Authors: Lizbeth Dusseau
“My, my,
look what the cat drug in,” Aaron said, on seeing their houseguest that
evening. “How did you manage to find us?”
“It’s not
too hard,” Darcy said. “You don’t really cover your tracks.”
“You
know, I’ve been warned about you, Miss Greenwood,” Aaron said playfully.
“Warned,
why’s that?”
He snickered.
“If Abigail’s Daddy knew you were here, he’d probably come up here and run
you off.”
“Well, he
has no right to do that. And I know you have a soft spot in your heart for
me,” Darcy declared.
“That I
do. So how’s your Pap?”
“Aw. He’s
still kicking, but way on the other side of the state. I’m on my own now. Have
been for about a year or so. No troubles, no worries. Can be a pretty good life
that way.”
“But what
are you doing?” Aaron asked earnestly. “How do you live?”
I have a job,
or at least I had a job. Between jobs right now, I guess. But one will come up
soon. Maybe even here. Meantime, I have some cash stashed, and it keeps me in
grits.”
Aaron
chuckled. “Just keep your fin-
gers
out of the
til
,” he said.
“Oh,
you’ve taught me that lesson already,” she said with a smile. Her eyes
were green, or at least that was what they appeared, though in the light from
the fireplace, they simply glowed with happiness and mischief, just as they
always had. For the Barrows, it was a treat to have her with them for awhile.
“You
going for a picnic?” Aaron asked one morning, seeing the two young women
about to leave the house.
“Yep, up
on the ridge,” Darcy said, brightly.
“Shush,”
Abigail said, nudging her friend with her elbow, hoping that her
hus
-band hadn’t heard the destination.
“The
ridge?” Aaron asked. His eyes narrowed as he looked at his wife.
“She
didn’t mean the ridge, she just meant the meadow,” Darcy corrected
her-self. “We’re going to the meadow just above the rise.”
“Listen
to me, no mountain climbing for you two, it’s just too dangerous.” He
repeated a warning he’d given Abigail a dozen times already.
“C’mon
Aaron,” Darcy argued. “You know, old sure-foot me?” She was
putting on her flirtatious attitude, practically batting her eyelashes the way
Abigail might. It was quite a charming addition to her repertoire of artful
postures to get what she wanted.
“Did
Abigail suggest this?” Aaron asked. “She’d better not.”
“Oh, no!
It was all my idea.”
“And she
was going with you?”
“Well, we
hadn’t really decided on anything. I guess she was trying to talk me out of it.
Said you didn’t like her going off that far?”
“That’s
right. And the same goes for you. I’m much too busy with the mill, to be
chasing after you. You’ll get lost, or some mountain lion comes after
you.”
“You
think I can’t take
are
of myself?” Darcy
protested.
“I’m sure
you can. It’s my wife I worry about.”
Abigail
bristled. “You know, Aaron, sometimes you treat me like I’m a little
kid,” she said, stomping her foot.
“Sometimes
you act like a little kid,” Aaron observed. “You’d better behave, or
you know what happens.”
She
pursed
her lips into a little pout, and said nothing.
“No
change of plans. You understand?” He scrutinized her face looking for a
sincere reply.
“Well . .
.” she hedged.
“Abigail
… You understand?” he asked again.
“Of
course, I understand. How could I not,” she snapped. “Darcy and I
will behave like two little lambs today, you have nothing to wont’ about.”
“Good,”
he said, noting the sweet expression that replaced the annoyed one. He gave her
a peck on the lips and left the house.
“
Daminit
! Sometimes I feel like I’m still in my father’s
house,” Abigail said.
“Aw, he’s
just being protective. I think it’s rather endearing.”
“Not if
you feel like your every move is watched.”
“You’re
being overly sensitive. We just won’t go up on the ridge. But we will have some
fun, fun Aaron Barrow will never get wind of.”
“Oh? You
have something special in mind?” Abigail asked her face suddenly
brightening.
“Well,”
Darcy considered for a minute. “I do know this old woman who lives a
couple of miles from here, down the gorge. You can go down there, can’t
you?”
“I
suppose so,” she said. “Aaron’s never told me I couldn’t.”
“Good,”
Darcy said. “That’s where we’ll go. And that old lady has a surprise I
think you’ll love.” There was a devil’s grin on Darcy’s face that made
Abigail wonder just what mischief her friend had in mind.
It was at
least two miles to old Hannah’s house, it might have been longer, but it was
hard to say: the terrain was
diffi
cult to traverse,
nearly as risky as the ridge, though at least this wasn’t a steep vertical
climb. By the time the two arrived at Old Hannah’s place they were exhausted.
“Darcy
Greenwood!” the old woman greeted them. “Been years since I’ve seen
you, girl. And where’s that old pappy of yours?”
“Gone far
from me, Hannah,” Darcy said giving the woman a fond hug.
Old Hannah had
a nearly toothless smile and her tattered dress looked ancient, but that hardly
dampened her spirit or the welcome she gave them. I’m glad you came,” she
said. “Just brewed up some-thing really special for you, you’re going to
love this.”
The old woman
disappeared into her rickety cabin, and came back a few minutes later with two
mugs in her hands. Darcy tasted the drink first, her eyes brightening
instantly.
“I think
this is just what you need,” she told Abigail. “Drink up.”
“What is
it?” Abigail asked.
“Just try
it,” Darcy encouraged her. “I swear it will make you forget all your
trou-bles
.”
Abigail took
one long gulp of the
liq-uid
, and practically spit it
out.
“Don’t
waste it,” Darcy shouted at her.
“It’s
terrible. It’s spirits isn’t it?” She couldn’t think of anything else.
“You have
to get used to them, acquire a taste. But believe me, sometimes it’s well worth
the trouble,” Hannah said.
Abigail took
another drink, and then another. She’d had a little wine in her father’s house,
but nothing like this, nothing that tasted so bad or had quite the effect that
this did on her mind.
While they
drank that afternoon, and ate the picnic that Abigail had made, the three women
talked. It seemed their con
versations
about the
mountains, and new settlers, and Darcy’s escapades, and Abigail’s feelings about
her new home, could go on forever. Without really being aware of time passing,
the day began to fade, the long afternoon shadows beginning to appear.
“Oh my,
Darcy,” Abigail suddenly gasped, when she looked to see the sun now low in
the sky. “Don’t you think we’d best get back?” Funny, it was
difficult to talk. She was feeling light-headed and kind of silly, realizing
that she was slurring her words.
“I
suppose,” Darcy replied, in a languid stupor. She was feeling lethargic
and giddy too.
“You two should
wait a bit,” Hannah said. ” Let the spirits wear off.”
“Oh, but
I can’t,” Abigail exclaimed. “If I’m not home to fix Aaron his
supper, he’ll be spitting mad at me.”
“Ah, men
can wait,” Hannah said, “No, not this one,” Abigail assured her.
“Well, suit
yourself,” the old woman said, shaking her head. “I sure wouldn’t let
a man dictate my life. You just be careful in that gorge. It can be pretty
tricky after a few mugs of my brew.’
“Aw, it’s
a straight shot,” Darcy assured her. “Just a couple miles and we’re
home.”
Abigail and
Darcy set off on the trail that they’d followed earlier in the day. It was a
different kind of light filtering through the trees, and with the sunshine
receding, there were far more shadows than they
remem-bered
at the height of day. Halfway back to the mill and Abigail’s house, the fork in
the riverbed confused them; neither one, with their restricted senses could
recall which direction they should take. Choosing a trail, simply because they
had to make a decision, they followed a path deep into a darker woods than they
ever remembered.
After a time,
Abigail suddenly stopped in her tracks,” I think we’re lost,” she
said. She was feeling dizzy and not too well, and though Darcy wouldn’t admit
it, she was feeling much the same way herself. “Maybe we should rest here
a bit, get a little strength. I think there’s still some bread in the pack.
We’ll go back
an
take the other trail, maybe that’s
the right one.”
“Darcy,
it’s getting dark,” Abigail reminded her friend. “If we’re not back
home soon, Aaron’s going to have a fit.
Renewing her
strength with pictures of a grim faced husband appearing in her mind, Abigail
doubled back down the shad
owy
trail with Darcy
following close at her heels. By the time the two reached the fork in the
riverbed, the light was diminishing fast, the dark, the shadows, and fear
creep-
ing
in around Abigail. Disaster was waiting,
she was sure of it.
“You’re
scared, aren’t you?” Darcy asked, when they paused a moment.
“I’m not
used to this. I don’t know whether to be scared most of being lost in dark, or
Aaron.”
“We’ll
get home, don’t worry, and when we do, just use a little finagling with Aaron.
We’ll claim we just made a wrong turn,
every one
does
that every so often. He can only be glad that we’re home when we finally get
there.”
“I hope
you’re right.”
Halfway down
the new terrain, the two clung to the sides of the bank and tight-
ly
to each other. The drop off at their sides looked much
more steep than it had that morning, so they had to go slower than ever. When
they finally reached the house, it was night, a starry sky shone down on them
as they made their way to the Barrow’s front steps.
“Good
God! It is you!” Aaron shouted. They’d seen him pacing on the porch.
“Aaron!” Abigail started to dash for-ward.
“Where
the hell have you been?” he hugged his wife tight, but then pushed her
away, a stem eye looking into hers.
`Oh, we’ve
been lost, Aaron. We took the wrong turn down river, and traipsed a whole two
miles in the wrong direction. I’m so glad I’m home.” She fell against her
husband’s chest, while his arms comforted her shivering form.
“Lost was
it?” Aaron said suspiciously. The smell of liquor was undeniable both on
his wife and her rowdy friend.
“Say, I
think I’ll grab a slab of bread and some cheese and hit the sack,” Darcy
exclaimed when they were safe inside again.
“Me too,
I’m exhausted,” Abigail admitted. She was on the way to the kitchen.
“Hey, not
so fast, you two,” Aaron stopped them both in their tracks with a
commanding voice.
“Oh, Aaron,”
Darcy whined. “You’re not going to lecture us or something,” she
asked seeing the stem grimace on his face.
“In the
parlor, please,” he ordered, his voice rising clearly.
Knowing not to
argue with Aaron, the two women retreated to the parlor and sat side by side on
the settee, as Aaron stood over them with a fixed stare that would pen-
etrate
an iron vault.
‘Now, my fair
brats, tell me why you’re both reeking like a mountain still,’
“What do
you mean reeking like a mountain still?” Darcy jumped in, almost defying
Aaron to be annoyed by the fact. “You think I don’t know the smell of
mountain spirits?” he said. “Where’ve you been?”
“It was
just a little, Aaron,” Darcy droned.
“Abigail,
you want to tell me the truth?” he asked turning to his wife.
Abigail looked
at Darcy, who looked at Abigail. The redhead was pretty flippant, and Abigail
would be too, except that she wasn’t thinking very clearly and she was too
tired to make up a story that Aaron would believe.
“Oh, good
lord, Aaron. It’s nothing. I took her to Old Hannah’s,” Darcy suddenly
jumped in with the truth herself.
“You
what!” Aaron snapped.
“It was
all very harmless. There’s nothing wrong with spirits. There’re kind of
soothing to the soul, I think.”
“No
wonder you got lost coming home,” Aaron said. “That old woman should
know better.”
“She was
very hospitable,” Darcy informed him.
“I’m sure
she was, but that hardly excuses your lack of self-control. Either one of you.
Not to mention that you practically spit in my face to take that trail after
all the warnings I gave you.’