Coronets and Steel (54 page)

I nodded slowly. She did have something on her mind.

“He listens to me rattle on about all the details of my practice. Nothing ever too inconsequential or too dull. Perceptive as hell—but his own emotions? For all you’d know he hasn’t any. Or rather, they’re hidden behind that polite wall.”

“It’s true,” I said. “Talks about everything. Except himself.”

She laughed again, mirthlessly this time. “You’re like him, I can see it already. Pleasant, funny even, until something personal comes up and then up goes the wall. Look, Kim, I’m forcing the wall because you’ve got some heavy-duty decisions ahead of you, and you’re going to need some straight facts, or at least some perspective.”

“Decisions,” I repeated.

She got up and stared out at the street, as she rubbed her fingers along the dusty windowsill. “I hate entanglements. Saw too much drama on the commune where I was born, and the result is, I have nooooo interest in even living with anyone. So I was good for Alec, for a while. No drama, no expectations.”

She turned away from the window and studied me. “You okay with this conversation?”

“Sure,” I said, though it did unsettle me. But I had to take responsibility for my own . . . what? There wasn’t a relationship, not in the way anyone defined that. I said firmly, “Alec’s personal life is none of my business. It’s true I like him, and I know he likes me, but there’s this Ruli mess, and things have gone so fast.”

“It’s going to get even messier. Faster. Anyway, that was his pattern until you came along. Didn’t talk. But from the first night when I called from London to arrange for tickets back, the day you went missing up on the mountain, he’s been talking about you. Never his feelings. He hasn’t changed that much. What you did, said, your likes and dislikes, your parents, even.” She tapped a fingernail on the table. “I know more about your mom and her cakes than I know about his mother—who he never met. But still.”

“So,” I said slowly, “you’re telling me what?”

“I’m telling you what I told you. One more thing, and I didn’t hear this from him.” She was back at the window, looking out. “Jeez. I don’t know if this is giving you the inside scoop or TMI. But you know he grew up knowing what he was going to be. One thing. Zip.”

I remembered that conversation about vocation and avocation, and said, “He’s mentioned that. He seems to love his work.”

“True.” Her eyes narrowed. “Okay, one more item. What’s the only thing in that library of his that looks like he’s actually been there? Not the CDs, a thing.”

I thought rapidly, first of that gaudy platinum lighter, but no, that was the wrong track. “All I can remember is a book, with a bookmark. On the reading table. Milton’s poetry?”

She brought her chin down. “And which poem?”

“‘Lycidas.’ I wondered if that was his or Milo’s.”

“What’s that poem about?”

“It’s a pastoral. Elegy. Super dense. About . . . somebody died, right? Elegies are always about death.”

“On the surface, because that poem packs in a lot of stuff, Milton wrote it after a Cambridge schoolmate was drowned. Okay, I’m done.”

“What?” I protested. “Nat, that is not even remotely too much information.”

She looked out the window. “Sometimes TMI is betrayal of confidence, right? I told you, I don’t do drama. So forget I even said anything.”

Leaving me more confused than I’d been when I woke, only now it was about Alec and me, not about Dobrenica’s politics. “At least tell me what is it you want me to do?”

She gave an exasperated laugh. “Do what you want. What you have to. I never give advice in heart matters. Hell’s bells! Come to me with cramps, warts, a runny nose and I’ve got a chance of being right half the time. In the tangled world of emotions, nothing’s the same, or right, ever.”

Fighting a cold, sick sensation, I tried to sift out the warning I sensed in her words.

She sighed sharply. “In my mind, this was going to be easy. Like saying to a woman: you’re pregnant. Here’s a list of foods to avoid, and to eat, and things to watch out for. I should have known! I’ll add one more thing, then butt out. At age nine or ten we cease to believe we are the center of the universe, but it takes another ten or twenty years to stop acting that way.” Her voice changed. “Course, some of us never grow up. Take me. I’m the loving kind, but not the marrying kind. When I think about the satisfaction of pulling off a difficult birth, or getting a woman safely through a tricky pregnancy—lean your head back, I’m going to comb out that hair. Can you imagine, even in the twenty-first century, some of those mountain women were putting knives under their pillows to cut labor pains?”

“So superstition is foolish, but you tell me magic works?”

She threw her arms wide. “We’re humans! How about the high-tech honeys at home who still check their horoscope? Won’t go on a plane Friday the thirteenth? The women here ask for a novena and put a knife under their bed, because in their minds, both work.”

She talked on about tradition, magic, and superstition as the rhythmic tug at my scalp soothed me.

First things first. Finish up the last of the marriage business. Gran’s legal marriage, which makes everything work out perfectly.

Right.

First to Mt. Corbesc. Time enough for planning after that. I fell asleep, and when I woke, Alec was there.

W
E STUDIED ONE another. I saw tenderness and exhaustion in his face. Then he lifted his hand and lightly touched my cheek and jaw.

How strange to be so attuned to someone. I felt the anger kindling inside him, and I said, “It’s okay. I was so out of it I hardly noticed a few extra bruises, and it was worth it to make that slime-crawler mad. I’ll admit I wasn’t looking forward to round two.”

“Tony sat and watched?” he asked, with a shade of grimness.

“Yes. But it made him angry. And he was the one who stopped it.”

“Was he expecting you?”

“You mean, when Aunt Sisi locked me in the stairwell? No, he most definitely was surprised. Has he turned up?”

“No. But eventually I will catch up with him.” He said it in his usual light tone, but I felt the undertone of promise.

I said, “Then, to be fair, another thing in his defense, though personally, if you find him and lock him up I’d rather help throw away the key. I think he could’ve disappeared at the end, there, when I got shot. But for whatever reason, he put himself back under Reithermann’s gun, and for no more reason than I could see except to protect me from his so-called ally.”

“All right. Thank you.”

Au revoir. . . That’s a promise.
I wanted to get off the subject of Tony. “So how’s everything else?”

“Busy. I can’t stay long.” He glanced at his watch. “Three meetings, one I should be at now. But Nat has forbidden late-night visits.”

“Right on,” Nat said in the background, and Alec gave her a quick, rather preoccupied smile.

“—so I stopped to see how you’re feeling, and to ask you if you’d like to go somewhere for lunch tomorrow.”

“Fine,” I said awkwardly, wishing he would hold me again.

He left shortly after, and I resolved to make things easier for him by taking care of the last of my business before we met again.

 

I napped some more, then Natalie and I had dinner together. A Pedro-cooked meal of salmon poached in wine with baby potatoes and herbsauced vegetables was brought to the apartment—the ultimate in food-to-go. Along with my suitcase that Tony’s people had taken from the inn a couple centuries ago.

Nat played music, mostly old rock, right up to Jackson Browne’s “Fountain of Sorrows” while we talked about home. Easy stuff, nothing personal relating to the here-and-now. She was funny about her days raised by hippies on a commune, and how aghast they were when she threw away her organic, non-gendered overalls, cut off her hippie hair, and went off to med school.

She described her friends and their exploits, and I told her about the infamous party at Aunt Sisi’s. Nat laughed in gusts, and then listened with avid curiosity to my story of meeting Tony.

“I have to admit,” she said when I’d finished, “I’ve always wanted to meet the guy, if only to see if he’s half as hot as everyone says—and if it’d work on me.”

“He’s hot. But you can’t trust him. I would be as happy if I never see him again.” Even as I said the words, I knew they were not true, and I shifted impatiently, trying to will them to be true. I did not want the complication of Tony in an already overly complicated life.

“Little ambivalence there?” Nat wiggled her brows.

“Yes. But I also kept noticing how much he was like me physically, which makes everything confusing. I mean, is that incest, or narcissism, or what?”

“You’re cousins at two removes, not brother and sister. Does it feel like incest?”

“No.”

“He’s got a rep for heavy-duty charm. Not anything he turns on or off at will, which I think would make him disgusting. The thing is, you’ve got it, too. And though you look so much like Ruli everyone says you two could be twins, she doesn’t have it. Maybe that charm is in your genes . . . and when you and Tony are around each other, your radar jumps to high.”

“Maybe. When he left, he said
‘au revoir, and that’s a promise.’
”

She gave a long, low whistle. “Sounds like the wicked count was definitely charmed with Kim. Okay, don’t hurl—it’s time for you to catch some Zs. I don’t want you relapsing. Bad for
my
rep.”

I agreed readily enough, for my shoulder was aching by then. But as I settled down on the bed and she curled up in her chair, a pile of professional magazines bought in England beside her, I said cautiously, “How long do I have to be invalid?”

“You’re strong and healthy, and if you manage to stay out of action for a while you’ll heal fast. So you can do pretty much what you want, outside of drunken binges or horseback-riding. You did lose some blood. Take it easy, and when you feel the urge to lie down, do it. I’ll fix you a sling. Gravity is going to give you the most trouble now.”

“So I can take a walk?”

“Take two!” She threw up her hands. “I’d wait until morning. It’s raining outside right now.”

I fell asleep concocting plausible excuses; I kept telling myself it hardly mattered anymore, but I still did not want anyone knowing where I was going. My instinct was strong and insistent—this last quest I had to make alone.

As it turned out, I did not need to give her any excuses. Someone rang her bell at about four AM and she slipped out quietly, garbed in her midwife clothes and carrying her bag. At seven I got up and dressed somewhat clumsily with my right hand. It was odd to see those clothes again, the ones I’d bought during my Ruli masquerade. Looking at them stirred memories and emotions.

I slammed the mental trunk hard, and turned to tackle my hair. Since I could not braid or put it up one-handed I brushed it the best I could and left it hanging. Then I found a paper and scrawled sloppily, “Be back at noon—Kim,” slipped on the sling Nat had fashioned for me the night before, and went out.

The sky was streaked with clouds. The streets gleamed fresh-washed, puddles reflecting the sky, flowers glistening. The city was busy as usual; by seven the business day was already under way.

I thought Nat had exaggerated, but as I progressed down the street a flurry of attention seemed to move before me, like a scurrying wind. People smiled. Some even bowed. I was beginning to feel like I was outlined in neon.

The walk to the Waleskas’ inn did not take long.

As soon as I got inside Anna came forward with a cry of welcome. I had planned to ask for my money and for a recommendation of someone to hire to take me up to the mountain, but Anna displayed her mother’s energy. As soon as she understood what I wanted she yanked Josip from the back, snatched away his apron, and the two of us were bundled into an ancient Volkswagen—a vehicle that appeared to be shared by everyone on the street. The neighbors turned out as soon as they heard the engine start up and cheered us off.

Shy Josip crouched over the wheel, holding it tightly as we bounced and shuddered our way up into the hills. My shoulder hurt after a mile or so, and poor Josip sent so many anxious glances at me after each pothole I was afraid he’d go off the road.

He slowed to second gear, which sounded in that rusty metal shell like the engine of a 747 flying into a headwind, so I shut my eyes, held my shoulder with my good hand, and set myself to endure. At least the mystery would soon be solved.

A couple thousand years later Josip pulled the sputtering car before the gate of the high-walled monastery, parked, and assured me he would happily wait for me if I did not want his escort.

I thanked him and climbed out wearily. The last part of my quest was nearly done. It felt really, really weird.

The mellow dull gold limestone walls were smooth and well kept, and the massive wooden gate was as featureless as the walls. I found a bell pull and gave it a couple of hefty tugs. Half a minute later a small, narrow door set into one of the larger gate doors opened, and out came a young man wearing a cassock made of natural wool. He blinked enquiringly at me from behind wire-rimmed glasses.