Enchantment Page 11

  No, marriage just wasn’t an option, even if she did figure out how she felt about it, which she hadn’t. Forget that.

  She wanted Ohlan to make love to her. She wanted to save the spring. The first she might be able to manage, if she could get out of the house again in the next week.

  Saving the spring …

  She’d give it everything she had.

  She hugged him, tight as she could, wanting to feel him in her bones, wanting to make the illusion a reality just by wishing hard enough. Ohlan hugged her back, and she felt his lips press against her hair.

  She turned her head and covered his face with kisses. He responded in kind, and this time he touched her, his hands moving across her back, along her arms, caressing her throat. His kisses followed his hands down the lace edge of her neckline. A soft moan escaped her.

  Her cell phone fired off, with the theme from “Monty Python.” Holly jumped so hard she lost her balance.

  Flailing, she tried to catch herself. Her hand went into the spring. Ohlan caught her before she could fall in, and lifted her upright.

  “Geez!” She shook the water off her hand and scrabbled in her purse for the phone. “Sorry. It’s my parents.”

  Her heart was pounding. Ohlan held her lightly, keeping her from falling, while she found the phone and checked the time before answering it.

  Almost ten! Where had the evening gone?

  “H’lo?”

  “Hi, honey,” said Mom cheerily. “How was the movie?”

  “Um—I wound up going to a different one. Ran kind of late.”

  “Oh, I see. Well, just thought I’d check. Are you hanging out with your friends?”

  One friend.

  “Um, no I’m on my way home. I won’t be long.”

  “OK, honey. See you soon.”

  Holly closed the phone and took a deep breath. Ohlan was watching her, his gaze tender.

  “I have to go.”

  He nodded, flashed a smile, and brushed a kiss across her lips. She demanded more, and got it. After a moment she made herself let go and stand up.

  “Really have to go. I don’t want to.”

  Ohlan folded his hands across his thigh. “Will I see you tomorrow?”

  “Don’t know. My folks are threatening some family-together fun.” She reached out to touch his cheek. “I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  Ohlan smiled, the sweetness and trust in his face making her heart ache. She didn’t think anyone else had ever looked at her that way.

  She tore herself away and hurried down the path at something close to a run. She was getting familiar with the trail, and the moonlight helped. She reached the street and jogged to the Saturn. Mom was going to wonder what was taking her so long.

  She hopped in the car and made herself drive the speed limit the short distance to home, instead of gunning it like she wanted to. The front porch light was on, a gleam announcing her absence and expected arrival. She tucked the Saturn into the garage and went inside.

  “There you are.” Mom came up and gave her a smooch. “Want some cherry pie? We saved you a piece.”

  “Oh, no thanks. Had a big burger and a malt.”

  “How are Debbie and Jen? Haven’t seen them in a while.”

  “They’re great.” Holly yawned as she hung the Saturn keys on their hook. “I’m kinda sleepy. Need me to do anything before I crash?”

  “Give your old man a hug,” said Dad, coming in from the living room. He gave her a giant bear hug. “How was the movie?”

  “Not as interesting as I thought it would be.”

  “Hm. Maybe you’re getting tired of explosions?”

  “Maybe.”

  “But not smoke, I hope.”

  Holly looked at him, trying to figure out what he meant. Mom joined them, smiling.

  “Dad’s got a surprise.”

  Uh-oh. Holly tried to look interested. “Fireworks at the ball game?”

  “Nope, better.” Dad grinned. “Cumbres & Toltec Railroad. I got us tickets for tomorrow.”

  Holly’s heart sank. Chama was all the way up by the northern border. It would take the whole day to go up there and ride the train. She wouldn’t be able to visit Ohlan.

  “You’ve been wanting to go,” Mom prompted.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Holly put on a smile. “That’s terrific, Dad! Thanks!”

  “So get some sleep,” Dad said, tousling her hair. “We have to leave bright and early.”

  “OK.”

  “And pack an overnight bag,” said Mom. “We found this cute little B&B to stay at.”

  “Right.” So she might not get to see Ohlan on Sunday, either. Hiding her disappointment, Holly headed for her room.

  “They said to wear black clothes on the train,” Mom called after her.

  “No problem,” Holly said over her shoulder. “Gnight!”

  She closed her bedroom door and leaned against it, not bothering to turn on the light. The Milky Way glowed faintly on the ceiling.

  “Crap.”

  For years she had begged her folks to take her back to Chama to ride the narrow gauge train. They had gone when she was little but she hardly remembered it. And now, when they finally came through, it was at the worst possible time.

  She couldn’t very well say she didn’t want to go. They wouldn’t understand. She pushed away from the door and stood in the middle of her room, feeling adrift.

  Nine days left, and now two of them were lost. And school started on Monday. How was she going to save the spring?

  Part of her wanted to climb out the window and go back there right now. Spend the night with Ohlan, and the hell with what her parents thought. But she couldn’t do that to them. They didn’t deserve it.

  She sat on her bed, remembering the evening. She never wanted to forget the couple of precious hours she’d just spent with Ohlan. Writing them down would help, but she didn’t want to write anything that her folks might find and read. They thought she was crazy as it was.

  He’d actually offered to marry her. She smiled, remembering his sweet concern.

  Well, they would have plenty of time to think about that, because she was by damn going to save him. That was all there was to it.

  She went to her desk and switched on the lamp, then pulled out the copies she’d made from the Forest Service report, looking for more information. The language still made her cross-eyed, but she found a list of the contractors that would be working on the project.

  “Housing demolition and grounds restoration” was assigned to a company she’d never heard of, Twin Hills Contractors. Maybe they weren’t local. It was a government project so the bidding probably had to be open to any company.

  She got out her laptop and surfed up Twin Hills Contractors. They were from southern Colorado. Kind of hard to sabotage anything at that distance, not that she knew how to sabotage construction equipment, or intended to. There had to be a non-destructive way to do this.

  She looked through the copies again, trying to figure out who had made the decision to do this whole project. There was no general contractor listed, and it looked like the Forest Service was calling the shots.

  All right, then. To the Forest Service website she went, where she found an address for the Las Palomas County field office, including the Director’s name: Ranger Stephen Macauley.

  Holly copied the information into her phone, then hastily picked out some clothes and stuffed them in her backpack for tomorrow. She draped her old black jeans and her black long-sleeved t-shirt over her desk chair, then changed into her nightshirt, switched off the light, and climbed into bed.

  Freshly charged, the stars on the ceiling glowed brilliantly. She could see all three comets and the little Tinkerbell fairy Mad had stuck up in one corner. Remembering the story, she softly clapped her hands before rolling over and going to sleep.

  ~ 11 ~

  It was still dark when Mom dragged her out of bed and hustled her into her clothes. Half-conscious, Holly remembered to grab
a book to read in the car, mostly so she wouldn’t have to talk much. She ate an egg and toast sandwich that Mom put in her hands and accepted a travel mug full of coffee, then piled into the back seat of Dad’s Volvo and collapsed.

  Gradually the sky lightened as they drove north. As it did, Holly began to wake up. She drank the coffee, then when it was light enough to see, opened the novel she’d brought.

  Normal behavior for her, so her parents didn’t mind, and since she was in the back they didn’t really notice that she wasn’t making much progress in the book. Her mind kept drifting to Ohlan, and her gaze kept drifting to the window, especially when there was water to look at: the Rio Grande, or Abiquiu Lake, or finally the Chama River. She felt an odd desire to talk to the guardians of those waters, though the river spirits would be hanging out at their headwaters if she understood things right.

  Dad slowed the car as they drove into Chama. She’d been so young the last time they were here that she had no memories of the place. The Cumbres & Toltec, one of the few narrow-gauge trains still functioning in the country, was obviously the town’s life. The main street ran right alongside the tracks, and as Dad cruised along it a train was sitting there, its old-fashioned black engine puffing steam, very impressive.

  The B&B was on the main street, overlooking the tracks. They were too early to check in, but Dad parked the car there and said hello to the owners, then hustled Holly and Mom over to the station. The train that was sitting there was theirs, and they were among the last to board. Fortunately it wasn’t completely full, and they were able to find good seats.

  Holly had the munchies, though it was barely after ten. Dad went on a mission to the train’s snack bar and came back with chips, sodas, and cookies.

  Holly stared out the window at the Chama River as long as it was in sight. When it was gone, she read the little history brochure about the train. Chama had always been a railroad town; originally the train had carried lumber and ore out of the mountains. Now it carried tourists.

  The black clothes were because of the cinders from the coal-burning engine that filled the air and smudged on any surface. Holly didn’t mind; they were interesting. She was glad she’d remembered her sunglasses, though. Cinders in the eyes weren’t fun.

  She gazed out of the window, enjoying the cool breeze that set the leaves of aspen groves on the hillsides aflutter. In some places the track curved so she could see the front of the train, with the engine puffing up clouds of smoke. The tracks wound through mountains that were steeper than the gentle slopes around Las Palomas; more immediately tall, and striking.

  “We should have come when the aspens are turning,” Mom said.

  “Lot of tourists then, I bet,” said Holly.

  “And school will be going,” said Dad. “You don’t mind that we didn’t wait for fall color, do you hon?”

  Holly heard the note of concern in his voice and turned to him with a smile. “No, of course not. This is great.”

  “Well, I’m glad you like it. You’ve seemed a little down, lately.”

  “No—just … preoccupied.”

  “Back to school week,” said Mom. “Worst week in any kid’s life.”

  Holly smiled faintly, acknowledging the joke. Truth was, she hadn’t been thinking much about school. She looked at her parents, grateful for their concern, even though they had no idea what was going on with her right now. She wished she could tell them, but she just couldn’t figure out how to do it without sounding like a nut case.

  The train chugged its way up into the mountains. The slow pace made Holly antsy, but she tried not to show it. They’d reach the halfway mark in a couple of hours, have a lunch, then ride back down. Some trains continued on up into southern Colorado, but except for a couple of impressive views and a tunnel, there wasn’t much of interest on that leg of the trip, and according to the brochure you had to ride a bus back to Chama. Holly was glad Dad had opted for the round-trip.

  All along the way she saw streams and sometimes little waterfalls leaking from the mountainsides. They crossed a high bridge over Wolf Creek, and as they neared the halfway mark of Osier, another stream meandered through the high alpine meadows. Wildflowers bloomed in profusion, but it was the water that drew Holly’s gaze and made her think of Ohlan.

  She should start planning what to say to the Forest Service. She’d already decided to go there after school on Monday. How could she make a case for preserving the spring? To be perfectly honest, she disliked the ugly concrete coffin, but it was Ohlan’s home and therefore she had to save it.

  It was a historic site, she decided. It should be preserved because of that. Built by the Civilian Conservation Corps. Documented in the memoir of a famous person—Amanda was famous, right? Holly started planning what to say as if she were preparing to write a homework essay. Actually, making some notes would probably be a good idea.

  She’d left her laptop at home but she had a small spiral notebook in her backpack. She got it out and jotted a few notes. Maybe she could start a petition to have the spring declared an official historic site. Have to surf up the requirements online. She suspected a week wasn’t enough time to get that in motion, but she could try.

  The train’s whistle startled her into looking out the window. They were pulling into the station at Osier, the station house painted a cheerful yellow. Holly stuffed her notebook back in her pack and joined her parents, blinking as she stepped off the train into the bright sunlight.

  The sky was the deep blue you only saw up in clean, mountain air. A few puffy white clouds drifted near the horizon. A cool breeze took away the sting of the hot sun. The passengers all walked down to a large building that turned out to be a restaurant.

  Lunch was surprisingly good. Holly had roast turkey with mashed potatoes and gravy. The big restaurant felt more like a cafeteria, though—echoey, no atmosphere—so when she’d finished her meal, she went outside to walk around the meadow.

  A small stream meandered lazily along the lowest part, almost hidden by the tall grass growing on its banks. Holly walked over to the waterway, wondering what its name was, or if it even had one. There was lots of water in these mountains, one reason they were so pretty.

  Black-eyed Susans were blooming along the bank. Holly reached for a stem and saw a face looking up at her from below.

  With a small gasp, she stepped back. At first she thought she’d seen a child, but when she peered through the leaves again, it looked more like a miniature adult human, sitting among the foliage, hugging its knees. Huge brown eyes stared back at her from a pixie-like face surrounded by curling blond hair, reminding her a little of the flowers. She wasn’t sure if it was male or female.

  “Hello?” Holly said.

  “Hello.” The not-child stood up, its head coming to just below Holly’s shoulder. “What are you looking for?”

  The voice was child-like in pitch, but not in expression. Holly found it confusing—and fascinating.

  “I-I wasn’t looking for anything.”

  “You must be. People don’t see me unless they’re looking for something. Usually something they dropped. Did you drop anything?”

  “No,” Holly said, beginning to feel a tickle of excitement. “Are you the guardian of this stream?”

  “It’s a river, actually, though it doesn’t look like it up here.” The spirit tilted its head and smiled. “How do you know about guardians?”

  “Um, I’ve met two others.”

  “Really? You must have the gift of fair sight.”

  Holly didn’t know what that meant. She was about to ask when the train’s whistle sounded; a long blast, calling the passengers back.

  “Here,” the spirit said, plucking a flower and handing it to Holly. “That’s what you wanted, yes?”

  “Thank you.” Holly raised it to her face, though she knew it wouldn’t have much scent. What fragrance there was reminded her of sunshine.

  “Um—can you tell me something? If a guardian of a spring came to visit you,
and the spring was … destroyed, in the meantime, would they survive?”

  The small spirit frowned. “I wouldn’t think so. I’ve never heard of anything like that happening.”

  “Have you ever seen another guardian die?”

  The spirit looked at her very seriously. “We do not die in the way of living creatures. If the water we watch over ceases to flow, we fade.”

  Holly swallowed. That sounded like what was happening to Ohlan. Even if she saved the spring from destruction, she might lose him.

  “Holly!”

  Holly looked over her shoulder to see Dad standing by the restaurant’s back door, waving. She waved back.

  “Be right there!”

  She turned back to the spirit to ask another question, but it was gone. A glint of sunlight on the surface of the stream caught her eye, and she thought she might have seen a face there for a moment, but the whistle sounded again.

  She hurried to join her parents in the line to get back on the train. Riding back through the scenery they’d already looked at, she spent most of the trip musing.

  Assuming she succeeded in saving the spring, she still had the problem of Ohlan’s strength fading. If that was caused by the flow of water in the spring stopping, she wasn’t sure she could do anything about it. She needed to study the geology of springs, find out how they worked. In less than a week.

  Library. She could hit the school library at lunch on Monday. She still intended to visit the Forest Service after school, and then maybe if she had time left, visit Ohlan.

  She twirled her flower, thinking about the river’s guardian spirit. He/she/it had said that she had fair sight, whatever that was. Maybe Ohlan would know.

  Loneliness for him welled up inside her, and staring out the window at the mountainsides didn’t help. She turned away and found her mom watching her. Dad was hanging out the window on the other side of the train, taking photos.

  “You look sad,” Mom said.

  Holly shook her head, but couldn’t really come up with an explanation of her mood. “Thinking about school,” she said, which was true.

  “Last year. Think you’ll go to the prom?”