6.5 The Pooka’s Wife
“Daniel, my new wife is a very curious lady. She seems to be having trouble making out your kinship. Do you care to enlighten her?” Timothy said, giving me a warm smile. The stranger examined me a moment. “She is still human, but changing. Yes, I will explain my affiliation, since you wish it.” He glanced at Terry and Bob. I think the three of them were friends, but it was hard to tell. Daniel held himself a bit aloof from the others. Even Ben and he seemed to have a distance between them, which couldn’t be easy when the three other men were all sitting in the same limo. Bob, Terry, and Ben were all male specimens of the gorgeous sort. Women eyed them with interest and even lust. Daniel was equally handsome, but his reserve and the look in his eyes might be oft-setting for some. He probably blended well, not flashy or as muscle-bound as the wolves. Where Ben was eye candy, as Cara had put it, because of his perfect Faeness, Daniel gave off vibes that might prevent women from getting close. Why that was, I had no idea, but it was like a blinking red warning sign: Caution, keep your distance. I hoped the man was unaware of my thoughts. Whatever vibrations Daniel was sending out, I was sure that Timothy knew the man well enough not to be suspicious of his nature. It was just me feeling the shivery doubts over the emanations from his presence. Was that just because I didn’t know him? Was he a genuinely nice man? “Long ago in the Eastern Woodlands,” he began, his speech, the calm, deep and gentle voice of a true story teller. “When forests grew, birds sang freely, and people like yourself . . . ” He paused a moment, reflecting. People your color, but not like you. You are the color of flowers, the warmth of the sun. I feel reflection in your nature. You are a young soul, but one who learns. I feel the spirit in you, a blessing of kindness. You have not lived before, but your pureness is a beacon my people would see. It shines.” “Thank you,” I said, bowing my head. Was that appropriate? I didn’t know, but there was something in Daniel, a strength . . . a wisdom. His speech was measured, slow, and mesmerizing. I wanted to ask him to continue, but I knew to remain silent. For a moment he sat across from me on the leather seat next to the window, Ben, at his side. He watched me as if learning my nature, as if reading deep inside me, and while doing so, he remained as still as a boulder by a waterfall, one that absorbs the waterfall’s moisture, but seems impermeable to it. Daniel glanced again at Timothy, then at me. “Yes,” he said. “You, Penelope Caldwell, you blend, like the morning dew which seeps inside a cornflower. I see that you will drink of each other, and it will nurture you both. You are alike and yet, not. That is good.”
6.4 The Pooka’s Wife
A couple of people I didn’t know were carting our suitcases down the stairs. Simone followed them so that she was standing about in the hallway, and so did Cara and Sammy, who had apparently not actually gone out to the swimming pool yet. The girls ran over to hug me one final time. “What happened to the swim?” I asked. “Simone says it’s time for you to leave on your honeymoon. We didn’t want you to go without wishing you well,” Sammy said, hugging me tightly. Cara moved in next, adding her, “We love you, girl.” Then, surprisingly, Judy, who I hadn’t realized had stuck around, and Simone came rushing over to give us their hugs of farewell. It was a little sad saying goodbye to all of the women I’d grown to appreciate and been befriended by, and of course, I had a lot of gushing thank yous to flood them with. But then, Timothy took my hand, corralled my shoulders, and half pushed, half guided me toward the door. “But our suitcases,” I said, trying to turn about to see if the four cases were still standing where they’d been a moment before. “That will be taken care of my dear. All you have to do is climb into the limo,” Simone told me, smiling that strange smile of hers, the one that never showed any teeth. I tossed kisses and hand waves at the people I was leaving, the ones still standing behind my closest friends. Andrew and Lillea had once again joined the group. “Have a good time, you two,” Andrew shouted, and Lillea added her blessings to the good wishes. “I’ll take you shark diving when you come home,” she called out merrily. The black limo was sitting at the front of the house, ready for us. Grumpy Ricardo was driving. I was glad he wasn’t one of the guards coming with us. Bob, Terry, Ben, and the new guy, Daniel, sat down on the seats opposite us. The limo was that big. No crowding at all. I was introduced to Daniel first thing after we’d all accommodated legs and arms and where everyone was supposed to sit. Throughout that, I felt Bob’s smiles, and also, the new guy’s attentive observations. I was pretty sure he was human, while I already knew that Ben was Fae, and Bobby and Terry were werewolves. I still wanted to dig for more info on that subject. What was it like to change body types? Were the movies about werewolves true? Did the men have to change every full moon? What would happen on the ship if . . . “Relax, darling,” Timothy laughed, letting me know that my emotions were running wild. “Werewolves are no longer forced to change shape at a certain time. They maintain their humanoid shape unless they choose to run in the forest or for some other reason, like defending those they are protecting.” I gasped. Timothy had just mentioned Bob and Terry’s nature in front of the new guy, Daniel. And Ricardo up in the front seat had probably heard. What would those two guys think about this whole conversation?
6.3 The Pooka’s Wife
My buddies had decided to go for a swim, so I couldn’t even complain to them about feeling edgy and nervous. (Not that I would have, I think.) So that just left smug-looking Timothy, who was wearing a grin so wide I wanted to stick an apple in it. Timothy’s expression was that of a mischievous little boy. I think I might have been tempted to throw something at him for the teasing way he was looking at me, but his lips were painting my hand in kisses. And my pleasure centers were oohing and aahing, but I wanted SOMETHING, needed to know what was happening. What was wrong with me? “Have you ever been on a big ship,” Timothy asked, probably at last picking up on my grumpiness. “A ship? What we’re going fishing on our honeymoon? More whale watching? How romantic,” I said sarcastically. Timothy let out a laugh. “No, my darling wife. We are not about to depart on a stinky trawler. We’re going to head across the ocean on a cruise ship, a fancy, expensive one where we can go swimming, dancing, and/or play shuffleboard and ping pong. I hear they have great comedy, magic, and musical shows. We’ll be able to dine in all the restaurants or be catered in our super outside deck balcony with its own private whirlpool. According to the brochure the ship offers art, photography, and even language courses. I bet we can find dance lessons, too. Suddenly everything was all right again. I was such a brat to have underestimated Timothy! I threw my arms around him and kissed him a zillion times! And when I came up for air, I wanted to do it all over again. “You’re the best, the absolute best. That sounds incredible. And Terry and Bob will be on the ship with us?” Timothy frowned. “I would hope you’d rather spend your time with me, but yes, they’ll be coming along, probably poking their noses in our business again . . .” “They didn’t do that in San Diego. They just had fun, like we did. That’s okay, right?” He sighed. “Yes, I want my employees to enjoy their job. Being on a cruise ship ought to check off some of those boxes. Ben will be coming with us, too. And a guard you haven’t met yet who’s called Daniel.” “Won’t it be hard to be on our honeymoon surrounding by all those men?” I pouted. “Our king bed will be extremely private, darling, and I don’t expect to be sharing any of our other activities with them. The men will blend into the background unless needed.” “Like Bob could blend,” I giggled.
6.2 The Pooka’s Wife
Chapter Four Timothy It is strange how I feel different. I administered the bite to Penelope, yet, something inside me seems to have been initiated. How strange that is. Why should my soul feel so different? I feel rarified, more solid, and tranquil. I was honored that Penelope willingly married me. I thought such an event might never occur. Not only were the odds against me finding my fates’ arranged mate, but to have my fated one agree to the relationship . . . to find her a willing partner to my strange lifestyle. . . I feel complete and suddenly energized for our future. And now, thanks to the Queen’s words, I know that children will surely follow. I dare not admit this to Penelope: I disliked the Queen enchanting her with fertility, and yet, my soul sings. A family. Children. Perhaps that is the cause of my body’s difference? It is what I’ve always hoped for. Penelope It was true, as I’d told my friends, I had no idea where we were going on our honeymoon, but I was ready to go, no matter where it was. Although I wasn’t antisocial, I was definitely anti-parties, and with the arrival of a Faerie Queen and her court plus all the invitees, half of whom had names that had slipped from my mind into the mists of oblivion, I was ready to find some tranquility, not a usual desire for a brand new bride, but there was nothing usual about the last few hours. There would be nothing usual about the life I had pledged myself. Carlo would be taking over while we were gone. He’d cook for the house’s staff, which seemed as numerous as Timothy had once told me they were. Many of them I still had not met, like the housekeeper, Donna Miglas, and her assistant, Francine. How was that possible? I’d once asked, but Timothy said that most of the staff worked only at night. Then there was the head gardener, Francisco, and his assistant, Margot, and a pool keeper, named Tony. Timothy assured me that Francisco and Tony both worked during the day, but I’d never seen them either. Wasn’t that kind of weird? How could I be part of Timothy’s household if I had no contact with any of the house’s caretakers? “Leave that for another day,” Timothy had told me when I asked again. “For now, just concentrate on being ready for our honeymoon,” he said, eying me a look in his eyes that made me blush. “And how do I do that when I don’t know how to be ready? I have no idea where we’re going.” Okay, I sounded peeved, but I was — kind of. I knew Simone had packed for me, so that was under control, but now that the party was almost over and everyone was departing, except Cara and Sammy who wouldn’t be leaving until the morning, I felt itchy with impatience, exasperation, and, frankly, fatigue.
6.1 The Pooka’s Wife
Timothy smiled, caught a stray strand of hair and brushed it back. “Ben Stevens, too. Now that he’s outed as Fae to you, there’s no need for him to camouflage his presence. Apparently the Queen has designated him our keeper.” I nodded. Can he alert us to any Fae presence? Another smile. Clever girl. He will do so if it is does not interfere with his obeisance to Queen Maragana. He, as all her court, will follow her dictates first. Terry and Bob left, and other people drifted over to congratulate us. All humans, I think. It seemed that the party was simmering down. No signal given. No end of the party announcement. But the hour had come for its final dissolution. I stood up when Cara returned to the table to remind me that I had one last duty. The three of us, Timothy, Cara, and myself, moved back to the entryway, and the remaining guests all gathered around. Only, I had no idea where my bridal bouquet had ended up. I glanced about, a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to perform the last act of a wedding ceremony. But, no worries. Simone came striding over, my bouquet in her hands. She handed it to me. My eyes looked about for which direction to send my toss. I could clearly see that Sammy, Cara, Simone, and Judy were in the front row, but Judy, of course, was not eligible since she was already married. But then my eyes widened. The Queen had suddenly returned, looking smug and yet, hopeful? She had moved to stand in between my friends. What was she doing here? I couldn’t let my mind process that. No time. I turned around, closed my eyes, and tossed. When I twisted back to see which female had caught the lucky bouquet, I was somehow not surprised to see it in the arms of Moragana. Cara and Sammy were looking dumbfounded, both having hoped to be the winner. Simone was laughing. Judy looked puzzled. But Moragana appeared radiant. “Which one of you men want to make this lucky catch prove true?” the Queen shouted out cheerfully. Although there was no doubt that Moragana was the most beautiful of women, all the males backed away as if the Queen had suddenly turned into a rattlesnake. Some of the males returned to the bar outside. Others slipped out the entry door on their way home, wherever that might be. The Queen only laughed in full throttle, a chilling sound, as assuredly loud as Cara and Lillea. “Merry be,” the Queen called out, then strode across the entry floor, heading back into the living room. We didn’t see her again after that. Presumably, she took the wedding bouquet of crimson roses back to Faerie. I hoped it would serve her well, although I wondered why a beauteous Queen would need such a charm to earn herself a mate.
5.31 The Pooka’s Wife
Sh. I can read you clearly without words, my darling. And yes, werewolf, as well as other creatures you’ve never heard of. They all exist. Cara cleared her throat and said, “Hey, if you two want to be alone to trade dream-eyed and admiring looks with each other, we could leave.” That caused Sammy to give Cara an elbow in the ribs, but it also got our attention. Simone rolled her eyes and then stood up. “Come, ladies. It is time to tour the groups of men. Let us attempt to find some suitable dance partners.” That seemed acceptable to my best friends, and she and Sammy bolted after Simone, leaving Timothy and me at the table all alone, chairs scattered here and there in an ungainly sprawl. As if they’d been waiting for their turn, hoping the three ladies would leave, Terry and Bob sauntered over. “Boss, Penelope, Steve and Grant have taken over our posts, and we’ll be getting some dinner now, but we just wanted to stop by and . . .” Bob began. “We wanted to congratulate you, Mrs. Caldwell, and to give our best wishes for a long life and happiness,” Terry added. I was just about to thank them, when I saw a wispy vision of fuzzy gray ears and a muzzle, and in the background a wagging tail, furry as . . . a wolf. I blinked several times and the image went away. Was that due to all the excitement of the wedding? Was I hallucinating now? But it had looked real. It had looked like . . . I gasped. “I think you’re . . .” I clamped my mouth shut, aware that there were still humans nearby. But once your eyes open fully, apparently you can’t unsee something you’ve just seen. I’d focused on Bob’s alternate self and saw the similarities to Terry’s, only Bob was a white wolf. A beautifully furry and awesome white wolf. “All those times you growled . . . I thought, I thought your voices were just gravely from strain, from Mr. Peterson coming over to our table . . . But that wasn’t the truth of it,” I whispered. Even though I’d barely breathed out that thought, I realized that I was talking too much. I understood, but Timothy and the guards had not tried to stop me. “It was hard hiding from you,” Bob gushed. “We wanted you to know. But Mr. Caldwell said . . .” “I said she wasn’t ready, but she is now. She is becoming aware,” Timothy said. Terry, not one to shower us with words, interrupted then. “Dinner,” he said, then added, “Replacements have been added, Boss. Ricardo is set to drive. Bob and I, we . . .” he glanced at me, stopped for a moment, then said. “We await further orders.” Cagey, but I knew what it meant. The guys would be accompanying us when we left for our honeymoon.
5.30 The Pooka’s Wife
I wanted to probe Simone’s comment, but I got a gentle nudge from Timothy. Leave it, my sweet. It is better if you not snoop in such things. Andrew knows what he’s doing. He is enjoying the challenge. Challenge? That was almost as weird a remark as Simone’s oddly unsettling comment. But, I let it go. Besides Sammy was asking me something about the upcoming honeymoon, Since I had no idea where we were going, I shrugged. “Ask Timothy. He won’t tell me our destination.” My husband had said . . . Oh, my. My Husband. What a delightful word. I said it several times to myself, just to hear the rhythm of it. I like the sound of that, too, almost as much as the word wife and your new name: Penelope Caldwell. Was that my new name? Should it be? I knew several women who had kept their maiden names, saying that it displayed male dominance to demand a name change, as if a wife were the man’s new property. But, it had been my father who gave me my maiden name, not my mother, so what difference did it make in choosing one or the other? Besides, I liked the name Caldwell, but it would change soon, the moment we were forced to leave San Jose. Then I’d be called something else. What would my name be then? I think Penelope Caldwell has a pleasant flow, Timothy assured me. Was it my imagination or was Timothy reading more of my thoughts now? Yes,” he said, giving me a wide grin, it was the bite. You may begin to feel my thoughts, too, as the saliva of the bite creates its subtle changes. Will that offend you? Will you resist that invasion? “Too late to worry about it now, isn’t it?” I said. “To worry about what? The honeymoon? Why would you worry about . . .” Sammy blushed then reached for her glass of wine. I could see that communicating with Timothy in mind speech was going to cause problems, at least when I was among humans. And that was a startling thought. Will I still be human? I mind sent. You will be an enhanced human, he said, giving me a quick kiss on my forehead. A supernatural with human characteristics, one accepted by all species or subsets: Fae, human, vampire, werewolf . . . “Werewolf?”
5.29 The Pooka’s Wife
Next, Chris Shafer moseyed over. He wanted to know when we’d be back from our honeymoon for more dancing lessons. I shrugged, and Timothy promised we’d call. Tai Taketo came over when Chris left. He pretty much wanted to know the same thing, except for him, it concerned my private karate lessons. The most interesting visitor to our table was Lillea Torn. She was Andrew’s mysterious girlfriend who had been too busy to meet us before. She had straight black hair that fell down to her hips. Her eyes were smoky hot – deep, dark brown, and, well, she was absolutely gorgeous. Andrew seemed to think so, too. I could tell by the way his tongue dropped down to the ground when she came over. (No, not really, but he was obviously deep in infatuation.) Simone and Lillea seemed to know each other. That wasn’t a good thing, if Lillea was of the same sexual preference as Simone, but I guess that was Andrew’s problem. And Lillea did do some heavy flirting with Timothy’s best friend, which led me to the belief that she was truly interested in Andrew, and maybe even wanted to be the girlfriend Andrew claimed her to be. Lillea seemed nice, if a little strange. She went through all the polite expression of congratulation, then asked if I’d ever gone scuba diving. I told her that I was partial to ping pong, and she merely blinked as if she had no idea what that was. But a moment later she was telling me about her favorite sport and how a great white shark had come up behind her one time. “I shook my Cressi Cherokee fast rubber gun at the shark, ” she informed me, “and it backed right away. Smart animal. It sure wouldn’t have wanted to tackle me in a hand to hand.” I was speechless after that. Tackle a Great White and laugh about it? But Andrew picked up the conversation, asking Lillea if he could go out on the boat with her. “I’d dive into the water, too, but I’m afraid my shark-fighting days are over,” he said, laughing a bit. Lillea gave Andrew a funny look. “What are you, ninety? Whatever your true age, it hardly matters. I’m much older than that!” I think Andrew realized then what he’d almost revealed, or at least hinted at, but he recovered smoothly. “No, I’m not an old man, but I started early,” he said with a tweaky smile. “By age thirteen I’d moved on to arm wrestling with gophers.” I thought Lillea had no sense of fun, but Andrew’s grin and ridiculous line made her throw her head back and roar with laughter. Sammy and I glanced at each other, and then at Cara. “You’ve met your match, girlfriend,” Sammy told Cara in an aside. And it was true, this woman’s cackle of a laugh was every bit as loud as Cara’s casual exuberances. Andrew congratulated Timothy and me once again, as did Lillea, and then they departed, Lillea with her head leaning against Andrew’s neck, as if she were sniffing his skin. It was an odd posture that went with the odd girlfriend, but what did I know? If Andrew liked Lillea, that was enough for me. Simone stared after them. “I hope Lillea maintains her faithfulness,” Simone said, which was an even stranger remark. Was Lillea flighty? Did she have a score of young men circling her?
5.28 The Pooka’s Wife
Chef Ben moved in with his aide. Carlo Espinosa, and in a minute the two of them were like an assembly-line: cut, shovel, plate, cut, shovel, plate. The forks and napkins were already lying on the table and so everyone could easily grab them and were able to reach out for their plate of cake. Timothy and I backed away, but then he suddenly called out. “There’s coffee, tea, waters, and sodas over there,” Timothy yelled, gesturing. “And for those who feel the urge: wines and alcoholic beverages.” The bartenders were already in position, wearing cute little penguin type suits with narrow black ties that were horizontal not vertical. People were lining up for drinks, some with cake, many without. Seeing that things were progressing nicely, Timothy and I sat down at one of the tables. Simone, apparently not caring for cake or beverages, rushed over to us and handed Timothy and me plates full of food. “Here,” she said. “I figure you two probably worked up an appetite.” “Careful what you say to my bride,” Timothy mock growled. “She’s practically a blushing virgin.” Simone snorted at that, turned, and walked away. “Stop that,” I said. “We don’t have to make an announcement about what we were doing upstairs.” “Like everyone doesn’t know?” Andrew said, coming up behind us with his own heaping plate. “Are we heading back outside to eat this?” The three of us weaved our way through standing bodies, and sat at a table near the sparkling of the pool water. My two ex-roommate buddies followed shortly. Both were carrying a second slice of cake. “Whoops, sorry, Andrew. We didn’t know you’d be out here with the lovie-dovies. You’ll have to get your own cake.” That was Cara, of course. Sammy just handed me a plate of cake and shrugged. Then, seeing that Cara was trying to find chairs, Sammy took the two plates of cake from her hands and handed one to Timothy. Our table, meant for four, soon expanded to Judy and Ed, then Simone and the two men who’d been in the bridal party that I’d never met. They were quickly introduced as Steven Jorse and Bill Mahoney. Both of them shook my hand, congratulated me, and then polished off their cake without saying much more of anything. Then they thanked us for inviting them, and shoved off, after shaking Timothy’s hand and saying goodbye.
5.27 The Pooka’s Wife
Hearing our brazenly bad Elizabethan chatter, Timothy let out a snort, his stoppered laugh of amusement. Cara shot him a quick glance of scorn. “Scorn not, kind sir, that which harnesses the passions of Nature.” It was obvious that as much as Timothy wanted to cling to my side, this side of Cara was about to drive him off. I swooped up his arm and pulled him close. “Come, my love,” I told him. “Away must we venture to far cake where we hither shall pierce the delightfully frosted gooey exterior.” That did it. Timothy lost his stern hold on composure, pulled me a centimeter closer, then turned to Cara. “The gooey exterior of cake doth call. We must away.” Then both ladies lost their cool and sank down into unbridled laughter. That attracted the eyes of everyone. All the guests started gravitating in our direction, mini comets pulled by the sun. Perhaps we weren’t up to star quality, but the mood in the whole room changed. The musicians suddenly stopped, then cried out, “It’s cake time, folks.” The cake was a huge white wonder, five tiers of cake structure with sugary arches, green ivy and pink roses. Ben had outdone himself in its elegance. Knowing Timothy’s Fae chef, I would guess that the cake would taste every bit as wonderful as it looked. Andrew handed the knife to Timothy, and I laid my hand atop his, and we did it, the best cake piercing of the year, or something like that. I’d already nixed the smear cake all over your mate’s face part. I’d seen that done, and the mess that followed was not cute. I was okay with the groom giving me a bite and my delivering a small chunk to him. It was just that smear thing all over someone’s face that I refused to do. That should be considered cake sacrilege!