Chapter Eighteen #2
“Mom.” Genevieve’s voice held a definite note of warning as she returned from the hallway.
Despite the interruption, David understood perfectly well what Lisl was getting at. No, he decided, he didn’t like her one bit, but he was capable of biting his tongue for a few hours for Adalynn’s sake, so long as Genevieve continued to run interference.
Meredith, of course, chose that moment to descend the staircase.
“Done sulking?” asked Lisl.
“I’m not s-s-s—” Meredith gave up. “I’m not.”
Lisl barked out a laugh. “I’ll believe it when you can say it.”
When Lisl smirked, David thought he might be sick. Then the nausea was followed by a return of that same white-hot rage. Nobody deserved to be treated like that, no matter how they might get on his nerves.
David took a deep breath and composed himself. He could not make a scene at Adalynn Cartier’s bridal shower. He could not throw out a relative of the groom.
He could not abide Meredith’s utterly crushed expression—all of David’s careful reassurances undone by a single cruel remark.
#100: He has the worst—
No. Meredith could not be blamed for his relatives, regardless of how awful they were turning out to be. Not when David himself had been the one to invite them in.
“Hey!” Adalynn popped into the open doorway. “You two should come out and make yourselves a plate.”
“Oh, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” protested David.
“Not at all! It is your house, after all,” she pointed out. “And, Meredith, I’d like you to meet a few people, now that we’re going to be related.”
He blinked at her for a little too long before replying, with an effort, “Oh. Yes, if you’d like.”
With a last uneasy glance at Lisl, David followed Meredith and Genevieve outside.
There were perhaps two dozen women milling around the deck and yard, chatting over paper plates of food from the buffet table, heedless of the clouds hanging low and dense in the sky.
Though an occasional breeze swept through bearing the scent of heated grass, it did nothing to dissipate the oppressive humidity in the air.
David had intended to tag along closely enough to overhear a few introductions, but lost his nerve.
Instead, he turned his attention to the buffet table and found himself gazing down without much enthusiasm at trays of cream horns and underbaked miniature strudels as he tried to banish wistful thoughts of misshapen Battenberg cake.
Deciding to forgo the desserts, David sipped a cup of weak punch and tried to make himself unobtrusive leaning against the deck rail. The breeze itself seemed listless, the drone of insects in the heavy air mingling with the indistinct conversation all around.
At the opposite edge of the deck, Meredith had fallen into conversation with Sophie, one of the bridesmaids.
The two of them appeared to get on well—perhaps too well, judging by the way she traced a fingertip along the inky swirls of his filigreed wrist as they spoke, the tips of her wings giving the occasional flutter.
David scowled. He’d have to have a word with Meredith about that.
It simply wouldn’t do to have him go seducing other members of the bridal party.
In the far corner stood a table heaped with a small mountain of wrapped gifts, and with a start, David realized he’d forgotten to add his own, a set of linen tea towels in a tasteful sage-green stripe.
He fetched the wrapped package and made his way stealthily toward the gift table.
Adalynn’s attention was occupied as she spoke with an older woman, presumably the grandmother she’d mentioned.
Near the buffet, Lotte Schwarzwelder approached Meredith—now that the initial awkwardness had faded, a reconciliation appeared to be underway.
Lisl was safely off in the yard with the two twin girls.
A few more steps and David could slip his gift into the pile—
“Hey, Dave, what you got there?” asked Genevieve behind him.
(“Here,” said Lotte, handing Meredith a paper plate. “I put together a plate for you.”)
“Oh, er, just a small gift I picked up for Adalynn.”
(“It’s creamed chicken,” said Lotte, as Meredith lifted the top bun of the sandwich in suspicion.)
“It’s been so kind of her, after all,” said David, “including us like this.”
(“But I c-can’t—”
Lotte sighed. “You know, I really thought you would’ve grown out of being such a picky eater by now.”)
“I hope that’s all right?” inquired David anxiously. “I wouldn’t want to overstep, of course.”
(“I’m not picky,” said Meredith with an edge to his voice. “I’ve been a vegetarian for ten years.”)
“Not at all,” said Genevieve. “Go ahead and stick it over there with the others.”
(“Oh, just eat it. No wonder you’re so skinny.” Lotte gave Meredith a poke to the ribs, which he flinched away from. “You need to get some meat on your bones.”)
“We’re about to get started with those in a couple minutes,” Genevieve added.
(Patting Meredith on the arm, Lotte departed to join Lisl with Genevieve’s two nieces in the yard, leaving him gazing down morosely at the sandwich in his hand.)
“Thank you, I’ll do that.” David added his gift to the designated table and made his way over to Meredith. He dropped his voice low enough not to be overheard. “Don’t you dare.”
“Oh, what’s it matter?” Meredith asked hopelessly.
“Remember when George-7 fried those potatoes in bacon grease and didn’t tell you? You were ill for days.”
“Yeah, only I suppose perhaps she’s got a point, I could st-stand to—oh!”
At his wit’s end, David snatched the sandwich from him and flung it into the flower bed.
“Oh! But the garden,” protested Meredith.
“Fuck the garden,” growled David. “I won’t have you bullied into making yourself sick.”
Meredith ran a hand over his face. “She means well, it’s just that she doesn’t listen.”
David was struck by a sudden memory of his own mother changing the recipe for her Christmas stuffing upon learning that Ruth’s then-husband had a nut allergy, even though nobody aside from Ruth herself had particularly liked him.
The thought filled him with a longing so intense that it nearly brought tears to his eyes.
Surreptitiously clearing his throat, he resolved to call his father and sister both sometime that week, if not later that day.
“David?” asked Meredith. “You all right? Only you had this awfully funny look just now.”
“Fine,” said David. “Perfectly all right.” He busied himself straightening Meredith’s shirt collar, which had wilted considerably in the heat. “You ought to have ironed this properly, you know.”
“Oh, would you st-st—quit it?” Meredith made a feeble effort to bat his hands away and gave up halfway through. “You’re always at me with your big paws, you and everybody else.”
“Okay, everybody!” called Genevieve. “It’s time for what you’ve all been waiting for—gifts!”
It was, admittedly, not the most thrilling entertainment, but David did want to see Adalynn’s reaction to his gift.
Not that he expected anyone to get terribly excited over tea towels, but there was still a certain gratification in the acknowledgment.
His impatience grew as he watched her open an electric kettle, a set of bed linens, a cake stand, and a fondue pot, which he could not picture Florian Schwarzwelder happily enjoying.
The mental image forced David to stifle a laugh, and he turned to whisper to Meredith—only to find that he’d vanished.
Irrational as it was, a sudden fear seized David that Meredith had slipped away unseen to the Midnight Wood, but he quashed that thought at once.
Of course he hadn’t. He’d simply gone back inside.
He must have, David told himself as he ducked through the curtained doorway—and found the kitchen and main room entirely deserted.
Suddenly, the tea towels didn’t matter anymore.
David stole out the front door so as not to disturb the bridal shower and started down the hill toward the Midnight Wood at as brisk of a pace as one could still rightfully designate walking rather than running; belatedly, he became aware of Bianca hurrying along by his side.
He soon spotted Meredith a short distance from the picnic table, his back to the cottage.
As David reached him, slightly out of breath, Meredith gave no acknowledgment, but continued to stand staring into the distant depths of the Wood.
David was used to his bright stare of inspiration (often followed by an incoherent but enthusiastic explanation of a new and usually ill-conceived art project); he was accustomed as well to the vacant gaze indicating that Meredith was lost in thought (which had occurred with increasing frequency over the past weeks).
This was something altogether different, and far worse.
It was a dead blank stare, as if something were missing, as if he’d retreated entirely within himself.
And now, daring a glimpse into the Wood himself, David had the awful feeling that something might be staring back.
With a whine, Bianca pawed at Meredith’s ankle, but he took no notice.
“Hey.” David nudged Meredith’s shoulder, to no effect. He tried again. “Meri, where’ve you gone? Come back.”
Another, harder nudge did the trick: Meredith started, blinking at David with wide, disoriented eyes.
“There you are,” said David, feigning more cheer than he felt. “Bianca was terribly worried about you, you know.”
“Was she,” murmured Meredith distantly.
“Of course she was. You just vanished and—what are you doing down here, anyway?” David interrupted himself. “You know Mrs. Jupiter told you to stay away from the Wood.”