasure? We can walk some more, or if you’d like, I’ll take you back to your room.”
At that, he felt her stiffen. “I…I’d rather walk.”
Jack got it clearly that she was afraid to go back to her room. Why? Was she afraid of another nightmare? Or was she afraid that he might try to come on to her? Maybe he’d overstepped himself in indulging in that slow dance. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “Anyplace in particular?”
“‘Tis such a lovely evening. Would there be a high place where we could look out over the water?”
Jack was unfamiliar with Fowey, but up was up, and he knew where the harbor lay. “Let’s see what we can find.” They started up the steep cobblestone road.
They were both breathless when at last the tree-darkened lane spilled them out onto an open grassy hillside park that overlooked the ocean. Far below they could see the lights of the festival, although the distance drowned the sound of the music and laughter. A park bench beckoned, and they collapsed in mutual fatigue. Keely tilted her head back and looked up into the darkening night sky.
“I love the stars,” she said. “Ever since I was a little girl, I have gone out on moonless nights like this and gazed up at them, wondering what they are and what lies out there in the vast darkness.”
“There are worlds upon worlds we know nothing about,” Jack said.
“Do ye suppose there are others like us?”
“I suppose there are.”
“What would ye do if they came here, to our shore?”
Jack wondered where she was leading. “Me personally? Or us as a society?”
“This world. What would the people of this world do if strangers came here from a faraway star? And what if,” she continued without waiting for his answer, “what if those strangers brought a terrible plague that killed many people? What would we do to protect ourselves?”
Jack frowned. “Why do you ask something like that?”
But she just stared out at the stars and did not reply.
Keely had often wondered if there might be others who lived out beyond the stars, but the thoughts she’d just uttered to Jack had only occurred to her as she spoke them aloud. It was startling to make such an analogy, and refreshing to think in such ways. There was something about Jack that stirred her imagination and made her think more clearly than she had at any time in her life. Or mayhap it wasn’t him at all. Mayhap the air was different here in the outside world.
“My mother once told me that the stars were little windows to Heaven,” she remarked. “I wonder if Genny is up there, looking down on us right this very minute.” Keely’s throat tightened, and she felt moisture sting her eyes.
“Do you want to talk about Genny?” Jack asked quietly.
Keely sighed. Genny wasn’t in Heaven. Not yet. For she had not received the purification ceremony to prepare her for that journey. It was up to Keely to make sure her beloved kinswoman reached the stars.
“I…I suppose ‘tis time to think about what to do for Genny,” she said, clearing her throat. She shifted on the bench to face Jack, stretching her arm toward him along the top slat of wood. “‘Twas one thing that made me leave Keinadraig. I must make arrangements for her ceremony when we get to London. Will ye help me, Jack?”
Jack crooked an elbow over the back of the bench and took her fingers in his. “Of course,” he said, stroking them lightly and sending goose prickles along Keely’s arm. “But I need your help as well.”
With all Jack had done for her, Keely was happy to have some way to return his kindness. But she was dumbfounded. “Help? How can I help?”
“I was hired by my friend’s father to find out what happened to him, and to Genny. She…was not exactly the kind of girl one would expect Brad to become acquainted with,” he said, not unkindly. “If I could figure out how he met her and why she was with him that night, it might lead to other answers. You can help me, Keely, by telling me more about Genevieve.”
Keely studied him for a long moment. In the gloaming, his features were unreadable. Was this the reason for his kindness to her, to use her to try to solve the crime? Was this why he’d enabled her to run away? Because he needed her to answer his questions? It was possible.
But then she thought about the way he had stepped in to protect her from her uncle’s wrath. She recalled his generous offer to help her as she started her new life. She remembered the feel of his arms around her as they danced, how gently and tenderly he had guided her across the floor. These were not the actions of one who had deliberately manipulated her life for his own gain. He simply needed her help. Did she not wish to find Genny’s killer, too?
Still, a chill of fear crept over her. She had taken a sacred vow not to disclose the secrets of the Dragon to anyone. A whisper of a warning brushed through her mind. Bad things happen to those who betray the Dragon.
Keely fought to banish the notion, but she withdrew her hand and folded it with the other into her lap, where together they worried the cloth of the brightly colored sash.
“I will do what I can. What do ye wish to know?”
“For starters, I’d like to know why she left Keinadraig. What made her run away? Alyn fed me a line about her not respecting the laws. But she was your friend, Keely, and you respect the laws. Didn’t Genevieve share your views?”
Round and round her finger Keely twisted the tie. “Yes,” she answered after giving it long consideration, “she did.” Although Genny had been a dreamer, she was a Dragoner at heart. Keely forced herself to think back over that night. “It was something to do with Ninian. Genny was to become the next Healer. When she reached her twenty-first birthday, Ninian required her to go into apprenticeship, for Ninian is growing older. I did na know Genevieve did na wish to become Healer. She never spoke to me of it. Not until that night.”
“What did she say?”
Keely recalled the words clearly. “That she did na have it in her to become the Healer.”
“Why not?”
But Keely was at a dead end. “I do na know. The Healer takes care of the sick and binds up wounds and performs ceremonies. Genny never liked the sight of blood, and she hated to go on sick rounds with her mother. Maybe that was it.”
“I assume it’s an honor to be the Healer?”
“Aye. ‘Twas to the first Healer the Dragon in the flames gave the laws. She heard them in the Dragon’s song.”
“Dragon’s song?”
Keely chewed on her bottom lip. “‘Tis the song inscribed on the gate to Keinadraig. ‘Tis said the Dragon rose up from the flames in the sacred circle of stones and sang those words to the Healer, and as long as the Dragoners abide by his law, he will protect them from a return of the pestilence that nearly destroyed them in the old days.”
“The pestilence? Are you talking about the Black Plague?”
“Aye. ‘Tis referred to as that.”
Jack leaned forward, balancing his arms across his knees. “So that’s what you were talking about a while ago, about aliens landing on earth and bringing a plague. That’s what happened to your people, isn’t it? A stranger brought the plague. That’s why the law forbidding strangers. But there hasn’t been any plague for centuries,” he pointed out. “Why must you keep ‘hiding away on your distant shore,’ as I believe the song goes?”
“Because…because the Dragon’s laws have always kept us safe and protected,” Keely stammered, feeling compelled to defend what she had believed for twenty-five years.
“Protected? Or under control? Seven hundred years is a long time to abide by any set of laws without some changes. But no one on Keinadraig questions them because they’r
e all too damned scared of the Dragon’s so-called revenge. That sounds more like brainwashing than protection.”
Jack’s voice had changed. His earlier caring compassion had vanished, replaced now by a harsh anger. His attitude and curt questions made her very nervous and uncomfortable. Renewed anxiety washed over Keely. Mayhap she’d made a terrible mistake to trust him. She should not have told him the Dragon’s tale. She could tell he scorned it. She had risked much to share it with him, for Genny’s sake, and now he’d ridiculed it. It was easy for an outsider to make light of the Dragon’s revenge, but she could not.
She glanced around, half expecting to see the Dragon waiting to get even for what she’d just done. At that moment she heard a rustle overhead and looked up to see a large raven flap out of the sky and settle on a rock not far away. The bird blinked at her with a malignant eye and emitted a rough caw.
“Holy Saints!” she cried in pure terror. The raven, by tradition a messenger of the Dragon, glared at her malevolently and emitted a harsh caw. Certain of her imminent demise, Keely turned and fled down the hill into the protection of darkness.
Lost in his thoughts, Jack had not seen the raven until he heard Keely’s cry. He looked up just in time to see it take flight as she turned on her heel and dashed down the lane. Jack took off at a run to catch up with Keely, remembering Kevin Spearman’s claim that a raven was a bad omen. He knew Keely was afraid of the mythical dragon. Was she afraid of a raven as well?
Or was it him she was running from?
He caught up with her just as she reached the twin globes of the lights that illumined the steps to the inn. “Keely, what’s the matter?” He took her firmly by the shoulders. “What frightened you? Look, I’m sorry if…”