Chapter 10
DERYN, FIRST DATES & THRUSTED UPON KITTENS
ACROWHART NO LONGER ON THE LOOSE!
Are those the sighs of disappointment from a hundred women we are hearing? Deryn Crowhart has reportedly been sighted very much cozied up to the one and only businesswoman of the hour and mayoral candidate, Paloma Allende.
While Ms. Allende’s campaign manager, Lachlan Vesely, did neither confirm nor explicitly deny the newly minted relationship, he did quip that “Love is a beautiful thing and should be celebrated.” Oh, we are celebrating, Mr. Vesely.
We very much are. Deryn Crowhart’s agent has issued a “no comment” statement, and the Crowhart family matriarch, when asked for comment, told the Crow’s reporters to engage in some entirely anatomically impossible things with several of our orifices.
The Caw can reasonably announce that while we shall not be doing any of those things, even though some suggestions sounded intriguing, we appreciate Victoria Crowhart’s sense of protectiveness for her wayward niece.
Will Paloma Allende be the one to finally lasso the wild spirit that is Deryn Crowhart? Many have certainly tried. Many have failed, and yet she remains a particular favorite with the islanders, her history of growing up among them on her side.
Watch this space and watch the lovebirds.
—Crow’s Caw
“I mean, traditionally, the island has been a haven for women throughout the centuries. So, this is a brilliant idea,” Deryn observed as Paloma’s head turned her way so swiftly that the silky, raven hair whipped across her face.
Deryn desperately wished she would be allowed to run her fingers through the long, straight tresses.
She remembered their texture. Their scent.
They felt like heaven. She balled her fists and stuffed her hands in her pockets.
They had gone for coffee yesterday to solidify the spreading news.
Choosing the Brew had been a no-brainer.
Rooster filled out more in the evenings, while Seren’s coffee shop did brisk business throughout the day.
Seren herself had been off shift, and inexplicably, Deryn was both miffed and pleased about it.
She had wanted to show Paloma off. A small, petty part of her wanted to shout from the rooftops.
But she had not really seen her twin properly since her arrival on the island in October.
Yes, an entire month had passed, and they mostly just nodded at each other across the table at Victoria’s on Fridays and did not talk.
This was different, however. This was Paloma, and Deryn’s breath grew shallow every time she took her hand. And she did so quite a lot in public. It was sweet, until Deryn remembered what it was all for. For show.
Still, they sat and drank their coffee facing the street, their knees blatantly touching, their cups close to each other on the table, and their hands periodically connecting with forearms, cheekbones, and chins.
Deryn tucked a stray lock of hair behind Paloma’s ear.
Paloma’s thumb brushed cappuccino foam from Deryn’s lower lip.
Deryn could hear a camera shutter somewhere in their vicinity.
Mission accomplished.
That was why she had been glad Seren was not in the Brew. Deryn had sighed and walked with Paloma out of the coffee shop, separating at the town hall where Paloma went in for business. Deryn wandered the beach aimlessly before heading to bake at Astronomy Tower.
Then she got the email from Lachlan with the scheduled appearances and wanted to throw herself and the phone into the ocean.
Reem’s narrowed eyes stopped her from mangling the device in her hand, and she instead replied politely with her acquiescence.
The Caw’s announcement did not make her feel any better.
And now, they were walking arm in arm through the winding streets of Crow’s Nest, talking about politics and platforms.
Swell.
Talking campaign stuff when all Deryn wanted was to run her fingers through those soft, soft tresses again. She watched Paloma’s lips move but couldn’t hear a word, still lost in the memory of having her hands in that hair.
“Huh?”
Paloma gave her one of those looks she had been throwing her way all of last week—the one that meant You are a total simpleton—and asked again, clearly miffed to have to do so.
“I asked, what are you talking about? The history?”
“Ah… Well… I mean… The history of the island. Women… Witches…”
“Ms. Crowhart, are you actually telling me that you believe in the fairy tales that Prudence sells in her bookstore?”
Deryn smiled at the haughty expression in the dark amber eyes, then hurried to answer.
“Well, yes? I am a Crowhart. It comes with the territory.”
Paloma tilted her head slightly. “What exactly does come with the territory? Accusations of witchery? Or belief?”
Deryn cocked a hip, hand on her belt. “Both. This island’s history cannot be ignored, and neither can the events my ancestors were put through by the Puritans. As for belief? I have faith in good things to come. And in…coming.”
Paloma raised an eyebrow at Deryn’s antics, Deryn closed her mouth and gulped.
Well, this was the peak of unfairness. When Paloma crossed her arms over her chest and, consequently, pushed her breasts up, making them rise ever so slightly higher in the already low-cut blouse, Deryn amended her assessment of unfairness.
Because surely this one was it. The peak of the peak.
“Let’s leave sex and the supernatural alone, for now, because I have not had enough coffee to discuss orgasms or brujas just yet.
How about we come back to your comment? What did you actually mean?
” Paloma spoke quietly, though she obviously realized she had caught her fake girlfriend flat-footed. Deryn cocked her head and frowned.
Paloma waved her hand dismissively. “The comment from before…uh… The haven remark.”
“Oh, yeah. I mean, the Crowharts weren’t the only ones seeking refuge, and not just from the…
let’s call it ‘religious persecution’ for now.
Dragons has served as a shelter for women running from their husbands, fathers, and families for centuries.
Some were taken in by the school as cooks, maids, and staff, depending on their level of education.
Some simply settled on the island, hence its female population has always been slightly higher.
Also, not just women ran here, queer people too.
Which is pretty good for us lesbians, bisexuals, and pansexuals, if you ask me. ”
Paloma shook her head.
“Let’s not pretend this is Provincetown, Ms. Crowhart. While I don’t see overt homophobia, the misogyny is still rampant.” Deryn wanted to contradict, but Paloma kept speaking, effectively shutting her up. “Are you saying that you approve of my idea?”
“To make a shelter for women and queer people seeking support and assistance the fulcrum of your campaign? Yes, I do. It’s honorable. However…”
Paloma turned away and started walking toward Market Square. She looked over her shoulder, and Deryn fell in step with her.
“However, Ms. Crowhart?”
“It’s not my ‘however.’ I want to help survivors of violence as much as you do.
The ‘however’ is for the campaign’s sake.
You will likely be questioned on the necessity of a shelter in a small town that barely needs a sheriff’s department, which was established only after Dragons School for Girls went up in smoke and that fallout. ”
Paloma was silent for a few seconds, allowing them to move into the crowded square, the Christmas market bringing tourists once again to the island.
Their numbers were much smaller than the fall crowds, but the thirty or so booths were busy nevertheless.
In the distance, Deryn could see Prudence standing in her bookstore’s doorway, observing the scene in front of her.
“You don’t think running on a platform that puts the Center for Survivors forward is a smart move?”
Paloma turned to face her fully, and Deryn nearly swallowed her tongue. The morning sun was making its way above the ocean line behind her, framing Paloma in an ethereal glow, her eyes dark and yet somehow brighter than ever before. Deryn tried to swallow around the growing lump in her throat.
Why is it suddenly hard to breathe?
“I didn’t say that. And I did mention there being more women on the island than men, so…”
“That you did.” Paloma turned, making her way to one of the stalls.
Deryn caught up to her again and, realizing that all the eyes of the vendors and the locals meandering around were focused their way, took her hand. The fingers in hers flinched from the unexpected touch, but a second later, they gripped back gently.
“Nice to see you too, Ms. Eileen. We’ll take two of these amazing-looking cinnamon rolls, please.
” Paloma shook the plump hand of the still-staring matron, nodding at the rows of baked goods.
Deryn winked at Greg, who had his ever-present cart nearby and stood silently, watching Paloma charm the townies.
For some reason, while it looked effortless, Deryn felt that it wasn’t.
The fingers in hers twitched periodically, as if tired or uncomfortable.
Still, Deryn tried not to interfere beyond the occasional smile and nod.
She carried the cinnamon rolls that Paloma handed her and walked beside her, but largely stayed out of the fray.
She really should have a conversation with Lachlan or Paloma herself about what the heck was expected of her at these things.
“So, Ms. Allende, are congratulations in order, then?” Marsha McMons grinned salaciously at their joined hands. The grip on Deryn’s fingers became one of steel as Marsha wiggled her eyebrows. “You two sure are the talk of the town!”
“And here you are again, Marsha, not minding your business.”