3.31 The Abyss of WonderLand
A selection of muffins were nestled invitingly in a wicker basket and tucked in beneath a gold cloth napkin. Under metal covers, sat a huge pile of scrambled eggs. Another platter held bacon, sausage, and ham slices, and a third hid a mound of hashbrowns underneath its metal lid. Timothy had ordered enough food for the entire hotel staff. “We skipped dinner, so I thought we deserved a big breakfast,” Timothy told me as his eyes scanned my hair. “You look nice, my darling, but I like the wild side of you, too. Don’t forget that.” The wild side of me was feeling very tame after our night of enthusiastic bed play. I felt like purring after so many orgasms, and if I’d been counting kisses, I think we would have beaten the Guinness Record Book for close encounters of the romantic kind. Timothy was grinning down at me, having come to stand behind me where I’d sat down so I could start serving up some of the fluffy eggs. “Does this meet your breakfast wishes, or is there something else you’d like?” he asked. “I could order pancakes or waffles.” I laughed. “We have a whole basket of muffins. I even saw some chocolate chips ones. And there’s a jar of honey. What else could we need? Only, shouldn’t we invite the guys over so they can enjoy our feast?” Timothy shook his head vigorously. “Nope. I’m not sharing this intimate breakfast with them. I plan to pretend you and I are on our honeymoon.” After the night we’d just had, I doubted there’d be any difference — except for the piece of paper you get at the end of that big shindig called a wedding. I guess there might be an argument in favor of it if my mother, father, or grandmother were still alive. They’d want to see the big event. But, I didn’t even have a father to walk me down the aisle. And my friends were busy with other things. “Planning your wedding?” Timothy asked, his lips curved into a devastating smile that told me he was once again probing my thoughts. I think I blushed. My face felt hot. Perspiration attacked. Maybe I was coming down with the flu, but I doubted it. Timothy took my hand in his, massaged it a moment, then slid into his seat, still holding it. “We can have the wedding in the chapel at Silver Falls,” he murmured softly. “You’ll like it there. I promise, but if not, we could shop around until you find exactly the right location. If the chapel doesn’t please you, we can use the reception hall in Silver Fall’s headquarters, or if it’s a smaller celebration, our house would work. Would you like that?”
3.30 The Abyss of WonderLand
When Timothy came out of the bathroom, he was wearing not the jeans and tee I’d expected, but a fluffy white robe. I guess that made sense because he’d told Terry and Bob that we were staying in and ordering room service. That was great. We wouldn’t have to battle the reception room where a hotel full of newsmen might or might not be berating Mr. Peters for his wild story of vampirism. Although I found the man’s fears and beliefs utterly ridiculous, a bunch of like-minded idiots would not be fun to contend with. I sighed, especially when I turned to give Timothy a thorough examination. His hair was wet. He hadn’t done a good job of drying it. That made me want to rub it with a soft, fluffy towel, like a wet dog that I was afraid might suddenly give a good shake of water spray. At least, that was my impulse . . . until I saw the drops of water scattered across his very manly chest, and because the robe was only loosely belted, when I peeked further down via the robe’s opening . . . Oh, my. Let’s just say, that wasn’t all I saw. Timothy and I never got around to ordering food. Why bother when the snacks were so delicious, and other things occupied most of our focus? The mattress was lovely for sleeping, too. I slumbered like Sleeping Beauty, but when I woke up in the morning, I had snarls in my hair instead of curls. Timothy had already risen and was outside on the balcony, fully dressed in his sharp looking black jeans and jean jacket. I took advantage of his absence and fled to the bathroom where I set to work dampening, working the hair down, and smoothing it out. There were some lovely products on the shelf of the bathroom, not the ones that Simone had bought for me to use, but others that seemed quite adequate. When I re-entered the main room, I found not only Timothy, but a full breakfast waiting on the table with China plates, white cloth napkins, and little pots of jams and honey. We morning greeted each other with chaste kisses, but any embarrassment I might have felt for what we’d done in the evening and night seemed to have vanished. It was like we were an old married couple, a thought that was scarier than climbing a roof-tall ladder. I pushed the notion away, determined not to wiggle it about with all its ramifications and self-debates.
3.29 The Abyss of WonderLand
Timothy finally spoke as I was still debating what else I’d miss in heaven. (Definitely coffee. How could I have left coffee out of my angelic desires?) Timothy cleared his voice, grabbing my attention away from my musings. “I can’t shower when your face is showing such demonstrative appreciation for those strawberries,” he declared, giving me a toothy smile. “I need to mentally record the images and replay them later when you’re off at work.” He was laughing slightly, but in a serious a way. The mouth showed one thing. The eyes, dark with those golden highlights that gleamed like backlit jewels, indicated the depths of his thoughts . . . and his amusement. A thrill buzzed through me at his words, yet I felt slightly choked in disbelief. Timothy wanted to record a finger-licking, lion-maned and free of make-up memory of me? That was utterly ghastly. I was probably at my worst at the moment, stuffing my face. Geeze, I might even have chocolate smears across my cheeks and mouth. Timothy chuckled. “Even your thoughts are more delicious than anything on that table. But, I need to clear a couple of things up before I head for the shower. I very much want you to marry me, Penelope. I want that so much I was willing to accept your uncertain agreement, but the expression of your eyes and thoughts didn’t show love. It displayed pity for my plight. I won’t accept that. You have to feel the depth of love inside you. You have to desire me as your husband as much as I desire you as my wife. Not just carnally, but with every breath you take.” It was the most romantic speech I’d ever heard. No soap opera lead character and no moving, tear-staining, tissue-wetting hero on a tv movie had ever said anything quite so emotionally wonderful. I wiped a tear, then turned to argue about the pity side of it, but Timothy had already retreated. I heard the shower water start up and realized I’d have to wait a bit to tell him that I did love him. Truly. In the meantime, the drama of the moment was kept from churning my insides into the lemon juice of worry by grabbing another bite of strawberry and chocolate. A piece of cheese was next, then a juicy red apple. By the time I’d finished that, my hunger had dived down into my stomach, happily satisfied.
3.28 the Abyss of WonderLand
When I glanced at Timothy again, his face had grown darker. He looked slightly angry, but not scary angry. He looked like a man whose dreams had been crushed. “I am not about to wiggle out of my proposal,” Timothy said. “The proposal still stands, and it will always stand, Penelope. But plain or ordinary, you are definitely not.” “You’re reading my mind again.” I almost stamped my foot, but I didn’t. In spite of that, the towel on my head fell down, and my wet hair streamed down my back. Timothy jumped up, picked up the towel, and said, “Isn’t there a hair dryer in there?” I sighed. I hated the things. Hair dryers left my hair a flying flurry, but I shrugged and followed Timothy back into the bathroom, which was still steamy and moist. Frizz would happen no matter what I did, I supposed. “They should have sold miniature lion shirts. I would have bought you one of those. I love your mane,” he chortled. Easy for him to say. He had sleek hair, the kind that always did exactly what he wanted, rain or drizzle. Timothy, saying nothing further, found the dryer and turned it on. I reached out to take it from him, but he shook his head. “My treat for waiting for you to finish your shower,” he told me. He did a good job. I must say. If gallery owner, art collector, and pooka weren’t enough to satisfy him, he could be a hairdresser, as well. The women would flock to his hair salon, begging him to work on their tresses (and to moon over his gorgeousness.) Again, he chuckled. “Thank you, but no. I will only do this for you, my darling. I won’t touch another woman’s hair.” That was nice to hear I decided. It appeared that I was the quietly possessive type, desirous of his full attention. The thought of him looking at one of the fem fatales that often seemed to surround him with lust in their eyes, stabbed me. He grinned down at me but didn’t respond to my stomach-clenching jealousy. We returned to the main room of the suite, my keeping silent about such thoughts and he, if he read them, saying not a word. “Your turn in the shower,” I said, as I rushed over to grab up one of the chocolate covered strawberries. He remained unobtrusive, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes watching me as I chewed. I guess he was allowing me to muse over my current non-life-changing thoughts. At that moment, I was savoring the taste of chocolate and strawberries. Wow! People always talked about the ethereal light, the choirs of angels, meeting God, and sitting around in Heaven playing small, golden harps. None of that appealed to me. I wanted there to be chocolate, books, and delicious red apples, like the ones on the hotel table. I’m sure there were other things I’d miss, but those three would be at the top of my list of demands if one could demand things in Heaven.
3.27 The abyss
I sighed. “I wanted to go to law school, but that didn’t pan out. I don’t know if I still want to do that now. I should know what I want at my age, but I don’t. I guess, the truth is that I just need more time. I need to grow up a bit.” Timothy walked towards me, his face serene, his eyes soft and gentle. “I will put you through law school if you want. You know that. Anything you want.” I turned away. “I don’t want your money. I want to be independent. I want to . . .” “Yes. To be a modern woman. I understand,” he added tenderly. I’d been about to walk into the bathroom. I needed a shower. No bubbles and soaking, just a plain shower so I could get the dust of the day out of my hair. But I stopped, freezing in place. I was remembering the story he’d told me, how he’d been so alone, the only one of his kind. Even his childhood friend, Andrew, wasn’t a pooka. And then Timothy had been forced to adapt to centuries and centuries of social change, to constant moving about to prevent the discovery of his identity. Few close friends. No relationships. He was really an amazing human being to have survived all that, except he wasn’t. Not a human being. Not exactly. But distrust of his alienness . . . or fear of being swept into the whirlwind that was Timothy. . . that wasn’t what was stopping me. It was leaving my grandmother’s apartment, quitting my job, and never seeing my friends again. No, he hadn’t said that I couldn’t do those things. He hadn’t required me to do anything, actually. He’d just said that he accepted my decisions and was waiting with patience . . . “Ok,” I said, turning around. “But can I still keep my job and live in my apartment, see my friends, and get a cat?” “Anything and everything,” he stated, giving me a full-faced and very genuine smile. I nodded and continued into the bathroom to shower. I half expected Timothy to join me, but he didn’t. Instead, when I stepped out of the bathroom, grabbed my clothes, and retreated back inside, he continued to sit on the couch staring into space. Had I broken him? Was he regretting the whole idea now? My shower had been quick. Dressed, I stepped out. My hair was wet, but I’d wrapped it up in a towel. I was wearing another of the new sweatshirts Timothy had bought me. This one said, Join the Herd. Underneath that was an etched panda shirt. Timothy had truly spoiled me, buying all the things he’d thought might please me. “I am happy that I have made you smile with the purchases I made for you, but I think we need to back up a bit,” he said with gravel in his voice and a stern look on his extremely handsome face. Here it came. Timothy was probably already wiggling out of his proposal. No surprise there. A gorgeous, rich guy wants to marry a plain legal secretary. Okay, so I had some fancy title, but what did it mean? Mr. Peters was right. I was just a simple secretary, a glorified one, perhaps, but ordinary.
3.26 The Abyss of WonderLand
I closed my eyes and thought about the day we’d just had, about, well, a lot of things, all of them connected to Timothy. I looked up, smiled, and said “Yes.” Timothy let out a yell, picked me up, and swung me around in the air. “I bless Jack Peters, then. He has swayed you to my side. He . . .” “No,” I said, stopping him with my finger over his mouth. “It wasn’t the golf guy. It was you.” “Leave us,” Timothy said, without a glance at the guards because his eyes were searching mine. The two guys turned about, almost military style, then paused. “What about dinner?” Bob asked. “Are we going down to the restaurant?” “Room service,” Timothy barked at him. Timothy followed them to the door, locked it, and turned to concentrate more fully on me. “Do you really mean you’re going to marry me, my darling?” I swallowed hard, but I didn’t avoid his gaze. Marriage. That was so final. So, well — for old people. For people who wanted to settle down and have children. Timothy chuckled. “I read that thought, my darling. I am old, and I do want to settle down. If children follow, I would welcome one or many.” I sighed again, disengaged from his arms and walked over to stick my nose in the midst of the yellow roses. I inhaled and savored the scent. I took a moment to think about what I wanted to say and to examine my pseudo promise. Breathing in the aroma of the room, the elegance all around me, the luxury of chocolate covered strawberries, I wondered if I were allowing that to influence me, but then I recalled my conversations with Timothy, the adventures we’d shared, his tenderness on the airplane, and the sweet intimate moments of our nights . . . I calmed myself and drew in a couple more deep breaths. “When you were my age, Timothy, when you were twenty-two, would you have been ready to settle down?” I asked, half challenging him and half curious. He gave me that devastating smile of his. “Yes,” he said, nodding his head and searching my face for understanding, “Yes, if I were with the right woman.” He walked over to the fancy couch, ran his hand over its arm rest, and turned to view me. “I had to wait a long time for you, Penelope. Forgive me if I try to rush you before you’re ready. I understand that you’re just starting out, exploring the world and your abilities. But, I promise that you can do that with me. I vow to support every one of your wishes.” I guess he realized that I was feeling pressured again. He sat down on the couch and asked, “What is it you want from life, Penelope, before being ready to pledge your heart to me?”
3.25 The Abyss of WonderLand
Three stops, and we piled out. The red carpet smelled like it had been freshly shampooed, a little like wet dog. I guess hotels had no choice but to constantly clean and paint. Fortunately, they hadn’t touched the inside of our room. It still smelled like our bouquet of roses. There was a new platter of goodies on the table: chocolate dipped strawberries, slices of pineapple on toothpicks, cherries, and red grapes, plus another big bowl of delicious apples. Traveling with Timothy was like having an Aladdin’s lamp. Imagine something wonderful, and there it suddenly was. Timothy was watching me notice everything, his eyes crinkled with good humor again. “You are a joy, my darling. I love how you see the world, your enthusiasm, the freshness of each discovery. You make life new.” Of course, I ran to embrace him for those kind words and then, although we probably smelled of zoo animals, we began kissing and stroking with abandon. I think it would have progressed nicely if a knock hadn’t sounded at the door. “Yes?” Timothy responded, his voice thick with irritation as he glanced at the door. “Boss, we have a problem,” Terry said. Romance went out the window. Terry and Bob walked inside the room and sat down in the two guest chairs. Bob was eyeing the apples. I offered him one. “What’s the problem?” Timothy barked at them. “Bob walked downstairs to do a little surveillance and found that Peters has called the papers to announce a breaking story. He claims he has a lead in his investigative report of the supernatural.” “You mean that old photo he showed us?” I said. “That’s hardly going to interest a crack team of reporters. They’ll laugh in his face.” “I hope so,” Terry said. “No one may even show up, but I thought you should know.” Timothy nodded. “There may be some stupid rag that’s interested in his kind of yellow journalism, but no one is going to get excited about vampires who eat scrambled eggs.” “Is it time to disappear again?” I asked. Timothy shook his head. “He can’t touch us, darling. This is all fluff. It will blow away. Only he’s becoming irritating. We may have to hand him over to . . .” He glanced down at me, then walked closer, so he could drape his arms around me. “And if I had told you that we had to disappear, Penelope, would you have been willing to join me?”
3.24 The Abyss of WonderLand
“That was a marvelous day,” I said, and Bob nodded his head. He started to say something else, but Terry nudged him into silence. Since Bob wasn’t speaking, I continued. “You’re the absolute best, Timothy. I loved every minute of our tour and the restaurant, and the adorable cap and my sweatshirt. Thank you, thank you!” We’d climbed into the car by that time and were heading back to the hotel, sitting on truly comfortable leather seats that, I guess like all limos, smelled of high quality saddlery. Timothy handed me a bottled water and told the guys to help themselves. There were cookies on a platter for us inside the limo. Terry made a pig of himself, eating four of them. I hoped we didn’t crumb up the vehicle too badly. Sighing loudly after eating a scrumptious chocolate chip with walnut cookie, I added, “I have to admit, though, poor San Francisco. I feel like a traitor for saying this, but San Diego is the absolute best zoo I’ve ever been to.” Bob, even with Terry nudging him to be quiet, agreed. “Yeah, I really liked that big polar bear. He was a good fisherman, I mean, fisher bear.” I guess we were all punchy tired by then. Every one of us broke out in laughter, even though the comment wasn’t really that funny. Our hotel wasn’t far. We were soon climbing out of the limo and entering the huge reception area, only to see the golfing guy sitting on one of the couches. The tiresome, Mr. Peters had been waiting for us. Timothy’s face got all dark cumulonimbus cloud, and I could tell a big storm was about to hit. It reminded me of the way Timothy had looked when I first met him: somber, moody and rude. I jerked Timothy’s arm. “He can’t do anything to irritate us further. We just have to walk by him, paying no attention, right?” Timothy let out a big sigh, moved forward, and ignoring the mad hatter golf maniac, strode us forward toward the elevator. “Just a minute,” Mr. Peters called out. “I need to speak with you.” He yelled that clear across the reception room. All eyes in the large reception area pinpointed on him, then swept over our group as if we’d been partly the cause of their broken peace. The four of us kept walking as if we hadn’t heard Mr. Peters. It was the right thing to do. By the time the vampire hunter leapt up and started running toward the elevator, we’d already entered and were heading up to our rooms. I was surprised when Timothy pressed our actual floor, but then he pressed four other numbers, as well, two above and two below ours. That seemed overkill to me. Mr. Peters didn’t have a key to our rooms. He couldn’t invade when we were safely tucked in place.
3.23 The Abyss of WonderLand
The menu in the restaurant had a long listing of drinks, most of them alcoholic. I wanted the Kookaberry Mojito, just for the name, but since I didn’t like alcohol, I got a passion fruit iced tea. It was yummy. The guys ordered fancy beers. After our lunch, which probably cost a fortune since it was served inside the jungle with a real waterfall, we met Danny again and continued our zoo tour. My favorite place was the swamp monkey and otter habitat. The two different species were in an incredibly beautiful location with running water and tall trees, and the otters came out and played with the monkeys. The animals were like a kittens or puppies, pawing, kissing, and chasing each other around. I truthfully could have stayed there forever. It was not only great fun to watch, but completely peaceful. Danny patiently waited for us to return to the tram. When we climbed back inside, he told us that we’d hired him until five-thirty since we’d taken an hour off for lunch, but Timothy shook his head and said, “I think we’ll be done soon. There’s no sense overstaying our welcome with the zoo animals.” He took a moment to receive my nod. This zoo had all been amazing, but I agreed that we were tired. With that thought in mind, Danny drove us down Easy Street to Park Way, passing bears and koalas, headed slowly up the path where the big cats were absorbing the sunshine, then stopped at the Panda Trek. Of course, we had to get out there, but we piled back in a few minutes later. Then the lanes wove us around a herd of antelopes and finally stopped at the Polar Bear Plunge. There, the bears were swimming all around in a lake of water. The park had supplied the fluffy white guys with fish, and the polar bears were having a great time selecting their dinner. Watching them was a real treat. When we finally left the polar bears to their successful fishing, the five of us ate ice cream cones and drank coffee or sodas. Then we thanked Danny for his wonderful job at giving us inside tips and information about the animals, walked over to the Sky Fari and climbed into the bucket ride that went from West to East. It was a great way to look back at all the animals we hadn’t had time to visit, and a review of the ones we had. When we climbed out of our bucket, we were back at the front of the zoo. A short walk later we met up with our hired limo driver.
3.22 The Abyss of WonderLand
That morning, we saw giraffes, gorillas, elephants (one getting a pedicure,) penguins swimming with sharks, and hippos in the Lost Forest. Danny told us how the San Diego Zoo held a huge store of frozen genetics for over a thousand species. Its purpose was, of course, to prevent animals all over the world from dying out as some were doing in their native environments. I remembered how many people hated zoos, and I agreed about how wrong it was to separate elephants from their family, but the way the world was with people indiscriminately killing animals for sport and for animal parts, I was glad that zoos, like this one, were now driven by the needs of conservation and preservation. Danny told us that the close proximity of species in zoos also allowed scientists to research diagnostic treatments for animals in the wilds, and it allowed wild life specialists to become more informed about the animals’ dietary needs, since the decreasing areas of their homelands was also a major factor in the decline of endangered wildlife. Without the natural vegetation these animals were dependent on, fatality would be imminent. Anyway, thanks to Danny, I learned lots more things about the way places like the San Diego Zoo were helping wildlife to flourish. A couple hours into on our tour, we made a brief stop in the VIP Garden where we got zoo cookies, coffee, and an up-close giraffe visit. We followed that up with an amazing visit to the Giant Panda Habitat where we learned that pandas bleat like sheep. Danny told us these bear relatives can also roar, but we never heard them do that. One of the cubs began to squeal, though, kind of like a pigling, but a bit more frantic, like the little black and white baby was protesting something. Later, we stopped for lunch at Albert’s Restaurant which was right inside the Lost Forest Zone. The menu was short. The two guys started grumbling about the fancy foods, so Timothy ordered them exactly what I’d said I wanted: the cauliflower fried rice. The two seemed okay with that when Timothy told them they’d get steak in theirs. When the waiter came over to take our order, Timothy told our server to double the meat in each of the guards’ portions. That made Bob and Terry’s faces burst into full tooth-displaying smiles. My, they were handsome when they got rid of their growly faces.