Part 17 (1/2)
”That you're the last one. I know. But are you certain? I have cousins I've never met. You could, too, you know.”
Maris dropped the spoon into the container. She looked at him over her shoulder. ”My father had two brothers. One died at sea before he'd ever married. The other one was killed in an auto accident quite a long time ago. His wife remarried, but I have no idea where she is. She and my uncle didn't have children.”
”Who told you all of this?”
”My mother. After my father pa.s.sed away. I was curious why only friends came to his funeral and no family.” Dan's fingers moved on her neck, soothing a knot away. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. ”Is there something you're not telling me?”
Rub, rub, rub. ”No.”
Liar.
Easing away from his ministrations, she held up the soup container. ”Sure you don't want any?”
”Positive.” His hand dropped to his lap.
Maris surprised herself by finis.h.i.+ng it off. Once again, she dropped the plastic spoon into the bottom of the container and slipped the lid back on. Dan took it from her and set it on the nightstand on the folded bag.
”Thank you.”
”You're welcome.”
A minute pa.s.sed. She wished there was a television in the room. She would have turned it on, if only to listen to with her eyes shut. ”Is this supposed to be so awkward?”
”I think it's because we are...undefined? And because you insisted on sleeping in the d.a.m.ned guestroom.”
Maris giggled. She turned and settled herself on his chest, her arm around his waist. He slid downward until they were both nearly reclining on the mattress, then circled both arms around her. She whipped the blanket up and around until it covered his legs.
”Now isn't this cozy?” he whispered against her crown. His left arm lifted for a moment. The light went out.
After several more minutes of silence, Maris made a decision. ”Dan, I'd like you to tell me a story.”
He grunted. ”What, like a fairy tale?”
”No. Not a fairy tale. I'd like you to tell me the story of how the Priestess card came to be in your desk drawer.”
His respiration stilled beneath her ear.
”I wasn't being nosy. The day Jamie was here I b.u.mped the desk and the drawer opened. Tell me that story, Dan, please, because I can't figure it out.”
He slid down farther, stroking back her hair until he contacted the bandage and the fuzz beneath. He rested his fingers against the side of her neck. For a few minutes, he remained silent, but then she heard the first rumblings of his voice in his chest as he began to speak into the darkness above her head.
”Once upon a time-that's the proper start to a fairy tale, right? Once upon a time, there was a boy who was afraid of the world. To counter his fears, he worked for and took the job of a brave man, a police officer. And he was good at it. One day, though, he met something dark and evil which changed his view of everything, but he did his best to deny it had ever happened.”
Maris closed her eyes, moved by the manner in which he'd chosen to reveal his story to her...and the fact he had at all. She curled her fingers around a handful of his s.h.i.+rt.
”He worked harder at being a police officer, and after completing the tasks presented to him by the...king, he was crowned detective along with another man who became his junior. And all was right with the world again. The dark places didn't exist. He decided to live in the light of his new position.
”But one night an old, um, seer pa.s.sed away, and while he was in the home where she practiced her craft, he forgot his teachings in the blink of an eye and came home to discover he had taken one of her possessions with him.”
”Really? That's what you're going with?”
He pressed a finger to her mouth. ”Yes. Are you going to let me finish?”
She nodded against his chest.
”He didn't even remember doing it. But before he knew it, it was too late to return the object to the place where it belonged because he feared his folly would condemn him, and he...he was a bit of a coward, I guess.”
”Dan...”
”Quiet. Were you this much of a pain in the a.s.s when you were a kid?”
”Sorry.”
”Then the detective made a second mistake when he met the Priestess in the flesh and was blinded by so many things that he didn't want to believe about her. He took her to the seer's house in direct opposition to what he knew was right, and to make matters worse, they lay together-isn't that the term used in old books?”
Maris nodded on his chest.
”The detective was transformed and lost and guilt-ridden all at the same time. But the one thing that saved him was the fact he'd found someone he could share the unknown world with and maybe, one day, understand.”
”Dan, I-”
”Hush. I'm almost done. If you interrupt me, I don't think I'll be able to finish. This isn't my forte.”
”Storytelling?”
”No. Honesty. Not this kind of honesty.”
Maris swallowed, hard, but the lump refused to budge.
”An evil, uh...”
”Chariot driver?”
”Sure, that works. An evil chariot driver tried to take the Priestess from him, and in the days of her healing, the detective who had fallen from grace realized he hadn't. Not really. Because deep inside him something had been reborn, something he didn't think to know again. And that's the end of the story. Or maybe the beginning. I guess we'll see where it goes from here.”
Maris burrowed her face against his s.h.i.+rt, tears dampening the cloth.
”Are you crying?”
”No. There's no crying in fairy tales.”
”Bulls.h.i.+t. I seem to remember plenty of weeping and gnas.h.i.+ng of teeth in those stories when I was a kid.” He kissed the top of her head. ”I'm glad you came into my life, Maris. I just wish I knew what the future would bring. But that's your territory.”
”I don't know what the future holds for us either, Dan.” She caressed his chest beside her cheek. ”I do know this, though. Don't touch that card again.”