Past Forward Volume 1 (41 page)

Alexa glanced at her medieval gown. “It’s
one of my—” She paused. “I know better than to say that. They’re
all my favorites. Thank you, though.”

“Did you have it made for the faire?”

A titter rippled throughout the shop.
“Actually, I planned to wear my favorite white Edwardian gown, but
my brother said it was incongruous to imagine me in the Shakespeare
bee wearing something so modern in comparison. Alexa handed Willow
the signed book. “Oh, that reminds me, Wes has a gift for you at my
house. I’ll walk home and get it before the bee.”

“Oh you don’t have to do that. I can stop by
on my way home if you tell me how to get there. How kind of
him.”

“They’re some of his best pictures. I loved
them.”

Willow left the bookstore and stood in line
at the Shish-ke-Bob’s stand. She shrieked and whirled to kick her
“attacker” when hands covered her eyes from behind. Chad backed
away, his hands thrown up in surrender. “Uncle!”

“What? You scared me!”

“I’m sorry. I never thought I’d frighten
you.”

Bob the shish-kebob hawker waved an empty
box under their noses and demanded their order. “Chicken, pork,
beef, shrimp, or veggie?”

“Two of each,” Chad answered, pulling out
his wallet.

“I brought money Chad—”

Something in his eyes told Willow to drop
the subject. They found a bench under one of the nearby trees, but
Chad left her there while he went in search of drinks from one of
the several cider vendors. By the time he returned, Willow had
managed to create a full table spread for them.

“Wow.”

“This looks good, doesn’t it?”

They ate their kebobs with relish, Chad
entertaining her with stories of past faires and the different
exotic food options available. As she listened, Willow stared at
their food, confused. “So what about these fits with the medieval
theme?”

“Well, it’s a stretch, really. The
justification I’ve heard is that the Crusades happened during the
medieval times and places that now serve kabobs, so therefore, it
is perfect. I think it’s just an excuse not to serve roasted pigs
with apples in their mouths and lambs on a spit.”

They wandered through the streets laughing
at jesters, smiling at children and making note of the things that
interested them. A dunking booth drew Willow, and she plunked down
her dollar without a second thought. A jester danced on the dunking
board and mocked her as she threw a couple of balls to Chad to get
a feel for them before she tried it.

“I’ve always wanted to do this. So many of
my books had stories of people getting dunked; it sounded so
fun!”

Her first ball went wide and nearly hit a
nearby cider vendor, sending the jester into pantomimed fits of
laughter. However, the second ball hit the target squarely in place
but not hard enough to release the seat lever. Suddenly, the jester
knelt on the board and begged for mercy as she tried a third
ball.

It missed. Chad was sure she’d fish out
another dollar and try again, but she waved as though leaving. He
stepped up to the booth and plunked down his dollar. “Hey, wait.
It’s my turn.”

He deliberately missed the first time. The
second ball landed in the tank and the jester howled in laughter.
Chad passed the third ball to Willow and shrugged. “Maybe you can
do it; all I’m doing is soaking my pride.”

Already concentrating on the target, Willow
accepted the ball. He could hear her thoughts as if she spoke them;
she couldn’t risk wasting Chad’s last ball with a poor throw. She
set her purse on the ground at her feet and stepped back an extra
foot. “Ok, my last shot. Here goes.”

The jester dropped into the water. Willow
squealed and jumped up and down, nearly giddy with excitement. “I
did it!”

“We’ll come back at the end of the night and
see if you win.”

Confused, she glanced at the sign below the
dunk tank. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, they always have a prize at the end
of the day for the person who knocked them off after the longest
time. See, he’s putting how long that jester was up there before
you knocked him down—” Chad gave the man Willow’s name and then led
her off into the crowd.

Next, Willow and Chad jousted on low
tricycles with pool noodle lances. Nothing was too silly or
immature for Willow to try. They listened to minstrels, took dance
lessons in groups, and ate frozen custards in between activities.
Near the gazebo, a group of women gathered trying to do some of the
more intricate branle dances and one of the women convinced Willow
to join them.

“She’s having fun, isn’t she?”

“Hey, Tait! You come alone?”

“I brought Eden, but she’s off doing
something with the fortune teller, so I left. I get so frustrated
sometimes.”

A wreath from Willow’s head flew off as she
whirled, and Chad scrambled to retrieve it for her. He relaxed,
watching the dance again, when Tait said, “You guys seem to be
getting close.”

His heart sank. “Not like that. She has a
guy in Rockland who is interested. He’ll have her there sooner than
later if he gets his way.”

“What a shame.” Tait’s voice held a trace of
regret.

“Why?”

With a shrug, Tait stood and scanned the
crowd for his houseguest. “She just seems so happy here. I only
know what I’ve heard of her and a miniscule bit of what I’ve seen,
but I can’t imagine her in a city. It seems like it would crush the
life from her.” He paused and then nudged Chad’s arm, pointing at
Willow. “Look at her. Do you really think a girl like that would be
satisfied in a crowded and jaded place like Rockland?”

Tait was gone before Chad could answer. He
watched fascinated as Willow spun and wove through the dance steps
her skirt and hair flying behind her as she moved. His friend was
right. Willow shouldn’t consider a life in the city. As different
as she was from her mother, she still valued what she had.

“Maybe Bill could commute,”
he
thought to himself as he waved back at her.

People lined up across the town square on
either side of the gazebo. Willow touched Alexa’s arm as she passed
and wished her good luck. “This is so exciting. I love
Shakespeare!”

“Come join us! See, even the little children
get involved. Come on.”

Willow demurred, but Chad saw the desire in
her face and insisted. While Willow and Alexa took their place in
the lineup, he hurried to the police station for a lawn chair. Upon
his return, he found a place up front and waited for the bee to…
be.

The first question sent the crowd tittering.
“Oh Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?”

By the third question, the children started
dropping. One teenager cited
Two Men of Verona
as the source
of “pound of flesh,” and withdrew in shame. Willow answered her
first question in a clear voice without a hint of waver. Alexa
followed just as certainly.

The questions grew more obscure. An elderly
gentleman answered each of his with a flourish that seemed almost
courtly. A young mother held a baby in a sling, rocking back and
forth, as she identified a line from
Taming of the Shrew
,
and a teenaged boy stood, hands in pockets with a bored air and
fired back answers as quickly as they came.

Soon, it was down to those five contestants.
The crowd grew eager with anticipation, as each question grew more
and more difficult. Sonnets didn’t faze them. Finally, the mother
fell with a question regarding the number of one.

Four remained. The emcee seemed slightly
panicked as his list of questions dwindled to the last few.
Finally, the gentleman fell with the quote, “The devil can cite
scripture for his purpose,” naming Hamlet as the source. Then there
were three.

“Well, I must say I’ve never made it so far
into my list before,” Fairbury’s high school English teacher
commented. I only have one question left so I think I’ll have to
pull out my book of Shakespearean insults and see what I can find
in there.”

As Mr. Shumacher talked and joked, Chad
watched Willow’s face. At the mention of insults, her eyes
brightened and a small smile played about her lips. Alexa seemed
unruffled as well, but the teenager was positively smug. This was
going to get interesting— if not brutal.

“Ok, first insult, Alexa Hartfield name that
source. ‘Thou thing of no bowels thou!’“

Alexa grinned. “Oh that it were true. Alas,
it is not but the source be
Troilus and Cressida
.”

The crowd roared with approval and good
humor. “Oh my,” the emcee declared. “I think Alexa has set a
standard for you two.”

“To quiz or not to quiz, that is the
question,” quipped the teenager in his lazy manner.

“Ok, ok. Mark, name the source of ‘You
should be women, and yet your beards forbid me to interpret that
you are so.’ Well, except that there’s no beard on that smooth
chin!”

“Macbeth.”

A few more insults flew through the air
sending the crowd into waves of laughter. All contestans failed one
question, leaving them all still standing. “Ok, Mark, your turn
again. ‘Thou hath not so much brain as earwax.’”

A confused look crossed his face. He started
to answer
Taming of the Shrew
but stopped mid-sentence.
“
Troilus and Cressida
?”

“Ok, Mark. What made you change your
answer?”

“Well we dissected Taming within an inch of
its life last year, and if there was anything about earwax in it, I
would have known. It just sounds like something Katerina would
say.”

“You’re right.
Troilus and Cressida
.”
Mr. Shumacher grinned. “Miss Finley—”

“Willow please,” she replied.

“Willow then, but what is in a name? Would a
rose by—”

“Yes it would, but it wouldn’t fit me
anymore would it?” Willow bantered back.

Laughing, Mr. Shumacher tried again. “Please
identify the work from which cometh, ‘Thou art like the toad, ugly
and venomous.’“

“Hey, that’s not true Shumacher and you know
it! That’s about the antithesis of Willow, and please note that I
used a word with more than two syllables!” Chad called from the
front row.

“Who says I was talking about her? I’d say
it fits
you
better!” the emcee retorted.

Willow’s quiet voice interrupted the
exchange. “I know it doesn’t fit Chad, and I hope it doesn’t fit
you,
Mr. Shumacher. However, the source of the quote is
As You Like It
.”

“Mark, ‘Thou art the rudliest welcome to
this world!’“

“Well, actually, I’d say my brother Jon is,
but whatever.
Much Ado About Nothing
,” he stated
confidently.

“I’m sorry, that’s incorrect. Alexa?”

Miss Hartfield gave Mark an apologetic
smile. “Sorry Mark, it’s
Pericles
.”

“Correct,” the English instructor agreed. He
gave his student a sympathetic look and then returned to his book.
“Ok, we’re down to Willow and Alexa. Alexa has never lost this bee,
but Willow is giving her a run for her money. Too bad there’s no
money on this.”

Chad pulled a wad of bills from his pocket
and waved it. “If there was, mine would be on Willow.”

“That’s obvious, boy!” Shumacher taunted.
“Ok, so onto the next! Oh dear, Chad will weep but I must quote,
‘Thy lips rot off!’“

With a smile that the entire crowd
misinterpreted until she spoke, Willow replied, “Oh, Chad would
probably thank the Lord for that one. However,
Timon of
Athens
is the source, milord.”

The crowd roared and those nearby Chad
pushed him and jeered. “Ok, ok. Quiet down. There’s more dancing
later, and I heard we have a real joust happening here with horses,
armor, and lances so let’s get a move on. Alexa, ‘Methink’st thou
art a general offense and every man should beat thee.’“

“Methink’st that
All’s Well That Ends
Well
.”

“Excellent! And Willow, ‘Out of my sight,
thou dost infect my eyes.’“

“She doesn’t infect Chad’s eyes!” a voice
called from the crowd.

“Well
Richard III
didn’t agree!”
Willow retorted.

Several more insults flew with entertaining
comments from the audience. Chad’s face fell as the quote, “Thou
loathed issue of thy father’s loins,” dropped in the air. For the
first time in the match, Chad prayed Alexa didn’t miss the
question.

Alexa, distracted by the look on Chad’s
face, answered with the first title that came to mind. “Othello?”
As soon as she spoke the words, Alexa knew the correct answer and
groaned. “No, it isn’t. I’ve just lost my first match.”

“Willow. ‘Thou loathed issue of thy father’s
loins.’“

“Richard III
. Act One, Scene Three.
‘Thou slander of thy mother’s heavy womb! Thou loathed issue of thy
father’s loins! Thou rag of honour! Thou detested—”