15. Pippi #2
“Oh, well we have more than ‘some clutter’ here.” Sarah laughed. “I like everything out in the open, so I don’t forget it.”
“And if I put something away, I’ll forget where away is half the time,” Melany added.
“I feel that.” I laughed. “Especially when you’re not at home and don’t know all the drawers and closets.”
“Exactly!” Melany plucked the iron teakettle off the wood-burning stove and carried it over to the sink.
She swooshed it around once she’d filled it—a weird quirk I also had; like, I knew the kettle was full because I’d just watched the faucet fill it, but I still sloshed the water around to double-check.
I smiled. I knew I had good reasons for liking these two.
“If you don’t mind me asking…Pippi, your name’s Pippi, right?”
“Sure is.”
“Thought that was what I heard. You had Sarah singing the Pippi Longstocking theme song last night.”
“I loved that show when I was a kid.” Sarah chuckled.
“But I wanted to make sure it was Pipp i and not Pipp a, ” Melany finished.
“Nope, it’s Pippi. And my mom was a big fan of the show too,” I said to Sarah. “I could sing the theme song with you.” Truthfully, I’d rather never hear that tune again. But I did have every word memorized.
“Don’t tempt her.” Melany opened the wood-burning stove, making sure the big ball of orange flame that blazed without heating the rest of the room (magic) was still going strong before she placed the tea kettle on top.
“She’s a horrid singer. You are, love, no offense meant.
But thankfully you didn’t need to serenade me to win my heart.
As I was saying, you look a bit under the weather, Pippi.
Now it’s no judgement, we’ve all been there, but if you’re fighting your way through a hangover, we do have some stuff that’ll help. ”
Oh, shoot. Apparently, I hadn’t been doing as good a job at hiding my winces and twitches as I’d hoped.
“I’m okay,” I said, even as the healing soles of my feet sent a particularly nasty zap of pain through my entire skeletal structure.
“Or I will be okay. We had a bit of an oops last night and I banged up my ribs and got a few nicks and scrapes.”
“Oh dear,” Melany said.
“Did you go to the clinic?” Sarah lowered herself onto the couch and motioned for me to sit.
I sat, grateful to be off my poor, throbbing feet. “Yes, and that’s probably why I look”—I waved my hand in front of my face—“however I look.”
“Pallid,” Sarah said.
“Pinched,” Melany supplied.
“Goodness. That bad, huh? And here I was trying to go for pretty and placid. But anyway, the clinic made the pain worse.”
“Ah, they gave you a tonic.” Sarah nodded. “Wretched, that is. I was fortunate, or un fortunate, enough to have one six years ago…or was it seven?” She looked to Melany.
“I believe it was ten, love.” Melany crossed the room and plopped into the rocking chair.
“It’s not been that long,” Sarah huffed.
“You were still in your forties.”
“Was I? Ah, but it doesn’t matter much though. We were in Seattle and this Sorcerer teleported right on top of me—knocked me into oncoming traffic.”
“Oh no!” I whispered.
“It was horrific.” Melany shuddered.
“Broke my leg in three places,” Sarah continued.
“And your collarbone,” Melany said.
“ And my collarbone. I had a wicked concussion too. Would’ve taken me months to get back on my feet after that.
But because there were witnesses to the Sorcerer having caused the accident, he had to cover my care.
So I got to see a Sorcerer healer. Was back on my feet within a day, but I remember the pain of the tonic.
” She pursed her lips. “It’s awful . Worth it, sure.
Saves ya a lot of hassle and headache as opposed to doing it the Standie way.
But I’m surprised you’re up and about if you were given a tonic this morning. ”
I shrugged. “If I stayed in bed, I’d just be thinking about how miserable I feel. Y’know?” How bold of me to ask that last question when I didn’t even know.
But Sarah and Melany both hummed at my statement, as though agreeing.
“If you don’t mind me asking”—Melany elegantly crossed her legs—“how did you get yourself banged up enough to need a tonic?”
Embarrassment prickled my cheeks. And I thanked the stars and all the cosmic entities of the universe that my mom had given me her reddish complexion because I never looked pink-cheeked with embarrassment if my cheeks were always pink.
“We tried to go swimming,” I said. “In the inlet outside. And the tide came in earlier than expected so I played pinball with the rocks.”
“Oh my,” Melany said.
Sarah laughed. “Damn. That had to be terrifying.”
My stomach swam as the memory rushed back—of being stuck beneath the surface, drowning, while the current smashed my body up. But the swimming turned to a gentle flutter as my brain reminded me where the misadventure had taken me: to Alistair.
“I’m surprised you didn’t hear screaming last night.” I swallowed the fizzy feelings down. “From me or Jackson. He got belted around too. Not as bad, though.”
“Honestly, hon, you could’ve thrown a rave outside our bedroom, and I wouldn’t have heard a thing. I was exhau—Oh, dang it!” Melany leapt to her feet when the tea kettle let out a wailing cry. “That scared the life half out of me.”
“You need help?” Sarah asked.
“No, dear. You sit and enjoy our guest. I’ll be just a moment.”
“I did actually hear something last night, now that you mention it,” Sarah said to me. “Not much of something. And I’d just been reading about the banshees on the isle, so I figured it was my head playing tricks on me.”
“There are banshees on the isle?” I blanched. I really, really should’ve researched this place more.
“Yep, two of them! There’s a full history on them in here.” Sarah plucked the glossy brochure off the coffee table and handed it to me. “They do nighttime haunt tours to see them—ear protection included, of course.”
“Huh.” I stared down at the shining leaflet. “Welcome to Niverwick Isle ” stretched across the front in big, loopy letters, “where magic, myths, and monsters await.”
And… Stars. I hadn’t even noticed this yesterday.
But beneath the slogan, and the few scripts of testimonials (“Best. Vacation. Ever.” ) was a picture of Alistair. A painting, one that made him look fierce: a dark green serpent, slithering through the seas, his orange eyes searching for their next kill.
A chill rattled my spine.
“It’s horrid looking, isn’t it?” Melany swooped back over with three mugs of tea balanced precariously between her hands. “I know Nessie’s the centerpiece, but I’m not sure that I want to see him if he looks like that. ”
He doesn’t. Well…okay. He does a little bit. But his eyes aren’t that mean.
“They should’ve put Marvin as their centerpiece.” Melany placed my cup in front of me.
I blinked and tore my eyes away from Alistair’s painting. “Marvin?”
“The cat,” Sarah said. “Melany stalked him last night.”
“I did not. I just saw him walking in front of us and asked his name. And it’s adorable. Such a proper name for a proper fellow. We should find a way to abscond him, Sarah.”
“Marvin stays on the island,” Sarah said dryly. “And we certainly don’t need another cat. The ones we have are enough pains in the ass.”
“Oh, shush.” Melany clicked her tongue. “You adore our munchkins, and you know it.”
“I will admit to no such thing.” The wave of affection and love that cascaded off Sarah as she said those words had my own chest pinging with happiness.
But then I glanced back at Alistair’s painting and a barb of sorrow shot into my heart.
I traced the tip of his snout, where his lips were curled over his teeth.
And I wondered how long he’d been stuck here, alone, with no one to talk to.
No friends, family, lovers. Only the sea… and now the gaping tourists.
I circled my thumb over his eye. No wonder you felt so sad.