 COVENANTS
by Barbara Karmazin
Chapter One
Nathanial watched Lilith
pace past the tall casement windows of the dining room. He knew better than to
disturb her while she sorted out her thoughts. In 1962, after the Ash Wednesday
storm destroyed the other sisterlines, she and Shiloh fled the pain and
confusion of so many deaths and wandered the country.
Eighty years had passed
since then. Time and distance had erased the total familiarity and acceptance
they’d shared with him as oathsister and oathbrother by caterdru bonding.
He hadn't realized
how much he missed the emotional link of his drubond with them until they
returned, but it didn't matter. They came home. Together, they would learn to be
a family again.
Lilith paused in
front of the windows. The last rays of the setting sun transformed her platinum
hair into a brilliant halo.
Great Aunt Elizabeth
rose from the windowseat and stared up at her niece. Lilith towered over the
older woman.
Elizabeth said, “We
need you here.”
Lilith laid her hand
on the diminutive woman’s shoulder. “You’re the eldest female of our sisterline.
By all rights, you should be the one to decide in this matter.”
Aunt Elizabeth shook
her head. Soft gray curls framed her nut-brown face. “I am too old for this
fight. That’s why I called you home when he came here and offered to buy our
land.”
Percival came over
to the oak table. He wore his hip length salt and pepper hair in a ponytail tied
with a single strip of worn leather. He leaned his hip on the side of the
massive oak table and smiled at Elizabeth. There was no mistaking the confidence
he projected about his half-sister’s decision.
Nathanial sighed.
Elizabeth was right. There was no other way. With only five of them left, they
would never survive another attempt to resettle. They must stay and fight to
keep their land.
Lilith sighed. “I
don't know if I've made the right choice. It's too late for me to present
myself as an older woman. I didn’t foresee this human changing tactics and
becoming a persistent suitor when I refused his offer for our land last year.”
“Never you mind
about that.” Elizabeth went to the fireplace and the cauldron of soup hanging
there. She lifted the spoon to her mouth and sipped. Their great aunt looked
like a small child standing in the massive maw of the fireplace. Neatly mended
patches adorned the knees of her faded jeans. “You’re no longer a womanchild
fresh from your first romancing. You can handle him.”
Lilith leaned her
cheek against the windowpane and stared outside. “I know what signs to watch for
now. I won’t allow myself to be deluded again by my desire for children.”
Elizabeth motioned
at them to line up at the fireplace. She picked up a towel, wrapped it around
the handle of the cauldron, lifted it from the hook and placed it on the metal
trivet on the blackened firestone. Lilith and Shiloh joined Percival and
accepted their portions. The men towered a full two heads taller than
Elizabeth's slight form.
Nathanial came last.
Elizabeth’s head barely reached the top of his abdomen. He accepted his bowl and
escorted Elizabeth to an ornately carved chair with thick cushions that raised
her to a more comfortable height at the table.
When he seated
himself in the next seat, the bright metallic shape of a yada popped out of a
cubbyhole beside the fireplace and swiftly cleared the ashes off the blackened
hearthstones. Shiloh's mechanical devices served them well. He’d created them
two decades ago in order to save them time and energy keeping all the empty
rooms of their homes suitably clean.
Shiloh had named them
‘brownies’ but the patent office said he couldn't because that word wasn’t
considered politically correct. So, he settled on ‘yada’, obtained his patent
and sold the subsidiary rights to a small company to produce and sell the robots
on the open market. Since then, their sisterline had reaped the dual benefit of
yada labor and the extra coin for the family coffers.
Lilith paused with
her spoon in mid air. “Uncle Percy, which dog did you choose for tomorrow’s
gifting?”
Percival put aside
his piece of buttered bread. “I chose Shillelagh. He’s two and a half years old.
His training is complete and he’s already neutered.”
Lilith inclined her
head towards the bread. Percival passed it to her along with the butter.
“Shelley knows all the commands, both hand and verbal for his guard dog duties.
I’ll bathe him tonight. Tomorrow he'll be all prettied up with not one hair out
of place.”
Lilith studied the
simple fare laid out before her. “I know it hasn't been easy having me come back
and disrupt your lives like this. For the most part I've tried not to interfere
with what you’ve established here during our absence.”
She sliced a piece
of bread and pointed her knife at Percy. A wistful smile softened her face. “I
know you've done your best, but I’ve noticed a few changes.”
Uncle Percy opened
his mouth to speak, then hesitated. Elizabeth reached over and squeezed his
hand. He cleared his throat. “What changes?”
“The Porta-Potties
in the field behind the barn, why have so many with only three persons living
here? And that clay track? Is it a landing field? I didn't see any aircraft in
the barn.”
“Oh, those
changes.” Percy dismissed her questions with a wave of his hand. “They're for
the biker reunion.”
Lilith raised her left
eyebrow.
“They hold a big bash here every
summer. The rental fees they pay us take care of the taxes on the land. They
race their bikes on the track. It's all very safe. The riders wear helmets and
use giant orange rubber coated things that look like slinkies to hook their keys
to their waists. That way if they wreck, the slinky pulls the key out of the
ignition and shuts the bike off without endangering the spectators.”
“They're very
polite,” Elizabeth added. “The women come to me and ask me about herbs. Some of
the men have big potbellies, some are little and lean, some are hairy, and a few
shave their heads bald. They have all kinds of tattoos and they're the shyest
bunch of guys I ever did see. They stare at you and drink their beer. By the
time they get up enough nerve to talk, they're usually too drunk to be any use
for making love.”
Percy stretched out
his left arm. A long wavy line of intense blue ogham lines wrapped itself around
his arm from wrist to shoulder. “They like our tattoos. The woad gives them a
dark blue shade they haven't been able to achieve with their dyes.”
Nathanial rubbed the soft
brown fur on his arm that concealed his tattoo. It listed his foremothers and
forefathers for ten generations. He remembered how much it itched when his fur
grew back after shaving it off. The others were lucky. They never had to put up
with that additional irritation when they received their tattoos.
The Sidhe way of
keeping track of their ancestry made perfect sense to him. He never understood
how humans avoided the dangers of inbreeding. Their generations came and went so
fast he found it difficult to keep track of their sisterlines.
Uncle Percy nodded
at Shiloh. “When they find out how much you know about repairing and creating
mechanical devices, they'll be lining up to pay for your services. “
A shy smile
flickered across Shiloh’s face. He ducked his head down and stared at the table.
Keen interest hummed from Shiloh into Nathanial across their drubond.
Percy passed the bread to
Nathanial. “If we have to sell the land and leave, I can talk to Jubal, the one
who usually tattoos the bikers. He has the salves and equipment for a complete
laser removal of body hair. I know he'll help me. It may take a couple of days
but we should be able to remove enough of your fur that no one will suspect
anything about you.”
Nathanial picked up
a slice of bread and buttered it. His hand trembled. He’d feel naked without his
fur but he would do whatever it took to safeguard his family, no matter what.
“We haven’t come to
that point yet.” Lilith's voice sliced through the subdued silence Percy's
suggestion had created. “We may never come to such a point. There’s no need to
discuss such dire measures right now.”
Casting a relieved
glance at his oathsister, Nathanial sat back and waited for her to finish
talking. Her eyes went dark and distant. “I know it's hard to change. Our
sisterlines survived all these centuries by keeping to ourselves. The problem is
there’s only five of us left now.”
Lilith sat back in
her chair. She looked at them one at a time then gave a decisive nod. “Uncle
Percy has the right idea. We need allies. That’s why I donated land to Lacrimas
to build a clinic. That’s why I’ll seek out this female physician tomorrow and
give her Shillelagh. If we had a physician allied with our family eighty years
ago maybe more of us would be alive today.”
Nathanial looked at
Shiloh. Absolute acceptance flowed to him along their subconscious drubond link.
Nathanial relaxed. His oathbrother's instincts supported his. Their duty was
clear.
He rose to his feet,
turned to Lilith and bowed. “We are your caterdru. We support your decisions, no
matter what.”
The tension in the
room eased.
Chapter
Two
Sunlight slanted
down on an endless mass of black, white and gold topped foam. A mountain of
cotton candy clouds billowed up miles below this. A few seconds later, a
checkerboard pattern of green and brown appeared beneath a sudden gap in the
clouds.
“Ma'am?” Conflicting
perfumes invaded Bridget's scrutiny of the clouds below the massive scramjet. A
trio of identically clad attendants, two female and one male held out their
offerings. “Would you like a drink? A pillow? A vid?”
Bridget studied the
artfully applied layers of blue, green, lavender and pink eyeshadow of her
female tormentors. The last time she’d seen that particular combination around a
woman’s eyes had been during her brief internship in a hospital emergency room
compiling evidence for an Abuse Protection Order. Ever since then, she found
herself seeing cosmetics as a profoundly idiotic way of expressing sexual
attractiveness and availability.
Bridget accepted the
vid helmet. The rainbow insignia on the visor glittered under her fingers. She
looked down at her armrest and searched for the thumbprint slot to bill her for
usage of the vid helmet and failed to find any. Oh right. This is first
class, not coach.
In coach, she’d
receive a bill for everything, including pillow and blanket and she'd be jammed
in elbow to elbow with her fellow passengers in ten seat aisles. Bridget
shrugged, put on the vid helmet and fastened the straps. As long as Kurt Walker
was willing to pay for first class tickets she might as well enjoy the perks,
even though her official contract named the town of Lacrimas as her employer.
She clicked the
controls to scroll for recent news about Mr. Walker. Five seconds later, a
newsvid of Mr. Walker shaking hands with a dark skinned white-haired woman
flowed onto the screen. The mysterious figures of two veiled bodyguards waited
behind the woman.
The newsvid
announcer's voice purred in Bridget's ear. “Driven from their ancestral homes in
the Sahara, the Taureg Nation now flourishes in the Australian Outback. Defiant
to the end, they retain customs and beliefs that outraged the radical Muslim
Jihad. Taureg males wear the veils while their woman walk around shamelessly
bare-faced. Ancient caravan guards, they incorporate modern weapons and body
armor with their tribal robes and begin a new era guarding Mr. Walker's
international spaceports.”
The Tauregs were
last week's news. Bridget clicked the mouse to resume its search patterns for
newsvids about Kurt Walker. The computer pulled out yesterday’s images of
modified cranes resembling giant transformer dinosaurs removing ten thousand
pound barrels of radioactive waste from the Nuclear Storage site at Yucca
Mountain in Nevada.
She saw the female driver
of the Tyrannosaurus Rex crane open her window in the machine's head and wave at
the camera. The experienced driver had her controls so fine tuned that the Rex
looked alive when it rolled over on its tank treads to the side of the mountain,
bent down, inserted its forearm into the tunnel, then pulled out a barrel with
its massive pincers. It rose to its full height with the barrel clutched to its
chest, carried it down slope and inserted it in a massive shipping container.
This container would
then be shot into orbit via a mag-lev catapult. Shuttles waiting in orbit would
rendezvous with the container and haul it to the Farside Lunar Hazardous
Materials Storage Site.
A series of chimes, the
signal for impending landing, interrupted the vid. The chair tilted under
Bridget and placed her in a reclining position. She removed the helmet and
dropped it into the bag attached to the armrest.
Lap, chest and
shoulder belts automatically deployed while the plane circled for landing. The
brightly colored plastic structures of a porta-mall flowed beside the partially
built spaceport.
The dark green foliage of
an enormous swamp lurked behind the glittering expanse of the landing field. The
swamp extended for thirty some miles to the Atlantic coast and the marine base
Camp Le Jeune. The opposite end of this vast swamp contained her destination,
Lacrimas and Kurt Walker’s new spaceport still under construction.
***
Getting through the
airport’s security line wasn’t as bad as she expected. Kurt Walker showed up
with his bodyguards, whipped out his ID and they went through the line in five
minutes flat.
So what if Lacrimas
was a small town in the middle of nowhere. It’s only a three-year contract.
Bridget knew she’d survive the experience. This job was worth the hassle of
mosquitoes and assorted wildlife from the swamp wandering around her clinic just
to escape from the corporate infighting going on right now at Duke. And best of
all, it would pay off her outstanding debts from medical school.
Debbie, her previous boss
from the genetics research lab, knew Bridget needed the money. She should count
herself lucky for snagging the contract. Of course, the fact that Lacrimas was
Debbie's hometown had helped her learn about the job offer before it was posted
on the Net.
Bridget had already
shipped her clothes, stereo equipment, Supra CDS and personal computer ahead.
Debbie just about died laughing when she saw the stacks of pharmaceutical mail
and drug samples she’d accumulated in her tiny apartment at Duke. They solved
that problem by donating the entire lot to the Salvation Army.
The first thing she’d buy
after she settled into her new apartment in Lacrimas would be one of the
cleaning robots called yadas invented by S. Moonsammy fifteen years ago. Whoever
he or she was, S. Moonsammy was making out like a bandit. Everyone wanted a yada.
“Dr. O'Keefe?” Kurt
Walker's warm baritone voice reminded her that she wasn't the only passenger in
the spacious limo. “Are you feeling all right? You’ve been very quiet.”
Bridget pushed a
wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Your security is thorough.”
Humor glinted in
Kurt’s eyes. They were such a dark blue shade against his nut-brown skin she
wondered if the color was the result of cosmetic contact lenses, then remembered
that Malcolm X had green eyes. He obviously had Caucasian ancestors mixed in
with his predominately African heritage.
Kurt shrugged.
“You'll get used to them.”
“Why should I have
to get used to them?”
He stared at her for
a moment. “Because, wherever I go, my security goes.”
Now it was her turn to
stare. She didn't recall signing anything that said she was supposed to be his
private physician. Her contract made her the physician in charge of a small
clinic in Lacrimas.
The limo rolled to a
stop. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “I'll explain later, after the
ceremony.”
The limo doors
opened. Two security guards helped them climb out. A guano-crusted statue of
General Lee posed on the small lawn was the first thing she saw. The resounding
blare of a band lined up behind the statue stopped her dead in her tracks.
His grip on her elbow kept
her from bolting like a gun-shy horse. “Follow my lead. There'll be a couple of
speeches, a little bit of home-cooked food then introductions to the mayor,
sheriff and city council. It'll be over before you know it.”
***
She smoothed out the
wrinkles in her white linen skirt and stared at the polished wood under her
shoes. Folding chairs. They sat on folding chairs on a stage in front of
everyone. She didn't care how many security guards Mr. Walker had she was going
to kill him if it was the last thing she did.
Bridget hated
crowds. Sometimes she’d walk into a room filled with people and burst into tears
for no reason at all.
The man holding the
microphone turned around and looked at her. “Dr. O'Keefe.”
Applause drowned out
the heavy thump of her heart. Bridget managed to stand up without knocking the
chair over. Five steps. She counted them when she walked forward to accept the
microphone. It almost slid through her sweat soaked palm. She tightened her grip
and stared straight ahead. The spotlight felt wonderful. It blinded her
completely.
“Thank you.” She
returned the microphone to her tormentor, walked those five steps back to her
chair and sat down.
“That was amazing.”
Walker steered her off the stage, past the length of the buffet table then
handed her a styrofoam plate. “The shortest speech in the history of Lacrimas.”
“I hate crowds,” she
muttered. Crowds always made her feel like she had too many people pushing at
her mind. She ventured a look sideways. Four tall Caucasian men wearing dark
suits sported discreet wires in their ears and stood three feet away from her
and Kurt.
Cheerfully ignoring
her obvious irritation, Walker nudged her past the macaroni and potato salads
and a plate of deviled eggs. “Here, try this,” He scooped his selection onto her
plate.
She took a closer
look at his selection. “These are violets, real violets.” She picked one up and
took a tentative taste. “With a powdered sugar glaze. Who made them?”
He lifted his
eyebrow. “Miz Lilith Harker, I presume. It looks like something she'd make.”
The combination of
grudging respect and frustration in his voice was the last thing she expected to
hear. She hazarded a quick survey of the room. “Where is she?”
“Miz Harker’s not here.”
He escorted her across the room to a plump black woman wearing sturdy shoes and
a pale green dress. “This is Miz Lucinda Davies.”
Lucinda held out her
hand. “Dr. O'Keefe, I've been looking forward to working with you. I'm the
physician's assistant assigned to the clinic.”
They shook hands.
Bridget stiffened at the sight of a team of reporters moving across the room
towards them. A sigh of relief gusted from her lips when Walker smoothly stepped
forward, intercepted the pack and led them to the podium.
Bridget eyed the soggy paper plate in
her hands. “Where?”
Lucinda's smile broadened
into a conspiratorial grin. She led Bridget behind a flag draped pillar and
showed her a large plastic draped garbage pail.
“Thank you.” She hurriedly
disposed of her burden and whispered, “Can we leave now? I'd much rather check
out the clinic than waste my time here.”
Lucinda frowned. “We
can't. Not yet. The mayor didn't get a chance to give you the keys to the
clinic.” She peered around the pillar at the stage. “He's giving them to Mr.
Walker now.”
Bridget pushed a
curly strand of hair behind her ears. She knew if she didn't leave soon, a
migraine would be ripping her head apart. More and more, she regretted her
decision to take this job despite the tempting provision that paid off all her
student loans.
“I’ll wait outside. Can
you ask him for the keys and bring them out to me?”
Lucinda leaned
closer and peered at her face. “You look a little tired dear. Are you feeling
all right?”
She shook her head
and moved closer to the exit. “I just need a little fresh air.”
The sudden shift
from the dark air-conditioned hallway into the sunlight blinded her for a
moment. The hot July air slammed into her like a solid wall of steam.
A man’s voice
floated up into the sun-drenched air. “Good afternoon, Miz Harker.”
Bridget blinked
and focused on three figures at the bottom of the steps. She saw a short, stocky
man wearing a Sheriff’s uniform talking to a tall bronze-skinned woman with
platinum hair who clasped the leash of a large black dog.
The sheriff lifted
his peaked cap, wiped the top of his balding scalp and replaced his cap. Sweat
stained the underarms of his tan shirt. “You know you can't bring your dog
inside, unless he's a seeing-eye dog.”
“I can wait here.”
The woman towered over the sheriff’s stocky bulk by at least six inches. Her
hair glowed under the bright July sun. The dog tilted his muzzle up and stared
at Bridget standing above them in the shadowed doorway.
The sheriff bobbed
his head. “Ma'am, I’m the sheriff now and as far back as the records go no
Harker ever did any wrong. I hold your family in the highest regard no matter
what anyone in Lacrimas says. If there's anything I can do, if there's ever any
trouble...” His voice trailed off under Miz Harker’s steady stare.
Miz Harker
inclined her head. A thick five stranded braid with pale blue ribbon woven into
its length swung past her shoulders. She shifted her stance. Her white cotton
dress swirled around her ankles. “Your family holds no covenant with mine. Why
would you aid us now?”
The sheriff
dropped his gaze and his words tumbled out in a rapid-fire glut. “My
great-grandfather, during World War II, one of your kin, Zachary Harker, saved
his life. We’ve been beholden to you ever since.”
“Ah.” The soft
sigh of her acceptance filled the air with its total certainty of a bargain
signed and sealed for eternity.
Bridget scuffed
her heel on the concrete.
Three heads swung
in her direction. She came down the steps. “I'm Dr. O'Keefe. I just stepped out
for a breath of fresh air. I didn't mean to interrupt.”
Miz Harker smiled.
The welcome in her eyes wrapped itself around Bridget. “Dr. O'Keefe! I'm so glad
to meet you.” She tugged on the leash. The dog sat up at attention. “This is
Shillelagh, but he answers to Shelley most of the time.”
Bridget blinked.
She was being introduced to a dog. Did Miz Harker expect her to shake its paw?
“He will guard you
with his life.”
“Miz Harker...”
Bridget tried not to sound too doubtful.
Miz Harker held
out her hand. “My first name is Lilith, but I don't mind if you call me Lily.
What’s your first name?”
“Bridget.”
They shook hands.
A delicate tracery of blue lines spiraled around Lily's left arm from wrist to
shoulder. It looked like ancient inscriptions pictured in archeological books
and Lily's dress reminded her of an old movie about the 1920’s bank robbers
Bonnie and Clyde.
Lily retrieved a
slim booklet from her skirt pocket and handed it over along with the dog's
leash. “This is a list of the verbal commands and hand signals that Shelley
understands. He is my gift to you.”
Lily tilted her
head and looked over Bridget's shoulder at the town hall's doorway as if she
expected an assassin to jump out at her. “I have to go now.”
She turned to the
sheriff, “Can you give me a ride home? I lost my birth certificate and don’t
have a North Carolina driver’s license yet.”
Two minutes later,
Lucinda and Kurt found Bridget standing on the empty sidewalk with a dazed
expression on her face. She clutched a small booklet against her chest. A large
black dog waited at her side for commands.
***
“That's a very
expensive dog.” Walker shifted position in the limo seat and repeated his
statement for the fourth time.
Bridget didn't
know which was worse. The moody silences while he thought up more questions
about her encounter with Lily or his abrupt topic changes.
“Why did she give
him to you?”
She shrugged.
“Lily said he’d guard me with his life.”
The muscles on his
jaw tightened. “He's a Bouvier Des Flandres. They were bred to herd cattle in
Belgium. During World War One, they were hooked up to carts and sent out to the
battlefields to carry the wounded back to the Red Cross tents.”
He drummed his
fingers on the armrest and traded stares with the dog seated between them.
“They're very intelligent. They didn’t need anyone to go with them and
constantly tell them what to do. They knew their routes and waited while the
wounded were loaded on or climbed on the carts then returned to the Red Cross
tents. The breed almost became extinct because so many of them were killed.”
She hoped there
was a point to his rambling explanation. “So.”
“They're a rare
and expensive breed. The Harkers raise them, train them and sell them to
international security forces. A fully trained one sells for about six or seven
thousand dollars.”
“What are you
trying to say? That I should give him back because he's expensive or you're
upset because she gave him to me and not to you? If you want one that badly, I'm
sure she has others to sell.”
The glare in his
eyes blistered her face. “Lilith Harker won't even give me the time of day.” He
punched the seat cushion. “She refused to sell me any of her land but when she
found out I donated funds to build a clinic for Lacrimas, she turned around and
donated land.”
Bridget rubbed her
thumb across the buttery soft leather upholstery. If Lily didn't want to sell
him any of her land that was her prerogative. It sounded to her like a classic
case of one-upmanship.
“May I call you
Bridget?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to
be your friend!” His voice exploded with frustration.
“Why?”
He sat back for a
few moments. His silences were very interesting. She could almost hear his mind
sorting out an answer that would persuade her.
“Why must there be
a reason? You're an intelligent woman and I’d like to be your friend, that's
all.”
Shelley swiveled
his furry head around and waited for her response.
“You can't buy
friendship, you know.”
“I'm not trying to
buy your friendship.” Walker jabbed his thumb at Shelley. “I’m not the one who
gave you an expensive dog.”
Peeling the layers
from an onion would be a simpler process. She felt like pulling her hair out one
strand at a time while she replayed their entire conversation.
She sighed. “That
was different. Lily's concern about my safety was genuine. She didn't care if
the dog was expensive or not, she wanted me to be safe.”
“Don't you feel
safe with me?”
Another layer. She
probed the sensation of sitting beside him in the limo. Oddly enough, other than
the fact that he tended to irritate her, she felt perfectly safe around him.
“Mr. Walker,” she
began.
“Mr. Walker is too
formal. Call me Kurt, please.”
“Kurt,” she paused
to see if he planned to interrupt her again. When he didn’t, she sorted out the
best way to express her instinctive reaction to his offer of friendship but
diplomacy had never been and never would be her strongest feature. “The way I
see it, the only reason you want to be my friend is because of Lily, not me.”
“Woof!” There was
a definite sound of agreement in Shelley's bark.
Kurt raked his
hand through his hair. “No, it's you. I mean I want to get to know Lily better
but I really do want to be your friend too.”
“I'll try if
you'll try.”
His confused
expression was priceless. “What?”
She peered around
the dog at him. “I said… I'll try if you'll try.”
Exasperation
replaced the confusion on his face. “What do you mean by that?”
She slumped back
in her seat, rolled her eyes up for heavenly guidance, leaned forward and
rephrased her offer one more time. “I'm going to give you a fair chance. Okay?
It has to be a two-way street. I'll try if you'll try and we’ll see what happens
from there.”
“And Lily?”
“She’s a separate
issue. I won't spy on her for you. If she wants to get to know you better she'll
tell me herself and I'll work things out from there. I don't even know if she's
going to be my friend. All I know is she gave me Shelley and wants me to be
safe.”
“All right. It's a
deal.”
They shook hands on it.
Chapter
Three
The
limo rolled to a stop. Kurt leaned past the dog, touched Bridget’s arm and
said, “We’re at the clinic now.”
She opened her door
and climbed out.
Shelley jumped out
and almost knocked her over. He galloped up to the shiny new Jeep parked in the
parking lot and sniffed the tires.
She rubbed her hand
across her eyes. “I have a patient already?”
Kurt tapped her shoulder and handed her a set of keys. “It’s part of
the package deal. As the director you need your own set of wheels.”
Her heart thundered in her ears. She didn’t remember seeing
anything about a vehicle in her contract. “Are you sure?”
He shoved his hands
in his pockets and looked away. “Okay, I lied. It’s not part of the package
deal. I bought it because I figured you’d need one.”
She tightened her
hand around the keys. “Thank you.”
Pride filled his
face. “You’re welcome. I built the clinic, too.”
She turned to look
at the one story brick structure. Blue solar panels covered the roof. A solid
oak front door faced the parking lot. She walked around and saw how the back
curved in a U-shape to accommodate a massive willow tree and oversized hammock.
Shelley galloped to
the tree, sniffed it, lifted his leg and anointed the tree trunk. He scratched
the ground with his hind legs and sent clods of dirt flying in every direction.
His tail wagged furiously.
The lawn sloped down
into the thick foliage of a swamp. Bridget studied the rear of the building. A
series of French doors led out from the inside of the curve onto the lawn. A
heliport pad with lights for night landings hugged the left side of the
building.
She strolled around to the front. Shelley trotted at her heels.
There she found Kurt leaning on the limo and peering at the thick foliage of the
swamp on the other side of the driveway with a quiet intensity.
She cleared her
throat.
Kurt turned around
with an odd, secretive look on his face.
“It’s very nice.”
He responded with an abrupt nod then opened the limo’s door. “I’ll
see you later.”
She watched him climb
inside. The limo turned around in the parking lot, crawled down the driveway and
turned right to merge onto the highway.
What was that all
about? Bridget sighed, straightened her shoulders and took a deep, cleansing
breath. Too late to worry about that now. She marched to the front door,
fiddled with the keys and inserted them one by one until she found the one that
unlocked it. “Ohmigod.”
A sea of cartons dominated the middle of the
waiting room. How in the world had she managed to accumulate so much junk? It
would take at least a week to unpack.
“Hello.” Lily’s quiet voice coming from behind almost made her jump
out of her skin.
Bridget spun around. Lily stood about five feet away in the parking
lot clad in faded jeans and t-shirt. “Where did you come from?”
Lily jerked her thumb at the swamp. “Over there. I waited until he left
before I came out.” A wistful smile softened her mouth. “It looks like you need
a little help unpacking.”
Bridget grinned, strode to the box with ‘clothes’ scrawled on the
side and used her key to slit the top open. It didn’t take long to change from
her linen skirt and jacket into jeans and t-shirt too.
***
An hour later, they had made a decent dent in the cartons.
Bridget leaned
against the wall and caught her breath. Shelley plopped on the floor beside Lily
and panted.
Lily scratched him
behind his ears and wiped a dust-streaked hand on her shirt. She seated herself
cross-legged on the blue tiled floor and opened the next box. The look on Lily’s
face reminded Bridget of a small child diving into a treasure chest. She
selected one of the thick medical reference books and opened it. Her fingers
caressed the pages.
“You can borrow them
whenever you want.”
The gratitude
shining in Lily's eyes told Bridget her answer.
“I’m back!” Kurt’s
happy shout startled them both.
He leaned against
the open doorway. A bouquet of roses filled his right hand and in his other
hand, he cradled an insulated carton with the hologram of a pizza on its cover.
A triumphant smile lit his face.
Lily leaped to her
feet and clutched the book to her chest like a shield.
He stepped past a
pile of flattened boxes, handed the pizza carton to Bridget and strolled over to
face Lily.
Two bright red spots
darkened her bronze cheekbones. “How did you know I was here?”
A muscle twitched in
his jaw. “I caught a glimpse of white in the swamp. I figured you might show up
after I left.” He held out the roses. “Here. I bought these for you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You sent me a can of fish eggs last week. Now you want me to accept a bunch of
inedible half dead flowers.”
His face closed up.
He threw the roses aside.
Lily backed away to
the French door that opened onto the lawn, unlatched it and left. He went out
after her.
Bridget couldn’t
stop herself. She had to find out what was going to happen next. She hurried
outside to catch up to them. Shelley marched at her heels. She ducked under the
branches of the willow tree and jumped the tiny brook that trickled past on the
other side.
Kurt had managed to
track Lily into the underbrush but not very far. He froze, yelled out in a
mixture of pain and frustration and collapsed onto the ground.
Shelley raced ahead
into the underbrush. Bridget tailed him at a slower pace and found Kurt sprawled
on the red clay dirt with his pants rolled up to expose his ankle.
Shelley sniffed the
ankle then licked his cheek.
Bridget glanced at
the underbrush and back to him. “What happened?”
“A snake bit me. I
hate snakes.”
She went down on her
knee and examined the two bruises on his ankle. Shelley lay beside him, rested
his chin on Kurt’s leg and watched.
Lily appeared out of
the underbrush. She laid the medical book beside Shelley then turned in a slow
circle. Her gaze swept the tall grass and bushes. “What kind of snake was it?”
“It was red with
yellow and black stripes. I think it might have been a coral snake.”
When Bridget tried
to stand, Lily motioned for her to stay put. “You can’t treat him or order the
anti-venom until we know what kind of snake bit him.”
Lily inched her way
into the tall grass, moving her head from side to side to search the ground. She
stopped, bent down and reached out so fast her hand almost blurred.
She held a
three-foot snake aloft. Reddish brown in color with yellow and black stripes, it
twisted in her grip and exposed a checkerboard pattern of black and white
squares on its belly. “Is this the one?”
Kurt nodded and
swallowed. “What kind is it?”
Lily walked deeper
into the underbrush, bent down and let the snake go. She stood, brushed her
hands on her jeans and returned to the path. “It’s a milk snake.”
A greenish tinge
marred Kurt’s dark skinned face. “How poisonous is it?”
She tilted her head
and stared at him for a moment. “You’ll have a nice bruise but other than that,
there’s nothing to worry about. They’re non poisonous.” She pulled him to his
feet.
He clung to her
hand.
She yanked her hand from his grasp. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”
He shoved his hands
in his pockets and stood there like a little boy with his heart on his sleeve.
Lily backed away
into the underbrush, lifted a mass of silvery green Spanish moss, ducked under
it and vanished from sight.
Shelley nudged
Bridget’s hand with his wet nose and whuffed. She looked down, opened her
clenched hands and saw the marks where her fingernails had dug into her palms.
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