Once (Gypsy Fairy Tale) (3 page)

Damn that old woman and her stupid chickens...

I dropped the feed into the bed of the truck and when I looked up; my eyes immediately fell on the fairgrounds across the street. The gypsies had brought in trailers and campers of every sort, children were playing everywhere and laundry hung on makeshift clothesline. It was like overnight this odd little neighborhood popped up out of the dirt.

Across the dusty clearing came the man that walked with the horses in the parade. He was carrying a heavy rope of some sort and he was shirtless. The sun glistened on his broad chest and shone through his damp, dark hair.

He walked over to a group of men and dropped the rope from his shoulder as if it weighed nothing. Moments later he was hammering a stake into the ground. Even from where I stood, I could see each and every ripple of each and every muscle.

I couldn’t help but, lick my lips, imagining the salty sweet taste of his skin.

Now that’s the sort of man you don’t see every day...

A tingling on the right side of my face told me that I was being watched. I glanced to my right, and sure enough, the tall man that led the parade was staring me.

Even all the way across the street, he met my eyes. I shrank back, embarrassed as if he could read the lusty thoughts on my mind.

It was me that looked away first. I lowered my eyes and went around to the other side of the truck and got in. I drove off without even looking back in the mirror once.

Chapter 3

It was already dark when I got back to the feed store. Throughout Corydon, the businesses were dark and the sidewalks were empty. Because of that, it made it seem much later than it really was.

Stupid old woman and her stupid chickens...

As I parked and got out of the truck, I heard the distant rumble of thunder. Out of the West came a rain scented breeze, warning me of the impending storm.

I unlocked the door and went inside. I told myself that it was just a quick stop, just long enough to make sure that everything was locked up, and then I could go next door and go to bed.

The store burst into light when I flipped the switch, seeming so much brighter than it ever did during the day. My footsteps echoed as I walked toward the counter, making the room seemed so much larger than it was in reality.

I locked the back door and then went to the counter and opened the register. I thumbed through the receipts and placed them under the drawer. It all seemed in order, nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. I grabbed my keys as another rumble of thunder came and shook the very walls.

A loud bang made me jump and drop everything.

What the hell was that?

My heart was pounding as I stood in the center of the room. I waited, listening and trembling, until I heard the sound again.

This time it was more of a slamming sound. I looked around straining my ears until I heard it again, and looked up where it sounded like it came from to see the upper window had come unlatched.

Of course...

I sighed, drop my keys on the counter, and went back into the store room. I was dead tired, tripping over boxes and bumping into barrels as I pulled the ladder out from the back corner.

Every muscle in my body ached as I dragged it out to the front room and under the window. I climbed up, only to realize that it was too short to reach the latch.

Why can’t anything ever just be easy?

I was too tired to go out back into the barn and search in the dark for a taller ladder. Stupidly, I climbed the remaining two rungs and balanced on the very top.

Stretching up on my toes and wobbling, I reached for the latch and grasped it as the bell on the front door rattled.

There was no time to think, but yet it all seemed to happen in slow motion. I heard the ladder crash to the floor, I felt my stomach rise up to my throat as I fell, and then I stopped, cradled in a blur of black that smelled of clover.

There was a low murmur of a voice I did not recognize in my ear, speaking words I did not understand. I wiggled free of the strangers grasp, wobbling on my feet as I tried to stand.

Looking up, I was staring face-to-face with that younger man from the parade. He was breathtaking to see up close with full lips and overpowering emerald eyes. I swallowed a few times, trying to remember how to even form words.

“I’m sorry,” I somehow managed to mumble as I backed away.

He cocked one dark eyebrow and pulled those pouty lips into a smirk.

“You are apologizing for falling then?”

His voice was enchanting. There was a beautiful Irish lilt to it, but also something else, something hypnotic and mesmerizing that made it difficult to think clearly.

“I um... I guess so.” I stammered, almost tripping over myself to get behind the counter and put some distance between us.

He moved closer, his steps graceful and light as a feather.

“Are you afraid of me for some reason?”

“Of course not,” I said with a nervous giggle, hating the sound of my own voice. “But why are you here?”

“Ah, so it is like that is it?”

I could feel the heat coming to my face, “No, I just mean, it’s so late in the storm coming in...”

“Horse and mule feed.”

“What?”

He smiled; it was a quick flash of white teeth in his tanned face.

“I’m here for horse and mule feed,” he repeated. “Preferably with molasses.”

“Seriously?”

“You sell feed, do you not?”

“Of course.”

He raised his eyebrow again, “Don’t tell me you’re closed.”

“Yes, but it
’s fine.” I said, fidgeting from one foot to the other. “Well, what I mean is that it’s the least I can do.”

He kept looking at me with those amazing green eyes and amused expression.

I pointed to the bags stacked in the corner, “Just go ahead and take what you need.”

“I can’t do that Miss," he said with a shake of his head. “I can’t be taking what I haven’t paid for.”

I didn’t know how to react to his quick change in mood. It was almost like I had offended him or something, but something about it had me wondering how fast the police could get here.

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly and opened up the receipt book. “How many bags do you need?”

“Just two.”

“Okay,” I said and went back to writing out his order, anything to give me something to do so that I wouldn’t have to look at him.

He moved closer, shadowing the counter.

“My name is Kieran,” he said in his musical voice. “Just in case you were curious.”

I didn’t look up, I couldn’t, my hands were trembling and I knew my cheeks were flaming. It would only be worse if I looked up.

Is he actually flirting with me?

He rested his elbows on the counter, close enough that I could smell the rich clover smell again.

“And what would your name be?” He asked, almost teasing me.

“Harmony,” I answered in a shaky voice. “Harmony Jacobson.”

“Well, don’t we have a pair of unusual names?”

I didn’t answer him. To save myself the embarrassment, I pretended that writing out his receipt took all of my concentration.

“I’m just making polite conversation here,” he teased. “You don’t have to be so embarrassed.”

When I looked up, he was staring at me with those intense green eyes. I couldn’t speak, all that I could do was take his money and hand him his receipt.

He went over to the corner and picked up the two bags of feed as if they weighed nothing, hoisting both up on one shoulder. Stopping at the door, he looked back and gave me one last dazzling smile.

“I shall be seeing you, Harmony Jacobson.”

I remained behind the counter after he left; my heart was beating so fast I was afraid to move from that spot.

Did that really just happen?

After what seemed like a long while, my pulse finally stopped thundering in my ears. I was able to let go of the counter edge and walk out to the fallen ladder in the center of the room.

I dragged it back into the storeroom and leaned it against the wall, knowing that it was not where it originally was, but not really caring. My earlier exhaustion was now completely mind numbing. All that I wanted to do was get to bed.

I picked up my keys, switched off the lights and stepped outside. As I locked the door, I could hear the music drifting over from across the street. Even though the rest of the town was dark and quiet, the camp at the fairgrounds was alive with lights and activity.

It was like an entirely different world, brought right here to our tiny little town.

Chapter 4

That night when I fell asleep, I dreamed about the mysterious strangers that had come to our town.

In my dream, it was a beautiful spring night. I was sitting out on the front porch, my fingers and toes numb from the chill in the air, but I still wasn’t ready to go inside.

Sitting next to me, very much alive, was Grandma, rocking back and forth in the old porch swing. Her lips were moving as if she was speaking to me, but it was as though she was muted and I couldn’t hear what she was saying.

Far off, piercing the stillness of the night, came a whining sort of sound that traveled on the breeze. My grandma and I both turned, straining to hear.

“What is that?” I asked, but my words didn’t make a sound, like the air just swallowed them up.

When I turned to see if she had heard me, I saw that she wasn’t looking at me. She had risen from the swing and was walking down the steps and off of the porch.

“Grandma!”

Again my words died in the air and didn't make a sound. She didn’t even turn to glance back. Where was she going?

I followed her, pushing through air that suddenly seemed thick as if to hold me back. I felt as though I was swimming, fighting to move at all. It was a struggle to even keep up with her as she moved down the street to the bridge, and down the steep creek bank.

Where was she going and why couldn’t I move faster?

I slid down the bank, falling to my knees at the bottom with my hands in the icy water. My grandmother was nowhere to be seen, but the whining sound was clearer to where I could tell now that it was a violin.

As I moved toward the music, I began to also hear the pulsating beat of a drum. Who was out here playing this strange music?

Far off, deep in the darkness, was a flickering light and moving towards that light and just up ahead, was my grandmother. She walked along the bank quickly, never pausing to look back.

I moved faster, staggering among the puddles and driftwood. I knew that there should be houses up and down the bank, but there was only darkness. There was no light to guide me other than the orange glow up ahead.

As I moved closer to the light, I could see that it was a campfire of some sort. My grandmother slowed to where I was able to catch up with her, and even though I took her hand, she never turned to me and didn’t answer when I spoke to her.

On the other side of the campfire, sitting on large logs of driftwood, was Kieran and the dark haired man that led the parade. Kieran was playing some sort of drum and the other man was playing a violin while the two girls danced around the fire.

I clutched at Grandma’s hand and hung back in the shadows, frightened by the noise and activity, but dazzled by the beauty of these strangers.

I recognized the girls as the black haired beauty that walked with Kieran and the horses, and the stunning flame haired fire eater. They spun in circles, their flowing dresses standing out so that I could see their slender and tanned legs.

Why were they here on the banks of the creek where everything was damp and cold?

I wanted to ask my grandmother why they were here of all places, and again, the air took the sound out of my words. I turned to her, but she was already pulling away from me.

She was moving closer to the light of the campfire and with each step she seemed to be growing younger and younger until she looked no older than the other girls. She was a beautiful, young, dancing stranger.

All I could do was watch as she danced while the music got louder and louder until it filled my head and pushed out everything else. Everything began to spin, Kieran and the other man, Grandma and the dancing girls. All of it faster and faster, until suddenly I was falling into a pit of nothingness...

I woke up on the floor next to my bed, tangled in the blankets with an aching lump just above my temple.

The next morning was a blur as I was still tired from the night before and could barely concentrate long enough to write out customer orders. Again and again I had to ask people to repeat what they wanted or I gave them the incorrect change.

Poor Alec repeatedly apologized for me, jumping in to save me from my frustrated patrons.

“What is up with you today?” He asked when the morning rush was over. “You seem sort of out of it.”