Chapter Ten Storms
Of course it rains. Good. Gardeners love a good rain.
And I can’t sleep. Too excited by the plans we made, impossible plans, but still... I have hope that they might start small, but they’ll grow.
As I watch the rain and make myself a cozy cup of tea around two, the phone rings.
Ian Fenclan.
“Hello, hen,” he says, and I smile at the term of familiarity. I definitely think I’ve been granted “honorary Scottish” status. “I got the text you and Duncan sent about the police and security work.”
“I know it’s probably impossible because he’s not a proper citizen—or a human? Like, how does that work?”
Ian chuckles, which is the equivalent of thunder rumbling, or would be, if thunder sounded jolly.
“Well, ye’d think that, but it’s not the case.
Not in Pine Ridge. The grand thing is—we are looking for a police officer, specifically for night work.
Y’see, Ardy Walsh, our Pooka police officer, is expecting his first bairn in December.
His wife is one of the preschool teachers, and she’ll be on leave for quite a while.
Some say she’ll probably stay home with the little one, perhaps not come back at all. Did you not say you’re a teacher?”
“Paraprofessional, yes. I have an associate’s degree in education and psychology.”
“Well, we only have four police officers as it is, and one is due to retire at the end of the year, and with Ardy going on leave... Bring your man down to the station tonight, and we’ll sort out his papers with help from Ardy, and then he can start training under him, if he wants to stay in town.
You might go along to Bright Stars, the nursery school, and see about a job. ”
“I...” That sounds too good to be true.
Except it’s not what I want. And I don’t know where we’d live, and...
And you plant seeds. You plant seeds, and they take time to grow.
“I’d love to do that. I’ll need a place to live, of course, starting in August, but Duncan and I talked, and we want to stay in the area.
Ultimately, I’d love to have a florist shop and land to grow my own flowers. A little greenhouse...” I trail off.
These are Daniel-sized dreams. Dreams for girls with deep pockets, or men with deep pockets, at least.
“Aye, well, you sure have a talent for it. The town doesn’t have a florist shop—hasn’t since 1993, when Tara McKenna, the dryad who lived at the edge of White Pines, got struck by lightning in a September thunderstorm.
The little shop out on First Avenue is a travel agent’s now—but you know, most people book their holidays online these days.
It might be a long shot, but old Isaiah McKenna, Tara’s boy, might be willing to lease the place to you so he can do a bit of traveling himself.
He’s half-dryad, y’ken, and partial to people who appreciate nature. ”
“But he’s still working there.”
“Aye, he is, but he’s seventy if he’s a day—and there’s a flat over the shop, and a good stretch of garden out back.
Now... I tell you what, Miss Russo-Mitchell, I own half the land up in those foothills.
A dozen lodges, and most of ‘em don’t have a bit of landscaping or gardening.
I just trim the weeds down and figure the people on their honeymoons or hunting weekends don’t care much.
If you want to use the land ‘round any of my places for gardening, you can do it for say... a hundred dollars a month.”
“Wait, you’re saying I could garden, and grow flowers for a florist’s shop—if I ended up ever having one—on all of the acres out here? For a hundred bucks a month?”
“All right, you’re right. Fifty. You’re makin’ the place look a right treat, and I don’t want anyone to say Ian Fenclan is greedy or ungrateful.”
“No, no, I meant that it was such a low price! Not too high!”
“Aye, but if you’re the bride of Duncan Mackintosh—and you will be, won’t you, hen?”
I blush. “Yes, that’s the plan.” I smile to myself.
“Then I’d feel better charging less. Did you say you want a wee greenhouse? If you buy it, you can probably set that up in Isaiah McKenna’s backyard, if he leases to you. If not, I don’t doubt you could put it up somewhere on one of my lands.”
“But that’s... That’s too nice.”
“Why? I’ve got acres of the stuff. And you’re here for all of June and July. You can do a lot in two months. Will you be going with Duncan back home for August? His clan’ll want to meet you.”
“I hope so. I have my passport, but he—”
“We’ll fix that up. His grand-niece in Gilcreedy could probably help if we need it. Why don’t you come on into town and talk to Isaiah and Ardy? Stop by the preschool and see if you like it. I know you’ll need somewhere to work until you get a shop up and running.”
“You act like it’s just going to happen. Why... why would all those things fall into place?” I demand, half-laughing, half-crying in disbelief. I thought I was so lucky with Danny—and it all broke. This is too much. You don’t get this lucky twice.
Remember, a little voice inside me says, that Daniel was actually your bad luck. Duncan is the true thing, the real deal. True love. More than luck. Fate.
“Well, there’s no reason it shouldn’t. We’re a nice little town.
Prices around here have always stayed low, y’ken, because we’re a bit remote, and because there are a few odd things that even the most obtuse people can’t just explain away.
It helps keep prices down, too, when you’ve got a civic-minded group, and most Pine Ridge citizens are—especially the monsters of the world who want a safe place that they might not find anywhere else. ”
“I’ll be right there. Are you... Would you go with me to meet Mr. McKenna and stop at the police station?”
“Farrah! I’ve got to go out and meet young Duncan’s lass. You want to come with?” I hear him bellow to his wife.
“Let me put my shoes on. Does she need anything up at the lodge?”
“No, no. Wants to go into town. Meet some people, look into a few things. We’ll get her set up a treat.”
The easy, friendly way they call back and forth makes me smile. That could be Duncan and me in thirty years. And the way they say we’ll be set up a treat? I’m already starting to feel like Pine Ridge is home.
WHEN I PULL BACK INTO the lodge hours later, I smile and just sit in the Mercedes for a minute, letting the thunder rumble overhead.
I wonder if Duncan won’t wake up? Does the moon have to actually rise and moonlight touch him?
Because the clouds are like thick gray boulders up above, blocking out every star or glimpse of clear sky.
I guess I’ll find out one day. I look up the sunset time and remember—it’s June 21st. The Solstice.
There was a lot of running and giggling, shopping and hugging in Pine Ridge tonight, the longest day of the year.
Mrs. Fenclan mentioned that the solstices and equinoxes are some sort of powerful, natural energy, and that’s good for the local magic users and some paranormal creatures, like the satyrs and nymphs.
“They would have mentioned that you wouldn’t wake up if it were raining, I’m pretty sure. Anyway, I guess we’ll find out soon,” I tell Duncan, even though he can’t hear me. “It’s almost eight, and the sun should set just a little after eight-thirty.”
I hurry in, shrieking at the cold drops of rain that dot my shoulders after being in the cozy car. There’s a stiff chill in the mountain air, even if it is summer.
In the kitchen, I pull back my hair, running my fingers through the damp curls, and then I lean on the counter.
I keep making dinner-type food because Duncan wakes up at night, but maybe gargoyles like to start with breakfast?
I know I had some bacon in the groceries I originally ordered, and eggs.
There were some basics in the pantry, like salt, flour, sugar, baking soda, and the like.
Maybe I’ll make pancakes, eggs, and bacon. I wonder if he’s ever had syrup?
As I putter through the kitchen, I think about nice little Mr. McKenna, who had dark teak skin, and when I looked closely, I saw some faint leafiness at the ends of his hair.
He smelled like pine, but the whole town smells like pine when it rains.
He wasn’t keen to sell his shop and that empty flat above it—but to rent it out while he finally takes his world tour with the sweet old selkie he’s been courting?
Heck, yes. And the preschool? So nice, with such cute kids, and so many bright, colorful spaces and toys.
I used to hate the idea of working in a preschool or daycare, but this one?
Heck, I think my fifteen-year-old students would rather go to this awesome place with hands-on activities, a mini science lab, a garden, a culinary area, and music playing all the time rather than sit in the sterile gray rooms with workbook packets.
And the police officer? Practically falling over himself to help get Duncan’s stuff set up for a meeting tomorrow evening.
“Too good to be true,” I mutter to myself, pulling out the flour and baking soda.
And then I sneeze.
Damn it. The suspicious sneeze!
I’m learning to trust it. My senses are instantly on alert. I run to the door of the lodge just in time to see a little black car pulling into the driveway.
Nigel and Ian have big trucks. Genesis flies, and he’s asleep. Could it be the police officer? One of the girls from the preschool?
“Hello, Junie Pie,” Daniel says cheerfully, opening the door and stepping out, immaculate in a tan trenchcoat under a sleek black umbrella.
“Daniel?” I gasp, blinking.
“Don’t worry, I’m not stopping. I’ve just come to get my car.”
“Oh. Okay,” I stay still, torn between running to the garden and locking myself in the house, or maybe getting one of the nice cast iron pans the Fenclans have in the kitchen. I don’t think he’d hurt me or anything.
But I don’t trust him anymore.
“You’re being reasonable for a chance. About bloody time. How nice.”