Chris noticed a lantern in the distance. It was bobbing a bit but didn't seem to be getting any closer. "Is somebody there?"
The lantern made some progress, slowly and tentatively. "It's me," said a gentle voice.
"Oh."
A nervous lump lodged itself in his throat. He tried to get rid of it by swallowing. But doing so only created a new lump in his stomach. After what Joe had accused him of the night before, most of which he denied, he was about to be alone with the fairy princess.
This is a test, he decided. Some higher power was testing his willpower and judgment. And that power was laughing at him, knowing he wasn't good at tests.
"Expecting someone else?" Cassie appeared by the lowest rock.
"No . . . well . . . yes." Chris skipped down and helped her up. "I thought you might be my father, coming to share wisdom," he said, deepening his voice with sarcasm. He took her hand and led her over a deep gorge. "Or Joe, coming to . . . well, I don't know. Remind me again of his purpose?"
"To provide the great earth with intelligence and wit, deep and vast as the ocean," she said as they climbed upon the highest rock, "and to bestow upon us . . . humble us . . . with other praiseworthy attributes, numerous as stars in the sky." She spun around in a circle with a giggle while gesturing to the heavens with both hands.
"Yeah, that! How could I forget?"
Chris glanced at the slightly off-shoulder dress Cassie had bought at the market—the delicate pink fabric light against her sunburned skin, now turning to a tan. He made an effort not to glance again, but the image was ingrained, the damage done. A cold sweat broke out on his palms and lower back.
He took a seat at the rock's edge and let his legs dangle over the side. When he looked over his shoulder, she was still at the far end of the rock, tiptoes pressed into place. Her wide eyes seemed fixed on something present—a rock, a ledge, the dark space over the water—and distant—the debilitating memory of something or someone.
Her fear of the water put his angst into perspective. The will I, won't I, can I, should I seemed of little consequence in a world where tomorrow was no guarantee. What she needed more than anything was a friend, and he could be that for her.
When Cassie realized he was watching her, she smiled like nothing was wrong and sat down in the spot where she'd been standing. She adjusted her skirt around her legs, bent to the side. She reminded him of a rose with pink petals.
"So you don't want to watch the prodigal son get his merit badge in magic?" Chris asked, keeping to the safe topic of his brother.
"No, playing with a gorilla sounds much more fun."
He grimaced over his shoulder. "Hey, that's not nice."
"In all seriousness, Chris, try not to take it personally. Magic has a certain mystery to it. Although it's possible to overcome any shortcomings with perseverance, in most cases you're either born with the ability or you're not. Can you guess which category I represent?"
He pushed away from the ledge and turned to face her. He leaned on his hands and crossed his legs at the ankle. "Team gorilla?"
"Ha," Cassie retorted. "And I thought Joe was the funny one."
"Oh, so Joe's the funny one too!" Chris threw his eyes to heaven. "What does that make me known for? Temper tantrums?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Sure, why not? But be nice. I have a fragile male ego."
"I'll try to keep that in mind." She paused and bit her lip as she settled on her answer. "From my perspective you are full of passion. You say exactly what you feel. You do exactly what you are compelled to do. When you are upset, or angry, or frustrated, you act without thinking rather than think without acting. Some, perhaps, would call you impetuous or reckless. Others might call you brave."
Chris raised one eyebrow, impressed. "I think I know what your fairy superpower is."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You're eerily perceptive sometimes, and you have a way with words. You can describe a head case like me and make it sound like poetry."
"You're not a head case," she assured him, and they weren't just kind words. She seemed to believe them. "And perceptiveness and poetry won't save lives or win battles."
"They might be more useful than 'acts without thinking,'" Chris replied, mocking her voice.
"I'm not convinced. I'm not allowed to train with you, and I'm not brilliant like my father or like Andromeda in any way—"
"Thankfully! I don't even want to imagine a Cassiopeia/Andromeda duo—the world as we know it would be over!"
Cassie laughed. "I suppose we may find out some day if my 'fairy superpower' can pull any weight in the war against evil."
"You never know. You might surprise yourself!" he responded brightly.
"I hope so."
Cassie then rose to her feet, her petal-like skirt settling around her knees. "I'll be right back. I have something for you." She skipped down the rocks and disappeared into the reeds by the side of the lagoon.
Chris stood, too, to watch her go . . . and return. Cassie climbed back up the rocks with something tucked underneath her arm. Whatever it was, it had flowers braided around it. He reached out to help her over the last stone, but instead of taking his hand, she placed the long bundle into it.
"That," he said, "looks like a baseball bat."
"It is," Cassie said.
"Nicely done. May I?" he asked untangling the flowers from the smooth wood.
She nodded and returned to her previous sitting position. "Happy birthday."
Chris took a few practice swings. "Thanks. And how did you know it was my birthday?"
"Joe mentioned it."
Chris snickered. Of course he did. "I'm sure Joe also mentioned that turning thirty makes me an old man. . . ." Chris had a feeling he didn't want to know, but that was the exact reason he should ask the dreaded question, How old are you?
"Let me save you the trouble," Cassie said as if reading his thoughts. "I turned twenty on December 6th. You are nine years and eleven months older than I am."
Chris felt like he got the wind kicked out of him. He pulled himself together with a few choking breaths and threw a pebble into the air. He hit it into the high trees and lost sight of it in the darkness.
"Does that bother you?" she asked meekly.
He shrugged, not knowing how to answer at first. A ten-year age gap was at the high end of being socially acceptable by human standards. But in the fairy world? Age might not have the same significance. And what Cassie lacked in years, she made up for in life experience.
After his brother had accused him of "moving on" too quickly, Chris had been up most of the night, sleepless with a combination of anger and guilt. Was Joe right? After all, Alana had died and he had met Cassie less than two weeks ago. Then it came to him. He hadn't chosen to move on from Alana. Cassie had simply come along and demonstrated both compassion and understanding, and this whole experience was something beyond his or her control. And then he had fallen into a peaceful sleep.
He didn't know how much time he had. Even if Andromeda never found them, he was training for the very real possibility of a full-blown fairy war in the Ewa Forest. Every day was a gift, and he might as well spend as much time as he could with someone who made him happy.
"No," he finally said. "Unless it bothers you."
"Not in the least."
"Well then, I guess we can be friends."
"Friends," she repeated.
"Right," he said, and then he presented the bat to her, ready to start a friendly game of pitch and catch. "Do you want to try it?"
Her eyes widened. "I don't know how."
"I'll show you."
Chris waved for her to come closer.
She took the bat and held it in both hands, one on top of the other, with her elbows locked straight.
He stood behind her, pulled the bat closer, and separated her hands a little. "Are you right-handed?"
"I usually write with my right hand because it is more efficient. Faster, you could say. But the handwriting that results from my left hand is more pleasing to the eye. Then there are other circumstances where I prefer my left hand. It really depends on what I'm doing."
He chuckled under his breath.
"Right's fine," she corrected simply.
"Good!"
Chris squared off her hips and lifted her right elbow. Then he went in front of her. He turned and lifted her chin. Their glances bumped into each other as he removed his hand from her face.
He deflected his eyes to her hands, and once he was done repositioning them, he jumped back to finish the lesson. "Look to the left, bend your knees slightly, and keep your legs shoulder-width apart."
Chris walked a few paces away to get a better look at her stance and laughed aloud once he saw her. Then he went back over.
"I'm glad I entertain you," she huffed as he readjusted her hands again.
"The bat is bigger than you are. You need to choke up a bit and put your hands closer together so it's not flopping all over the place."
"Better?"
He stepped away again. "Looks much better. Now you're ready to hit something."
"Are you really going to throw something at me?"
"Isn't that the point?" he asked with his hands in the shape of a "W."
She didn't look too sure.
"Come on. I'll be careful." He picked up a pebble. "It's a good stress reliever. You'll see."
He found a good spot and threw the stone toward her, slow and underhanded. She swung hard but missed.
"See? It's not that hard!"
"I didn't hit anything yet!"
"Yeah, but that was a decent swing."
He picked up another pebble and tried again. This time she made contact. She hit it high and to Chris's right side. He tried to jump for it, but the rock flew behind him.
"Not bad! Isn't baseball fun? You'll probably be spitting, swearing, and—my personal favorite—heckling your opponents by the end of the night."
"I'm not sure about that." She returned the bat to him and sat back down.
For a few minutes, he tossed rocks to himself and hit them into the darkness. When he'd had enough, he took a seat next to her.
"Well, thanks for remembering my birthday. And for the gift," he said, balancing the bat on his palm. "At least somebody remembered. If Alana were still alive, I'd probably be at a party in my honor right now. She liked parties more than I ever did."
"I would imagine it's difficult to be back in the place where you met. Everything must remind you of her."
"Definitely," he said, purposefully evading elaboration and still maneuvering the bat around in his hand.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He stabilized the bat with a squeeze on the bottom and gave her his full attention. "Why? Is it sharing time?" He raised an eyebrow.
"Perhaps." She raised an eyebrow back at him.
"Does that mean you'll tell me your story?"
"Why? Will you tell me yours?"
"Maybe. I'll let you have one question." He pointed the bat at her good-naturedly. "And in exchange, you can tell me something I want to know."
"Is it imperative we bargain over questions?"
"Don't try to distract me with words like 'imperative.' Do we have a deal or not?"
"Yes, but I want to ask first."
When she smiled and laced her hands beneath her chin, Chris lost the nerve to challenge her. "Okay."
"All right, then . . . how did you and your wife meet and fall in love?"
"Wow. You get right to the point. But first, I should warn you. I'm not much of a storyteller. Whenever anyone asked us how we met, Alana always told them, every funny and embarrassing detail."
"I'm sure you'll do fine."
He nodded once before he began. "So my dad brought the whole family to Hawaii that infamous summer because he knew some retired fisherman—I forget his name—from Massachusetts who owned a tour boat out here. I know now that it was a cover story. Anyway, the exact reason why we were here isn't that important.
"I hated it here at first. Back home I was supposed to be training for my last year on the baseball team. Instead, I was stuck in a place where I had no friends and nothing to do except work for my father.
"But Hawaii started growing on me. It helped when I found some other kids to hang out with. We spent most of our free time playing sports on the beach. One of the guys I saw a lot was Kale. Remember him?" Chris asked, elbowing her.
"How could I forget? You were friends with him?"
"Sort of. He was the pack leader, so I had to tolerate him if I wanted to tag along. And occasionally this mouthy girl would pop up to give Kale and some of the other guys a lot of grief. I found out it was his sister."
"Was it love at first sight?" Cassie asked.
Chris gave a slightly self-conscious chuckle. "Um, I don't know. Not really. She was cute and all, but not what I thought was my type. And I was a little jaded, to be perfectly honest. I'd had a few bad experiences back at home. But that's another story.
"One night, I left the beach and ventured into a tourist trap to get something to eat. I was walking along, minding my own business, when I passed by a group of security guards harassing this girl. I recognized her, so I stopped. They were accusing her of stealing something. But it was obvious they were just giving her a hard time for the sake of giving her a hard time. So, blah, blah, blah. Damsel in distress . . ."
Cassie had unlaced her hands and now had two fingers on her cheek, one tapping. "Damsels in distress . . . hmmm . . . is that your specialty?"
"Naturally," he said. "They are my greatest strength and my greatest weakness."
"So what did you say?"
"I said if she stole something, they should prove it or let her go. They mumbled something about checking the security camera, which probably didn't even exist. Then they scattered and went back to work, and I use the term 'work' loosely.
"I ended up buying Alana some ice cream and walking her home. She was a lot different from the New England girls I knew, in a good way. It was really more her than me, but I felt funny when I was with her. We played off each other's comments like a comedy routine.
"After that, we started spending a lot of time together. First, just as friends. But Kale saw things differently. The next time I saw him, I got a fist in the gut and a death threat from his posse. So those friends I made? Gone. Even Mikala—Mrs. Jokura—disliked me. She called me 'haole' all the time. It's an insult. I forget the exact translation."
"In simple terms, it just means 'foreigner,'" Cassie answered quickly. "But it's used in a pejorative sense for white people in general, especially those who are at cultural odds with the native Polynesian people."
"Right." Chris pulled his head back, confused as usual. "How did you know that?"
She dropped her eyes and mouthed a couple of words as if scolding herself. She had denied being brilliant like her father. She seemed to go to great lengths to hide it. Why? He couldn't guess. Her behavior was so unlike that of every smart person he had ever met, Joe included. She either didn't want him to know the truth or didn't actually believe it.
Chris shrugged once he realized that she wasn't going to answer. He didn't want to push her too hard or in the wrong direction. "After that, I was going to call the whole thing off. I didn't want the drama. There were only a few weeks left of summer anyway. I thought it might be a good idea to say good-bye early. I thought Alana would understand, too. But then, one night, she had a fight with her mother—about me—and showed up at my window in tears. We did talk a little, just not about good-bye. And then, one thing led to another. . .
"Of course, we fell asleep and woke up at the crack of dawn to the sound of Kale banging on the front door. My parents, thankfully, managed the situation and asked him to leave, and Alana was able to make it back to her house unseen. But her family knew she'd been with me anyway.
"Now that my family knew something was going on, I got a long lecture about it. But at least my parents didn't think it was that big of a deal. My mother liked Alana and had seen what she called 'positive' changes in me, so at least she was on my side.
"When the summer ended, Alana and I had to say our good-byes, and I promised to keep in touch. Obviously, I kept my promise. We talked on the phone almost every night. I even wrote her a few letters. Can you imagine me writing letters? It was my mother's idea. She said it was romantic . . . and cheaper than all the phone calls. After I graduated from high school, I moved to Hawaii to be with her. We rented this horrible shack for a while and even had roommates to deal with. We struggled to get by, but we had a lot of fun together—too much fun. That was the main reason we struggled. We would drink ourselves silly with our coworkers, locals, tourists, whoever, go home, sleep it off, drag ourselves through whatever restaurant job we had, and do it all again the next night.
"Since Kale and Mikala never warmed to me and Kimo was never seen or heard from, we eventually decided to move to Massachusetts and our lives became much more tame. She wanted to go to nursing school. I played a little minor league baseball, but the money was terrible. So, before long, I joined the army.
"A couple of years later, the twins came along. I wanted to be a part of their lives, so I left the army as soon as I could. And while I was struggling to find my place in the world, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. She died, and then . . . well . . . you know the rest."
He threw a stone into the waterfall and waited. He waited for Cassie to say something, waited for that cleansed feeling, and while he did, he wondered if he was prepared to hear her story, one that was not likely to lift his mood either.
"Thank you, Chris," Cassie said quietly. "You didn't have to tell me all of that. And you are a great storyteller." She gave him a nervous smile. "Hmmm . . . I suppose it's my turn to answer your question, unless you've changed your mind and you'd rather we discuss something else," she blurted all in one breath.
He threw her a scolding glance. "Nice try." Then he took the time to put together a good question, something that was simple and direct but that would draw out as much information as possible. "Well, on our first night here in this haven, we heard the story of my father and your mother. But we didn't hear anything about you and your mother. What was it like being Queen Andromeda's daughter and how did it all end?"
She sighed. "I knew you were going to ask something like that. And before I answer, I have to be forthcoming. What I'm about to tell you is not particularly pleasant."
"I appreciate the warning, but I still want to know. . . ."
⭐️⭐️⭐️
To be continued. . .
THANK YOU FOR READING