Chapter Thirty-three
~
Hale really vibrated with an emotion, thought, problem that he wanted to share that mornin’, but for whatever reason, chose to keep it to himself.
Should I press him? Give him time?
Cordiz was much more reserved too. Almost could believe she picked up on Hale’s mood. But changed my mind about that. Pretty sure her head remained wrapped around our discussions last night. Primarily, what was she gonna do when she went back to playin’ Ranger again. I almost couldn’t get it. She was already in the most elite law enforcement agency our side of the continent. Hadn’t gotten the hardware on her collar to replace her two chevrons, but she’s still young. I mean, a lot older than me, but not—
“The next exit,” Hale mumbled from the back seat.
Holy moly. I must have been as inwardly focused as my two travelin’ companions. Been on the road almost four hours. I checked the gas gauge. Geeze. Not a single bar and the little pumps icon was flashin’. Was anyone gonna wake up and say, hey, we maybe should take a pit stop, before we ended up stranded on the shoulder?
I slowed for the nearin’ exit while studyin’ the OM’s map, to get my bearin’s. Had no clue where we were. Of course from the turnpike, there are no visual aids. Just one tall hilltop after another, sweeepin’ curve after another. Occurred to me, Hale didn’t ask to stop on the ridge this time, to gawk and click pictures. I guess once is enough.
A quick fill up and bathroom breaks, and Hale began givin’ me directions again, and not to get back on the turnpike. Bop. Dawned on me. This did look familiar. Yep. We passed the restaurant we stopped at comin’ out. Where Beky worked.
“Where we goin’?” I asked.
Of course he didn’t answer. But I sensed embarrassment. Odd.
We entered a hamlet that meandered snake-like along a beautiful narrow, rushin’ river for miles. A major urban population I didn’t expect here. I zoomed in on the OM’s map and the faint, spidery lines came in focus, extending’ way into the hollers.
“Right.”
“Left.”
We entered an upscale residential neighborhood that climbed higher on the near peaks. Between clusters of trees, expensive homes, we glimpsed gorgeous views of the river below.
“Driveway on the right,” Hale mumbled.
“Holy moly,” Cordiz said, first words since breakfast, I think.
Not what I would have expected up here in what I would have called the boonies, or the holler. Slate-colored granite three stories high, porticoes and pillars. Had to enclose maybe four, five-thousand square feet of livin’ space. And Beky served in a restaurant?
Pullin’ into the narrow circular drive set thirty feet below the house-proper due to the steep incline of the mountain, the tires crunched in packed gravel the same shade as the granite residence.
A twenty-foot tall, grandiose entrance swung open. I waited to see a serious-lookin’ butler wearin’ a tuxedo.
~
Hale
~
Didn’t see her for several moments, because of the house’s setback, and low driveway. But Beky finally came in view as she hit the top of the stairs. I studied her graceful dance as she skipped down the steep steps.
She wore the brightest-red shorts, reminded me of those skimpy ones the hens wear in volleyball. Ninety percent of her made up by trim, athletic legs that were stare-able. A flouncy, over-sized sweater long in the sleeves, but short at the waist, bellybutton high. Hair pulled back into a single, long trail that danced left and right, every step she crossed.
Bele’s the most beautiful hen I’ve ever known. This one competed.
Finally dawned on me to get out of the SUV. Just in time. At the last landin’, Beky went airborne, arms wide open. As she exploded into my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist. A high-pitched E jolted my hearin’. Maybe I pulled out a dozen stitches or so. But a sense of joy I didn’t know I was capable of, washed away every other thought.
“You guys drive the backroads all the way here?” she screeched.
Dang, the hen is tiny. Didn’t weigh more than a loaf of bread. But she clung to me with rigor a rugby player would die for. Her cool face pressed against the side of mine. If she didn’t take care, I’d puncture her with my tusk. Okay. The bruises on my back were makin’ themselves known.
“Ouch,” escaped.
“I must be hurtin’ you big time, huh, Big Guy?”
Big guy?
She released her iron-tight grip and I lowered her to the ground. A goblin with gray hair cut in the human fashion strode down the stairs now. Beky greetin’ Bele drew my attention back.
“This is our friend, Cordiz,” Bele said shakin’ Beky’s hand and motionin’ the troll hen’s way.
They mumbled their hellos. Did the air just grow frigid?
Beky turned back to me and her enormous grin returned. “This is my step-papa.” I already knew the story. Maybe I should have told Bele, ’cause I sensed an enormous whoosh of emotion.
“Naid,” he said, extendin’ his hand.
The bull had a nice, meaty handshake. Held my hand a bit longer than I would have expected. Average goblin height, so he had to peer up a bit. Was he drillin’ a hole through my forehead with his eyes? He wore a stylish, dark-blue polo, breast monogrammed with the name of the restaurant I met Beky. Khaki pants with creases ironed knife sharp. Shiny tan, leather shoes. Think they’re called loafers. Goblins are known for boots that rise to their knees. Naid was no desert or plain goblin. Appeared as enamored with his appearance as a bull troll. No obvious ornaments, rings or such.
When he turned to greet Bele and Cordiz, his smile returned. I’d have to ask Bele about that.
“Mama’s away on business,” Beky shrilled. Didn’t remember that about her. Maybe when she calms down, it would pass. Assumin’ excitement was what got her vibratin’ so much. “But you three come on in. We’ve been holding off having lunch til you arrived. You haven’t eaten, have you?”
Bele answered for me. Maybe I was payin’ attention to the look Naid was givin’ Cordiz. Another thin’ to ask Bele about.
“Regular troll menu?” Naid asked Cordiz.
“If it’s no problem,” Cordiz said.
“Not at all,” he said. “We run a company that raises sweet crickets in a retired mine up and over a few hollers.
So they call ’em hollers around here too.
“Sweet?” Cordiz asked. I noticed Naid’s arm wrapped around her, as though she couldn’t find her way to the steps on her own.
He was explainin’ the critters had been raised in the dark for so many generations they now lacked any pigmentation. Hard to gather that, as Beky asked me at least three questions.
“He’ll go to a clinic to have ’em removed in a couple days,” Bele answered one for me. Musta been talkin’ about my stitches.
“He’s been really excited to see ya too,” Bele continued.
Beky let out another little squeal. Bele would have to explain that.
“Our centipedes are shipped all over the world,” Naid was sayin’.
The overlappin’ conversations became too much for me to handle, so I closed it all down—too much input. That stress pounded on my chest. Not so much that I didn’t notice Beky held my hand as we strode up the gray granite steps. Tiny little hand, a bit on the cold side, in mine. Was she caressin’ my thumb with hers? Another question for Bele.
Before we stepped into the house, Bele moved in front of me, knelt way low to get Beky’s attention, I think. She was sayin’ somethin’ about me shuttin’ down, that she needed to give me a bit of space. That’s the best I could interpret what she said. Beky faced me directly, looked way, way up, grabbed my chin with a tiny hand. I did comprehend she wanted me to look at her. She had quieted.
Cordiz and Naid passed by us. Cordiz was blah blahin’ a lot, Naid chucklin’.
I think they call what Beky gave me, a nod. No words were flappin’, finally. I sensed—I sensed, turmoil, grief. Don’t much get emotions from anyone but Bele. It twisted somethin’ new in my chest. Tears erupted from Beky’s beautiful dark eyes. No words, but her lips moved.
“He knows,” I think Bele said. “Excitement kind of presses him into his own world for a bit.” So true. Bele knows me so well. Funny, that I also think Beky got it, without Bele havin’ to explain it.
~
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