Chapter 7 #2
And she reached under the counter and pulled out an old mechanical credit card reader, one that was identical to the reader I kept at the pet store.
It was a relic of the time before my mother finally caved and got a real electronic credit card processor, but I knew I’d had several occasions over the past couple of weeks when I’d wondered if I would have to press it into service once again.
“Well, here’s hoping this was the last time,” I said as I took the paper receipt from her and signed my name on the designated line.
Teri raised a penciled eyebrow, telling me she was none too sanguine about that possibility.
That was okay; neither was I.
Ben had been quiet during that exchange, but once we were outside, he said, “I still hope you were right about things calming down.”
“So am I,” I said. “But I suppose it’s still a good idea to see what’s happening in the forest.”
As it turned out, not very much…at least, at first. All was quiet as we moved through the dusky woods, and I definitely didn’t see any signs of new vandalism.
But then….
“More carvings,” Ben murmured, and inclined his head toward a large coast redwood to our right. I hadn’t even been looking in that direction because somewhere in my mind, I’d thought the carvings would only be appearing in the clearings where the portal had popped up.
Obviously, I was wrong.
This time, there wasn’t a single letter, but a series of five of them placed vertically partway up the trunk.
“What does it say?” I asked. I knew that Ben had memorized all the letters weeks earlier, but putting them together into something coherent was an entirely different kind of challenge.
He frowned. “It says ‘garda.’”
Okay, that seemed way too easy. “You mean, like, ‘guard,’ guard?”
“It sure looks that way,” he replied, and now the frown was gone, replaced by something that looked almost like amusement. “I mean, assuming that the ancient Irish version of the word isn’t too different from the modern one.”
“You speak Irish?” I said, impressed by this latest facet of what sometimes seemed like a bottomless fount of knowledge.
A flash of white teeth as he grinned at me. “No,” he said easily, “but I’ve seen it in Irish dramas. The cops have it written across the back of their jackets.”
Well, now I felt stupid. I supposed I could have been excused for not picking up that little factoid along the way, since I hadn’t watched a lot of television over the past ten years, being way too buried in my college work to surface to watch much more than a snippet of the local news from time to time.
Guard. So what was that supposed to mean? Had the black-clad man written it there to call me out specifically, as a sort of guardian of the forest?
Or maybe I was misreading the whole situation. After all, as a college friend of mine had liked to pithily point out from time to time, it wasn’t always about me.
Ben was looking away from the tree now, his gaze scanning our surroundings…including the earth at our feet.
“More ATV tracks,” he said, and pointed downward.
Sure enough, a set of tracks moved away from us and deeper into the forest, moving roughly northeast.
“Should we follow them?” I asked.
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” he replied at once. “Not without knowing a whole lot more about this guy and what he’s really up to. But at least now we’ve found that he seems to be working in a lot of different places and not just in the clearings.”
What that meant for us, I wasn’t sure. Before, it had seemed as if we could avoid the guy if we stayed away from the clearings, but now that he appeared to be doing his art projects wherever he felt like it, I wasn’t sure what we should do.
I must have looked about as dispirited as I felt, because Ben came over and took my hand, then gave it a reassuring squeeze.
“We’ll get this figured out,” he said. “For now, though, it’s probably better if we get back. Our guy doesn’t seem to be anywhere around, but we also don’t want him to know that we’re trying to track his movements.”
Fair point. Also, a slight drizzle had begun to fall, not enough to get us soaking wet but definitely enough to make me wish I was inside with a cup of hot chocolate instead of out wandering around in the wilderness in the dark and the rain.
“Okay,” I replied. “Let’s head for home.”
Ben nodded, and we turned around and made our way back to the trailhead.
As we went, I kept looking from side to side, trying to see if I could locate any more Ogham letters carved into the trees, but I couldn’t find anything.
That single coast redwood with “garda” scratched into the trunk seemed to have been the only one on this particular path.
The drizzle continued the whole way, so by the time we got to my house, we were pretty thoroughly damp.
“Want to come inside and dry off?” I asked, eyeing the way Ben’s hair was lying flat against his head rather than in its usual thick waves.
He put a hand up to touch the moist locks. “That’s probably a good idea.”
Smiling, I let us inside and headed into the kitchen to get a couple of kitchen towels. The bath towels upstairs would have been thicker, but these were a lot closer at hand.
My hair wasn’t exactly dry, either, but because it had been pulled back in a scrunchie during our trip into the woods, it had fared a little better than Ben’s.
I handed him one of the towels, and he rubbed it over his hair, making it stick up in all directions.
Despite everything…the mysterious random Ogham letters carved into those trees, the ATV tracks, the lingering uncertainty about what was really happening in the forest…
I found myself grinning at how ridiculous he looked.
“What?” he asked, sounding wounded.
“Nothing,” I replied innocently. “You just look like you stuck your finger in a light socket.”
At that comment, he laughed and made a halfhearted attempt to smooth his hair down. It didn’t help much.
“Here,” I said, and stepped closer. “Let me.”
I reached up and tried to tame the worst of the chaos, my fingers running through the thick, damp strands. His hair was softer than I’d expected, and suddenly I was all too aware of how close we were standing, how his eyes had darkened as he watched me.
My hand stilled.
“Sidney,” he said, his voice very quiet.
I should have stepped back and put some safe distance between us. But I didn’t want to.
Somehow, I manage to say, “Yes?”
“I’ve been wanting to tell you something.”
My heart was hammering now, so loudly I was surprised he couldn’t hear it. “Tell me what?”
“That I — ”
Before he could finish the sentence, the lights flickered again and then went out completely, plunging us into darkness.
Perfect timing.
“Do you have any candles?” he asked, sounding almost normal.
Luckily, I had them all over the house. “The closest one is sitting on the bookshelf. I just need to get the lighter from the kitchen.”
I fumbled my way there, grateful that I knew the house so well that I could have navigated it blindfolded. My fingers found the drawer pull, and I rummaged around until I located the long-handled lighter I’d been looking for.
With it in hand, I went back into the living room, where I lit the jar candle on top of the bookcase, and then some tea lights in their little carved stone holders.
Their warm glow showed that Ben had settled himself on the couch, probably so he wouldn’t go blundering around in the dark and trip over something.
“Well, this is atmospheric,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, even though my pulse was still racing from that interrupted moment of…well, whatever it had been.
“Very,” he agreed, and patted the cushion next to him. “Might as well sit down while we wait for the power to come back on.”
I settled beside him, probably closer than I needed to. The flickering shadows cast by the candles played across Ben’s face, softening his features.
Might as well go for broke before I completely lost my nerve.
“What were you going to say?” I asked. “Before the lights went out?”
He was quiet for a moment, and I wondered if he was going to dodge the question. But then he turned toward me, his expression serious.
“That I really care about you,” he said. “And that I know the timing is terrible with everything that’s going on right now, but I needed you to know.”
Just what I’d been hoping to hear. Of course, now I had to figure out how in the world to respond without sounding like an idiot.
“The timing is pretty terrible,” I agreed, and tried to smile. I wasn’t sure how successful I was, though.
“I know,” he said. “And if you’re not ready, or if you think we should just be friends for now, I understand. But I had to tell you.”
I looked at him — really looked at him — in the candlelight, at the way he was watching me with his expression open and just a little bit anxious.
In that moment, I realized that I’d been hiding behind excuses for too long.
The timing would never be perfect. There would always be something else to worry about, another crisis to manage.
But right now, I knew what I wanted.
“I care about you, too,” I said.
The smile that touched his lips made my breath catch. And then, before I could second-guess myself, I moved closer and leaned in so I could kiss him.
His lips were warm and still brushed with moisture from the rainy night outside, and the kiss was soft at first, tentative.
But then his hand came up to cup my cheek, and I leaned into him, and suddenly our embrace was deeper, more urgent.
I could taste rainwater on his tongue, and beneath that, something warm and friendly that was uniquely him.
His arms came around me, pulling me closer, and I was completely overwhelmed by him — his warmth, his strength, the solid reassurance of his presence.
The realization that this had happened at last.
When we finally pulled apart, the room seemed to spin around me just a little.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” I said, smoothing down my shirt because it gave me something to do. My voice sounded much shakier than I’d intended.
“Do you regret it?” he asked, the words quiet, only a murmur.
“No,” I said at once. “To be honest, I’ve been thinking about this for a while.
I just could never decide on the right time, or whether there even was a right time.
Not because I wasn’t attracted to you,” I added, knowing I needed him to understand, “but because there’s just so much going on right now.
Is it really smart to add another complication? ”
“I don’t think you’re a complication,” he replied as his sensitive fingers played with the edge of my sleeve. “And we can take this as slowly as you want. But I liked kissing you. And I’m really glad you’ve been thinking about it.”
I couldn’t help smiling. “I liked kissing you, too. And maybe you’re right — maybe it’s better to just acknowledge what’s been building here instead of continuing to dance around it.
” I glanced at the candles on the bookshelf behind us, their flames still flickering in some odd draft.
“I’m glad you’re okay with taking things slow, though.
Because as amazing as that was, I’m exhausted. ”
“Me, too,” he replied with a grin, completely unself-conscious.
We sat together in comfortable silence for a few more minutes, his arm around my shoulders, until the lights suddenly flickered back to life.
“Well, that’s convenient timing,” I said with a laugh.
He chuckled as well and then got to his feet, offering me his hand. “I should probably head home and let you get some rest.”
I walked him to the door, suddenly reluctant to see him go, even though I knew he was right. We both needed to sleep, no matter what a few other traitorous thoughts might have been trying to tell me.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked.
“Definitely.”
He leaned down and gave me one more quick, sweet kiss before heading out into the night.
Smiling, I closed the door behind him and then leaned against it, as I touched my fingers to my lips.
Well, I supposed I couldn’t call myself a coward anymore.