Chapter Sixteen
The phone rang once before a breathless voice answered. “Hello?”
Leah wasn’t sure if it was her mother or sister. They both sounded similar, especially with the slight edge of hysteria coloring the one word, both anxious to hear news but frightened, too. Thank the Goddess she’d made it back in one piece. Her family had suffered by not knowing what had happened in the past and being helpless to assist. It was better this way. No doubt, Nana would have opened a can of whoop-ass on the abbot. The thought made her giggle.
“I do not have time for prank phone calls,” her mother practically shouted in her ear.
Oh yeah, she’d forgotten to say something. “Mom, it’s me. I’m back.”
“Leah, sweetheart, is that you?” Her voice trembled with uncertainty and a quiver of hope.
“Yes, of course.” She tried to put all the love and affection in her voice she’d denied her mother the past couple of years. Suddenly, all her teen angst fell way. She’d always thought her parents never understood. Maybe they did understand. Who knew what shadows, and possibly dragons, their pasts held?
“Are you here?” Laughter followed her inquiry. “I’m just being silly now. No way could you call over the centuries.” Her voice grew higher and lighter, losing the doubt.
“Mom, can Dad pick me up? I am at a bar called the Red Rooster.” Leah twisted around to see where her grandfather was. He stood in front of the old-time jukebox, peering into it.
“Never heard of most of these people,” he grumbled. The bartender ignored him and continued polishing glasses.
The smell of stale smoke caused her to cough and miss her mother’s reply. “What?”
“I said we will all come. Me, your father, Nana, and Ethan, since he’s small. Nora won’t like being left out, but I imagine she can wait.” Her mother continued to babble.
“Wait, Mom. Are you listening?” Her mother chattered about making her favorite meal, chicken and dumplings. Knowing her mother, she would eventually run down and get tired of talking.
“Maura, who is on the phone?” Her father’s voice came over the line distantly, then more clearly. “Leah, is that you?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s me. I was telling Mom she shouldn’t bring everyone, since I brought someone home with me.”
The bartender walked over to the jukebox and fed it a couple of quarters, to Grandfather’s delight. He began punching buttons wildly, while her father warned her about the dangers of removing someone from another century.
The sound of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons crooning Big Girls Don’t Cry filled the empty bar, bouncing off the paneled walls and veneer tables. Grandpa jumped in on the chorus, “Big girls, they don’t cry-yi-yi.” The bartender snorted his opinion and turned away. Tying on a white apron, the woman who’d been at the jukebox earlier reappeared.
“Who is that singing?” Leah’s father asked.
“Well,” Leah hesitated with her explanation, not sure how to put it. “I bet it is someone you’ve been waiting a long time to meet.”
Her father’s words came slowly, almost in disbelief. “Is it? Could it be?”
“We could both benefit from a shower and dinner. Ask Nana where the Red Rooster is. Apparently, it used to be one of Grandfather’s hangouts.”
“Will do. We are leaving now.”
“Don’t break any speed limits,” she teased. “We aren’t going anywhere.” The hum of the dial tone told her he had since hung up.
The server turned toward her grandfather, who warbled with gusto. The neon beer signs cast an unflattering glow on her heavily made-up face, emphasizing every wrinkle. Speaking in a smoker’s contralto, she asked, “Buell, is that you under all that hair?”
Stopping his impromptu performance, he placed one soft-booted foot behind him and pivoted. “Beverly McClary, still working at the Rooster. Some things never change. Still as pretty as ever.”
The woman laughed. “Now I know your eyesight is gone.” She brushed away the compliment as she gestured with her hand in the air. “What’s with the costume? It’s not time for trick-or-treating. Even if it was, I’d have to say you’re a bit too old.”
The bartender slid a soft drink in front of Leah, which she gulped gratefully. Normally, she’d have worried about money, but in the past week, little things such as money, school, and even hygiene had taken second place. As bad as the lingering aroma of cigarettes smelled in the small, dark bar, she knew she herself had to smell worse. A shower was the first thing on her list. Her robe was washable, she hoped.
Sipping her drink, she savored the cold sweetness against her tongue. On one hand, it had no great nutritional value. It certainly wasn’t the same as drinking cool spring water or eating gruel. Although, eating would have been too generous a description for what they’d done with the gruel. That would imply it had had a chewable texture. At best, they’d consumed it.
She watched her grandfather talk to the waitress with obvious relish after twenty-plus years with no one to talk to, except for the travelers he’d willed to step in his direction. None of them would remember him as Buell Hare. The villagers would recall seeing only a magnificent golden dragon, or would they?
Draining the last of her drink, she refused the offer of a refill. No reason to fill up on a soda . In a few minutes, she’d have real food. Had she done what she was supposed to do? It felt like she had, and she felt a sense of completion. What had she done, really?
The fact that Arabella had already married and expected a baby made it seem like she hadn’t really needed Leah’s help. That was true, up to a point. Lionel might still have executed her as a witch after she’d had the baby. Grandfather had done a spectacular job of ridding the world of a singularly malevolent force, in turn preventing more torture and the deaths of suspected witches.
If her destiny hadn’t been to go back in time, Grandfather wouldn’t have been there. Bev, the waitress, teased her grandfather about looking like a cross between Santa Claus and an elderly Friar Tuck. Hard to imagine him as a fire-breathing dragon, but when it came to family, he protected his.
Was that it? Had she done anything? Had she changed Lionel? No doubt, he’d have changed on his own without his regular drug supply and the abbot whispering evil lies into his drug-addled mind. The changes would start with Lionel. If not him, there was always Simon. Even if only a couple of the villagers changed their minds, it would be a start.
Most would go back to the old ways of thinking, because that was easier. The girl on the beautiful white mare, with the sleek panther and snow-white falcon, was a dream, a lie, a story told to confuse good Christians. As for the golden dragon, they would assure each other saying that dragons don’t exist. They’d probably forget about the abbot, too. If they did remember his evil ways, they would question what they believed.
As she slowly turned her empty glass around on the bar, spreading the condensation across the surface, a strange thought entered her head. Would history remember them? A quote Miss Santiago had attributed to Napoleon was that winners always wrote history. They could justify any horrific behavior or choose not to mention it. Were they the winners?
* * * *
The door opened, letting in the strong afternoon sun as her father, mother, and Nana pushed in at the same time. For a second, she was sure they’d get stuck in the door. Mother stumbled in first, blinking in the sudden dimness, but finally spotting Leah, she darted toward her.
“My baby girl,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around her. Her mother pulled away slightly and wrinkled her nose. “Pew, what is that smell?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. The incongruity of having a family reunion at the local neighborhood dive was lost on her mother. Her father stood off to the side, waiting his turn, while Nana walked hesitantly into the center of the room, staring at the back of her grandfather, who slowly turned.
“Buell.” Her voice was little more than a whisper but carried across the bar.
He started toward her in a walk but jogged the last two steps and swept her up in an embrace that lifted her feet from the ground. Leah backhanded her eyes, suddenly tear-filled, and her mother did the same.
“My Esmeralda, my sweet girl. How I missed you.” He gently lowered her feet to the floor, landing a kiss on her hair.
“I missed you, too,” Nana confessed in a soft voice that Leah didn’t recognize.
Her father drifted over to her and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m glad you’re back, Trinka.”
She leaned against her father, realizing this was as probably as emotional as he got. “Me, too. I even learned something.”
“Oh, really?” her father replied, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. “Anything I might want to hear?”
Whenever something went wrong, instead of scolding her or placing blame, her father would ask her what she’d learned from the incident. The familiarity of the routine comforted her.
Sighing, she rubbed her hand over her face. “I appreciate my family more than I ever did. I also think I understand why the desire to have power over others is so incredibly dangerous. It should make you wonder about anyone in a powerful position or office.”
The bartender snorted his agreement, while her father motioned for her to continue.
“People accept scary stories even when they’re made up because someone they believe to be smarter than they are relayed the information.”
Her father’s lips tugged upward into a smile. “Sweetheart, right now you know more than about eighty percent of the world. Anything else you care to elaborate on? Sounds to me like you had an eye-opening trip.”
Eye-opening, yeah, she might call it that, or deadly, or transformative. “What can I say, Dad? It was something. Something I never want to repeat again.” She laughed more out of relief than anything else.
Thanking the bartender for the Coke, she turned to go, wondering why neither of her parents had mentioned her sitting at a bar. Nana had her hand tucked into her husband’s arm and her head held close to his, talking animatedly. She suspected they were exchanging sweet nothings. When she drew closer, she overheard their conversation.
“Goddess help me, Buell. There’s no one I love more than you, but if you ever think of leaving me again, there’s no place far enough that you’ll be able to hide from my wrath.”
Grandfather’s voice held a bit of humor. “Ah, darling, there is no place I want to be but by your side.”
Leah grinned as she climbed into the backseat of the car. Finally, she was getting to know her grandfather. Not only was he an incredible ceremonial magician, but it looked like he was a charmer, too. He had the gift of charisma, which would be a great gift to have.
Working her back into the cushioned seat, she sighed and closed her eyes. So much she’d missed about her century. Anything well cushioned was one of them.
Her mother twisted her body to peer into the backseat. “While you were gone, you had a visitor.”
Who could that be? Especially since Stella had known she was gone.
Her mother’s expression turned playful. “An attractive fellow named Dylan.”
“Dylan? Dylan came by. Um, you didn’t tell him I was out of the century did you?” Odd things sometimes happened in her family, which she’d never bothered to explain even to Stella, but crossing centuries might have been even more difficult.
Her mother’s laughter filled the car. “Of course not. I mentioned you were too sick for visitors. I am not sure if he believed me. He left a card and the cutest stuffed animal, a dragon.”
Grandfather quipped, “The boy has taste. Dragons are so much better than silly teddy bears.”
Dylan had come by and brought her a gift. That was a very good sign. Her certainty about what a perfect boyfriend he’d be began to shimmer in her mind, like the portal had before it had blinked out of existence. Then again, she almost hadn’t made it back here. Why not see what he had to say in his card?
The phone rang once before a breathless voice answered. “Hello?”
Leah wasn’t sure if it was her mother or sister. They both sounded similar, especially with the slight edge of hysteria coloring the one word, both anxious to hear news but frightened, too. Thank the Goddess she’d made it back in one piece. Her family had suffered by not knowing what had happened in the past and being helpless to assist. It was better this way. No doubt, Nana would have opened a can of whoop-ass on the abbot. The thought made her giggle.
“I do not have time for prank phone calls,” her mother practically shouted in her ear.
Oh yeah, she’d forgotten to say something. “Mom, it’s me. I’m back.”
“Leah, sweetheart, is that you?” Her voice trembled with uncertainty and a quiver of hope.
“Yes, of course.” She tried to put all the love and affection in her voice she’d denied her mother the past couple of years. Suddenly, all her teen angst fell way. She’d always thought her parents never understood. Maybe they did understand. Who knew what shadows, and possibly dragons, their pasts held?
“Are you here?” Laughter followed her inquiry. “I’m just being silly now. No way could you call over the centuries.” Her voice grew higher and lighter, losing the doubt.
“Mom, can Dad pick me up? I am at a bar called the Red Rooster.” Leah twisted around to see where her grandfather was. He stood in front of the old-time jukebox, peering into it.
“Never heard of most of these people,” he grumbled. The bartender ignored him and continued polishing glasses.
The smell of stale smoke caused her to cough and miss her mother’s reply. “What?”
“I said we will all come. Me, your father, Nana, and Ethan, since he’s small. Nora won’t like being left out, but I imagine she can wait.” Her mother continued to babble.
“Wait, Mom. Are you listening?” Her mother chattered about making her favorite meal, chicken and dumplings. Knowing her mother, she would eventually run down and get tired of talking.
“Maura, who is on the phone?” Her father’s voice came over the line distantly, then more clearly. “Leah, is that you?”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s me. I was telling Mom she shouldn’t bring everyone, since I brought someone home with me.”
The bartender walked over to the jukebox and fed it a couple of quarters, to Grandfather’s delight. He began punching buttons wildly, while her father warned her about the dangers of removing someone from another century.
The sound of Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons crooning Big Girls Don’t Cry filled the empty bar, bouncing off the paneled walls and veneer tables. Grandpa jumped in on the chorus, “Big girls, they don’t cry-yi-yi.” The bartender snorted his opinion and turned away. Tying on a white apron, the woman who’d been at the jukebox earlier reappeared.
“Who is that singing?” Leah’s father asked.
“Well,” Leah hesitated with her explanation, not sure how to put it. “I bet it is someone you’ve been waiting a long time to meet.”
Her father’s words came slowly, almost in disbelief. “Is it? Could it be?”
“We could both benefit from a shower and dinner. Ask Nana where the Red Rooster is. Apparently, it used to be one of Grandfather’s hangouts.”
“Will do. We are leaving now.”
“Don’t break any speed limits,” she teased. “We aren’t going anywhere.” The hum of the dial tone told her he had since hung up.
The server turned toward her grandfather, who warbled with gusto. The neon beer signs cast an unflattering glow on her heavily made-up face, emphasizing every wrinkle. Speaking in a smoker’s contralto, she asked, “Buell, is that you under all that hair?”
Stopping his impromptu performance, he placed one soft-booted foot behind him and pivoted. “Beverly McClary, still working at the Rooster. Some things never change. Still as pretty as ever.”
The woman laughed. “Now I know your eyesight is gone.” She brushed away the compliment as she gestured with her hand in the air. “What’s with the costume? It’s not time for trick-or-treating. Even if it was, I’d have to say you’re a bit too old.”
The bartender slid a soft drink in front of Leah, which she gulped gratefully. Normally, she’d have worried about money, but in the past week, little things such as money, school, and even hygiene had taken second place. As bad as the lingering aroma of cigarettes smelled in the small, dark bar, she knew she herself had to smell worse. A shower was the first thing on her list. Her robe was washable, she hoped.
Sipping her drink, she savored the cold sweetness against her tongue. On one hand, it had no great nutritional value. It certainly wasn’t the same as drinking cool spring water or eating gruel. Although, eating would have been too generous a description for what they’d done with the gruel. That would imply it had had a chewable texture. At best, they’d consumed it.
She watched her grandfather talk to the waitress with obvious relish after twenty-plus years with no one to talk to, except for the travelers he’d willed to step in his direction. None of them would remember him as Buell Hare. The villagers would recall seeing only a magnificent golden dragon, or would they?
Draining the last of her drink, she refused the offer of a refill. No reason to fill up on a soda . In a few minutes, she’d have real food. Had she done what she was supposed to do? It felt like she had, and she felt a sense of completion. What had she done, really?
The fact that Arabella had already married and expected a baby made it seem like she hadn’t really needed Leah’s help. That was true, up to a point. Lionel might still have executed her as a witch after she’d had the baby. Grandfather had done a spectacular job of ridding the world of a singularly malevolent force, in turn preventing more torture and the deaths of suspected witches.
If her destiny hadn’t been to go back in time, Grandfather wouldn’t have been there. Bev, the waitress, teased her grandfather about looking like a cross between Santa Claus and an elderly Friar Tuck. Hard to imagine him as a fire-breathing dragon, but when it came to family, he protected his.
Was that it? Had she done anything? Had she changed Lionel? No doubt, he’d have changed on his own without his regular drug supply and the abbot whispering evil lies into his drug-addled mind. The changes would start with Lionel. If not him, there was always Simon. Even if only a couple of the villagers changed their minds, it would be a start.
Most would go back to the old ways of thinking, because that was easier. The girl on the beautiful white mare, with the sleek panther and snow-white falcon, was a dream, a lie, a story told to confuse good Christians. As for the golden dragon, they would assure each other saying that dragons don’t exist. They’d probably forget about the abbot, too. If they did remember his evil ways, they would question what they believed.
As she slowly turned her empty glass around on the bar, spreading the condensation across the surface, a strange thought entered her head. Would history remember them? A quote Miss Santiago had attributed to Napoleon was that winners always wrote history. They could justify any horrific behavior or choose not to mention it. Were they the winners?
* * * *
The door opened, letting in the strong afternoon sun as her father, mother, and Nana pushed in at the same time. For a second, she was sure they’d get stuck in the door. Mother stumbled in first, blinking in the sudden dimness, but finally spotting Leah, she darted toward her.
“My baby girl,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around her. Her mother pulled away slightly and wrinkled her nose. “Pew, what is that smell?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. The incongruity of having a family reunion at the local neighborhood dive was lost on her mother. Her father stood off to the side, waiting his turn, while Nana walked hesitantly into the center of the room, staring at the back of her grandfather, who slowly turned.
“Buell.” Her voice was little more than a whisper but carried across the bar.
He started toward her in a walk but jogged the last two steps and swept her up in an embrace that lifted her feet from the ground. Leah backhanded her eyes, suddenly tear-filled, and her mother did the same.
“My Esmeralda, my sweet girl. How I missed you.” He gently lowered her feet to the floor, landing a kiss on her hair.
“I missed you, too,” Nana confessed in a soft voice that Leah didn’t recognize.
Her father drifted over to her and wrapped an arm around her. “I’m glad you’re back, Trinka.”
She leaned against her father, realizing this was as probably as emotional as he got. “Me, too. I even learned something.”
“Oh, really?” her father replied, giving her shoulders a little squeeze. “Anything I might want to hear?”
Whenever something went wrong, instead of scolding her or placing blame, her father would ask her what she’d learned from the incident. The familiarity of the routine comforted her.
Sighing, she rubbed her hand over her face. “I appreciate my family more than I ever did. I also think I understand why the desire to have power over others is so incredibly dangerous. It should make you wonder about anyone in a powerful position or office.”
The bartender snorted his agreement, while her father motioned for her to continue.
“People accept scary stories even when they’re made up because someone they believe to be smarter than they are relayed the information.”
Her father’s lips tugged upward into a smile. “Sweetheart, right now you know more than about eighty percent of the world. Anything else you care to elaborate on? Sounds to me like you had an eye-opening trip.”
Eye-opening, yeah, she might call it that, or deadly, or transformative. “What can I say, Dad? It was something. Something I never want to repeat again.” She laughed more out of relief than anything else.
Thanking the bartender for the Coke, she turned to go, wondering why neither of her parents had mentioned her sitting at a bar. Nana had her hand tucked into her husband’s arm and her head held close to his, talking animatedly. She suspected they were exchanging sweet nothings. When she drew closer, she overheard their conversation.
“Goddess help me, Buell. There’s no one I love more than you, but if you ever think of leaving me again, there’s no place far enough that you’ll be able to hide from my wrath.”
Grandfather’s voice held a bit of humor. “Ah, darling, there is no place I want to be but by your side.”
Leah grinned as she climbed into the backseat of the car. Finally, she was getting to know her grandfather. Not only was he an incredible ceremonial magician, but it looked like he was a charmer, too. He had the gift of charisma, which would be a great gift to have.
Working her back into the cushioned seat, she sighed and closed her eyes. So much she’d missed about her century. Anything well cushioned was one of them.
Her mother twisted her body to peer into the backseat. “While you were gone, you had a visitor.”
Who could that be? Especially since Stella had known she was gone.
Her mother’s expression turned playful. “An attractive fellow named Dylan.”
“Dylan? Dylan came by. Um, you didn’t tell him I was out of the century did you?” Odd things sometimes happened in her family, which she’d never bothered to explain even to Stella, but crossing centuries might have been even more difficult.
Her mother’s laughter filled the car. “Of course not. I mentioned you were too sick for visitors. I am not sure if he believed me. He left a card and the cutest stuffed animal, a dragon.”
Grandfather quipped, “The boy has taste. Dragons are so much better than silly teddy bears.”
Dylan had come by and brought her a gift. That was a very good sign. Her certainty about what a perfect boyfriend he’d be began to shimmer in her mind, like the portal had before it had blinked out of existence. Then again, she almost hadn’t made it back here. Why not see what he had to say in his card?