Caren was dying.
Looking at her, you'd never know it. In fact, her doctor would probably argue that breast cancer wasn't a death sentence anymore, but she knew that could end up being bullshit. Her soul was already in an advanced state of decomposition. It just figured with her luck that her body would follow suit.
Fuck my life. Fuck it all. Nothing's left.
She stopped to wipe the sweat off her forehead, looking across the desert to where the sunlight glared off the mountain. So hot. She'd forgotten just how much power the light had, heating the dry, cracked earth, reflecting off of every rock. Barren. Completely and utterly barren. Like my future.
She walked a bit farther, appreciating the coolness when the sun went behind a cloud. She'd made a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave home and spend time with her Dad. Ever since Mom died, he'd been trying to get her home for a visit, but she hadn't come. At first, it was because Daniel didn't feel like going, then when he walked out she kept saying she didn't have the time. Funny thing about cancer - it really makes you re-evaluate time in a new and very thorough way.
Suddenly, a trip to the old homestead was a necessity. She'd arrived last night, but headed out early today, telling Dad she wanted to go for a hike. He gave a token protest for her health - which was fine at the moment. She wasn't set to start chemo for another week. He couldn't come along anyway. It had been years since the state of his health would allow him to walk more than ten minutes at a stretch.
The wind picked up, just as she reached the foothills. She shielded her eyes with a hand as she looked up from the gully. What the.... Storm clouds were covering the sky and the wind was whipping harder now. She had to get out of the gully, get higher before the rain started. Flash floods were prevalent when the ground was this dry - you'd think it would soak right in, but it didn't work that way. The water ran first. It had been years since she lived here, but that much she remembered. She scrambled frantically up the rocks just as the hard, fat raindrops started to fall.
Her eyes scanned the side of the mountain for an outcropping she could take shelter under, maybe a boulder if it had the right shape. She'd just pulled herself over a ledge when she saw the cave. It appeared to be shallow, and what light there was seemed to illuminate most of it. If she moved slowly, and stayed near the front, she should be okay. She stepped in cautiously.
A sudden shift in the shadows startled a short scream out of her, as she realized it wasn't an animal or a snake sharing her space, but a man.
"Oy!" He shouted in response.
"Sorry - I, uh....I was just getting out of the rain. Sorry. I'll go."
"There's no point in that. You've already seen me."
She froze. Oh my God. She was going to die. Funny, she'd come out here to contemplate her own death, yet here she stood with a serial killer or a criminal who obviously didn't want to be ID'd, and she found herself rooted in terror at the thought of dying right now.
"I haven't seen you at all, promise!" She was babbling, and she knew it. "It's too dark. I can't see you even a little bit. Nothing. Nothing at all." Even as she said it, her eyes strained in the dim to see, to identify the threat. And he seemed to know it.
He sighed. "I suppose you've got a request?"
"Huh?" She was completely taken aback. And what kind of accent was that? British? Australian?
He stepped forward, and she saw him clearly. Brownish-red hair, about five foot nine, and a face that belonged in an ad for Armani. He was wearing non-descript brown pants and a white shirt, and didn't look as though he lived in a cave at all. Nor did he look like he was out on a hike. Who was he, and what was he talking about?
"Don't just stand there, lass. Speak up. I haven't got the whole of the day, you know."
Irish. He was Irish. She could hear it now. She stepped further in, a bit cautiously.
"I'm sorry - I didn't hear you. Did you need something?"
"Save me." She heard him exclaim, under his breath. "I have precious little time and a lot to be done today. If you'll just get on with it, I'll be going then."
"Get on with what?"
He stepped closer and she smelled...flowers? No. Fresher. Like newly mown grass or the breeze over a creek. And his eyes were green. Very, very green. All other thought seemed to have fled out of her head.
"You've seen me fair and square. Now I'll be granting your wish and we'll be parting ways, if you please."
"Wish? Grant my wish? What are you, a genie or something?
He snorted in disgust. "Is it because I'm in the desert, then? It's true, we're not out here much. I suppose without anything green around you wouldn't make the association, as it were."
She stared, dumbfounded. "You're a leprechaun?"
He gave a cheeky grin, touching his fingertips to his head in a mock salute. "Top o' the morning to you."
"Aren't you supposed to give me a pot of gold or something? And isn't it supposed to be three wishes, not one?"
"I should have cards made up with all this upon it so that I may hand them out instead of endlessly repeating myself. It does get tiring. Now, listen closely. One wish. One. The pot o' gold and the extra wishes were all the product of stories, inflated and passed along through the centuries. Someone wished for a pot o' gold, and one of us complied. Someone bragged that he got three wishes once instead of one - which was a lie, and that's a fact - and there you have it. Myth. Legend. Bunk, on occasion. So what's it to be for you?"
"Aren't you supposed to be small?"
He looked good and pissed now. "We're not six feet but I'd hardly say we were tiny. Fergus was the shortest, and he's the one they remember. Drunken, stupid, dancing Fergus. Gave us all a bad name."
Caren found herself laughing, shaking her head as if to clear it.
"I'm dreaming. I must've slipped and hit my head. Or I drowned in a flash flood. This is nuts."
"I haven't all day, lass. Do you have a wish, or don't you?"
She stared at him thoughtfully, deciding at last to just go with it. What did she have to lose, after all?
"I do."
"Is it riches, then? True love? A fine house? Don't be asking me to raise the dead, though, unless they're only just passed. They come out looking rather moldy otherwise."
"I want you."
"Beg pardon?"
"You. I want your hands on me. I want you on me. I want you."
He gazed at her, wide-eyed and wary. "Oh lass, you don't know what you ask."
"I do. I have no husband, not anymore. I have no one. I'm facing an illness that may very well kill me. Who would have me now? I haven't been held, I haven't been touched in so long, I don't know that I remember what it feels like. If I only get a few moments of the warmth of your body and mine, that's worth several pots of gold to me. Do you understand?"
Strangely enough, he did. Her loneliness called to him on some fundamental level. Immortality, for all its plusses, was a solitary thing when all was said and done. Affection was fleeting, and more so in the context of a life without end. He stepped closer, feeling a pull to her that wasn't entirely empathy. The storm raged outside, and it felt as though a current were passing between his body and hers. He pulled her close, wrapping his hand in her wet hair, tilting her head back to look her full in the face.
"Now, then, lass - "
"Caren."
"Caren. I'm Aengus."
"Isn't that a Scottish name?"
He rolled his eyes before he brought his mouth down to hers. She started a bit, freezing for a moment, then relaxing, melting. molding herself to him. He lowered her to the cave floor, transforming it to a mound of soft grass, teased with the scent of flowers. She didn't seem to notice, closing her eyes to lose herself in the feel of his hands and his lips as he slid her clothes from her body.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like to do this elsewhere, lass?"
"No. Here. Now. With the dirt on my back and the rain beating down and your body on mine." She tugged at his clothing, feeling it disappear, then wrapped her legs around him.
"And I suppose you'll be wanting me to please you, then?"
Her eyes opened in surprise. "No, that's okay. Don't feel like you have to...well...you know. I don't - I - I'm not easily pleased." Her gaze shifted to the side, and she swallowed hard. "I just want to feel needed. Even if it's only for a little while."
Aengus was undone. His mouth found her neck and his hand slid down between them to stroke and prod and caress her into readiness. She arched into his hand, her head tilted back and her hands moving feverishly across his back and his upper arms as he slid inside her, and felt her welcome him.
They moved with the rain setting rhythm, just her and him and the earth and the wind and he couldn't get enough of her. He pulled her legs higher as he slid his arm beneath her back, lifting her to him as he shifted slightly. He felt her legs stiffen, and her moan brought a smile to his face, even as he fought his reaction to it. He shortened his strokes, quickened his pace, and her nails dug into his shoulders as her pleasure washed over her, pulling him into the maelstrom as well.
She woke alone, and the storm was gone. A small lizard, taking refuge from the sun, was inches from her nose. Caren sat up slowly, looking down to see her clothing, damp, but drying, and most definitely in place. She glanced around, knowing it must have been a dream, but marveling at the clarity of it. She rolled to her knees, preparing to get to her feet.
Whoa.
She sat back down, smiling. Aengus could try to cover his tracks, but there was no mistaking the loose-limbed, sack-of-potatoes heft of a well-pleased woman. Lord knows, she'd felt it few enough times that it definitely stood out when she had it. And she had it now. Oh, she had it in spades. Or should she say "shamrocks"? She got to her feet, stumbled outside, and broke into a wide grin as she saw the rainbow.
An hour later, she walked in the door at her father's house, tossing her car keys onto the counter in the kitchen. Her father was on the couch, and leaned forward as she walked in.
"Don't get up, Dad, I'll come to you." She walked over, perching on the arm of the couch. She gave him an awkward one-armed hug as she unlaced her shoes with her other hand. "You hungry? I could eat a bear. Just let me get the hiking shoes off and we can go."
"I can go anytime you're ready, but first, you've got a message." He stood up, stretching. Then he took a step, and a bewildered look crossed his face.
"Dad? What's the matter?"
"Huh. That's the darndest thing. That old hip of mine isn't hurting today. And my back doesn't have a crick in it, either."
"That's good, isn't it?"
"I'll say. Why don't we walk around the mall a bit after lunch?"
"Sounds good to me. What was the message you had for me?"
"Oh, your cell phone rang while you were gone." He handed it to her. "Guess you forgot and left it behind."
She took the phone, punching in her voicemail code and listening as she stepped into her sandals. A moment later, the phone slid out of her hand, hitting the floor.
"Caren!" Her father said, alarmed. "Are you OK?"
She retrieved the phone, holding up her finger for silence as she punched in the code to listen to the message again. And again. She ended the call, sinking into the couch in a daze.
"They made a mistake."
"What?"
"The doctor's office. The oncologist made a mistake. They mixed up my results with someone else's. I don't have cancer."
"Honey!" Her father pulled her up into a massive bear hug. She hugged back fiercely, nearly dancing with the news.
"I don't have cancer!!! Let's celebrate!"
They headed up the road to a nearby native-owned casino, where she hit the big jackpot on the progressive slots with her very first quarter. Two hundred seven thousand dollars, plus a new Mercedes.
While they were interviewing her for a local news story, a visiting television producer pulled her aside to tell her that he thought she had amazing presence and charm. He was putting together a show for the Travel Channel, and thought she'd be the perfect host. He then booked a two-week vacation for her at one of the most exclusive resorts in the Caribbean, telling her to get a feel for the job before her first assignment, a culinary tour of Italy.
No one was terribly surprised to see her move into the huge mansion they were building on the hill overlooking Rainbow Valley. Rumor had it the owner had won back-to-back PowerBall and MegaMillions lotteries, and wanted some seclusion. From time to time, you could see her out on the deck, usually during rainstorms. And the house was perched just high enough, that when they came, it looked like the rainbows seemed to stop at her door.