7.5 The Pooka’s Wife
I bet you won’t believe me about what came next. I don’t believe it! The captain came into the room, all fancy in his white uniform. He wasn’t that old, probably in his late thirties, and he kept his body in shape, so he was quite attractive. His shoulders had gold tassels or was it patches? But what I liked best was his hat, white on the top like a puffed out marshmallow and at the bottom a black head piece with the same beak as a baseball cap. The bottom was black, which made the gold insignia which connected the white part and the black really stand out. There was no doubt, looking at the man, that he was an official of great importance, yet he strode over to us and was soon shaking Timothy’s hand like my husband was the big cheese. I got introduced as Timothy’s bride, and then shook hands, too. Way, cool. Daniel, Ben, Bob, and Terry got an introduction, too, but only by means of a wave of Timothy’s hand. The captain didn’t shake the men’s hands, but his eyes scanned them enough that I was positive the captain would remember that our guards were attached to us. (Did he know they were guards and not supposed to be friends, as Timothy kept reminding me? That I have no idea, although, as far as I was concerned, the guys were friends first and foremost.) As if the captain’s approach and careful conversation weren’t enough to jazz our introduction to the mammoth ship, the captain then preceded to be the one to walk us up the gangway. Timothy and Captain Bill were apparently becoming good buddies. They kept up a steady stream of conversation the whole LONG way. Of course, I was okay with that. Timothy’s arm was around me, and my body was touching his. I was as contented as a piglet in mud. After we set foot on the gangway, the walk turned vertical. It was a slow slant, so it wasn’t that we were out of breath, but I bet those who didn’t use the incline on a treadmill would undoubtedly feel pulled muscles in their calves the next day. Bob and Terry thumped as they walked behind us, noisier than a herd of buffaloes. Daniel and Ben, I didn’t hear. I bet neither of them made a sound. Daniel walked like all forest dwellers, probably rolling his feet rather than pounding. Ben floated for all I know. The Fae were still a mystery to me. About the point of stepping foot inside the bloated monster of a ship, one foot over the threshold, a band down at the bottom of the port building struck up a tune. Perhaps that was notification that others were soon going to be boarding? Whatever song the band was playing, it was a happy tune, and it made me want to dance my way inside the whale, I mean, ship. (Have you ever seen a cruise ship? Their size is not even imaginable. Picture an airplane, then multiply it by about twenty. I guess stadium size would be too small, a floating football field? Too small, but if you can imagine this particular whale swallowing up fifteen thousand people, perhaps your imagination can cope with its enormity. I just felt like a tiny ant crawling into an over-sized watermelon.)
7.4 The Pooka’s Wife
The building that we entered at the port was full of large windows and looked extremely modern in appearance. There were masses of people once we entered. I guess everyone was getting on the same ship we were. Ben had mentioned that a ship like ours could contain between two thousand and six thousand passengers. It looked like they were all present! Timothy wasn’t very good-natured about the multitudes. His scowl broke out, the corners of his mouth moving downward. On most people that look would have either scared people away or been thought ill-mannered, but Timothy merely looked younger and cuter somehow. Terry set off, heading deeper into the building, with Daniel trailing behind after Timothy head-directed. I asked where they were going, but Timothy just said, “Preparing the way,” like he was a rock music star who needed the red carpet spread out in front of us. ( I teased him about it until Timothy broke out into that devastating smile of his that not only melted me, but caught the eyes of a couple of preteen girls standing with their parents. I thought one of them might swoon over Timothy’s grin.) They were twins by the way, cute little blond ponytailed future cheerleaders, I would bet, and one of them placed her hand over her forehead and managed to sink into her chair in the most graceful and dramatic pseudo faint I’ve ever seen. The parents mostly ignored her, but the twin fanned her sister’s face, glancing back at Timothy as if she were observing a movie star. Timothy probably didn’t even notice. His eyes were still scanning the mob of people, probably wondering if it was safe enough for us to weave our way through. I waited beside him, but I assumed that in the end, we’d just have to join the crowds smooshed between the long curving lines of yellow flagged poles that indicated where people needed to stand for their turn to board. Not so. Daniel returned first, motioning us to step over to the right. Then Terry appeared with a dark blue uniformed official whose eyes were already pinpointing us inside the crush of people. The officer came directly towards us, put out his hand, and shook Timothy’s. “Please follow me,” the man said. “We have a lounge you can wait in for your priority boarding.” “We haven’t gone through check in,” Timothy said. “Don’t we need to do that first?” “We’ll take care of you, Sir,” the officer said, then he glanced over at me. “Is this your lovely wife?” Timothy apologized for not introducing me, but I was sure the officer already knew who I was. It was on the tickets Timothy had handed him, wasn’t it? Terry, Daniel, Ben, Bob and the three of us . . . (including the very handsome older officer. I think someone like him is called a gray fox? Cara would have known. She was up on such designations.) Anyway, our whole group followed the officer who led us a distance to the right into an elegant room with a table full of pastries, juices, coffee, water, and assorted teas. It was nice inside with only about twenty people scattered about. None of us had any appetite with all our anticipation over embarkation. Whoops, I spoke too soon. Bob lumbered over and stacked some bear claws on a plate, then grabbed a couple of orange juices. (Yes, totally impossible for most people to hold all that, but Bob’s hands were massive, and I watched as he gripped three plastic OJ’s plus a paper plate without spilling anything as he moved himself over to a small table beside a stiff plastic chair.)
7.3 The Pooka’s Wife
A cruise! I was about to go on a cruise! Me, who had never journeyed anywhere outside of Northern California and was now in Florida, the Golden State, the Orange State, the Alligator State . . . Florida was also one of the chief homes of the manatees, the famous sea cows of the ocean coast. To get to see them in their natural habitat was a promise Timothy had made me in San Diego. He’d earlier apologized for not having time to take me to see them before we left for France, so that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon, but did I mention how we were just about to board a giant ship and take a honeymoon cruise? To France! If excitement truly leaked out through one’s skin pores, mine would be dripping or floating off in gallons. (Sorry, if that’s gross, I mean, I was jumping about like a baby bunny, too thrilled to eat the wonderful breakfast selections offered by the hotel.) The four guards: Ben (Fae), Daniel (Thunderbird or Thunder god depending on who you talked to), and Bob and Terry (both Werewolves) were sitting at the two tables on each side of ours. The men, including my brand new husband, Timothy (a Pooka), were shoveling in scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, and all the other offerings the huge elongated restaurant’s buffet provided. But me . . . as I’d said, I’d pretty much lost my appetite. I’d requested a toasted English muffin with honey and just kept sipping coffee, which the waiter continued to refill before I’d even downed half a cup. I was probably guzzling down my third Java when I realized that the guys were finally finished eating. “Ready?” my gorgeous husband asked. I practically leaped out of my chair I was so eager to depart. I had to slow myself down so we didn’t attract the wrong kind of attention. (Not that with five gorgeous guys surrounding me, we didn’t already have every eye on our exit from the dining room.) All of us had earlier packed up our suitcases, so they were ready to go. In fact, one of the hotel staff had carted them downstairs so they’d be ready for the chauffeur to load them in the limo’s trunk. Did I forget to mention that my new hubby was rich? Fancy hotels, cruises, limos — that was the world I’d married into, which was kind of embarrassing, but also rather nice because it included all the luxuries that an abundance of money brings. (The money thing was due to Timothy’s having lived hundreds of years while making good investments. His success made me feel less ashamed that I only had $736 in my savings account.)
7.2 The Pooka’s Wife
Going to your hotel room when you are completely and utterly exhausted is pure luxury. I rushed into the shower, ignored the goodies set up for us to nibble, failed to do my usual tour of the room, and simply scrambled into bed. I must have been asleep when Timothy crawled into bed. I guess I would have felt guilty about that; it was our honeymoon and all, but I never heard him, never realized he was there. We made up for it in the morning. Then we got to practice being married. It was great fun. It is going to be unbelievable having him always close. I was just about to ask him if he wanted to give me a Pooka ride, which I hadn’t done in ages, when a nasty knock on our hotel door jarred us from further activities. We couldn’t be upset, however. Our dinner had arrived. Yes, we’d slept through lunch. We’d spent most of the day in bed, but wasn’t that part of what a honeymoon was supposed to be like — or was it more due to jetlag? Anyway, we had salmon fillets, sweet potato fries, a selection of fruits, and a tossed salad of greens. It was perfect. We were both hungry, having had nothing but the early morning airplane breakfast. “What are we going to do after dinner?” I asked, while nibbling on a sesame bread stick. “Our embarkation appointment isn’t until eleven o’clock tomorrow. A walk on the beach? A sandcastle? A midnight swim?” I laughed. “Yes to all of that!” We met the guys out in the hall. Timothy had called them to let them know our plans. I wondered again why we had to have constant guards, but then I remembered the vampire hunter who had haunted our San Diego trip, and there was a Faery Queen who seemed to pop in and out of our days. But hadn’t we seen the last of both of them? It was still light out. We were able to do all the things Timothy had suggested, and then after all that, we showered and went down to the hotel’s nightclub. People were dancing in the center of the room. Timothy and I got up and “did some moves,” as Ben called it. I noticed that the guys each got up and danced at least once. There were lots of single women in the room who practically assaulted them with requests for a turn. Mostly, Timothy and I just sat and sipped our fruity drinks while watching the band. I guess we were acting like an old married couple, but . . . That would change on the cruise, I promised myself, just as soon as I felt energized again. How could one plane trip wipe a person out so completely? Of course, the females tried to flock about our table and drool over Timothy, but he let it be known that we were on our honeymoon and wanted to be left alone. That worked, mostly. Although we’d talked about staying up all night, we didn’t make it. The yawns attacked, and we made our way upstairs. The bed felt soft as mashed potatoes or is it clouds?
7.1 The Pooka’s Wife
The reception room/hall was every bit as luxurious as the hotel in San Diego had been. The sitting areas were comfy-cozy, also, but no one was sitting in any of them. Perhaps the lovely white sand and the sparkling waters of the ocean had called to all the hotel guests. Maybe they were all out digging sandcastles and swimming in the what Bob had assured me was warm water. I hoped I’d at least get the chance to test that. A warm ocean??? We all piled into the elevator, heading up to the top floor. And yes, it was labeled Top Floor, not thirteenth. That cracked me up. Would all the bad luck of thirteen leech out when it was called something different? Couldn’t the king of bad luck count the number of floors? Timothy smiled down at me, catching the thought. “We could still change our room,” he said. I shook my head and started reading elevator notices. One advertised a restaurant, another posted the hours of the gym, and a third showed a map to find the business room where it said that computers, printers, and copy machines were available. “Penelope’s afraid of being on the thirteenth floor?” Bob asked. “We get to add that to the long list: airplanes, dancing, necklaces . . .” A Terry elbow in the ribs followed that particular Bob aside, along with a shake of the head from Ben, and a ferocious scowl from Timothy. “If you’d rather not go on a luxury cruise with us and stay in top tiers hotels, say the word, but there will be no verbal assaults of my wife. Understand?” Timothy thundered. “Sorry, Boss. I was just . . .” Another rib shove and Bob cut off whatever he’d been about to say. I loved Bob. I loved his quirkiness. It was really okay with me if he wanted to do some mocking, but I didn’t say anything. Defending Bob had gotten me in trouble before. It is Bob’s job to guard you, not to babble a series of unwelcome remarks, Timothy had said in San Diego. I glanced over at Daniel. He was the quiet one, never adding his thoughts to any conversation. I wondered if he, too, thought I was afraid of everything. Would he send me back to the circle of young men doing their chants around the smoky, wood-stacked campfire in the middle of the sweet-smelling forest so they could chase away my numerous doubts and fears? Perhaps the thundergod felt my eyes on him. His soft voice soothed my worry. “To be aware of danger is to be alert and ready for challenge,” Daniel assured me. The elevator door opened before I had time to filter that through my fatigued and jetlagged brain.