Reawakened: A Once Upon a Time Tale (23 page)

“He’s made grand proclamations before,” Emma said. “And now he’s got you sneaking around town. Be careful, Mary Margaret.”

“I know,” she said. “I know. I will.”

• • •

Mary Margaret was between classes, walking down the hall amid a sea of students, when her cell phone rang. Most times she wouldn’t pick up, but it was David.

“Hey—did, um, did you do it?” Mary Margaret asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“Yeah, it was bad,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, trying to sound sympathetic.

“No, it was—it was really bad.”

“But you told the truth—so now we can pick up the pieces. We can start over from a real place,” she said, feeling a tremendous weight lift from her shoulders. Despite the people around her, she stopped walking, closed her eyes, and let it sink in. Finally. Finally they could be together.

He seemed to take a strange pause before answering.

“Hey, I want to see you. Can I come by when you get done with school?”

“Of course. I’ll see you then! And David? You did the right thing.”

They both hung up.

When she opened her eyes, her smile became something different. First, it changed into a smile of confusion. Then the smile faded entirely.

Kathryn was walking directly toward her.

“Kathryn, I—” Mary Margaret began, but she wasn’t able to finish the sentence, because Kathryn wound up and slapped her hard across the face.

Mary Margaret saw stars for a moment as she recoiled, absorbing the blow. The many students—and other teachers—in the hallway went silent, seeing the slap. Suddenly, no one was moving. Everyone was watching.

“Let’s talk,” Mary Margaret said. “Not here.”

“I don’t care about how embarrassing this conversation is for you,” Kathryn said. “What you did is unforgivable. Unforgivable. If I were you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And the same goes for David. You two can have each other.”

“Kathryn,” Mary Margaret said, “neither of us meant for this to happen. It was just something that did happen. And we knew that the only thing to do was tell you now, before it—”

“Tell me? You think that’s what he did? He didn’t tell me. He lied to me all morning. Said that we didn’t have a connection. Well you know what? He was right. We didn’t. Because he was too busy having a connection with you.” She snorted and shook her head. “He’s always been a coward. You should know that. It’s not like that’s going to change with you.”

But Mary Margaret was too hung up on what Kathryn had said to notice her comment about cowardice.

“He didn’t—he didn’t tell you?” she asked.

“No,” she said. “He didn’t. And if he lied to you about that, too, good. Now you know what that feels like, as well.”

That was apparently all Kathryn had to say. Without another word, she turned and stalked down the hall, back in the direction she’d come.

• • •

A little later that day, Emma, irritated, again stood out in front of Granny’s Diner—she was doomed to spend her entire life there, apparently—waiting for August to arrive.

She could not believe she had agreed to any of this. She heard the growl of his motorcycle’s engine before she saw him.

He came down Main Street from the west and pulled over beside her. “Hi there,” he said. “Wasn’t sure you’d show up.”

“I always keep my appointments,” she said.

He smiled, and gave her a spare helmet. “Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

“You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?”

“Isn’t this a little… close for a first date?” she said, looking at the bike.

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind,” he said. “Come on. It’ll be fun.”

Emma shook her head, sighed. “Fine,” she said. “Drive safe.”

They went east, on the road that led out of town, but before they came to the sign—the sign that was by now famous because so many people seemed to have vehicle trouble right around this point—August slowed and jerked the wheel, and they tore up into the woods. Emma grabbed him tighter when he made this turn, and she said, “Are you kidding me? I’m the sheriff!”—but he ignored her.

It took only a few minutes to reach an open field. Another minute of riding and then August brought the bike to a stop and killed the engine.

They both got off, and he led her up to the hill to an old well. She’d never been out here before.

“Nice well, August,” she said. “You sure know how to turn a girl on.”

“You’re disappointed?” he asked.

“When you said drink,” Emma said, peering down into the well, “I was pretty sure you were talking about alcohol.”

“Next time,” he said. “This time, something more important.” He went to the well and reached for the old rope, then began pulling it up. “You know this well is supposed to be special? There’s a legend—it says that the water from this well is fed by an ancient underground lake, and that the lake has magical properties.”

“Nice,” Emma said. “You sound like my kid.”

“Smart kid,” he said. “The legend says drinking this water will return something to you. Something lost.”

“You sure know a lot about this town,” she said, “for being a stranger.”

“And you know very little for being the sheriff.”

“Have you been to Storybrooke before, August?” she asked curiously.

There was something about this guy. It was like everything was a game. He pulled up the bucket. She saw that he had two tin cups in his pockets, and he set them each on the edge of the well. He poured a few swallows into each.

“I know this all for one simple reason,” he said. “I read the plaque.”

He nodded, and Emma looked over at the plaque outlining the story. It was all right there. She grinned and shook her head.

“You really believe in magic, though?” she asked.

“I’m a writer. I keep an open mind.”

“Sure, but magic?”

“I believe in water,” he said. “Water is powerful. Cultures as old as time worshipped it. It runs throughout every land, connecting us to one another. What else would have mystical properties?”

“A little evidence might be nice,” she said. “To support such claims.”

“Evidence doesn’t always lead us to truth,” he said.

“Doesn’t it?”

They stared at each other for a few minutes. Emma had to admit it—she felt a little electricity in the air. She didn’t want to, but she did.

He handed her one cup, lifted the other, and made a toast.

“You be the skeptic, I’ll be the believer,” he said. “Either way, the water’s good to drink.”

“Cheers,” Emma said.

“Cheers.”

They clinked and drank.

• • •

Things were not so pleasant in other parts of Storybrooke. School was out, and Mary Margaret was walking home, still stunned by what had happened with Kathryn. Stunned as well by what she’d learned: David had lied to her. Not only had he been too afraid to tell the truth to his wife, he’d lied to Mary Margaret as well. He’d lied to them both to protect himself. And now more damage had been done than he could possibly undo.

How had she gotten to this place? After such a short period of time? It was only a couple of months ago that everything was… everything was okay, at least. But then Emma arrived, and David woke up…. She didn’t know. The world felt more
awake and exciting than it ever had, but it was more dangerous, too. She wasn’t sure if she didn’t prefer the illusion of calm to a more authentic version of things.

She turned a corner, onto Main, and bumped into Granny.

She smiled. “Hello, Granny,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’m lost in thought.”

“That’s okay, dear, I—” But Granny stopped her own apology when she saw who it was. “Oh. You.”

“Excuse me?” said Mary Margaret.

“You should be ashamed of yourself,” said Granny, leaning toward her. She shook her head disdainfully, and Mary Margaret could not believe the amount of contempt in her eyes. “What you did is unforgivable.”

“But I—”

But Granny merely huffed, looked away, and continued down the road.

Head down, rubbing up against the edge of hopeless, Mary Margaret walked the rest of the way home.

• • •

She saw it from her window: “TRAMP.”

Someone had written it on her car, and now David was outside, trying to scrub it clean. Perfect. He knew he was responsible. No, he hadn’t written it, but it was his lies that made it happen. And because he knew, he was trying to clean it up. Superficially, awkwardly. And way too late.

She went out to the street.

“Who did this?” she said.

He turned, surprised, and gave her a pleading look.

“I don’t know. I don’t know how anyone knows.”

“I’ll tell you how,” Mary Margaret said. “They know because
your wife came to my school and slapped me today. In front of everyone.”

He took a moment to absorb this. She imagined his scheming brain doing the tabulations: How did my lies come undone?

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “You shouldn’t be the one who has to take the brunt of this.”

“She told me, David,” Mary Margaret said, arms crossed. “She told me that you never said anything. That you didn’t tell her about us.”

“I don’t understand,” David said. “Then how did she know?”

“That is exactly the wrong question to ask right now,” Mary Margaret said, enraged by his audacity. “What you should be asking yourself is why you thought lying—lying to both me and to Kathryn—could ever have been the right thing to do. Do you see how much damage has been done? You can’t put the genie back in the bottle, David.”

“I also can’t control how people will react to news,” David argued.

“That’s right. But you can control what you do. And you lied. That’s what caused this. That’s why this whole town thinks that I’m a tramp.” She nodded toward the writing on her car and shook her head in frustration.

David dropped the rag into the bucket, leaned against her car, and put his head in his hands.

“I thought,” he said, “that she would just leave town. I didn’t want anyone to get more hurt than they needed to be.”

“And now everyone is hurt,” she said. “Imagine that.”

“We’ll make it right,” he said, reaching for her. “It’ll take a little time.”

“Don’t touch me, David,” she said. “You can’t fix this.”

“What are you saying?” he said. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple, David. It’s over. We’re done. You blew it.”

He laughed a pathetic little laugh, and Mary Margaret’s face didn’t budge. She was not able to feel bad for him. Not right now.

“Do you think I’m joking?” she said. “I’m not. You get to live with this. Forever.”

She left him there and stormed back into her apartment.

• • •

Maine was a frozen place in the dead of winter, and there was no colder day than this day. There hadn’t been much snow this year, but it was below zero as Emma made her way home after August dropped her off at the station. She was exhausted, and she was worried for Mary Margaret. The whole town was talking about the affair, and things were going to get ugly. She’d seen it happen before—she’d been the center of the controversy, and she didn’t like the memory. Not one bit.

Crossing the street, something caught her eye behind the tire of an old pickup. Something poking out from a pile of dirty leaves.

Emma frowned and knelt to investigate; she could not believe what she was seeing.

The book. Henry’s book. Right there on the street.

She stood up, dusted it off, flipped through the pages. She opened to the story Henry had told her about Mr. Gold and the girl, and looked at some of the pictures.

She didn’t know why, but she’d found the thing. At the very least, Henry would be happy, and that made her happy. She headed off toward the station.

She didn’t have much time to feel happy about the book, though, as the emergency calls started coming in the moment she walked in the door. First from a motorist, next David, and after that, Regina.

Kathryn was missing. She was nowhere to be found.

Her car, empty, was in the ditch near the edge of town.

She was gone.

Emma did the only thing she could do: She organized a manhunt. What seemed like the whole town showed up the morning after Kathryn Nolan disappeared, and they combed the woods, thirty-wide, hoping to find any sign of her. David was there, as was Mary Margaret, but they stayed far away from each other. Emma was distressed to overhear hushed muttering from so many of the citizens. Why was it that Mary Margaret was taking the brunt of the hit to her reputation, while nobody seemed to care that David—the man—had willingly participated in the same affair?

She wasn’t surprised, but she didn’t like it.

Both of them had made mistakes. Mary Margaret was the one who was suffering.

The manhunt turned up nothing.

Emma had gotten nowhere with the search. Until the morning that Sidney Glass, the former editor of the town newspaper and her old challenger for the badge, showed up in her office with a piece of interesting information.

Emma knew that Sidney had been fired by Regina after the
storm, but she didn’t know why, and in truth, she didn’t want to know the details. She suspected it had something to do with the failed campaign for sheriff, but she also suspected there was more to it than that. The man had always put her off. Not just because of the campaign, but because of the sleazy article he’d written about her past, and the irritating way he was always—before now, anyway—hanging on Regina’s every word.