6.10 The Pooka’s Wife
Daniel, the last member of our line-up, was escorted into a little room off to the side, where apparently a TSA agent hand-scanned him. Timothy said not to worry, that they often pulled someone over to do an ultra-intensive search, but I’d thought the TSA had been eying Daniel strangely, like they thought he was a terrorist or something equally horrid. When we were passing through the check point, I’d noticed that Daniel had taken off his necklace with assorted charms and feathers, and put it onto the moving inspection site. Daniel had even showed the agents, when asked, the card which gave him permission to wear such a thing since there were animal teeth and bird feathers on the necklace. (One feather, Daniel had told me earlier was a cast-off from a real Golden Eagle.) I guess the necklace might have made the agents suspicious of Daniel or perhaps it was the guarded look on his face or the way he carried himself like a secret agent (I had to admit that at first, I’d thought that Daniel looked kind of scary.) Anyway, in the end, Daniel came out with a smile on his face, which meant that we’d all passed our inspection in order to fly to Florida. On the other side of what Terry hissingly called “purgatory,” for which Bob gave him a pretend elbow in the ribs, Timothy headed us toward the Delta Sky Club. I had no idea what that meant. Was it a gym? Was it a place to play ping pong? When I asked, Timothy just snorted at my guesses, gave me a gentle smile, swung his arm around me, and said, “Wait ‘til you see it. You’ll be impressed.” We walked through an area where the seats were crammed with people, carry-on baggage, coats, and paper sack purchases. Someone had dropped their cola, and a big wet patch remained — part river, part sticky steps that led away from it. Candy wrappers and spilled popcorn were overflowing from a garbage can we passed, and a crying baby was perfuming the area with a pooped diaper. But the worst of it all was the noise level, like a stadium full of echoing voices. We kept walking forward and passed a woman’s restroom. I told Timothy I was ready to visit it, but my husband asked if I could wait a couple of minutes, so we continued our long, long hike through the halls of the terminal. Finally, we reached the Delta Sky Club. No ping pong tables, no gym, no overflowing crowds, but oh, my! It was like entering a bubble of peace where people sat about leisurely in dignified and comfortable arm chairs. The place was a library of quiet with the most incredible smells of food, the kind not salted, greased, or junk food guilt-making. If Terry was right about having passed through purgatory at the inspection site, I was pretty sure that we’d suddenly successfully made it into Heaven!
6.9 The Pooka’s Wife
We followed our suitcases to the check-in place where we got little claim stubs which Timothy stuck in his wallet. I had to show my passport, as did he. That was always a shaky thing since I was never sure if mine was legal or not. My name hadn’t been altered yet, so I was still flying under my maiden name, which Timothy growled over. “We’ll get that changed the moment we get to Paris,” he said. Did American Embassies do that kind of thing? The guys checked in their own bags, and then, like a herd of cows, we made our way through the TSA line. Of course, we were only flying to Florida. I guess the international document stuff came when we arrived at the cruise ship port. Still, I had to remove my new phone from my bag and lay down my jacket, the book I’d brought, and my purse on the assembly line inspection strip. Luckily, I didn’t have to take off my shoes. I was wearing a nice pair of chocolate brown trousers with a soft, long sleeved light blue blouse. My jacket was dark-brown denim and looked equally sharp, all thanks to Simone, of course. No jewelry, except the Queen’s gift, which by the way, didn’t show up on the body scan machine. How was that possible? Magic, I guess. It solved lots of problems. Terry was first in line, and the TSA agent made him take off his shoes. (In fact, all the men had to remove theirs. I guess their shoes were heavier and thick-soled or something.) Bob had orange socks on, which made me giggle. The others had normal black socks on. How boring. My eyes examined the men’s clothing as I waited, having been cleared by TSA without any problem (in spite of the necklace which I couldn’t take off.) No wonder I hadn’t noticed what everyone else was wearing with everything going on that day. Terry, standing beside me, having also been cleared by TSA, wore a pair of jeans and a black tee. Timothy, right behind me in line, had nice trousers on and a long-sleeved royal blue shirt, which made him look super handsome. Bob, Daniel, and Ben had copied Terry. None of them, including Timothy, carried jackets. The men would be cold inside the plane, I bet, remembering how the San Diego flight had felt like being strapped into a seat and made to sit inside the freezer section of a grocery store.
6.8 The Pooka’s Wife
So, my new husband had tricked me. We were scheduled to fly out of San Francisco Airport all the way to Fort Lauderdale, Florida, flight initials, FLL. That was pretty exciting to hear, actually. Mr. Grouchy chauffeur drove us right up to the Harvey Milk Terminal (“formerly called the South Terminal,” Bob whispered as if everyone couldn’t hear him.) Two guys were waiting for our arrival at the terminal. They hadn’t driven with us, but Timothy obviously expected them and gave them a quick Justin, Jose in greeting with a brief nod of recognition. (I figure that Terry knew them, too, because he clapped both of the guys on the back like they were good buddies of his.) Anyway, those guys, plus two more who had been waiting inside the terminal before joining us, gathered around and tried to give assistance for us limo passengers. (We were definitely not energetically jumping out of the limo. More descriptively, we slowly climbed out of the stretched limo, which might seem ridiculous after our comfortable ride, but it had been almost two hours of sitting in what Terry had called “light traffic”. The four brawny and very masculine men herded themselves almost immediately to the back of the limo so they could remove our luggage. Timothy, Bob, Terry, Ben, Daniel, and I hung around until they had hefted it all and were ready to wheel it into the terminal. (No, it wasn’t all mine. Timothy and I only had three, but the guys had one each. Still, that was a lot of suitcases.) Inside the airport, there were crowds everywhere. A couple of toddlers were crawling on the floor. A baby was screaming, an old woman was pushing her walker, assorted groupings of young families were nestled around their possessions, couples were hugging and smooching, two guys with casts on their legs and crutches were hobbling forward. I even got a peek at a calico cat in a bright pink carrier who was meowing frantically as it passed by us. Perhaps its terror was partly because passing right behind it, came two small dogs on leashes whose tongues were hanging so low they almost touched the ground. Frankly, the terminal was a mad house, and the noise was about the equivalent to the rock concert Cara had talked Sammy and me into attending.
6.7 The Pooka’s Wife
We passed the time in the limo learning more about Thunderbirds and Werewolves, or, at least, I did. I guess the others already knew about all that supernatural stuff. But I was like one of those cartoon characters, my ears growing larger as the information absorbed me with its flavors and enhancements. I asked questions, begged for more input, and tried to absorb this whole kingdom I’d never heard of before my time with Timothy. It was a lot to learn, and I still knew next to nothing about the Fae because Ben seemed the most unwilling of all of them to open that magical door. He avoided every question until Timothy suggested that I let that slice of the pie rest for another time. (Yes, I know that’s two metaphors put together that don’t match, but those were Timothy’s words, not mine.) After we’d ridden in the car for about an hour, I finally sat up, looked around, and wondered out loud exactly where we were going. Of course, I knew a cruise liner would be found at the ocean. Duh, but where precisely was the port located? Timothy fidgeted in his seat, avoided my eyes, and changed the subject several times, leading us down other paths. But eventually, when I kept returning to the question . . . I knew that something was up, that he was hiding something from me? But, what? “Timothy,” I growled, sounding exactly like Bob when he was riled up, except a couple of octaves higher. “You said we were going on a cruise, but where are we catching it, San Francisco . . . or San Diego?” Timothy sighed as if he’d really hoped to avoid the question longer, blinked once, then said, “Actually . . .” “Tell her fast. Penelope’s going to flip!” Bob laughed. He received a jarring elbow in the ribs from Terry, as Bob always did when he said something Terry figured wasn’t appropriate, but I was frankly glad that I wasn’t the only one smelling a rat. Timothy greeted Bob’s interjection with a semi evil look at Bob, followed by a bout of throat clearing, but then my husband (Love the sound of that!) kissed my forehead again and said, “I’m sorry, my darling. It’s not possible to sail from California to France. We have to first take another airplane flight. But you’re an experienced flyer now. This will be as easy as riding the old hobby horse, Molly. Remember that ride? You conquered your fear and had a good time.” I swallowed some water, dug down deep, and came up with a rather tepid smile. “Sure,” I said. “Piece of cake. How long a flight?”
6.6 The Pooka’s Wife
Daniel took up the bottle of water that Timothy had earlier passed around, opened it, and tipped it back, drinking in long, soundless gulps. Then he righted the bottle, recapped it and set it down in a water bottle slot on the door of the limo. Without preamble, the man, then, continued his tale. “We lived in villages at the top of the mountain. In that way, we could look down on the ancient world, on the children of the All Father, and at the animals below. The world was green then. The air smelled clear and sweet. It was a good life. “We were not a special people, my village clan. Some of us made war against our brothers. A few stole or lied. Some men were not good citizens. They did not share with those who needed sustenance and care. But there were some who lived in the old ways. Those people longed for the Spirit of Good.” “In that village and the others spread across our green lands, there was usually an old soul or two whose purpose was to hold the wisdoms of the past, to understand the secrets of nature, and to heal the sick. We, and I say, we, since I was one, were few. We were those chosen by the All Father himself. We were called the Thunderbirds by those we named us. We were the keepers of knowledge. We were shapeshifters. “Unlike your wolf friends here, we Thunderbirds were not bound to one form. We could hurl ourselves into the sky and soar as an eagle, a raven, or an owl. We could bellow and chew the grass, warmed and comfortable inside our thick bison coats. We were free to change our outer shell whenever we needed. The Navajo called us Skin-walkers. Other tribes had names like Kushtaka or Buffalo People. “But a name means nothing. It tells of the physical body that is visible to others. It says nothing of the power inside. A name is cast aside like the skin that holds our organs, our bones, and the blood that feeds those parts. But people like to gives names. Water. Car. Woman,” he said, with a graceful sway of a hand that motioned to me. “Your people called us Witch doctors or Medicine Men. We were that and more. But those days are gone. My people suffered. The sun went down. Now, that life is no more. Those of us left behind, we search for someone like your Pooka, a being with a generous spirit. He is a native son of the All Father, and I will serve him until the All Father, himself calls me to the other plane. I am fortunate he accepts my friendship.” My mouth had fallen open during Daniel’s story. It was a fairy tale, an enchantment, a chronicle of the past and of the present. How it involved Timothy, I wasn’t sure I yet understood, but I did grasp that Daniel was a very special person. He was someone I wanted to be near, to learn from, and to savor his knowledge. Unfortunately, like those super famous, I felt bowed in his presence and awed by his Power. I swallowed, grabbed at my facilities and squeaked out, “We are all fortunate to know Timothy,” I said. Then I chuckled under my breath because I felt silly praising my own husband, even though I really meant what I’d said. Timothy turned his head to look at me and dabbed a kiss on my forehead. You can praise me anytime. I enjoy it.
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.