Enchantment Page 17

  “What’s with the squirrel?” Dad said, gesturing toward the bush.

  “It came here with a wounded leg. I believe it escaped from a coyote.”

  “And you’re nursing it?”

  Ohlan nodded. Either he didn’t hear the note of sarcasm in Dad’s voice, or he was ignoring it.

  “So, you’re running a wildlife rescue?”

  “Only for the wildlife that’s here.” Ohlan gestured around the glen. “This spring is my responsibility.”

  “Responsibility? You’re what, a caretaker?”

  “Yes.”

  “You work here every day?”

  “Yes, 24/7.”

  Holly looked at Ohlan. Where had he picked that up? Maybe from some hiker.

  “I see,” Mom said. “So that’s why you can’t leave. You’re keeping an eye on the spring.”

  “You work for the Forest Service?” Dad said.

  “I don’t work for them,” Ohlan said. “I do work with them.”

  “What happens when they close the trail?”

  Holly bit her lip. Ohlan glanced at her, then looked back at Dad.

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.”

  “Not a very secure future,” Dad said.

  “I hope you like fried chicken,” said Mom, offering a platter to Ohlan.

  She’d brought serving dishes, for crying out loud. She must really want to make a good impression. Holly glanced at her, deciding Mom must be on her side.

  Ohlan helped himself to a piece of chicken. “Thanks. It looks wonderful.”

  “Holly made the potato salad.”

  “Your recipe,” Holly said, taking a thigh and passing the platter to Dad. “Mom’s a really good cook.”

  Dad eased up for a while, letting Mom take the lead while they ate. Mom’s questions to Ohlan were mostly easy. Still, Holly’s stomach was tight with dread that she’d ask something Ohlan didn’t know how to answer.

  He seemed perfectly comfortable, not nervous at all. Maybe he’d been around humans enough to be able to guess how they’d react, or maybe he’d lived so much longer without human contact than with it that people just weren’t that important to him.

  That thought made Holly uneasy, but she didn’t think it was true. He always treated her like she was important. He made her feel like the most important person in the world.

  “Does your family live here, Ohlan?” Mom asked.

  “I have kin living in these mountains. Cousins,” he added as Dad raised an eyebrow.

  “What’s your education?” Dad asked.

  “Dad!”

  Her father glanced at Holly, then back at Ohlan. “College?”

  Ohlan shook his head. “I’m self-taught. I like to read.”

  “That reminds me,” Holly said, reaching for her pack. “I brought you a book.”

  She took out the book on trains and handed it to Ohlan. He glanced at the cover, then met her gaze, looking delighted.

  “Thank you. I’ll enjoy this.”

  “So, no education,” Dad said. “No permanent job.”

  Holly glared at her father. “Dad, come on! You didn’t ask Kevin questions like that!”

  “Kevin’s still in school. Ohlan’s out on his own. I’m just curious whether he has the means to support a family. Assuming he’s interested in that.”

  Dad’s voice was challenging. Holly felt her cheeks starting to burn; she’d never seen him act this way. It was embarrassing.

  “That’s fair enough,” Ohlan said, nodding. “You’re right to be concerned about Holly’s future, though I think she’s a little young to be thinking in terms of starting a family.”

  Holly looked up at him and saw him smiling softly back. The love in his eyes made her forget about anything else. Whatever her parents did—however they might try to interfere—they could never take that away from her.

  “I only want what’s best for Holly, of course,” Ohlan said, still gazing at her. “I would do anything I could to protect her.”

  “Nice, but that doesn’t put food on the table,” said Dad.

  “How about dessert?” Mom said. “Ohlan, I hope you like chocolate.”

  He grinned at her. “I love chocolate.”

  Mom got out the cake, shooting Dad a look that Holly recognized. In their private spousal language, she was telling him to back off. Somewhat to Holly’s surprise, he did.

  Mom handed Ohlan a plate with a huge slice of chocolate cake. “You must see a lot of wildlife here.”

  “Yes. There’s a family of deer that have been grazing here lately. A mother and two fawns.”

  “Deer!” Mom said. “How wonderful!”

  Ohlan nodded. “If you come just before dusk and sit quietly for a while, you might see them.”

  “But the trail will be closed for construction,” said Dad.

  Ohlan paused with his fork over the cake. “That’s right. I keep forgetting.”

  He glanced at Holly and for the first time that day, she saw a hint of doubt in his eyes. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and never let go. Instead she watched him eat a bite of cake.

  “This is delicious,” he said.

  Mom smiled. Holly took a bite of her own cake but it tasted like chalk in her mouth. She rested the plate in her lap.

  “Holly will be starting college in a year,” Dad said.

  Ohlan looked at him, then at Holly. “A lot can happen in a year.”

  She wasn’t sure what he meant. Was he telling her she should be prepared to go on without him, in case …?

  “She’ll graduate from high school in May,” Dad said. The challenge was back in his voice.

  Ohlan didn’t say anything. Maybe he wasn’t listening any more—he just stared at Holly with a longing in his eyes that worried her. She swallowed.

  “Yeah, you better give me a nice present,” she said. Stupid remark, but what she was really trying to say was that she wanted Ohlan to still be here in May.

  “A present?” He frowned.

  “For my graduation.” She looked at Dad, hoping to distract him from Ohlan’s confusion. “Debbie’s parents are giving her a car. A new Camry.”

  Mom glanced at him. “We gave Madison the Subaru.”

  “It had quite a few miles on it. The Saturn’s barely two years old.”

  “Jen’s folks got her brother a used cop car,” Holly said. “It’s really cool! It still has the spotlight, even.”

  “You are not driving a cop car,” Dad said.

  Holly subsided, out of things to say about graduation presents. She shot a glance at Ohlan, who was looking thoughtful.

  “So gifts of value are in order.” He looked at her. “Jewelry, perhaps?”

  Holly bit her lip, uncertain whether Ohlan knew about engagement rings. Her parents were sure to assume that was what he meant. What a mess!

  Mom came to the rescue. “I don’t think any girl would be disappointed in a gift of jewelry,” she said, starting to collect the picnic plates. “Anyone want more cake?”

  Holly looked at the uneaten cake in her lap. She lifted the plate and offered it to Ohlan.

  “Want it?”

  “Sure, if you don’t.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t.”

  His fingers brushed hers as he took the plate. Holly swallowed, wanting to touch him, to hold him. Instead she helped Mom clean up the picnic things.

  Dad sat watching Ohlan, a slight frown on his brow. Holly hoped he hadn’t decided to keep her grounded. She didn’t want to be disobedient, but she wasn’t going to let anything—even her parents—keep her away from Ohlan.

  The certainty of that decision settled on her, and her uneasiness drained away. She looked at Ohlan, knowing that she’d made her choice. She was faintly surprised at how easy it was.

  Ohlan scraped together the last bite of icing and cake, then offered the fork to her, raising an eyebrow. Holly shook her head, smiling, and watched him finish the cake. He added his plate to the plastic bag Mom had brought for
trash.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Parker. This was a wonderful treat.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad we got to meet you.” She glanced at Holly, looking as if she was trying to decide whether to say more.

  Dad moved to stand up. “Yes, good to meet—“

  Ohlan stopped him with a sudden gesture for silence. Dad frowned, then slowly turned his head in response to Ohlan’s slight nod.

  A roadrunner stood at the far side of the glen, its tail swinging up and down, head twitching sideways as it watched them. The bird was huge, maybe three feet long from crest to tail, its feathers speckled brown on white.

  Holly held her breath. Everyone kept still.

  The roadrunner took a couple of dancing steps toward them. It wanted water from the spring, Holly realized, but it wasn’t willing to go past them to get it.

  Ohlan slowly stood. The bird’s gaze followed him. He raised his right arm, holding it parallel to the ground.

  The roadrunner stared at him, squawked a protest, then dashed forward and leaped into the air, its wings flapping loudly. It settled on Ohlan’s arm with another squawk.

  He turned, murmuring softly to it, and knelt down to rest his arm along the edge of the coffin. The bird stepped onto the concrete and started to drink from the spring.

  Holly watched it, fascinated. She’d never been so close to a roadrunner; she could have reached out and touched it. Its head had streaks of red and blue above the eye, something she hadn’t known about. Its beak looked strong enough to break a window. A magnificent bird!

  No one moved or spoke while the roadrunner drank its fill. Finally it paced along the edge of the spring past Ohlan and hopped down to the ground. It poked its beak into the dry leaves around the base of the coffin a couple of times, then darted away down the hill.

  Holly let out her breath. “Cool!”

  “That was impressive,” Dad said. “You have a way with wildlife.”

  Ohlan smiled. “She knows me. She comes here every day.”

  “Even so. For her to come to you with us right here … that’s pretty remarkable.”

  Ohlan gave a small shrug. “This is what I do.”

  “You seem to have a gift for it,” said Mom.

  The roadrunner’s appearance became the finale of the picnic. Dad got to his feet and helped Mom fold up the blanket while Holly stepped out of the way, closer to Ohlan. He smiled down at her and she slid her hand into his, wishing she could kiss him. He squeezed her fingers, his skin cool against hers.

  Packing the ice chest didn’t take nearly long enough. Holly wanted to stay, and only reluctantly let go of Ohlan’s hand.

  “See you soon,” she said.

  “Thanks for coming.” His gaze shifted to her parents. “It was great meeting you both.”

  They said nice, noncommittal things in farewell. Dad grabbed hold of the ice chest and started to wheel it down the trail. Mom followed him and Holly fell in behind them, glancing back at Ohlan as she left the glen. He smiled, and though his lips didn’t move she heard him.

  I’ll be dreaming of you.

  She looked away, biting her lip. Maybe she’d sneak out tonight anyway.

  Because tonight might be their last chance.

  Holly brushed aside a tear. She was not going to freak out. There had to be a way to save the spring. She just hadn’t thought of it yet.

  Hiking down seemed to take forever. Dad kept control of the ice chest, hefting it over the rough places himself, claiming it was a lot lighter now. Holly got the feeling he wanted to get home as fast as possible.

  In the car, she checked her phone and found a couple of text messages. Debbie offered condolences about her being grounded and said she hadn’t missed much—the movie was only so-so. Jen asked if she’d been released from jail yet. Holly answered that the jury was still out.

  And they were home. Dad carried in the ice chest, then disappeared into the living room to watch golf. Holly offered to help cleaning up the picnic things.

  Mom smiled. “No, thanks, honey. It won’t take long.”

  Holly stood in the kitchen, watching Mom, not sure what to do with herself. Had her status changed? Did it matter?

  “Ohlan is very sweet,” Mom said, “and … interesting. I can see why you like him.”

  “Thanks.” She didn’t know what else to say.

  “And he obviously cares about you too. Though he was absolutely right when he said you’re too young to start a family.”

  “I know that. I’m not interested in that yet.”

  “Hm. You might not be, but your body may have other ideas.”

  Holly blushed, glancing toward the living room. “Mom!”

  “Just be careful, OK, honey?” Mom’s voice was quiet. “Come to me if you need any help.”

  Surprised, Holly swallowed. “Thanks.”

  Mom smiled, put an arm around her and mussed her hair the way she hated, then let go and went back to cleaning up. Holly watched her for a minute, wanting to say thanks but she’d already done that. Finally she took a ginger ale out of the fridge and went to her room.

  They had done the birds and bees talk years ago, before Holly ever went on a date, but this was the first time Mom had talked to her as though she was sexually functional. She hadn’t been expecting that kind of validation. It felt good.

  She really did love her parents. Sometimes they pissed her off, but other times they were pretty cool.

  She sat on her bed, sipping ginger ale and thinking about the picnic. The end result had been good: Mom liked Ohlan, and she thought Dad at least was beginning to see him as something other than a bum. Probably the best she could hope for.

  So now what? She had the rest of the day to get through. She’d already finished her homework and read the forestry book. The library was closed on Sunday. She could bike to the bookstore but she didn’t really feel like shopping.

  If she was going to see Ohlan that night, maybe she should take a nap. A little flutter of fear went through her stomach at the thought of sneaking out. Ignoring it, she opened her laptop to check her email while she finished her drink.

  Another email from Madison. She considered deleting it, but she wasn’t as angry any more. In fact, it was sort of good that she’d been forced to introduce Ohlan to the folks.

  She opened the message. It was one word: “Sorry.”

  Holly sighed. She couldn’t think of anything to say. She wasn’t quite ready to forgive Madison, so she didn’t answer, but just closed the message, saving it for later.

  She surfed around a bit, then on a whim entered “Olan” into a search engine, trying a few different spellings. Most of the hits were people’s surnames, but halfway down the first page on the search for “Ohlan” was a title she recognized.

  Amanda’s book. She clicked the link and what came up was the dedication page, which Holly hadn’t paid any attention to when she read the book.

  To my loving husband Robert,

  my wonderful children Jane and John,

  and to Ohlan, who taught me that dreams are worth chasing.

  Holly sucked in a sharp breath. She still had the book out from the library, so she grabbed it off her shelf and turned to the front. Sure enough, same dedication. She hadn’t even noticed.

  Proof that Amanda had loved Ohlan. Not that she needed proof, but it was satisfying to see it confirmed. Amanda’s caginess with the story about the village girl had bothered her, as if Amanda was ashamed of her connection with Ohlan.

  He should see this. He’d probably never seen this book.

  So she would take it to him. Tonight.

  She drank the last of her ginger ale, set the book on her nightstand, and took off her shoes. Just as she was getting ready to lie down, her phone chirped with a text.

  It was Jen. “will u no soon? sleepover friday - want u there.”

  “I’ll ask,” she answered, then put the phone away.

  Sleepover with the girls, or a night with Ohlan? No contest, but she wasn’
t sure the choice would come up.

  She winced. By Friday, her life might be over. Because if Ohlan died, she wasn’t sure she’d want to live on.

  So think, dummy. How can you stop the reconstruction project?

  She’d had silly thoughts of standing in front of bulldozers. Could she really do that? There wouldn’t be bulldozers, but there would be grown men with some kind of destructive equipment. Did she have the guts to put herself between them and their work? She’d just get arrested, but at least that would delay the destruction of the spring, and maybe draw some attention to the issue.

  She sprawled on the bed and closed her eyes, picturing herself crusading to save the spring. Trouble was, she suspected no one would care. Why should they? She hadn’t cared herself before she met Ohlan.

  If everyone knew about Ohlan, maybe then they’d care, but she knew if she tried to tell people about him they’d just think she was crazy. That’s why Amanda had turned her story into a fairy tale.

  The thoughts went around and around in her head. She kept testing and discarding possibilities, always ending up back in front of the bulldozers. She didn’t like it, but it seemed like the only option that had any chance of working.

  Boy, would her folks be pissed.

  Positive thinking was supposed to help. She tried picturing herself standing down the construction dudes, being named a hero for bringing the spring’s plight to Las Palomas’s attention. She was in the middle of a speech thanking the mayor for the key to the city when she heard Ohlan’s voice.

  Holly.

  The scene she was imagining vanished, like a reflection disturbed by a pebble falling into the water. She felt a familiar cool darkness in its place.

  “Oh. I’m dreaming.”

  “Yes,” Ohlan said, and with that she saw him.

  They weren’t in the glen. She couldn’t tell where they were, only that she felt comfortable wherever it was. Comfortable because Ohlan was there. He was back in his usual form, softly glowing.

  “How come you can come to me in dreams, but you have to stay at the spring otherwise?”