Fated Memories (8 page)

“Did you see that? Did you see us?” Maggie hugged Simon so hard Kitty thought she'd break his ribs.

“Of course I saw it. You girls were awesome.”

Kitty started to raise her hand for the waitress, but she was already there. This woman was spooky.

“Another virgin vodka and cranberry for me please. And it's my turn to buy this round so don't you dare take a dime from either of those two.” She handed over her credit card, and the waitress melted back into the crowd.

Kitty felt a hand on the back of her chair and turned, thinking this couldn’t be the waitress coming back so soon. Nobody could be that fast.

“Heeyy, McGrail, you never told me you were a Spice Girl, and who's this lovely lady with you?”

Okay, he had her complete attention. Right height, athletic body, stylish, gorgeous eyes, and he'd called her lovely. All the perfect components. Except that drawn out ‘hey’ blew right into her face boosting her blood alcohol level a couple of points. This guy was seriously lit.

“This is my cousin Kitty. Kitty, Marshall Doyle.” The bland expression on Maggie's face didn't match her congenial voice and Kitty wondered if these two had a history. She shook his offered hand anyway, and he took that as an invitation to join them, slithering right into the vacant chair beside her.

“And this must be the brainiac boyfriend, huh?” Doyle extended his hand to Simon who took it without enthusiasm.

“The name's Simon. And I’m not sure you'd call me a brainiac..."

Maggie linked her arm through Simon’s and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Oh, honey, what Doyle means is that I told him you were more the academic type.” She stroked his muscular arm. “While you’re obviously fit, you’re not so much into sports as I am, that's all.”

Simon caught on and played along. “Oh, yeah, right.” He patted her hand. “Maggie outshines me in sports, but we have other things in common. Don't we, sweetheart?” He kissed her chastely on the lips.

This overacted performance turned Kitty’s stomach and Doyle didn’t seem too happy at that kiss. She tried to divert his attention, pointing to the stage and moving her finger right in front of his eyes so he’d have to follow it. “Oh my, check out that guy on stage. He's so into that song isn’t he? Do you know who he is?”

“Yeah, that’s one of my buddies, he’s okay.” He stayed hyper-focused on Maggie, who clung to Simon’s arm and avoided Doyle’s gaze as much as possible. Since that little distraction hadn’t worked, Kitty would have to try another tack.

“So, Doyle is it?” She rested her hand on his arm and squeezed it to get his attention. “What do you do for a living, Doyle?” Before he could answer, the magical drink fairy came back to their table.

Once she’d served everyone, Simon took up the question with Doyle. “You were going to tell us what you do for a living, Doyle.”

“Oh, yeah, well I'm a project engineer with Rawlings, one of the local companies here. I do feasibility studies and job cost analyses, that sort of thing,” Doyle explained in a self-important and condescending voice, slurring a little. “And what about you, Professor, what do you do?” He glared at Simon with eyebrows raised as if challenging him to come up with something better.

What an asshole. Now Kitty understood why Maggie didn’t like him. The polite banter was a sham to keep the atmosphere pleasant around Simon, but she must be itching like crazy to tell this guy to bug off for good.

Familiar with the game being played, the muscles in Simon’s jaw set tight, and his eyes bore into Doyle’s. He answered in a casual tone as if it wasn’t impressive at all. “My brothers and I own a thriving sheet-metal fabrication plant up in Wellsboro. It pulls in just under a couple mil a year.”

Doyle had no reply, his eyes narrowing as he nodded in return. She didn't know Simon well enough to say he was telling the truth, but shutting Doyle down like that was awesome.
You go, Simon!
Kitty sent him telepathic cheers while Maggie gazed up at him doe-eyed.

Doyle's buddy had finished his song, and the MC announced the next contestant. “Next up is Simon. Simon, where are you? Come on up here my man.”

“Is that you?” Maggie asked, startled.

“Yep, that’s me.”

Maggie and Kitty stared at each other, reading each other’s mind, the dread clear in their faces. If Simon went up on stage he’d be leaving them here alone with creepy Doyle!

Doyle’s arrogant smile returned, and he clapped Simon on the back as he rose. “Go ahead, man, do your thing, I'll keep these lovely ladies company while you're gone.”

Simon hesitated a moment, giving Doyle a dark, menacing scowl before making his way over to the MC.

For a moment, Kitty thought there’d be a fight which, in this crowded room, would be disastrous. She didn't know if Doyle was an angry drunk or not, and didn't care to find out, so she thought it best to wait a few minutes, to not make it obvious, then ask Maggie to come with her to the ladies’ room. They’d make a graceful exit and decide what to do when they got there.

Simon appeared to be negotiating with the MC as he thumbed through the music listing.  

“There's been a slight change in the program here, people. Instead of “Changes”, Simon's going to wow us with “Love Shack”. It's a duet y'know, buddy. Do you have a partner or do you need a volunteer?”

Several women waved their arms in the air, offering their services. “No, no thanks,” Simon said with a self-satisfied grin. “I brought my own back-up singers. Maggie, Kitty, come on, let's show them how it's done.”

Simon, you are a brainiac
. He had rescued them from drunken asshole hell. The ladies gave each other the same knowing smile and this time Kitty was excited to get up onstage. The euphoria from their last performance coupled with the prospect of an easy escape, had them running with their arms in the air and wings on their feet to join Simon onstage. Neither of the girls knew the song, so they read the words from the screen, faking it as best they could. They kept smiling, sashaying around, and making a show of it like last time. Not that anyone in the club cared. Maggie was right, it didn't matter how they sounded, everyone just wanted to see a show and have fun and they did their best to oblige.

The song ended with a shout of ‘Love Shack’ which they did in unison with their arms raised. Simon grasped them each by the hand and, after stepping off the stage, led them towards the exit as fast as possible. The threesome laughed so hard, they crashed into a couple standing by the door and almost fell.

Out in the parking lot they headed straight for Kitty’s mom’s car, laughing and reveling in amazement at their performance and the audacity of their little deceptive end run.

“Hey, McGrail, hold up. Where're you guys going?” Damn, if it wasn't Doyle again. He left the three guys he'd been talking to and stumbled over towards them.
For crying out loud, can't this guy take a hint?

Still in the grip of the rush, Maggie had a hard time being serious. “Oh sorry, Doyle,” she said still laughing. “We’re outta here. See y’around, bye.”

As Maggie stepped away again, Doyle seized her by the shoulder, spinning her around to face him. As he did so his finger caught the chain she wore, breaking it and sending the locket flying to the ground. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Maggie dove to retrieve her precious heirloom and rose, clutching it in her hand, her eyes wide in shock and anger. Kitty stood riveted to the ground, unsure whether to start a parking lot brawl or to sweep Maggie away and run.

Simon responded with a crunching blow that sent Doyle reeling to the ground, blood spurting from his nose. Doyle’s companions saw the confrontation and headed towards them. Outnumbered now, they wheeled around and Simon jerked each of them by the arm.

“Let’s get the hell out of here… fast.”

They raced off, Simon still holding onto each of them. The sensation of falling, as if off a steep cliff, hit them in slow motion. The music from the club had disappeared, and the world had gone dark.

“
K
itty, wake up. Kitty, come on, wake up. Are you okay?”

A man’s voice came to her from a distance and she felt someone shaking her shoulder. For a disoriented minute, she imagined herself back in her room with her dad getting her up for school. But it wasn’t Dad’s voice. It was Simon’s. “What? What is it? Why are you here waking me up?”

Through bleary eyes Kitty saw they sat on the ground with a heavy mist around them.
What the hell?
She remembered being in the parking lot of the club en route to her mom’s car, then nothing but a blur of Doyle stopping them. “Where are we? Are we still at the club? Where’s my mom’s car? And what is that smell?”

“That smell is you… and us.” Maggie stood and brushed off her clothes. “It seems all three of us threw up and, good God, look at you, you’re covered in it. What did you do, fall into it?”

A quick assessment showed vomit plastering down her hair on the left side, and more dried on the same side of her shirt. “But I only had one drink. I never throw up after only one drink.”

“That’s the least of our worries.” Simon helped her to her feet while he scanned their surroundings. “It’s obvious this isn’t the parking lot, and I can’t even see the club from here. I’m sure we weren’t that far from the door. We’d only just left.”

Kitty had become lucid enough to focus on what Simon described and realized that, instead of the gravel parking lot, they stood in an open grassy field with the heavy mist of dawn around them. A solo, wide, old oak tree broke the flat landscape. Underneath lay enough acorns scattered on the ground to keep a family of squirrels fat and happy for several winters. “What the hell? That can’t be the sunrise. It couldn’t have been much past midnight when we left the club.” 

“We must’ve passed out.” Maggie surveyed the landscape, just as confused as the others. “It’s cold. Let’s find the road and get out of here. Which way should we go?”

“One way’s as good as another I suppose,” Simon said. “I don’t know, should we split up, you think? Not too far, I mean, maybe for a hundred yards or so to see what’s around? We might have a better chance of finding it that way.”

“No!” Maggie and Kitty were emphatic about staying together and their simultaneous response made that clear.

“Okay, well then it’s lady’s choice, I’ll follow your lead.”

Maggie and Kitty glanced at each other and shrugged. “This is your city,” Kitty said, “you decide.”

After a moment’s consideration, Maggie closed her eyes and turned in slow circles with her arm pointed out until she got dizzy. “That way.” From where the sun was rising it appeared she pointed due west.

Simon placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Very scientific. Okay, let’s go.”

After a few feet Maggie yanked off her shoes because her spiky heels kept sinking into the loose, grassy soil, and Simon snatched them from her hand. “Wait, I have an idea. If you’re not going to wear them, let’s hang these shoes on a branch of that tree so we’ll know if we come back to it again we’ve been walking in circles.”

“Ooh, Doyle was right, you are a brainiac.” She reached up and gave him a quick kiss, eliciting a proud smile while Kitty’s eyes disappeared in her head. Two low branches made the climb easier, and he chose a sturdy one for crawling out to the edge. They each stepped back a few paces to check his handiwork.

“Huh.” Maggie crossed her arms and her head tilted to the side as though examining a museum piece. “The shoes are a little hard to see. They blend in with the tree.” Her gaze shifted to Kitty’s feet and then to her face.

“You want my shoes?”

“Maggie’s right. The rhinestones on yours will catch the sun and we’ll be able to see them from farther away. If it makes you more comfortable, I’ll leave mine here too and we’ll all go barefoot.”

A long sigh accompanied her eye roll. “Fine, whatever. Anything to get us home and into the shower faster.”

By the time they’d left the tree, it had three pairs of shoes tied onto it. Simon hung one of Kitty’s on the east side and one on the west so they’d catch the sun coming and going for the best visibility, his on the north side and Maggie’s on the south.

“Okay, no matter which direction we’re coming from we’ll be able to see the shoes and recognize the tree.” With his head held high, Simon crossed his arms over his puffed up chest. 

Maggie caressed his arm and brushed the debris from his hair. They linked arms again and started off in the direction they had decided upon earlier. “Now let’s go find that highway and get the flock outta here!”

Kitty still couldn’t figure out how they’d lost the freakin’ road in the first place. “Wait, aren’t you guys even a little curious about how we got here? We’re in the middle of nowhere, for Christ’s sake.”

“Of course,” Simon answered. “We’re as bewildered as you are, but standing around worrying won’t get us any closer to an answer. We have to find a road or a landmark. Something that will give us a fix on our location so we can get out of here. We need to keep moving.”

They continued along at a steady pace, Maggie and Simon led the way and paid little attention to her comments. Simon put his arm around Maggie’s shoulders and pecked her on the cheek in reassurance.

“Look, Kit, a house!” Maggie’s excited grin lit up her face. A house was better than a road. None of them were getting any cell service, but there must be a phone inside to call a cab for a ride home. They’d only been walking for about a half hour, so this wasn’t such a huge ordeal after all. Relieved at the sight, they picked up their pace, practically skipping the rest of the way.

As they got closer they saw that the house was a simple white wood frame with a covered porch, outside shutters adorning the windows, and a smaller utility building off to the side that might have been a garage or a small barn. Chickens clucked from somewhere nearby and the red flowers edging the porch made for a sweet serene setting. Hulking at the door stood a man close to Maggie’s height, wearing what once might have been a white shirt that had yellowed, with sleeves bagged to the cuffs and buttoned up tight to the neck, and loose fitting brown pants with suspenders. A moustache and long beard obscured half his face, but Kitty guessed his age at around forty. Simon slowed their pace, nodding to the long rifle the man had alongside him. 

Kitty tugged on Maggie’s arm and lowered her voice. “I thought the Amish were non-violent.”

“Good morning, sir.” Simon stepped forward while they kept a safe distance. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but the ladies and I have gotten lost. May we use your phone to call a cab to take us home?”

The man at the door didn’t respond. His suspicious eyes raked Simon up and down before fixing Kitty and Maggie with a scandalized and disgusted scowl. Their appearance had to be dreadful as they both stood there damp and shivering, and Kitty had vomit on her. At this point Kitty didn’t care though, and she moved forward to plead her case. 

“Don’t.” Maggie grasped her arm. “Let Simon handle this. I get the impression this guy isn’t so happy to see us.”

“Are you here for the enlistment?” He tore his eyes from Maggie’s shirt that clung to her chest from the dampness and addressed Simon again. 

“Uh, yeah, the enlistment.” Simon nodded and looked back at his companions with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, that’s it,” Maggie whispered. “He’s with the Civil War re-enactors and they must be getting ready for a rehearsal or something. That explains the rifle and how he’s dressed.” 

“Oh, okay, I get it. So is he going to let us use the phone or not? I can’t stand the smell of myself anymore.”

“Well, I’ll be on my way to the camp presently with supplies for the soldiers. I’ll be glad to give you a ride up there if you don’t mind waiting till after I’ve had my breakfast, but the whores will have to go back to whatever brothel they came from. Whores are not welcome in the camp or in my house.”

“Excuse me?” Maggie’s voice exploded with indignation at this comment.

“Who the hell do you think you’re calling a whore?” Kitty shouted. “You’ve got some damn nerve!”

Simon had to block the women from marching up onto the porch and getting into the asshole’s face. “Calm down, calm down, I’m sure it’s only a misunderstanding.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “That’s a real gun he has there, so let’s not provoke him, okay? Let me handle this and go along with whatever I say. Please?” He searched their faces for acceptance and got eye rolls and nods from both of them.

Turning back to the porch, he began again. “Sir, again I apologize for the early hour. I’d be most grateful to take you up on your offer of a ride, but I’m afraid you’re mistaken, the ladies are not whores.” Simon studied their disheveled appearance, racking his brain for a plausible excuse for it. First he pointed to Kitty. “This lady is my, um… sister, Kitty, and this lady.” He came closer to Maggie and whispered something even Kitty couldn’t hear. “This lady is my beautiful wife, Maggie. The three of us were attacked and robbed yesterday evening and spent the night out in the field. As you can see, we’re still wet and dirty from it.” He gave Mr. Porch Guardian his most imploring expression of honesty, hoping he’d pleaded a good enough case.

A woman they assumed to be the man’s wife, came up behind him and they whispered back and forth for a moment. Freckles covered the woman’s plain facial features, and she had on the period costume worn by most women in the mid-nineteenth century. The ankle length calico dress with the little round collar fastened below her chin with a narrow ribbon bow, and her drab brown hair peeked out from under her lace cap. Together they could have posed for a Norman Rockwell painting. 

“Set upon and robbed, you say? You and your... kin.” He pointed to Maggie and Kitty with a hint of skepticism in his voice. After a moment’s hesitation he said, "Well, come along then, my wife, Mrs. Blandford, will help you get cleaned up and fed breakfast before we start out for the camp.”

The prospect of being fed eclipsed all insults and the three of them scurried behind Mr. Blandford into the house. Neither of them cared what made him believe Simon’s story, they were too relieved at being allowed inside to get dry and clean. Not to mention the prospect of replenishing their empty stomachs with food.

The inside reminded Kitty of Maggie's place with the same style of antique tables and handmade accessories. Maggie’s face glowed with excitement from the sight. Once in the kitchen, a delighted squeal escaped her when she saw the huge cast iron stove set into the far wall.

“Oh, Mrs. Blandford, your house is amazing. Where did you ever find that stove? It must've cost a fortune! And these cast iron pots and things, I can’t believe my eyes.” Pots and bowls hung from a rack over the stove and more cluttered the wooden counters and table. Maggie marveled at and brushed her hands over everything in sight.

To Kitty it looked like a museum. She couldn't imagine why anyone wanted to live this way, even for a short time. These re-enactors were world class role players.

Mrs. Blandford blushed at Maggie's fussing, and after ushering them into a small mud room off the kitchen, she poured water from a large pitcher into a basin. A few towels and a bar of soap were laid out for them as well. She frowned and tsked at Kitty, then set out an extra basin with another pitcher alongside it for her to wash her hair. The ladies guessed they were too stinky and dirty to use the bathroom. This would have to do until they got home and into a long hot shower.

“You poor dears, did those hooligans steal your clothes as well? It’s becoming so dangerous around here these days with all the strangers come into town. My daughter left a few things here when she went to Washington a few weeks ago. She's a nurse you know, doing her patriotic duty. We're very proud of her.” She peered up at Kitty from her diminutive height, curious at the difference. “I'll see if I can't alter one her dresses to fit you ladies. No sense you going around wearing that.” She gestured at their clothes, wrinkling her nose with disgust.

“Oh, you don’t need to go to any trouble,” Maggie said. “We’ll be…” 

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Blandford cut Maggie off in mid-sentence with a wave of her hand and left them to get cleaned up while she finished preparing breakfast.

“Okay,” Maggie finished. 

Kitty sighed and shook her head. “Aren’t they carrying this charade too far? I mean, role playing is one thing, but you’ve got to break character sometime.”

“You’re right, I know. Let’s just play along for now. We’ll be out of here soon.”

They washed up as best they could with the basins and towels Mrs. Blandford had provided. It wasn’t easy using bar soap instead of shampoo, so Maggie helped Kitty with her hair.

As they cleaned off their clothes, Kitty noticed that Maggie no longer wore the rose locket. Since her grandma’s passing Maggie had become so attached to it, Kitty knew she’d be devastated at losing it.

“Maggie, the locket, it's gone. It's not on your neck anymore, do you have it?”

“It's in my pocket. When I woke up I had it clutched so tight in my hand it left an imprint.” She examined her palm to see if the imprint was still visible. “The chain was missing, so I put it there for safekeeping until I get a new one.”

“That's a relief. Listen, I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but do you have any idea what happened last night? The only thing I remember is a scuffle in the parking lot with that drunk, and then I woke up covered in vomit. When did we leave the parking lot? Did I black out or what?”