The Silver Thread (18 page)

“It was just a matter of time before one of those girls came along and nicked my heart away,” he said, and nuzzled into her neck. “I’m so glad it was you.”

James was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, thumbing through the phone book when they came downstairs to make a celebratory breakfast. Annika was used to seeing trash cans and pitchers and cups collecting drips on exceptionally rainy days. She was not used to seeing the trash cans and pitchers and cups float through the air and empty themselves into the kitchen sink before returning to their places. But considering the winged fairy that now resided underneath that leaky roof, it was not so far-fetched.

“So? Do I need to hire a child proofing service along with a roofer?” James asked, anxious for the answer.

“You don’t have to hire either one,” Annika said proudly as she found a large bowl that wasn’t being used to catch leaks, and set it on the countertop. James leaped out of his chair and hugged her tight, then let go and gave her and Talvi a high five.

“Way to go on no baby!” he cried out in glee. “But what do you mean that I don’t have to hire a roofer?” asked James. “Look at this place. I’ve got to call someone soon, before we start collecting animals by twosies! You’ll have to tell your mother I’ll need to reschedule my appointment for tomorrow,” he made a grand motion at the room, showing it off like a prize on a game show. It was true, the regular leaks had grown heavier, and new ones seemed to be springing up all around them.

“Well…” Annika began, trying not to laugh as she noticed a new leak beginning to drip directly into James’s coffee cup. “It turns out that I married an excellent handyman,” she said, and took a few things out of the fridge. “Sorry I forgot to mention that until now.”

“A handyman? No shit?” James asked with a grin, not seeing the rainwater dripping into his mug. “Hmmm…Talvi, what are you doing today, since you’re not going crib shopping?”

“I believe Annika and I were going to her mother’s salon,” he said, eyeing James suspiciously. He had a good idea of what sort of ulterior motive was in store for him.

“Sweetie, you can’t come,” she said, measuring a bit of milk and sugar into the mixing bowl. “It’s sort of a hens-only kind of place. No cocks allowed, besides James, and he’s going later in the week.”

“That’s not very fair,” he argued.

“No, it’s not, but it’s a tradition. Besides, you’d be really bored if you tagged along. It’s just a bunch of old ladies getting their hair done and talking about knitting.”

“That’s bollocks and you know it,” Talvi insisted.

“Well, there are things we hens like to cluck about that can’t be said in front of boyfriends and husbands. Just deal with it. I think James needs your expertise around here, anyway,” she dismissed, and went back to mixing the eggs, milk and sugar with a fork.

Knowing it was pointless to pursue the matter with her, Talvi turned to James, who looked ready for another makeover.

“So, Mr. Handyman, have you ever been to Home Depot?”

“No, I can’t say that I have,” Talvi replied with a wry grin, “but I’m guessing that’s about to change.”

“I hope you’re as good as she says you are. I have a shit-ton of work I need done around this place, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m really terrible at that sort of thing,” Talvi said, running his fingers casually through his wild hair. “You don’t even want me to pick up a hammer around here.”

“What a load!” Annika exclaimed, waving a loaf of bread in one hand. “You were just bragging about how awesome you are, and I think you better prove it.”

“Fine then. You just work on that French toast and I’ll show you,” he said arrogantly, and vanished into the living room to inspect the leaks in the ceiling.

“Is there anything he doesn’t do?” James asked, closing the phone book.

“He doesn’t lie very well, that’s for sure,” Annika said as she dunked a slice of bread into the mix in the bowl. “Hey, where the heck is Charlie? You’d think he would have woken up from all the racket by now.”

“He went to get the Sunday paper,” James said, grinning as he took a sip of his rain-spiked coffee. “He said there was an article he couldn’t wait to read.”

“Hi ladies!” Annika called out, shutting the door to the cozy little corner shop salon. She noticed more than a few eyebrows raise curiously from her mother’s clientele, all familiar faces that she had gotten to know over the few years that they had lived in the city.

“Hello Annika,” the small group of older women greeted her, two of which were seated under heated hood hair dryers, which made the small salon even warmer. “We haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Don’t tell me that you’ve been doing your own hair,” a middle aged woman scolded, looking up from her newspaper long enough to take a sip of the mimosa sitting on the table beside her. She wasn’t the only one nursing a strawberry-garnished champagne flute.

“No way—look at these roots Beatrice,” Annika said as she hung up her coat and purse. “I’ll never trust a box to do what my mom does best. Where is she, anyway?”

“Oh, Faline’s in the back, getting your color ready,” Beatrice said with a motherly smile. She was Faline’s closest friend and co-owner of the salon, and like an aunt to Annika. “You know what a perfectionist she is with her craft. Where do you think you get it from? Heavens, child, take a seat! We need to talk.”

“What’s wrong? Is my mom okay?” she asked, walking behind the counter to where a mini-fridge sat. There was a bottle of champagne and a bottle of orange juice inside, and she quickly mixed the right amounts of the two in her glass before garnishing it with a couple strawberries. She sat down in the swivel chair next to Beatrice. Beatrice glanced at Annika’s drink and draped a black cape around her, fastening it behind her neck.

“Your mother is fine dear, considering…” another woman said. The ladies leaned forward in their chairs and exchanged glances.

“Uh, what’s going on?” Annika was starting to get worried.

“
You
should be the one telling
us
!” A third woman said with a smile, and they all clucked like little hens. Annika looked around at them with a puzzled expression.

“Somebody spill the beans already!” Annika demanded. Beatrice laughed and handed her the Sunday paper, strategically turned to one page. Annika caught two very distinct names right away.

2:21am:
Officers responded to a complaint of lewd and lascivious conduct and a collision near the intersection of 39th and Belmont. When the officers approached the vehicle, they observed a male and female engaged in suspicious acts on the vehicle, which had collided with a Douglas fir.
Annika
Brisby, 25, and Talvi Marinossian, 28, were arrested and released after posting bail. Citations were also given to Marinossian for driving without a license, driving without insurance, and property damage in excess o
f $1000.

Annika’s face grew incredibly warm just as her mother returned from the rear of the salon with some bottles in her hands. It was definitely not from the excess heat that the hairdryers were generating.

“I’m just glad it managed to get in the Sunday Oregonian,” her mother said with a wry smile. “Nobody reads
that
edition.”

“You know, they never really tell you exactly what they mean by ‘lewd and lascivious’. There’s so much they leave open to interpretation,” one woman said from under a hairdryer. “I wonder what it was?”

“Did you read the words carefully? It said
on
the vehicle, not even
in
the vehicle!” Beatrice giggled.

“Ah, to be young and in love,” another woman sighed.

“Harold never took me on dates like that!” a crabby woman croaked. The women all erupted in rounds of girlish laughter.

“So?” Beatrice said, turning to Annika with bright eyes.

“Well, if you want the complete story, it’s not half as interesting,” came Annika’s reply as she settled into an empty chair. “We didn’t do anything remotely lewd and lascivious. That’s the only charge that was complete crap. I was sick, and he was holding my hair back. It just looked bad to the lady whose tree we crashed into. We’re innocent, but there’s no proof.”

“Sure there’s proof!” Beatrice said, grinning happily. “We all heard about that impressive morning sickness yesterday. You shouldn’t be drinking that mimosa, either, missy.” More clucking ensued as this statement was made, and Faline came into the main area.

“You
told
them?” Annika cried.

“Of
course
I told them. I’m the only one here who doesn’t have any grandchildren…yet.”

“Well, you’ll have to keep waiting,” she said, and ate the strawberry garnish from her glass. “I’m not pregnant.”

“Really?” Faline paused for a moment before resuming her task of setting the bottles of color on the counter near her work area.

“Really,” Annika declared, all too happy to be sharing the good news. “I took six tests this morning, and they were all negative.”

“I must say I’m a bit surprised, especially after that episode yesterday. Maybe you should have Danny do some blood work tomorrow, just to make sure you’re alright. I know one woman who had negative home tests with all three of her kids. She needed a blood test with each one.”

That was not the response Annika was hoping to hear, and she tried not to look as shocked as she felt. Her mom must have really been let down by her news, to offer such a story.

“I promise I’ll call him before I leave today and make an appointment,” she assured her mother. “I have to stop by his place and pick up some things anyway.”

“Poor fellow,” one of the ladies sighed. “He stopped by here once, you know, just to ask us how you were doing. He’s a sweet man, that Danny…such a catch.”

“Whoever his replacement is must be quite the charmer,” Beatrice winked. “Aren’t you going to tell us about this mysterious new husband of yours, or are you going to leave it up to the newspaper and your mother to fill us in?”

Even though she meant no harm, Beatrice’s comment about Talvi being a replacement made Annika feel a bit awkward. She and Danny hadn’t even been split up for three months when she’d met Talvi. At the time, she didn’t even think of him as some kind of rebound; she was just living in the moment. That was really the only thing she could do when she was in the Srebra Gora forest, trapped on the other side of the broken portal. She had no idea when she was going to be able to come back home, or if she would ever be able to come back at all. Instead of making herself miserable every day thinking about a future that might not happen, she had taken Talvi’s advice and found things that she enjoyed about his world; and he had definitely been one of those things.

But now that she was back home, facing the opinions and ideas of all the close people in her life, it made her question herself to no end. It didn’t feel good to have these self-doubts. She struggled to think of what to say as her mother parted her hair and sectioned it off with little clips.

“Um, what do you want to know about him?”

“Well, for starters, what kind of name is Marinossian?” Beatrice inquired.

“I don’t know,” Annika shrugged. She didn’t think it would go over too well to tell them it was some variant of an elvish name.

“It sounds Armenian, if anything, but I just assumed based on his accent that he was from England,” her mother said.

“That’s just where he studied English,” Annika informed her mother, leaving out the bit about learning Fae from the Cornish faeries. “He travels a lot, so he speaks a few different languages.”

“Oh, how fascinating,” one of the women said. “How many does he speak?”

“He said he’s
only
fluent in nineteen,” she replied, smiling.

“
Nineteen
?” Faline repeated. This got some clucks amongst the hens. “His family must be very cultured, to send him to schools that teach so many languages.”

“I have a friend who’s a diplomat, and all of his children speak around six languages,” Beatrice said. “But nineteen is just astounding. He must be a genius!”

“I never really thought of him as a genius, just a smart-ass,” Annika said, feeling more at ease, and it wasn’t from the champagne in the mimosas, although it didn’t hurt. It was here in the privacy of Faline’s salon that they were supposed to let loose, spilling secrets and talking about things men only wished they could hear, and might not believe unless they heard it for themselves. Perhaps she was worrying too much about what everyone else thought.

“What about his first name? I’ve never seen that before either,” Beatrice said, taking her newspaper back and reading the police report again with a smile.

“Oh, it means ‘winter’ in Finnish,” she said.

“It’s a good thing he didn’t ‘Finnish’ what he started, or the paper would have been very boring today!” one of the ladies chimed, and the others erupted in middle-aged giggles again. Annika blushed once more.

“Now tell us what he looks like. Is he tall, dark and handsome?”

“Yes, yes, and
yes!
” Annika yelped slightly as her mother’s comb tugged at a stubborn snarl, jerking her head a little.

“I’ll bet that’s what you were saying right before the police showed up Friday night!” a white-haired lady piped up.

“Agnes!” Faline said from above her daughter’s head, pretending to be shocked.

“It’s not exactly the worst publicity for an up-and-coming rock star to get,” Beatrice said, still smiling brightly. “Your mother told us he’s quite well-to-do. Is it true that he’s going to get your friend Patti a new car to make up for the one that he crashed?”

“That’s what he said,” she said with a goofy grin as her mother started applying color and foiling her hair. “Although I’m not sure if he realizes how much cars cost. He has some spending cash, but most of his money is in silver and gold.”

“He sounds like he’s got a good head on his shoulders, even though he’s not much of a driver,” Beatrice said. “Not too many people are smart enough to keep their finances liquid like that, especially in this economy.”

“Yeah…” said Annika, sipping her mimosa again. She was pretty sure that Beatrice was thinking of something a bit different than a burlap sack full of silver and gold rings.

“What is Talvi up to today?” her mother asked. “I thought you might bring him by to meet the ladies.”

“That’s funny you ask. He wanted to come, but I sent him to the store with James to get building materials. The roof is leaking and he knows how to fix it.” That just made the hens cluck even more about her good fortune, and they spent the next hour comparing the size of their husbands’ honey-do lists.

After her long hair had been touched up in her signature flame red hue, and freed of all split ends, Annika dialed a number on her phone that she hadn’t called in months.

“Hello?” a deep voice on the other line answered.

“Hey, it’s me. Whatcha up to?”

“The same thing I do every Sunday,” Danny replied. “I haven’t changed as much as
you
have in the past few months.”

Annika rolled her eyes a little and ignored his humorless tone. “Am I interrupting anything?”

“Nope. Did you just get your hair done?”

“Yep, how did you know?”

“Because it’s a Sunday. You’re still red, aren’t you, or has that changed too?” he jabbed.

“Of course I’m still red,” she laughed. “I’ll never switch to another color; it suits me too well.”

“You’re right. It does suit you too well. So what’s up?”

“Do you mind if I stop by for a few minutes and get that stuff out of your way?”

“It’s not in the way,” he said. It sounded by the tone of his voice that he didn’t really want to give her shampoo and poufy rainbow skirt back after all.

“Well, you can always bring them to work tomorrow,” she suggested. “I’m stopping by to see you there, anyway.”

“Oh did we make plans that I’m not remembering?”

“No, I’ll tell you about it when I get there.”

“See you soon, then,” he said, and hung up quickly. Annika grabbed her purse and waved goodbye to her mother, Beatrice, Agnes, and the other ladies, then made the drive down the familiar streets that she had traveled so often in the time that she had dated Danny.

It felt surreal to pull her car into the driveway next to his. She’d parked there nearly every night for two years. She hesitated at the front door. She didn’t have a key anymore, but she knew he only locked the door at night. Uncertain whether to walk right in or knock politely, she finally decided on a quick warning knock before she pushed the door open. The familiar scents hit her like an old, stale memory.

“I’m in here,” his voice called from the living room. Annika walked down the hall and into the room, where Danny was sprawled on the couch in a t-shirt and warm-up pants, flipping between three different cable sports channels, like he always did on Sunday afternoons.

“Well look at you,” he smiled as she came into the living room. “I’m glad you didn’t cut off too much. I think you’ll look just as sexy even when you’re your mother’s age.”

“You’re just saying that,” she teased.

“No, it’s true. Your mom would be pretty hot if she grew her hair as long as yours.”

“Danny!” she admonished.

“What? You look just like her,” he said. The lively chatter at the salon had taken its toll and Annika felt her stomach growl. It was loud enough for him to hear, and he walked over to the fridge and found a box of fried rice and an egg roll.