A Knight in Central Park (2 page)

“Fiery flap-dragons,” she muttered. Grandfather had been telling the truth all along. Her eyes misted, her body and mind filled with bewilderment. She tried to remember the stories he had told her about his stones...about the strange places they could take her. After her mother died, his tales had been what she clung to instead of her mother’s skirts. His stories of strange worlds filled with flying machines and fast moving carts had made her smile again, kept her from falling into a gaping hole of despair. Mostly his stories had given her permission to believe that anything was possible...except the one thing she wanted most. Her mother. Once she realized Grandfather’s stones could never bring her mother back, she stopped believing.

Until now.

With a trembling hand, Alexandra slid the remaining stones in the hem of her skirt. Her teeth chattered from the biting cold as she tried to think of what to do next. First, she decided, she needed to find the man Grandfather had so often spoken of. If Grandfather’s tales held true that would mean the man on wheels could have been The Chosen One. Grandfather often said she would have no need to search for help because her Knight would find her. When she gazed upon this knight...

She chewed on her bottom lip, trying to remember. Hellspawn! She could remember naught but the fact that this Knight’s eyes would be filled with desperation. Or was it despair? Something in the man’s gaze was to tell her that he was The One. Ludicrous! ’Twould be impossible to stare into the face of every man she came upon.

She studied the path in the snow where the man on wheels had disappeared. The gnawing in her gut subsided somewhat, and she thanked the lord for that, for she would not let grief and sorrow determine her future. She had a family to look after. They were in danger.

A cool breeze whipped strands of hair about her face as she resolved to swallow her fear and self doubts. Fear would not rule her actions. She must keep her wits about her. As sure as the sun rose each day, she would do as Grandfather instructed. She would find a hero. And she would be quick about it. Never mind that finding this man and returning home with him could prove to be her ruination.

Her eye twitched at the thought of being shackled to a man for the remainder of her life. Most of the women in her village longed for a man’s protection, and yet once they found themselves shackled to a man, their plaints were many. Alexandra had enough responsibility. Another mouth to feed, another person to care for; the mere thought was too much to bear. Everyone in the village knew of her fate, for they too had listened to Grandfather’s stories over the years. His prophecy declared that after The Chosen One destroyed the dark cloud hovering over her family, he would then become her husband. But she never worried overly much about her fate, since she believed her grandfather’s tales held no truth.

Being the Holder of the Stones made her the lucky bride-to-be.

A heavy sigh escaped as she started off again, making her way through snow, wondering where she might find a brave, chivalrous soul who championed right against evil and injustice; a man who would never surrender or flinch in the face of the enemy.

She rolled her eyes. Such a chore would be about as easy as finding a snot-nosed ogre. But what choice did she have? If she failed to find help before the next full moon, she would be stuck here forever. That thought quickened her pace. For a year now she had been caring for her younger siblings and elderly grandfather. Every day of late she had prayed for an adventure; wishing she would be taken far from the endless responsibilities.

Be careful what you wish for, for there was no wonder in this adventure suddenly set before her; only a sick worry that gnawed on her bones and pierced her heart with dread.

The sounds of sloshing snow and the intermittent blowing of horns grew louder as she neared the street. One glance upward caused her jaw to fall and her heart to renew its vigorous beating. A massive tower of stone shadowed the people below; a stronghold larger than any castle she had ever seen. Aye, much larger.

She hurried on, her gaze holding fast to the magnificence of such a fortress. As she stepped close to the busy street, the soles of her slippers failed to grip the icy ground. She fell hard and fast. A sharp pain shot through her leg. The ear-piercing blare of another trumpet sounded. She looked up in time to see a gigantic glistening contraption headed straight for her.

“Watch out!” Shelly screamed when a pedestrian exiting Central Park suddenly leapt into the street. Or maybe the person fell, it was hard to tell.

Joe McFarland hit the brakes, causing the car to swerve on the ice-covered road. Keeping a tight grasp on the wheel, he let up on the brakes and prayed the tires would grip pavement. He flattened his palm hard on the horn, and then heard a horrifying thunk.

“Oh, my God!” Shelly cried. “Did you kill her?”

Joe shoved the door open. He sloshed through the snow as he made his way to the front end of his Explorer. Shelly was right. It was a woman. Her clothes were ragged and stained. Instead of shoes, she wore strange looking slippers. The woman looked like one of the many homeless people who inhabited the park. Her clothes and fingernails were dirty, her hair uncombed.

He went down on bended knee and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “Don’t die,” he said.

“Is she breathing?” Shelly asked.

“I don’t know. I’m not getting a pulse. Call 911.”

Joe ignored the intermittent honks and shouts of people in their cars, upset with the delay in traffic, having no idea that someone was hurt.

Unable to find a pulse, he leaned forward, placed his hand beneath the woman’s neck, and covered her mouth with his. Her lips were soft. He released three short breaths, waited, then repeated the process. Her eyes fluttered open before he had time to think of what to do next.

He exhaled; his warm breath a puff of white mist before it evaporated.

The woman stared at him, her eyes curious.

“You’ve been in an accident,” he told her, thankful he hadn’t killed her. “I’m Joe McFarland. I tried to steer away from you.”

“Thank goodness she’s alive,” Shelly said as she moved to his side. “An ambulance is on the way.”

The woman tried to sit up. “’Tis not a lance I need, my lady, but the knight carrying the lance.”

Shelly raised a bewildered brow.

“’Twould be kind of you to help me up,” the woman said, “I am in a dreadful hurry.”

Joe didn’t move. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Ignoring his warning, the woman struggled to get to her feet. Her legs buckled, leaving him with no choice but to catch her in his arms.

A stern looking man behind the wheel of a beat-up truck shouted for them to get off the street. Shelly raised a fist and shook it at him.

Joe didn’t like the idea of moving the injured woman, but he couldn’t very well leave her on the cold ground either so he carried her to the passenger side of his Explorer. Shelly opened the door so he could place the woman on the seat.

As far as he could tell, she wasn’t bleeding. No obvious signs of external damage, other than her odd dialect. That and the fact that she was examining his car’s interior with a fascination usually reserved for small children on their first trip to Disneyland. He admonished himself for stiffening when her dirty fingers glided over the leather interior. She was alive and that’s all that mattered. Thank God he hadn’t killed her, was the mantra running through his mind.

“You’re not worried about your car, are you?” Shelly whispered behind him.

“Of course not.”

Shelly sighed. “I think my heart stopped for a minute there.”

“Yeah, another foot into the street,” Joe said, “and she wouldn’t have had a chance.”

They both watched the woman continue her detailed inspection of his Explorer. She pushed a few buttons, causing the sunroof to slide open and the windshield wipers to squeak against the glass.

Joe looked at Shelly with concern. “Did you hear her speak?”

“Maybe she knocked her head when you hit her,” Shelly said before moving to the woman’s side. “Her teeth are chattering. She’s freezing.” Shelly turned to him. “Give me your coat.”

He pulled off his jacket and handed it to her.

Shelly placed his coat over the woman’s shoulders. They both watched the woman rub her cheek against the soft fabric.

Joe glanced at his watch. What was taking the ambulance so long?

“Help is on the way,” Shelly told the woman. “Do you know your name?”

The woman frowned. “Only a dim-witted idiot would fail to remember his own name.”

“Okay,” Shelly said. “What is it then?”

“Alexandra Adrienna Dunn.”

“That’s some name.”

“My mother’s doing. She was certain she was having twins and thus could not bear to surrender either name when she had only one babe.”

“Fascinating,” Shelly said in earnest. “Now how many fingers am I holding up?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed. “You think I have had no schooling? I may not be of noble birth, but do not assume I cannot read nor write.”

“No, of course not,” Shelly interrupted. “I just wanted to make sure you didn’t hit your head when the Professor ran into you, that’s all.”

The woman’s eyes flashed as she glanced past Shelly to look at him instead, peering deep into his eyes, making Joe feel as if he were hiding some deep dark secret.

Joe jangled the change in his pocket, relieved to hear sirens. The woman flinched at the high-pitched sound, but she continued to stare at him with an intensity that made him nervous. The ambulance weaved through traffic. A police car pulled up to the curb behind them.

As Shelly went to talk to the paramedics, the woman’s attention returned to the interior of his car. Her face was smudged with dirt and it was difficult to determine the color of her hair because it was matted to her head and half covered with muck. Without much thought to what he was doing he reached his hand into the car and removed a leaf from behind her ear.

She slapped his arm.

“Ow! What did you do that for?”

“For touching me...and for kissing me earlier.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. If not for her long hair and the small bones of her wrists, he would’ve thought she was a boy. And here she had the audacity to accuse him of kissing her of all things. “I wasn’t kissing you,” he said. “I tried to feel for your pulse, and when I couldn’t find one, I...”

She gazed downward, touching herself as if to make sure he hadn’t done any damage.

He rolled his eyes. “I was trying to breathe air into your lungs.”

“Do it again and I shall scream.”

“Well, this is just great,” he muttered, thankful to see Shelly heading back with the EMT’s. “They’ll take you to the hospital,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll stay here and fill out an accident report.”

Even beneath the dirt he could see her face pale considerably. “You don’t have to worry about payment,” he said, figuring money was the reason for her concern, “I’ll take care of it.”

“I have not the time to go with those people. I must find the man on wheels.”

Joe glanced around. “I didn’t see a man on wheels.”

“Nay, I do not suppose you did.”

Her sarcasm rang clear. “Now look here, I can see just fine. My car skidded on the ice. There was nothing I could do. It was an accident.”

Her eyes widened. Once again she peered deeply into his eyes as if she were trying to determine if they’d met before. She pointed a finger at him. “It is you!”

Joe grimaced. He could see personal injury lawsuit written all over her face. “Yes, it was me...my fault.”

“Nay,” she said, “that is not my meaning. The man on wheels was not The Chosen One after all. You are The One!”

“Afraid so,” he said glumly, wondering what it would take to get this woman into the ambulance and out of his hair. He didn’t need to be a doctor to see that she wasn’t dying. Clearly her larynx was in fine shape, making it hard for him to believe she was injured at all.

“Both you and your lady friend avowed that you ran into me, did you not?”

Joe exhaled heavily. “I don’t know about avowed, and she’s not exactly my lady friend, although she is my friend and assistant.”

He felt bad enough and people were beginning to gather. The last thing he needed was for someone to recognize him or for one of his students to drive by. He certainly didn’t need any negative publicity right now. Not when he had the Academy reviewing his files, analyzing his character, watching his every move.

“Look into my eyes once more,” the woman demanded.

Joe gestured for Shelly to hurry with the stretcher.

“Ah ha!” she said, startling him. “Verily I do say you look a bit dizzy-eyed and desperate.”

Shelly appeared.

Thank God.

The woman looked to Shelly for affirmation. “His lordship appears desperate, does he not?”

Shelly hardly flinched at his being referred to as his lordship. Shelly merely turned to study his face, then shrugged noncommittally. “Yeah, sure, I guess you could say that. But maybe distressed would better describe his expression.”

“Distressed,” Alexandra repeated softly. “Aye, distressed will do.”

S
itting in bed, in a strange room, Alexandra had naught to do but ponder her predicament. Joe McField...or was it McFaraway? Either way, he was The Chosen One; the man who was going to save her family, her home.

The man she would someday marry.

Her thoughts quickly turned to the ride here and the mind-boggling speed in which the horseless carriage had brought her to this strange place. She looked about, astonished by such cleanliness. Shelly had told her that only the sick and injured stayed in the fortress. The walls and floors were as stark and clean as the finest linen back home.

A gray-haired woman, clad in white, fiddled with a metal box nearby and then left the room without a word said. The bed across from Alexandra was empty and neatly made. No dirt or food scraps covered the floors. Not one blade of grass or straw could be seen.