2.15 The Abyss of WonderLand
I felt like I’d just read a history book. Timothy’s story was unbelievable. “Did you meet Shakespeare?” “No. I knew of him, but, as I said, we were disgusted by London: sewers in the streets, vermin everywhere, and rampant disease. We spent little time there, and our sporadic visits were only at the request of Queen Elizabeth.” “So, you knew Sir Frances Bacon and Charles Darwin?” “Bacon, I knew of. Darwin came much later. We were already in the Americas by then. We weren’t readers, Penelope. It was centuries before we took the time to develop a library. Books weren’t common for a lot of our early days.” “Of course. Did you get to know Benjamin Franklin?” “No, sorry. We tried to keep away from the glare of publicity. There were early newsprints, and we often read those, but it was only in the missions in California where you could find many printed books. Andrew and I started collecting them. Of course, we had to leave most of them behind each time we moved.” “So, you never met Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Hamilton, or Lincoln?” “I think we missed out on all the famous men in your history books. Remember we avoided groups and crowds where we might be recognized. It was always important to move before the mobs attacked.” “I get it.,” said nodding, because it did make sense. “And now? How long will you be able to stay in San Jose?” He reached out to take my hand and bent his head to kiss my palm. “That is the big problem, my darling. Twenty, twenty-five years. Will you be willing to accept that kind of life? Will you join me in my travels?” “I would like to see Paris and London. Vienna and . . .” “We can do that. You can choose our next residence.” “And how would Andrew feel about that? About me making it a party of three?” “Probably jealous. He’d like to find someone who was willing to join him in his life. He would not be sorry if you accompanied us, though. He likes you.”
2.14 The Abyss of WonderLand
“But change was always rather slow,” he told me. “I liked the progress, actually. My first house had rats, lice, and fleas. No running water, no toilets, and no coffee. People didn’t live long and often died in gruesome manners. “In the small villages that Andrew and I lived in, there was often suspicion of newcomers. About the time we were accepted, it was time to move on, since we’d both attained our adulthood and then stopped growing physically. We had numerous relationships with women. I won’t hide that from you, but none were like what I feel for you. I never gave any of them a pooka bite. NO children were ever born from such associations, by the way, so I never left a mate with a brood of children, nor did Andrew. “When the Anglo Normans entered our lands, we learned French, or at least the language they were speaking then. We lived in manors and castles for a while and learned to fight like knights. “When we left the islands, we journeyed across the channel and sampled bits of countries that, of course, weren’t countries as we know them today, but, for Andrew and me, our travel was a desperate search for meaning and for a place to belong. We probably lived in France, Belgium, Germany, and Italy. Markers were not clear. “Languages varied. Andrew and I became fluent in the early versions of German, Italian, and Rumanian, as well as Gallic, Irish, and English with sprinklings of old Norse from the frequent raids of the Vikings. We dabbled with some of the early Scandinavian and Russian tongues, but never became proficient. I’d be afraid to use most of what we learned then. The words would be outdated, like reading Chaucer if your primary tongue is English. “When Queen Elizabeth came to the throne, Andrew and I returned to England, but London had become foul with sewage in the streets and rats everywhere. We fled to the countryside, this time with a pile of gold we’d earned over our travels. We traded that for pounds and sovereigns. Working in the queen’s court earned us an estate, where we settled for a bit. But there was always the problem of not ageing like everyone else. We solved that by selling everything and paying our way on a ship to America. “The queen had granted each of us a deed to an estate in the new lands. I believe our plantation was in what they now call Virginia. Not a suitable place for a black man, I’m afraid, and, of course, we were still plagued with the other problem. Constancy to one place provoked potential questions. “That’s why Andrew and I became explorers of this new world. We journeyed up into the Canadian territory and as far west as here in California. We mined for gold and silver, doubled our riches and settled in various places, lasting no longer than ten or fifteen years. And so, we made our way to your time period, one which I find extremely comfortable and enjoyable, especially now that I’ve found you.”
2.13 The Abyss of WonderLand
Timothy changed the topic then, telling Andrew how I’d ridden Molly. “Yes, I sat on top of her. It’s not like I guided her or did anything other than cling to the horn thing.” “You rode like a cowgirl,” Timothy defended me, which made me laugh. *** The next day I was ready for more input. I asked if we could eat breakfast out by the pool, so, of course, we received our French toast and strawberries under the umbrella, next to the sparkling pool that neither of us had swum in that morning. We had a pot of coffee in the delightfully heavy white mugs. It was the perfect place for prying into the life of a pooka. “What benefits do you get from being a pooka?” was my first question. I wanted to know if Timothy had abilities that he hadn’t explained yet. “The main ones are shape changing and dream walking.” “And?” “Sometimes I get stray thoughts and emotions from others.” “Like from me?” “More than most. You are a sender. Your thoughts ripple in the air currents.” “So, all those times I thought you were reading my thoughts, you really were.” He shook his head. “Not exactly, my love. Only sometimes. Oddly, when you blush. That seems to spur your thoughts into a higher wavelength. But like right now, other than the fact, that you’re part curious and part anxious, I’m not receiving anything. Remember emotion is the key. If you were to get angry, I’m sure I would feel that as clearly as if you spit in my face.” “I don’t spit in faces.” In the conversation that followed, I learned that pookas lived an extraordinarily long time, something Timothy had already mentioned before. He didn’t seem to know how long that would be, but apparently his early years were spent in an Irish village in probably the early 1200’s. That was a very, very long time ago. The fact that Timothy could adopt to today’s lifestyle was a remarkable testament to his adaptability.
2.12 The Abyss of WonderLand
I knew what he was asking. I nodded a second time. “Yes, Andrew. I was glad you had the friendship you had growing up. I bet that helped you to endure the hardships.” “And being different?” he asked, eyeing me as if he could stare my thoughts from my brain. I nodded again, shoved the rest of my cake to the side, and drank some lemonade. “Yes, he told me about being a pooka, Andrew.” Timothy had been studiously eating his big piece of cake. He didn’t seem interested in adding anything or indicating that this chat might go south. He carefully kept his eyes on the small plate with part of his cake still sat. “And how do you feel about it?” Andrew asked. “Do you want to go home and run away from the difference?” Timothy looked up then, growled, and put his fork down. His plate was empty, so it wasn’t like he’d lost his appetite and stopped eating. I think he was waiting to see what I’d say, but a bit irritated by Andrew’s wording. But, I wondered. Was Andrew’s predictable question why Timothy had brought me to see Andrew? Was this my opportunity to run screaming into the night, so to speak? “I think I’m still percolating the whole thing,” I said. “I need time to figure out if this will work. I mean, it’s not like you two are human. That’s a hard thing to accept, you know?” Andrew nodded. “I’m not sure if that’s true, Penelope. Maybe a pooka is a cross between a Fairie and a human. Or it could be that a pooka is an earlier branch of humanity. You look at the two of us. Do you see anything strange? Doesn’t that make you think that he and I are as much a product of nature as any of the rest of this wide world of diversity? I’m just saying that you shouldn’t cross us out of your comfort zone because there might be something different about us.” Andrew was someone that I decidedly liked. I’d thought so before from my brief interchanges with him, but after our cake eating session, I was more sure than ever. He was a kind person. I could read that in his eyes, and I liked the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The fact that he was gorgeous, of course, had nothing to do with it. Even if he’d been the ugliest ogre in the world, I think I’d have wanted to be his friend. “Thank you. I appreciate your saying those things,” I told him. “I’ll put that inside the rest of the magic box that contains everything I’ve learned.”
2.11 The Abyss of WonderLand
Andrew smiled at her, the full force of which almost toppled her onto her butt. She didn’t criticize our cake after that, but just smiled and moved on. Timothy and I both ended up sticky, but when our cake was done, we got to take it with us, carrying it back to the house. “Where is Andrew?” “He lives out back,” Timothy said. “Do you want to wash up or go directly there? Doses of sticky happened every time we jiggled the tray that we were carrying, I told him it was better if we just continued on. Andrew didn’t look anything like the chauffeur Andrew I’d come to know. For one thing he wasn’t sitting inside the fancy limo or costumed in his uniform. Instead, he was bent over a patch of vegetables, wearing jeans and an old tee, gloves on his hands, and big boots that looked like they belonged to his father — if his father was a giant. “Andrew,” Timothy said. “We made something for you.” The man’s head raised up, and his eyes found me, then traveled to the cake. “Um,” he said, then pulled off the gloves and stuck them in his back pocket. “Cake decorating?” he said after a moment. “The spots are pink roses,” I told him, wanting to explain why the cake had blotches on the sides. “Is it your birthday?” “No, but I appreciate the thought. Would you like to come inside? We can sample your efforts.” His house wasn’t as fancy as Timothy’s, but it was trimmed in rock and natural wood. I’d never tell Timothy, but I actually liked Andrew’s place better. It was cozy. We sat in the kitchen at an old wooden table, the kind that are probably sold in antique stores for big bucks. I loved it and sat there tracing the gouges in the wood with my fingers. Andrew poured us some lemonade he’d made, then sliced up the cake. His slices were man-sized, but I didn’t complain. Their house, their rules, as my grandmother used to say when we went visiting. The chocolate frosting was yummy, and the person who’d baked the cake had gotten it out of the oven at exactly the right moment so it was perfectly moist and delicious. The added pink icing, although it tasted predominantly of almond flavoring, powdered sugar, and butter, was a tasty addition. All in all, I thought the cake decorating had gone spectacularly. (Although I don’t recommend lemonade with cake.) Some small talk issued as we tasted and gobbled. Andrew wanted to know if I liked Timothy’s house and whether I was enjoying my stay. I nodded. What else could I say? Andrew got to the meat of what he wanted to ask. “Did he share any tall tales with you?”
2.10 The Abyss of WonderLand
The ride was uneventful, which was a super good thing. Not falling off was a big win. But then it was time to dismount, and the ground looked far away, and for some reason, my body felt rigid and stiff. I don’t think I could have gotten off the horse if Timothy hadn’t lifted me down. That was a scary thought. Stuck forever on top of a horse? I could barely walk when Timothy set me on the ground. It felt like someone had taken my body away and replaced it with an old person’s. Timothy laughed when I told him that, but he said it would get better as we walked. He was right. I felt almost my real age by the time we returned to the house. “A hot shower will remove any aches,” Timothy told me. He was right again. Breakfast had been delish, and lunch was even more so. We had fresh greens from the garden and turkey sandwiches with a side of the most incredible potato salad I’d ever eaten. Chef Stevens seemed pleased by my praise and told me that the secret was in using Greek yogurt instead of mayonnaise. Plus, he’d put in sweet pickles, celery, and sliced up boiled eggs. I could willingly have made a meal of the potato salad. But, of course, I didn’t. Cake decorating. What can I say? It was hilarious. Timothy was the only male there, and the women all wanted to stand next to him and gush over his muscled bod, but he gave all his attention to me. We decorated our cake with chocolate icing, my choice, then piped pink icing on the top which said Happy Birthday, Andrew. Timothy wasn’t sure when the chauffeur’s birthday was, but he said it must be soon. “Does Andrew like cake?” I asked, and Timothy just smiled and shrugged. ‘Have you and Penelope been together long?” one of the women asked, giving Timothy a come hither look. I said, “no,” and Timothy said, “yes,” which seemed odd to the others. Then he clarified. “Not long in time, but I recognized her from the moment I saw her. She’d been in my dreams forever.” “Ahhhhh,” the women all murmured. I elbowed him, and said, “Cheesy?” “Maybe, but sincere,” Thankfully, he said that into my ear, and the others probably thought he was kissing me. After we piped our pink, we were supposed to do roses on the side. Actually, we did them on waxed paper and needed to transfer them onto the cake. Poor Andrew would probably think we’d given him a cake with pink cheetah spots. When the teacher came to our cake, she raised her eyebrows forehead high and asked, “Is this your first cake decorating class?”
2.9 The Abyss of WonderLand
I grinned at that. I was probably one of those people, but maybe it was like garlic. If you and your partner ate something with garlic, the smell no longer offended the partakers? “So, here’s what I propose,” Timothy continued. “We eat breakfast, and then, wearing jeans and comfortable shoes, we mosey over to the waterfall. The stable is near that. Do you have any boots? They’re required.” I nodded. I’d seen a pair in my closet. Yay, Simone! “Okay, a horseback ride through the hills, then we return for lunch, change clothes, and try out the cake decorating, and finally, return home for dinner.” “That sounds like fun. Thank you, Timothy. This is a real treat.” I was starting to feel cold. It wasn’t that the air was chilly, but a wet body always seems to attract the shivers. “I’ll meet you downstairs for breakfast first,” he called out, and I waved a hand as I scampered off. As days go, it was one of the best I’d had since . . . well, next to our zoo visit in San Francisco. The hike to the waterfall was fun. The falls were small but lovely. The horse stable was a big challenge. I think I would have chickened out, except Timothy had called ahead, and when we got there, Molly was all saddled and ready for me. I patted her neck, and she seemed to feel my fear. She stood perfectly still while Timothy lifted me up onto her back. Even after I was sitting on her, Molly didn’t move an inch. She seemed to be waiting for me to decide that I was ready to have her walk. Timothy swung onto his horse, a beautiful, dappled-gray gelding.( He told me what the color was called and explained what a gelding was.) His gelding was prettier than mine, but I could see at a glance that his horse was nothing like Molly. It tossed its head and seemed eager to get a move on. I received some instruction from Timothy with a couple of hints from the groom, then holding the reins in my hands, but afraid to hurt Molly by pulling on them, I said, “Let’s go, Molly,” and she did. Of course, that could have had something to do with the giant horse that Timothy was on. Perhaps Molly liked being next to him. We walked forward slowly. The gray didn’t like that much. His head bobbing grew frantic, but Timothy seemed to know what he was doing, and the horse settled down after a bit. A while later, Timothy asked if I’d like to go faster. “I don’t want to gallop,” I said. He laughed. “No. No galloping for you today. I was thinking that we could just walk a little faster.” I was okay with that, and Molly seemed to be comfortable matching the long legs of the gray. We walked back to the waterfall and then behind it where there were a whole bunch of trails for the horses. Timothy chose one, and Molly and I happily kept up, me not doing a thing to guide her. Although I’d been told I shouldn’t grab the horn, my hands remained tightly fastened around it. We rode for about half an hour before Timothy turned us around and headed us back to the stable. Both horses perked up at that. I think Molly even did a trot a couple of times. I didn’t like the feel of that and said, “whoa” and she slowed back to a sedate walk.
2.8 The Abyss of WonderLand
Meanwhile, Timothy, apparently warmed up by his simple crawl, was doing the butterfly. I’d tried that once. Mouthfuls of water and almost sinking had given me the idea that such a feat was beyond me. I was a simplistic swimmer, a minnow, I think they called it when I was younger. I remembered how I’d longed to pass into the mermaid group but never achieved it. At least I hadn’t half drowned, which happened to one of the girls in my group. After her traumatic rescue by two of the lifeguards, she never came back. I couldn’t remember her name, but the panic on her face had made me a bit fearful for a while, but I’d kept coming back, hoping to get better. But the summer ended, and the next year, I had to start all over again. I think they called me a goldfish then, and the elite group were the dolphins. Fatigued, I stopped and sat down on the steps where I’d walked into the pool. I watched Timothy continue his swim for a bit, but his non-stop performance made me feel lazy and, well, like a minnow or a goldfish. I climbed up the stairs, picked up my towel, and sat down on the chair, continuing to watch the expert in the water. It was probably no more than fifteen minutes later when the Greek Adonis, I mean, Michaelangelo’s David exited. Oh, my, the man had a body that my friends would have called eye candy. When the water dribbled down his back, it made me want to lick it off. Actually, to lick him everywhere. Now why had I thought that? I sank down in my seat, glad he couldn’t read the thoughts flittering around my brain. They were hot and delicious. Timothy toweled himself a moment and then came to sit in a chair beside me. “Everything you see is yours, my darling.” I stood up, fastened my towel more tightly around my body, and took a step in the direction of retreat. “I have to go wash my hair,” I said. “Wait. How about we walk over to the waterfall as requested. Then perhaps, a lesson in some class, a ride on one of the club’s horses, or we could check out that cake decorating class?” I bit my lip, considering. “Yes, but I don’t know the first thing about riding. Only when . . . “I stopped. Was I supposed to discuss such things when we were outside, where someone might overhear us? “They have an old hobby horse that is gentle as a carousel steed, except she doesn’t bob up and down. Molly, I think her name is. The only negative is that after riding, they’ll make us change clothes. Some people don’t like the smell of horses.
2.7 The Abyss of WonderLand
I thought I’d be alone, but I wasn’t. Timothy was already engaged in his laps. He was good, too. He looked like he could swim races in freestyle. I watched him flip over when he reached the end of a lap. Smooth. I wasn’t in his league, but I did love to swim. I’d been given lessons at the public pool as a child. I could swim adequately, but not with any speed, not like Timothy, the showoff. (Although, I doubted one could consider a person an exhibitionist if they didn’t know they were being watched.) Timothy looked like he was in his own world, a swimming tiger, caged by the length of the pool, pacing via strokes and kicks. But watching him wasn’t getting my exercise in. I tossed my cover-up towel on a lounge chair and stepped into the pool. No diving into the deep end for me. I was turtle slow and cautious. Any signs of sharks, and I was out of there. (Just kidding.) I edged to the side and did a couple of stretches, practiced a float on the back, then a dog paddle, and shoved off. Swimming came back to me almost instantly. It felt wonderful. The water was the perfect temperature, not overly warm as it had been sometimes in the city pool, and the smell of chlorine didn’t assault my nose like it had in the public’s urine-heavy water. I made my way to the opposite side of the pool and found Timothy waiting for me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your concentration,” I said, wondering if I should get out and come back later. The water surged, and he was suddenly beside me, giving me a lightweight kiss. “You can join me anytime, my darling Penelope. In fact, I look forward to it. I am happy to see you enjoying the pool. Although I’d really like to take you in my arms and show you exactly how happy, I’d better just let you swim, right?” He sounded so plaintive, I almost wanted to disagree, but I said nothing and splashed off, swimming back to the shallows with my awkward and rather winded mode of free style. I’d been going to the gym, working mainly on the treadmill, but swimming was a whole different set of muscles. My arms were weak and my stomach muscles were already complaining by the end of my second lap. I dog paddled a lap, then turned on my back and did a back swim or whatever they called it. Then I rotated into swimming on my side. That seemed to work the best, no necessity of that difficult breathing process.
2.6 The Abyss of WonderLand
Timothy was sincere. Even I could read someone’s face enough to check for earnestness. “That is marvelous, actually, that it’s in your nature to do good. That’s not why you fastened on me, is it? Was I sending out alarms of unhappiness?” “Not at all. Your presence flooded my system with, first, the recognition that you were the one, then a tidal wave of commitment, followed by a need so great, so vast, I was almost speechless with the urge to sweep you into my arms and carry you back to my house. Of course, I knew not to do that. It would have destroyed all my chances for happiness, but the instinct was there, and also the fear that you might disappear, might choose someone else, or even worse perhaps, might reject me as Andrew’s wife did.” “I haven’t rejected you. I’m just unsure about things,” I said, feeling slightly nauseated from being unsettled and suspicious of pookas, Fairie, and the idea that real magic existed. “I know. I understand. As I’ve said before, I will be patient. But please don’t turn away from me or reject me for being what I have no control over. I would never discard you for being a brunette. (Your hair is lovely, by the way. Blondes are not to my personal taste.) I would not fling you away for being too young for me, or not being able to dance . . .” He added the last with a wry curl of the lip which told me he was kidding. But he was right. If he didn’t hold it against me that I was a mere human, should I cast him aside for being a pooka? “Yes, please don’t. I would be a pooka with a broken heart, not a pretty sight since I’d weep and wail for at least a century.” “Only a century?” I said, smiling back. Chapter Ten That night, I slept in the room I’d been given and no wild stallion or pooka entered my dreams. I think I was rather disappointed, but also, glad, if that makes any sense. I guess it was like my mind in general. Completely and totally mentally disarrayed. In the morning, when I woke up, I thought I’d grab a swim in the pool that Timothy had shown me. I slid into the most modest of all the bathing suits, a one piece that looked perfect for lap swimming. Bless Simone for not expecting me to wear a bikini to do serious swimming. I grabbed a towel, then ran downstairs without making any noise. I was tempted to pass through the kitchen and see if someone had made coffee, but it was better to get right with the exercise rather than sit down and luxuriate with a hot cup of the nectar of the gods.