CHAPTER 8
The door closed behind Ouska, and Cat leaned her head back in the rocking chair. The lovely warmth from the applejack was dissipating slowly from her body, but Ouska had lit a small fire in the fireplace which was gradually taking the chill off the cottage. The sun had come up and was sending a few rays through the trees outside into the room. The man on the bed—Guy?—drew some softly rasping breaths.
Cat let the events of the last eighteen hours drift through her mind. She certainly had not bargained on any of this—had never imagined any of this could happen. Nicky was the one who believed in all sorts of things—fairies, and elves, and reincarnation and auras and magic and crystals and little folk and the power of dreams. Well, to be honest, Cat was not sure if Nicky really believed, but she certainly wanted it to be real. And where it wasn’t, she made believe. It was probably one of the things that made her friend so attractive, her childlike enthusiasm—that, and her bushy head of golden hair, the Pocket Venus figure, and the blue eyes that she would open really wide to look straight up at the other person as if they were the most amazing thing she had met in a long while. It seemed to pull people in like iron filings to an electromagnet, especially those of the susceptible male variety. Cat had watched more than one man fall under that spell and then trail her friend for days, until Nicky either made it clear that he needed to pack up and leave, or took pity on him and elevated him to official boyfriend status for a month or two. They never lasted longer than that; in spite of all her romantic entanglements, Nicky had never yet found what she was looking for in a man, no more than Cat had. The only difference was that she had a much wider field to pick from.
Cat sighed. She was so different from her friend. Even outwardly, she was boring—average height, average size, average brown hair, and average brown eyes. Average, boring interests, no special experience, no special degrees. Just an average boring bachelor’s in English, with a boring career in librarianship. The only other thing more boring would be a career as Chartered Accountant. Or banking; she supposed being a banker could be quite dull. Or a flag girl on a highway construction site; that had to be the worst job possible, just standing there outside in all kinds of weather with car fumes blowing in your face…
Her mind snapped back to her present situation, and her eyes went to the man on the bed. Something was different! She reached out and felt his forehead. He was much cooler to the touch now, and beads of sweat were beginning to form along his hairline. That was good, wasn’t it? It meant the fever had broken, if she remembered correctly (who would have thought that reading nineteenth-century novels would come in so handy some day?). She had no idea if it was normal for a fever to form so quickly and then to break so fast, but perhaps people’s health issues were different here than they were at home.
At home—did she have a home? Would she ever go back to where she had come from, go back to Greenward Falls, back on the track she had been on—book that flight to wherever, to search for her adventure… Of course, she could not have foreseen any of this, but now she was in the middle of what was sure to be the biggest adventure of her entire life, and she had no desire to go back. She wanted to go on, to find out where she was and what was going to happen next.
What happened next was that the baby woke up. Bibby sat up on her bed and rubbed her little fists in her eyes. Her feathery red-blond curls stood out all over her little head, making her look like a human dust mop, and her cheeks were flushed from sleep. She blinked her turquoise eyes (what an amazing colour that was!) and looked around until she found Cat on the other side of the room.
“Gah!” she said happily, and then scrambled to her feet.
Cat smiled at her. “Good morning to you, too, little Sleepyhead!” She crossed the room and tried to scoop up Bibby in her arms, but her sore hand stopped her. “Ouch!” Instead, she knelt and gave the little girl a hug.
“And how are you this morning?” she asked her.
“Bubba!” said the baby and toddled over to the bed.
“No, wait, daddy’s sleeping!” began Cat, turning around to stop the little girl from interfering, but she suddenly found herself looking straight into the other pair of turquoise eyes.
Guy’s brows were slightly drawn together in a puzzled frown as he looked at Cat. His gaze slid away from her, sweeping around the room, then coming to the little girl who was now trying to climb on the bed, and his eyes cleared.
“Bibby, Karana,” he said weakly, his voice rough from disuse, and he tried to pull his arm out from under the blanket to reach out to the baby.
Karana? That—wasn’t that what he had called Cat in the night? What she had assumed to be a name of another woman? Oh dear.
“Bubba bubba bubba!” sang the girl happily, and patted him on the chest.
“Careful, sweetie, you’ll hurt daddy!” said Cat and tried to scoop the baby off the bed again with her left arm. This brought the man’s eyes back to her, and the puzzled frown returned.
“Who—who you?” he asked in a slurred voice.
“Gah!” said Bibby, just as Cat was about to tell him. She gave the baby a surprised look. Did the little girl know her name? Nobody had told her, had they? She had assumed it was just random baby talk. Cat filed it away among all the other matters she needed to ask Ouska about.
“Yes, I’m Cat. Catriona, really. I found you in the woods; or rather, Bibby found me, and took me to you, and then Ouska came, and…”
He was looking no less confused.
“Never mind,” Cat said quickly. “I’m Cat, that’s all.”
“Oh,” he said, then winced as he tried to move. “Wha—wha happen?”
“I don’t know. You were covered in mud—clay—and so was she,” tipping her head at Bibby, “and you’ve hurt your leg. Ouska patched you up some, and she’s coming back, with someone called Uncle, I think?” You’re babbling, Cat. Now that he was properly awake and conscious, she felt acutely embarrassed at being in a stranger’s bedroom, a male stranger at that. His eyes were becoming clearer as he looked around the room and then scanned her face, seemingly trying to understand, to remember.
“I—I cannot…” He tried to clear his throat, and winced again at the motion.
“No, never mind,” said Cat again, turning away from his probing gaze. She noticed the cloths that Ouska had left behind on top of the clothes chest and picked one up.
“Here,” she said, “let me…” Awkwardly, with her left hand, she dabbed at his forehead, which was glistening with sweat.
“Thank… you,” he said quietly.
“Bibby do!” said the little girl, catching up a cloth and trying to pat at his face, too.
“No, no, it’s all right!” Cat said with a laugh, trying to ward off the baby with her bandaged right hand.
“What… happened… to your… hand?” Guy asked.
Cat couldn’t help it. A slightly hysterical giggle forced its way out past her throat, and once it got through, the dam burst. Cat laughed, and laughed, the pent-up tension, confusion, fear, and panic of the last hours finding their release in this safety valve.
Guy smiled, bewildered; Bibby squealed with glee and slapped the bed with both her little hands.
“I’m sorry,” gasped Cat, when she could draw breath. “I’m sorry—it’s just that—what happened to my hand? You happened to it!” She laughed again.
“I did that?” He frowned in confusion. “Hold—were you—did I…”
“Yes, never mind. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, obviously deeply chagrined. “May I…” He pulled his left hand with some difficulty from below the cover and stretched it out shakily to Cat. With a curious feeling of reluctance, she laid her bandaged hand on his.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated, and gently placed his right hand on top. His hands were trembling with weakness, but she could feel his warmth through the cloth wrapped around her bruises. Something happened, something she could not explain. It felt as
though his touch drew away the pain in her hand, knit together what had been damaged. Startled, she looked into his face, but his eyes had closed, and his forehead was furrowed again.
The door opened.
“Where is that fool of a nephew of mine?” called a hearty male voice.
“Unca!” cried Bibby happily and threw herself at the stocky man who entered the room, Ouska right behind him.