Wilde's Meadow (Darkness Falls #3) (18 page)

Dropping my towel, I climb back into the shower. “Please?”

His armor drops to the floor with a thud, then his belt jingles. Arland holds the curtain, warily staring at the modern shower.

“This won’t be like our baths in Encardia, but I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry I keep pushing you away. I’m worried about … about a lot of things.” So many things: my sister, Flanna, Perth, Rhoswen, Cadman … not
things
, people. I
love
them all. I’m responsible for them in so many ways. Being separated is torture.

Heat floods my face, resting behind my eyes, and weight presses on my chest. What if the Bheagans hurt Flanna or Vanora? What if the Gaothans don’t trust my sister, or innocent Tristan?

“I am sure they miss you as well, Kate, but this is where
we
are supposed to be.” He clenches his teeth but climbs in beside me, taking my hands in his. Arland moves closer and closer, until we’re both standing under the constant stream of hot water, bodies pressed together. “Our people need us. They depend on our ability to save their lives. Being here is not any easier on me—I have family fighting in this war, too—but we
are
here, together, for a reason.”

He presses me against the cold tile walls, leaning his strong, well-defined body against my bare skin, and touches his lips to mine. My heart races. So much time has passed since we were this close, since I felt his love, his intensity. I love him; I
need
him. Now. Every day. Forever.

“I love you,” he whispers, water bouncing off his face and onto mine.

“And I love you.”

A permanent grin is plastered to my face. I don’t care if I look ridiculous or not. I will not ever again feel guilty about spending quality time with my husband. Our love is what will win this war and end the reign of Darkness in Encardia, and I cannot let anything stand in the way.

“Something smells good,” Arland whispers, nudging me from my bed, but I don’t move.

Instead, I stare at the plastic stars on the ceiling, the ones Brad and I put up when we were in middle school. Lying next to Arland in the bed I’ve shared with Brad so many times, with my lavender quilt tangled around our legs, doesn’t feel wrong. If Gary weren’t trapped in time, I might be a little nervous about this, but the fact everything stands still tells me life is so much bigger than what he’d think if he caught me in bed with a man … husband or not.

“Do you think she’s destroyed the kitchen?” I ask, turning over to gaze into Arland’s eyes.

His touch holds so much warmth and tenderness as he tucks hair behind my ear and scoots closer to me. Arland’s strength and passion for life, and every person he knows, makes me incredibly lucky to be able to call him mine.

“I am sure the kitchen is—”

Pots and pans crash together, echoing throughout my family’s thin-walled farmhouse.

Arland laughs. “I am sure nothing is burned, at least.”

I kiss his slightly crooked nose, then roll out of bed. “I’m going to check on her.”

Groaning, he follows me and opts to wear pajamas from Gary’s room. Arland in black sweats and a tight, white T-shirt is a very odd combination.

“You don’t have to come.” I slide a cotton tank top over my head, then climb into a pair of gray and white striped pants. “These clothes seem alien to me now. I’ve grown accustomed to the gowns I slept in back home.”

“Do you know what home is anymore?” He shakes his head as though he’s quite sure of the answer already.

“Home is … .” A heavy weight presses on my chest, not nearly as tight as the burden of worrying for the others, but only slightly.
Do
I know where home is anymore? Certainly wherever Arland lives is where I want to be, but what place calls to me? Where do I want to live when this is all over? Do I want to be a Leader of Encardia or a farmer in Virginia? “You’re right. I don’t know. Wherever home is, it’s with you.”

Taking my hand, Arland crosses the room and we head downstairs. He stops as we reach the last step and see the kitchen is
not
on fire. “You look good here. I like it, too.”

My heart smiles for me. “You mean wherever I go, you’ll follow.” Not a question. A statement. I love him, and he loves me. We are a family.

“Hey, Kate! Flanna would be jealous if she knew what incredible cooking tools you have here.” Muriel peeks up the stairs, her face white with flour, her tunic covered in kitchen mess. “I made bread and chicken stew.” She holds up a pan with a beautiful loaf of steaming bread. “Nothing is rotted. All the food is fresh and warm, though I doubt supplies will last long, since nothing is actually … you know … doing anything.”

We burst out laughing. She’s so proud of herself, so at ease, and so capable.

“
I don’t need a night to sleep on it. Muriel should stay here, assuming we can figure out how to maintain food supplies for her
.” I lean into Arland, and he wraps his arms around me.

“
Do you want to tell her
?”

“
Not yet. Let’s eat first
.” I sigh, a good, relieved sigh. “Did you find the dishes?”

She grabs my arm and yanks me into the kitchen. “I found so many wonderful things. I hope you love what I made.”

Pointing at the table, Muriel smiles expectantly. She’s set out my mother’s fine china, napkins, and glassware. Heat rises from the stew in her ivory tureen. Muriel places the loaf of bread on a serving platter next to a bowl of butter. I’m not even sure how she knew to do this, how Muriel knew this was proper.

“This is incredible, Muriel.” I look at the butcher-block countertops and in the sink. Everything is clean, organized. “You did all this while we were showering?”

“And while you were resting.”

My cheeks burn. She’s so innocent. Muriel has handled this kitchen better than I ever have.

“Thank you,” I say.

Arland pulls out my chair for me. “Have a seat.”

Muriel bounces up and down, then runs over to her chair and waits for him to do the same. “My parents used to set up formal dinners, so when the war was over, my brother—”

Tears well in her eyes, but she smiles anyway.

Arland and I remain quiet. We don’t need to say anything. I sit down and allow her to have her moment.

She shakes her head. “So we would know how to exist as civilized people.”

“They taught you quite well, Muriel.” Arland does his gentlemanly duty and offers her a seat. “This is a finer setting than anything I saw as the son of a High Leader.”

Her face beams with awe, her eyes wide and mouth open. “Really?”

“Yes,” he says, sitting across from me. Arland places his napkin in his lap, then grabs his silverware with the grace of … a man in high society. I guess that makes sense, but I’ve not seen this side of him. I’ve witnessed the warrior Arland, the man who barely eats because he’s too concerned with what’s going on around him. I’ve seen the outcast Arland, the man who refuses to eat with Leaders because he believes them to be scum. But I’ve not seen refined Arland. They are all amazing.

He winks at me, grabs the ladle from the tureen, then offers Muriel some soup. She lifts her bowl, and he fills it with the yummy smelling stew. He does the same for me and then himself. Celery, carrots, chicken, even noodles. How long were we upstairs that she was able to prepare all this? Noodles take hours to make from scratch. The chicken is tender and falling apart.

I dip my spoon into the stew, then take a bite. Salt and oil and deliciousness. “Mmm. How did you make this so fast, Muriel? It’s incredible.”

She shrugs. “You were upstairs for at least four hours.”

Arland and I drop our spoons. No way were we upstairs that long. Did we fall asleep?

“Did I say something?” Muriel asks, breathing heavily, looking from Arland to me, tears finally spilling over her eyes.

“Four hours, are you sure?” My heart races. I’m not quite sure why. I just know something is weird. Four hours would be enough time to cook all this, but we were upstairs for only an hour, hour and a half max.

“We need to tell her, Kate. You have already made the decision, and I think we need to go back to Encardia.
Now
.” Arland stands, every visible muscle tense and taught.

“But we don’t have Gary or Mr. Tanner yet.” I grab Muriel’s hand before she breaks down any further. She’s clammy and whimpering. “It’s okay. Something tells me although we’re not trapped in time, time isn’t moving quite as we think it is.”

He leans across the table, expression dead serious. “You have made the decision, Kate. Read the letter.”

“What decision?”

I take a deep breath. “Do you want to return to Encardia, or would you prefer to stay here?”

“By myself?” She sits forward and wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Yes, assuming we figure out a way to keep food coming in while we’re away.”

Muriel glances around the kitchen, then at the table, and half-smiles through her pain. “My parents are dead, and so is my brother. This place has everything I need. I do not want to return to Encardia.”

“Then you can stay—”

“And we need to go.” Arland rushes up the steps.

“Where are you going?”

He leans over the railing. “To get our clothes, armor, and the letters. We are leaving.”

Chapter Fourteen

We gather at the railing by the arena. I’d stand inside, but my Paint has her legs stretched like she was galloping around with Gary on her. I’m not about to read this letter, potentially starting time again, just to have her run over us.

“Okay, we’re as close to him as we’re going to get.”

“What does the next flap say?” Arland asks, reading over my shoulder.

“Patience.” Hands shaking, I pull open the next piece of Mom’s origami puzzle. “Hold the world in its graceful slumber, maintaining this near-permanent summer, but free those who Katriona needs, and release the animals so the girl they can feed.”

A rooster crows, and we all startle. No lightning. No gigantic display of godly power like when we pulled the portals close to us in Encardia. Just read a few words and in an instant, the spell breaks. Weird.

“The last words on the page say: wait ten minutes for Mr. Tanner.”

Arland taps my shoulder. “I believe it worked … .”

I look up and meet eyes with my stepdad. He pulls on the horse’s reins and trots her over to the railing.

“Kate.” Gary stares at Arland, then me, then Muriel. “Why are you here, and
what
are you and your friends wearing?”

What did Mom do to him? I live here—or lived here, but to him I’ve only been gone a couple weeks. On vacation. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”

He climbs from the gift he gave me then pushes through the gate, leading her toward the stalls. “Your mother made it clear I would never see you again.”

“I don’t know why she did what she did,” I say, rushing after him.

Arland and Muriel stay by the fence.

“It wasn’t fair. Mom should have told you the truth. You’re family. But then again, she never told me the truth either.” Or she told me only what I needed to know.

Gary removes my horse’s gear, then turns right and lets my horse into the pasture. Makes sense. He needs to clean out the stalls first. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Of course not, and I don’t think I can explain it to you right now. There’s not enough time.”

We stand on the bottom rail of the fence, a favorite act of ours, and watch as she trots away, tail perked up. Her brown and white coat shines in the bright, morning sun.

Gary glances at me and laughs. “You haven’t answered my question.”

Looking down at myself, I know he must think I’ve lost my mind. My armor—
armor
—is stained with red, covered in dirt, and makes me look like I take those dinner and jousting restaurants way too seriously. “If I answer your question, you won’t believe the words I speak.”

“And you talk differently.” My stepdad turns and places his hands on my shoulders. “No, you look different. Still the same beautiful girl, but more mature.”

He looks behind me; it doesn’t take a genius to know he suspects something of me and Arland. Gary is a parent; they know these things.