An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
|Ted and Maureen's kitchen|
The period clothes felt mortifying, in the manner of a girl who eventually realizes her prom date has stood her up. He trudged the stairs to his bedroom where he stripped them off in anger, throwing the entire collection into a heap on the closet floor. It was still quite humid, and so he shunned the dark suit of his profession for a comfortable pair of khakis and polo shirt. To Fr. Kevin's mind, responsibility owed that he should walk down the street and check on Mrs. Revere. She deserved an update on the current state of events, or at least the information that the Fairy Queen's spell had seemed to be successful. Embarrassment stood in his way. She'd immediately recognize there had been a last minute change of plans, and somehow he'd have to explain that he'd been purposefully left behind.
Still, the empty quiet of the rectory seemed worse. Jamming his cell phone and keys in his pocket, he ambled out the front door and down the street toward the deli. Now that Roxanne was gone, the woman's safety and well being had become his concern. Part of him found comfort in that notion. Even though his head understood that the woman was not truly Maureen, she looked like the little sister who held his heart, and just viewing her face made him feel better. He knew it was a silly notion, but secretly hoped his extra kind treatment of Rachel Revere would result in mirror treatment of his sister, alone and lost in that strange body.
Upon arrival, there was no way to escape the third degree questioning by Mrs. Schiller. It was several minutes and two homemade crullers later before he could make his way upstairs to Ted and Maureen's flat. As planned, the woman was stretched out across the bed, right foot wrapped up to look as if she had suffered a bad sprain, the consensus being that the less interaction the fake Maureen had with the life of the real one, the better. She looked up from the book she was reading, and it was was obvious from the expression on her face she was not surprised to see him.
"Good Evening, Reverend. I surely hope you bring good news."
"You don't seem very shocked to see me, Mrs. Revere. I'll take that as a sign that you were part of the conspiracy to make a fool of me." He hadn't intended to be so harsh. The woman was as much a victim in all of this as Maureen was. Maybe even more so, since she didn't even have knowledge of the watch. But it galled him beyond belief that he was so gullible, so out of touch, that all this subterfuge could go on behind his back and he'd been none the wiser.
His words apparently touched a nerve, as she blushed, looking downward and fingering the weave of the comforter. "I can see we have hurt your feelings, Reverend O'Kenney. Believe me when I say that was never our intention...your friends and I. Mr. Ted...the Sheriff I mean...he made some valid points. A man in your position, a servant of the Lord Himself, has no business being involved in things of a wicked nature. Fairy magic and such. I must admit to agreeing with his feelings on the subject."
Fr. Kevin dragged a kitchen chair out with his foot, and dropped into without ceremony. "Please, Mrs. Revere. I've heard this lecture more than enough times. It doesn't excuse the fact that you all plotted against me. Against my wishes. I'm quite capable of making up my own mind on decisions that affect my life."
"It was the very point of that life we expressed concerned over, Reverend. There was no telling how the loss of any part of your soul might damage your vocation. It was a risk your dear friends were unwilling to let you take, despite your misguided decision to do so." She sighed, and closed the book in her lap. "I think it was ever so generous of them to make such a sacrifice on your behalf. I should count myself lucky to number them among my dearest comrades. I hope someday you can understand the monumental gift they've given you."
It was her honest emotion that made him feel guilty. Here she was, stranded in a body that was not her own, ripped from the life she knew, but expressing only concern for his bruised feelings. It made him feel small and petty. "I suppose I'll get over it, Mrs. Revere. At some point." He rose and rummaged through the fridge in search of something he might call dinner. "Are you hungry? Can I fix you something? A sandwich or snack."
"Much thanks, Reverend. But I am far too worried to eat. You have yet to tell me how the two brave souls fared in their attempt to time travel. Did the fairy spell work? Have they gone to set things straight?"
"I wish I could tell you how it all happened. Unfortnately, the Sheriff's punch to the head knocked me out cold. I never saw them leave. But I have it on good authority that the spell was successful. We can only hang on to hope that they find my sister and get her to the right spot in time. If that should happen, you and she should return immediately to your rightful bodies."
Rachel clapped her hands together. "Oh, I can only pray for a such a positive outcome. If this doesn't work, I am not sure how..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked away, unable to formulate the awful words. "We must be optimistic, Reverend. All shall work out fine. And in the meantime, you must tell me all about your dear sister. I think I would very much like her."
It was in that way they passed the rest of the evening, sharing stories of family and events as if they were old friends catching up after a long absence. The young woman was easy to talk to, and there was something strange and fascinating in hearing of the country's early struggles for democracy from a first hand perspective. For awhile, he was able to forget his long list of self doubt and worries, and when Maureen's small table clock chimed 10:00 PM, he was shocked to find it that late.
Fr. Kevin stood up, and pushed away from the table. "It's getting late, Rachel. I should really head back to the rectory. There's a few things I need to take care of before I turn in. Will you be alright in the flat by yourself?"
"I shall be fine, Fr. Kevin. I have enjoyed your company greatly."
"And I yours, Ma'am. I will be back to check on you after morning Masses."
"Thank you, Reverend. I am grateful for your kindness. Though, I wonder if I may ask a favor before you leave?"
"Sure. What do you need?"
"I almost hate to trouble you, but there seems to be a leak of sone kind under the water cabinet." She pointed to the floor next to the kitchen sink, where a large puddle had formed. "I wipe it up, and it soon returns. I would be most upset to have your sister return to find her beautiful floor damaged. Do you think you might see if you can fix it?"
"Not a big problem. Let me take a look. Maybe just a loose pipe or something. I'm sure I can find some temporary fix for tonight. Tomorrow, if it's still leaking, I'll have to call a plumber." He took a towel and wiped the puddle, then knelt on his hands and knees and peered under the sink. It was a difficult spot in which to manuever his 6 foot plus frame, and in an attempt to get at the pipe, he banged his elbow hard against the back of cabinet. Expecting solid wall, he was shocked when the wooden panel gave way, exposing a gaping hole beyond the cabinet.
Something shiny caught the light. Curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled more of the wood away, revealing a small "hidey hole" containing a metal box, much like the kind fisherman used for their tackle. At this point, it seemed silly not to at least check what was inside. He'd heard stories about people who squirelled away money inside mattresses and closets. Maybe a previous tennant had hidden something away and forgotten about it?
Fr. Kevin pulled the box out, and un-cramped himself from the tight spot under the sink. Standing up, he placed the box on the table. "Look at what I found in a hole behind the sink."
"Found? It was hidden?"
"Seems like it. Shall we see what kind of treasure's inside?" The box was unlocked, and so he easily flipped open the latch. For a second or two, he just stood there, unable to process what it was he was seeing. Large piles of currency from all over the world, held together with thick, gummy rubber bands. Four cell phones. The kind you buy over the counter in convenience stores. Two small hand guns. A switchblade. And a stack of passports from two dozen countries. Each with a different name, but all with Ted Beckett's somber face staring up from them.
|A secret stash catches Fr. Kevin off guard|
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