Chapter Twenty-Two. Dorothy
TWENTY-TWO
Dorothy
I wake to Toto’s wet nose prodding me in the face.
“Is that necessary?” I grumble and roll to my side, pulling the quilt up. He climbs over my hip and then paws at the blanket, groaning.
“It’s still dark out.”
Toto yips, then licks my face.
I open my eyes and look at him. “Why are you being so rude?”
He barks.
“Fine. I’m awake.”
He lets out a rumble deep in his chest. He probably wants to go outside so he can hunt more rabbits.
I sit up and scrub at my face and take a look around the room.
For several seconds, my mind is a jumble.
This room is unfamiliar. Where am I?
Then it all comes crashing back.
I’m in Oz in a room in the Red Wander.
And Rook, who I kissed, is in the room next to me.
My stomach spins and then immediately crashes, because how dumb could I be? How forward and presumptuous of me.
Toto hops into my lap and paws at my neck. This time I let him bother me.
“I’m okay,” I tell him and scratch at the space between his ears. “Hopefully Rook won’t hold last night against me. Do you think he’ll hold it against me?”
Toto sits back on his hind legs and blinks at me.
“Right. As if you care. I need some coffee. Coffee fixes everything.”
Yanking back the quilt, I go to the washroom and splash cold water on my face. The coolness helps wake me up and ground me. I leave my hair down and slip back into my checkered dress. I’m beginning to wish I’d packed more clothes when I left the house.
The smell of freshly baked bread and frying bacon makes its way up the stairwell and beneath my door.
I may be in a strange land, but at least they have bacon.
“Do you want to come down to breakfast or stay in the room?” I ask Toto. He just gives me a blank look, which I take to mean he wants to nap just as soon as I take him out to use the bathroom.
When we make our way down the hallway, I find the door to Rook’s room cracked open. I peer inside to find the bed made and the curtains drawn open.
I have yet to find a clock in this place, and the cursed sky makes it harder to judge time by nature, but by the exhaustion in my body, it feels like early morning.
What time did Rook get up?
Once Toto is done outside, I return him to my room where he quickly curls up on the bed and closes his eyes.
Downstairs, in the main part of the tavern, I find the Red Wander much quieter than it was with the rowdy night crowd. A man sits at one of the round tables in the back corner reading a newspaper, sipping on coffee.
Two women are by the front window, sharing a plate of scones and a kettle of tea.
“Good morning,” Remy says as they hurry past with a stack of empty plates.
“Morning.”
“Your friend is waiting for you in the garden.”
At the mention of my friend, my stomach flips.
I’m not sure what I expected to find in the morning. That Rook was a figment of my imagination? That he decided he didn’t need me after all and left? That his memories returned and he realized he had more important things to do?
I follow Remy through an archway and down a hall with a redbrick floor.
“Through there.” They nod at open double doors before disappearing into what I presume is the kitchen.
I’d been so tired last night, I hadn’t bothered to explore the rest of the inn.
The garden is actually a courtyard in the center of the inn, with the rest of the building making a box around it.
Flagstones are set into the ground with moss and cloves growing in the cracks between. There are several café tables dotted around the space, with two rows of picnic tables in the middle of the courtyard. Greenery and flowers bloom in the cultivated beds that surround the space.
String lights make a zigzag overhead, driving away the eerie blue darkness of the ominous sky.
I spot Rook at one of the café tables tucked in between a sculpted hedge and a giant bush of blooming purple flowers.
When he sees me, he smiles, and his smile does weird things to my insides.
“Care to join me, Kansas?” he asks.
“You’re up early.” I follow the curving flagstone path from the open double doors across the courtyard.
We aren’t alone out here. In fact, it seems the garden is more popular than the main dining room.
Most of the tables are occupied, but I can’t tell if they’re here for the food or the show.
Because it feels like they’re all staring at me and Rook.
As I pass a table with four women in elegant purple dresses, I catch one of them whispering, “She defeated the witch and saved that handsome stranger? If the gods were still here, I’d say she has been bestowed a blessing.”
Blessed by the gods? They clearly haven’t seen the wreckage that was my house or the tattered, bloody nightgown I left behind because the witch tried to kill me.
I make it to Rook’s table and let out a relieved breath. He’s already becoming a safe space for me. I don’t want to be a fool, so I try to shove that feeling aside.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered for you.” Rook nods at the breakfast spread waiting to be devoured.
Eggs over easy. Toast. A bowl of fresh fruit. Strawberry jam. And coffee.
“All of my favorite things,” I say, my voice cracking, catching me off guard. This is an unexpected kindness and a welcome gift. Rook stands so he can pull back my chair for me. When I sit, and he situates me at the table, the whispering behind us increases.
I glance over my shoulder to find more women eyeing Rook.
“The food looks delicious,” I tell him, trying to ignore the attention.
“I really can’t take the credit. I just put in an order and Remy and their kitchen staff made the magic happen. I did try the toast and jam. I’m told it has rhubarb in it as well. I hope that’s all right.”
The word rhubarb in his accent sounds like an incantation.
Goosebumps rise on my arms.
Rook takes his seat and pours me a cup of coffee from the pot. A curtain of steam rises up between us.
“Sugar or cream?” he asks.
“I like it black.”
We don’t often have extra money lying around for such indulgences.
I take a tentative sip. The coffee is piping hot, the flavor rich and robust, with maybe a hint of hazelnut.
“Wow. This is good.”
“I agree. I think I like coffee.”
“Is that the first official thing we know about you?”
He laughs. “It’s as good as any place to start, I suppose?”
“Honestly, I would have questioned your life choices if you said you didn’t like coffee.”
“Oh?” He raises his brow. “Please warn me of the other things that would make you question my life choices.”
I set the mug down, but keep my hand wrapped around it for the warmth. It’s not chilly in the Hollow, but with no sun and it being early morning, there is a sharpness to the air.
“Okay, let’s see.…” I think of all the things that make my day better. The things that give me joy. “Rainfall.”
“I do love a good storm.”
“A thick quilt.”
“Who hates blankets?”
“Fresh-cut flowers.”
“The jewels of the world, truly.”
“So you agree then?”
“I think so.”
“You’re safe from my judgment.”
With his coffee mug in hand, he laughs, sending the steam swirling around us. “It would have been a crushing blow, Kansas.”
He smiles. I smile. The courtyard is quiet. The Enders are hanging on our every word.
Rook takes a sip of his coffee and scans the garden as if looking for more clues about his life. What an odd thing, getting to know a man as he gets to know himself. It almost takes some of the pressure off.
There is an ease about Rook that I very much enjoy. Edward was always trying to impress me. It was endearing, but sometimes fake. Like I only got the real version of him in brief moments, in flashes of vulnerability.
I get the distinct impression that while Rook is teasing me about my judgments, he actually doesn’t care. That others’ opinions of him don’t matter in the least.
And there is something alarmingly sexy about a confident man.
I never realized it until now, until I witnessed it, until I felt it.
Rook turns back to me and catches me watching him. It’s hard not to squirm beneath his gaze. It’s all-consuming. Penetrating.
There is a knowing flicker in his eyes, as if he is aware of my every thought, my every move.
I drop my gaze back to my toast and busy myself slathering heaps of jam on it. “Did you sleep well?”
“I did. I’m still a little sore, but the bed was comfortable.”
“You’re feeling better then?”
“I am.” He pops a berry into his mouth. I find myself watching the movement, scanning the veins that twist over his hand as his fingers move. The way his lips press together as his tongue rolls the berry around in his mouth.
A visceral hunger wells up my throat.
A hunger that cannot be satiated with food.
Is he doing that on purpose?
I shift on the seat of my chair, suddenly warm.
“Hello. Excuse me?”
We both look up.
A woman stands beside our table, her hands folded in front of her. “You’re the man who has no memories?”
Rook tosses another berry in his mouth. “The one and only.”
“Well … my name is Pipps Gladwell.”
“Nice to meet you, Ms. Gladwell.”
She fidgets. “Truly, the pleasure is all mine. I just … I thought maybe…” She clears her throat and a nervous smile appears on her face. I feel her pain. Every moment I’m with Rook, the less sure of myself I become.
“Would you like to sit and get your bearings?” He gestures to the third chair between us.
“Okay.” The woman sits. The chair creaks beneath her. She readjusts her skirt as she angles her body toward Rook. “There’s a woman in the Hollow who suffers from a Great and Terrible Curse—”
“How tragic,” Rook says.
“Yes. Quite. But it does have its uses. She can sometimes tell your story through touch. Usually it’s just your past, sometimes your future, if you’re lucky. She might be able to shed some light on your identity and I thought that might be helpful to you.”
Rook and I share a glance.
“What do you think, Kansas?” Another berry, a spread of redness on his lips that he swipes back with his tongue.
I inhale through my nose.
The woman turns to me, eyes wide, as if she had forgotten I was there.
“You want to know who you are, don’t you?”
Just yesterday, I didn’t believe in magic. I certainly didn’t believe in a person being able to tell the future. But now? Anything is possible.
Rook lifts a brow and rolls a raspberry between his thumb and forefinger, staining his fingers red. “I suppose I do.”
“And we have time to pass before tonight’s celebration.”
“This is true.”
“So perhaps we visit her just to see?”
The woman nods. “I think you’ll like her.”
“Okay,” Rook finally says and the woman beams. “Where will we find this woman?”
“On Olligan Lane, just south of the wizard’s statue in the park. Her shop is called Henrietta’s Looking Glass. I could take you.”
“That’s not necessary.” Rook’s gaze meets mine across the table. “Kansas will chaperone me.”
This time, the woman’s attention is cutting. It’s clear she came over here to offer this bit of guidance thinking she could win Rook’s attention and his favor.
Can I blame her? Not at all.
I don’t own him. I cannot claim him in any way. And yet, I do feel a certain belonging, not to me, exactly, but together. We are the only two people in this entire place who don’t know where we are.
“Thank you,” Rook says, dismissing the woman with barely a second look.
Her mouth opens and closes as if she means to say more, but then thinks better of it.
“It was my pleasure,” she says and then leaves in a rush.