X-traordinary Distractions

Why are the X-Files so addicting? Watching a particularly entertaining episode in the background - it has everything from the "post-modern Prometheus" to Cher. Just like the book this episode is based on, I'm sure that it'll end in tears. (The Modern Prometheus is one of my favorite pieces of literature.)

On a significantly brighter note, this afternoon, I spent a particularly nice few hours enjoying the sun and working on my writing.

And now, I believe I am ready to present to you the second half of Providence's Chapter 17.

Chapter 17 ~ Continued

The road that the pair originally departed was merely a guise. The reverend did not want anyone in town to know where he was taking her. Ms. Grace initially guessed that they were heading to Portland for a doctor or to Dansend for some other reason. However, her intuition was completely thrown when, once they were past the reach of Providence’s eyes, the reverend turned his horse to a sharp right. They were headed straight into Homewood forest. He chose this route today to obviate any guesses of anyone seeing them leave together by chance. Regardless of the steps taken, there remained one more precaution that Mr. Tamrin had to take for Ms. Grace’s well-being.

“Ms. Grace,” he halted their ride. “There are two conditions that I must alert you to before we go a step more, but first, is your back feeling better?” Ms. Grace nodded – the throbbing had ceased thanks to the medicine. The confirmation that his medicine worked was fulfilling for Mr. Tamrin. He nervously scratched his chin then started his quick promulgate: “I will tell you the first point now and the second when we get where we are going.” The reverend did not want to do this to Ms. Grace, but it was for her own safety. He pulled from his pocket a clean handkerchief. “I’m afraid that the place where we are going requires that you do not know how to get there. If you would be so kind, Ms. Grace, I’ll ask that you cover your eyes for the remainder of our journey.” Ms. Grace looked surprised and justifiably so. “I apologize for this inconvenience, but I ask this of you for your protection rather than for theirs.”

What other choice did she have? Ms. Grace was curious about where they were going and she had an accurate idea as to where they were headed. “Very well,” she agreed, reaching down for the handkerchief. She obediently tied it tightly over her eyes. She was following him blindly into the unknown.

The unknown was actually not that far away. At the point where they stopped they were slightly less than two miles from their destination. As they drew nearer, with the blindfold over her eyes Ms. Grace could sense that there was something different about this place. It felt much warmer here than it should. It was also quiet, as though the forest itself was afraid to make a sound. Ms. Grace would not have admitted it to Mr. Tamrin, but she was nervous. All the tales and all the legends she had ever heard about their kind were running through her mind at top speed and it was hardly comforting. When Mr. Tamrin did ask her to remove the blindfold Ms. Grace was not sure if she wanted to see what was around her, but doing otherwise seemed dull. However, what met her eyes was not at all assuring. The first thing revealed to Ms. Grace’s sight with the removal of the handkerchief was a ghastly pair of wych elms. She had never seen trees growing as though tormented by each other’s company. The trees twisted and arched as if being tortured and frozen at the peak of their agony. They frightened her. The teacher did not yet know that those trees were not meant to be welcoming.

To the reverend, those trees were as inviting as anything else because of his familiarity of what lay inside. However, he was aware of the fear that consumed his company. It was the same feeling he felt when first he sought out the Cärabadés, but he was confident that his friends would receive her in their midst without thought. “Ms. Grace?” he pulled her attention away from the trees and back to himself. He held his arms up to help her out from the saddle.

Ms. Grace was not sure if she wanted to get off the horse. Her back was aching terribly and the peak of the saddle suddenly seemed to be miles off from the ground. Though, the inviting smile and outstretched arms of Mr. Tamrin told her that she would be fine. With a quick exhale, she slipped out of the saddle and into the gentleman’s arms. Mr. Tamrin held her for a resonating moment. The gesture of the man was so simple, but it did well to help push away her hesitations. “It’s going to be alright, Ms. Grace,” he assured, bravely pushing that stray lock of her hair behind her ear. He felt her tremble.

“I know,” she responded. Her fears were genuinely gone. “I trust you.”

The words rang in the reverend’s head as though they were a different three-word phrase. The man exhaled happily then he informed Ms. Grace on that second condition. “Before we enter this place that will seem much like a dream, I must first ask you to not mention Christmas while we are with them or, really anything that is related to God among them. They may speak freely with me about anything and everything, but that is only because they view me as having that authority. But other than that, there are no rules, Ms. Grace and I am sure that they will love you. Do not be afraid. They are not wicked.” Mr. Tamrin took hold of Ms. Grace’s hand, (it felt so right!), and he led her to those twisted trees. With a glance back at his horse who more than knew the routine, Mr. Tamrin positioned Ms. Grace right beside him.

They faced the doors. The reverend spoke the ancient language, which Ms. Grace had never heard before.

A voice speaking the same strange tongue was returned.

And then something that defied reality happened. A fizzing noise came from the elms before her and the gap between the trees dissolved into an aperture. Ms. Grace gasped as those elks became a gateway to a world below the ground mortals tread. As a stairway down appeared before her eyes, so too did the shape of a lovely pale woman, confirming Ms. Grace’s suspicions after years of guessing.

“Ms. Grace,” Lin greeted with the most wonderful and welcoming of smiles. “You’ve come here at last. How are you, Thane?”

“Very well, thank you, Lin,” Mr. Tamrin answered his “cousin” who clearly did not actually live in Viramont. Ms. Grace was too shocked from the wondrous appearance of the door, woman and stairs to say anything, so Mr. Tamrin continued, “We’ve actually come today for your help, Lin. Ms. Grace has sustained an injury and I was wondering if there was anything that you could do for her?”

Lin looked to Ms. Grace who seemed to be slowly coming back to cognition. “Of course we’ll help her in that matter, Thane!” Lin sharply said as though mildly offended by his doubt. “What happened? Please, come in, come in, come out from that cold air.” Lin stepped aside to welcome her friends into her home. Whilst the door fizzled back to its chameleon appearance, Mr. Tamrin explained to Lin the extent of the story he knew. The three of them descended the stairs into the nether world. Lin thought it appropriate that Ms. Grace be taken straight away to the master chamber so that her injuries could be evaluated.

Whilst the two carried out normal conversation Ms. Grace’s mouth was agape and her eyes were wide open throughout her brief tour of the castle underground. She did not see any of the vampires in their supposed monstrous or even their shadow forms, but that was because she was looking incorrectly. They were there and she could feel eyes watching her every move, but she could not see them. They were curious about this new visitor and they attentively observed her every move as the shadows on the walls. The family thought it fascinating to see another mortal in their den during the hours of day. They had existed in the nether world so long that it was peculiar to them to think of people doing anything but sleeping during the hours of light.

“This is my bedroom, Ms. Grace,” Lin informed as they entered the most spectacular living quarters the humble school teacher had ever seen. The pentagon shaped chamber was twenty feet wide and twenty long. The furnishings were the hues of dark emeralds and rubies, but there were no spectacular colors or items of furniture which really stood out from each other, save for the spectacularly large bed at the pentacle of the room. This really was the room of the elders, the place where Lin and Howard lay and gave council, but the matron did not want to overwhelm the poor girl with terms and explanations of their culture too quickly.

“Where’s Howard?” Mr. Tamrin asked. He kept his hand interlocked with Ms. Grace’s for her comfort – she gripped onto his fingers so tightly that he wondered a couple of times if she would be able to let go.

Lin quickly busied herself with lighting several of the torches on the walls to make the place more welcoming for Ms. Grace. The light certainly did make the room less sharp around the edges for the teacher who was not comfortable being enveloped in such darkness; the dim light worsened her vision. Lin walked to Mr. Tamrin and Ms. Grace to finally answer the reverend’s inquiry, “He is in the library. Do you want to go collect him, so that I may have a moment to privately evaluate her injuries?”

Ms. Grace was glad that it was Lin with whom she was to be left alone, for had it been any other person in this underground castle she would have arduously protested.

The reverend nodded and gave Ms. Grace’s hand a squeeze for reassurance before he left the room.

The door was closed behind Mr. Tamrin, which helped to make the next few moments only slightly less awkward for Ms. Grace. The poor dear had to repeat her undressing to show the matron her wounds. The red and the swelling had become an angry purple and a horridly sickening yellow. With a little bit of gentle poking and rubbing, the matron was able to discern something that was not good news. There was damage to Ms. Grace’s bones. On the backside of her rib cage a piece of bone splintered, but by God’s grace, her spinal cord did not sustain any altercation. However, if left alone the woman would be in incalculable pain for many years to come. There was but one thing that could be done for her.

It goes without saying that every bruise, every scar has a story, but few know how to read the injuries themselves to uncover the truth. This gift was one which grew into the vampires through years of observations and personal pains. As Ms. Grace stood with her front against the wall so that she was more comfortable with her tight outer dress off and her lose under dress pulled down past her ribcage, the matron read the story of the wound. The bruises told Lin that nothing fell on Ms. Grace because if anything had there would have been a different story of contusions in the skin. No, this woman was beaten either by something or against something, but definitively by someone. Truth be told, it was not only the bruises on Ms. Grace’s back that alerted Lin to this altercation in the story; it was the four unmistakable prints on either of Ms. Grace’s upper arms that pointed Lin in this direction of thought. Lin could hardly imagine what actually happened to Ms. Grace, but she knew that it was not presently her place to ask.

The reverend and the patron entered the room once Ms. Grace was once again decently dressed. On one of the three couches in the room the youngest of the bunch sat nervously with her hands between her knees. Her right leg was bouncing at an accelerated rate from her anxiousness while the elders spoke on the other side of the room. Ms. Grace could hardly stand the secrecy. She did not understand what they could possibly be talking about for so long.

What they were talking about was the most delicate subject, especially because of what it potentially implied.

“You know that there is no other way for us to help her, Thane,” Howard insisted quietly. “If the bruising and the splinter in the bone are as Lin tells, we have no other choice. This is one of those few things that we can do without the approval of the whole family.”

The reverend needed no reminding. When he sustained a nasty injury to his chin a few years back, the Cärabadés were only too happy to offer him this service, but he declined and was left with a scar on the left side of his chin. (He did not know this yet, but Ms. Grace’s poor eyesight kept her from even seeing this scar.) The man was hesitant because he did not know how Ms. Grace would react to such a thing happening to her. He had hoped that the vampires would know some sort of poultice or another that would alleviate the pain, but because they did not he was left with only this option.

“There’s something else, Thane,” Lin quietly said, stepping closer to her friend. The matron had been rather quiet throughout this private meeting of theirs. She did not know how to tell what she learned from Ms. Grace’s injuries without breaking any of those pesky rules of her family. “I’m going to suggest something to you which is not breaking the rules, it’s simply bending them,” Lin said using her hands to demonstrate herself bending an imaginary pole. Howard stared at Lin indifferently. He was not going to tell on her for breaking or bending any rules. He hardly cared for the rules himself. But he did enjoy the thrill of the debates and the formality of their democratic ceremonies like the rather important one they had only last night.

Lin continued, “Are you absolutely sure that Ms. Grace’s injuries are caused from something falling on her? How certain are you that these wounds instead were not inflicted by say, oh, I don’t know…someone instead of something?”

The reverend’s thoughts began to quickly connect the dots, but before he could completely finish the puzzle within his own mind, Lin thought it prudent to interrupt, “Thane, before anything else happens, we must ensure that the girl is alright. I don’t want her to be in any more pain. I don’t care how long I’ve lived or how great of injuries I’ve sustained, if that bruise were on my back I would be in constant agony.”

“Alright, if she concedes do what you must to help her,” the reverend agreed. “But,” he sternly added. “Don’t be careless, Lin.” The warning was firm, but unnecessary. Lin had healed enough mortals with her blood to know when to stop. Consuming too much of the blood of a vampire, be it by transfusion or by tongue, was a recipe to akin to their curse.

Lin scoffed playfully. “I’m not going to turn her into one of us,” the matron assured. “I promise that I will only give enough to set her right.” Lin did not finish her thought, but she also decided to give the girl enough to correct some other finicky features of Ms. Grace as well. “Come, Thane. You need to explain what is going to happen. It’ll be easier hearing it from you.”

Ms. Grace sat up straight though it pained her to do so as the three approached. She stood.

“Ms. Grace,” Mr. Tamrin softly started. He took hold of the young woman’s hands. “Lin and Howard have a way to literally erase the bruises and the pains…and all your scars for that matter.” The reverend paused. He was not exactly sure how he should explain this process to Ms. Grace without scarring her. “Um, what they have suggested is something formally called a ‘Transfer for Healing.’ What that means is that, well, vampire blood has extreme healing properties, Ms. Grace. So, by putting their blood into your system it will heal your wounds and make it be as though nothing bad ever happened.”

“How do they put it in my system?” Ms. Grace asked, feeling a little squeamish. She never liked the sight of blood, so thinking about this made her woozy.

Howard was the one to answer, “In this case we would put a very low amount in you through a simple transfusion.”

“What’s that?” Ms. Grace asked, she had never heard the word ‘transfusion’ before. There was a large pinch of panic emanating from her eyes.

The reverend held her hands tighter.

Lin stepped forward and bluntly informed the girl on the exact process. The ambiguous discourse of the men was more insidious than helpful. Ms. Grace listened intently to the matron speak openly with her about what would happen, which was actually interesting to Ms. Grace. Lin assured the “little-tree-climbing-school-teacher” that nothing could at all possibly go wrong because of their experience with healing and that if she agreed to this she would wake with less aches and pains than she had in years.

“So I don’t have to ingest it, in anyway?” Ms. Grace asked, double checking.

“No,” the others insisted and ensured at once.

“Leave that part to us,” Howard added with a wink.

Ms. Grace did feel assured and she did want to feel better, but she was not sure if this was wholly right. “And you’re sure about this too, are you, Mr. Tamrin?” Ms. Grace asked the man of God.

The reverend nodded and pulled her hands to his heart. “Ms. Grace, I would never put you or your soul, in harm’s way. I trust Lin and Howard with everything I hold dear. If they say that nothing bad will happen I trust them.”

Ms. Grace exhaled shakily. The reverend’s words were resolute enough for her. She agreed.

The next hour for the school teacher was fascinating. The matron excused the men once more as Ms. Grace slipped out of the tight outer dress and shoes to crawl into the enormous bed. The vampires were certain that she would slip into sleep during this process, so they might as well be prepared. Once Ms. Grace was fully settled into the position necessary Mr. Tamrin was allowed back into the room.

The gentleman settled on the bed beside Ms. Grace. The bed was so large that he could not kneel on the other side of it to watch over her protectively (Lin and Howard were occupying that spot), so the good man had to hop up onto the mattress to offer the assurance of his presence. She held tightly to his hand as Lin and Howard prepared her right arm for this queer procedure.

“Huh, I cannot even begin to imagine how Ms. Huff or Mrs. Winford would react to witnessing this scene,” Ms. Grace said lightly to her company once they told her that they were ready to begin. The idea of those ladies fainting from seeing all of this tickled her. “I have to admit, that even I’m a bit overwhelmed. I’ve heard of leeching, but never of putting blood in to someone.”

“Well, I can assure you that this process will be stranger than leeching, Ms. Grace,” Lin informed.

“Much stranger, so if you please, child, don’t look away from Thane. Don’t watch what we are about to do.” Howard took a gentle hold to Ms. Grace’s wrist, turning her forearm up. “Actually, Thane,” Howard quietly added, “You should probably not look this way either.”

“No argument here,” Thane said. He was falling apart inside from nerves, but his expression was calm and collected for Ms. Grace. She was trembling. He held her hand tightly and he kept his eyes locked with hers. It was so clear to him how much she trusted him. In his peripherals Thane kept his watch up for when the vampires were about to perform the one slightly painful part for Ms. Grace. When that moment came, he softly kissed Ms. Grace’s hand to distract her from the dreadful pinch on the inside of her elbow. It hardly helped, but the gesture was well received.

The strangest sensation passed through her as blood from another was transfused into her body. She felt as though she was floating through a warm river contained inside her own skin.

Just as predicted the world peacefully started to fade from Ms. Grace’s eyes. The last her senses could detect was the gentle ticking sound of the pocket watch in the reverend’s vest.

~*~*~

It is far too late for me to process thought into written word. Have a lovely night to you late readers and to you early-bird-blog readers, enjoy the rest of your day!

Your humble author,

S. Faxon

Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day!

With all of the picnics and gifts of bouquets that were exchanged today, I figured that most of my readers would not likely dedicate time to reading blogs this evening. Tomorrow I will publish our regularly scheduled continuation of Providence, but for today, allow me a moment to honor my mother.

For those of you who may recall, last year I wrote a post dedicated to my mom. For those of you who were not here last year, here is a link to the post - Special Edition Mother's Day

Today, my sisters and I treated our mother to a breakfast at Cody's in La Jolla where we enjoyed the morning with delicious challah french toast and a nice ocean breeze.

View from Cody's outdoor seating

Mom opening her gifts

Afterward, mom, dad and I went for a lovely stroll down at Sea Port Village.

My mother and me at Sea Port Village

We enjoyed coffees from my favorite coffee shop, The Upstart Crow. (There's honestly no telling as to how many hours, money and parking validation tickets that I have invested in that coffee house!)

To my mother and to all the mothers out there, happiest of mother's day to you!

See you tomorrow!
Your humble author,
S. Faxon

Wild Animals and Providence

Alas, there are no wild animals in Providence, unless you count the chickens, but there were wild animals in my life throughout the week.

In the beginning of the week, there was an epic battle between Bella Tuna Todd and myself to save the life of a lizard that she brought into my room and then released...

Which I toiled to trap into a mason jar, the same of which was featured in last week's blog with a crab leg sticking out of it.

A few days after, I took a lovely stroll through the Wild Animal Park (I refuse to call it the Safari Park), where I walked among lemurs, granted, they were sleeping (it was hot!),

Came within arm's reach of a kangaroo, named Ruby,

Stood on the lookout with the lions,

And had some snacks with baby giraffes and a silver back.

Currently my fluffy Bella Tuna is running around the house as if her tail is on fire, and with the speeds she's reaching, there certainly looks like smoke following her trails.

Now that the grey weather is settling in after a crazy hot week, it's time again to settle down for a good read. On to Providence!

Chapter 17: In the Beekeeper's Care 

In the wake of morning Ms. Grace rolled over only to nearly fall off the bed. Her upper body popped up, catching herself from said fate, which in turn caused her back to ache. She was equally as sore as yesterday, but that was not what moved her from dreams. Her skin was perturbed by the miniscule morning breeze slipping under the window, so the lady moved to cuddle closer to the man beside her, but alas, he was not there. Ms. Grace sighed. What could she have expected? Well, she knew what she hoped, but that may stay within her private thoughts alone. However, Mr. Tamrin did not leave her side easily or without a mark. On the bedside table Ms. Grace quickly found a little note with her name written on the face.

The lady smiled like a child finding her gifts on Christmas as she sat up properly to read the little folded bit of parchment. It took a few adjustments of the distance between the letter and her face before she could read:

My dear Ms. Grace – I hope you slept well and that your back is feeling much better. I am sorry to leave you so early, but I must help prepare the church for my sermon today, which will begin at its normal morning time, God willing. You do not have to come to church if you are not feeling well, I highly doubt that anyone would hold it against you, I mean, our Savior might, but no one of Providence would stoop so low.

After church I have a surprise in mind for you, but I cannot tell you or give you any hints because what fun would that be?

-T.

Ms. Grace’s heart could hardly stand how adorable this man was to her. Feeling well or not, the school teacher did not care. The woman leapt from bed and she immediately dug through the trunk, which was full of her new dresses. She was able to find long under-wear that she would discover upon putting it on was two sizes too big and one lovely dark green velvet overdress that was one size too small. In the room brightly lit from the sun peeking through the clouds, Ms. Grace could only stare at herself in the mirror with little enthusiasm. She could barely breathe because of the overdress’ tightness, but at least she did not have to wear a corset today, for the dress was tight enough. Finding that there would be little she could do to alter the dress at the present, Ms. Grace darted to the reverend’s washroom to clean her face and hands. While she was in the small room staring at her reflection ponderously, racking her brains to find a creative style in which to arrange her hair, the most beautiful sound penetrated the walls of the reverend’s home. ‘Twas the town’s musician tuning his violin for the morning service in the church.

 “Oh, how marvelous!” Ms. Grace thought out loud as she twisted her hair into a humble crown framing her face. “Now it is Christmas,” she whispered to her reflection.

Ms. Grace ran out of the beekeeper’s home in time to join the herd of people walking towards church. The second she stepped out the door until the moment the service started, Ms. Grace was bombarded with questions about yesterday. The school teacher would have been overwhelmed by the excitement caused her house’s demise, save for the wave of thrill she was riding after having spent the night curled beside her amore.

Christmas service was packed. Not a pew had any room for an exceptionally late body to wriggle within. Due to her lateness, Ms. Grace took a seat in the row of pews farthest away from the raised pulpit. This grieved her greatly, but at least back here she would be able to smile and glow without too many people staring at her. She listened intently to the reverend’s words, which flowed to her over the heads of nearly every citizen of Providence. As intent as she was to keep her head focused on the birth of the Savior and the story of the spiders, Ms. Grace could not help to remember when she briefly woke near dawn to find the reverend and her so inappropriately wrapped around each other as though they were married. He was so handsome and so at peace by her side. She blushed to think that she was lying half naked in a bed with a man to whom she was not legally or religiously approved to lay beside. However, she knew that the reverend was an honorable man, which was undoubtedly why she woke with all the blankets pulled all the way to the nave of her neck this morning.

From the pulpit, the reverend spoke beautifully. Mr. Tamrin was a remarkable public speaker. He was able to speak directly to every one of his listeners. His eyes would glisten and his face held so soft an expression that the man almost appeared to be on a completely different plain of happiness than everyone else. And yet the plain seemed to open to all who heard his words. Today he was beaming like the old reverend again. There was much reason for him to be rejoicing. He opened with his traditional story of the golden spiders, which led into the homily:

“My friends, like those three spiders who’s perspectives were turned to see the light in the darkness, and like the shepherds and the three wise men who bestowed gifts upon an infant at the beckoning of a star, we all were able to open our eyes and our hearts to give without thought or want of thanks, whatever we could give to our neighbor who was in need.”

Everyone knew that Mr. Tamrin was talking about Ms. Grace and none of them until that moment even so much as realized that what they did to help her yesterday actually was noble and very easy. (Ms. Grace did not know how she felt about being an analogy to the Savior when she was daring to think about scandalous things in church.)

And so the service carried on with the reverend convincing everyone what he thought only yesterday people were ignoring: “Love and cherish every gift and every passing smile, for it is the little things that make life worth the troubles and the messes we weave, but all that matters is what we learn from our giving, instead of what we gain. And here in our own Providence we are truly blessed to be one family through our community. We are never alone, for we are always among loved ones. That,” Mr. Tamrin concluded, “Is the true joy of our Christmas day.”

The Christmas mass ended shortly after eleven thirty that morning. The children all went running out the front doors of the building to declare their independence and to rush home to play with their goodies. An hour and a half really was an awfully long time for the little ones to keep still, but bless them for the entire youth-population that attended behaved remarkably well in mass today. The adults migrated to the back room of the church for a small and informal Christmas gathering. Tea from Ms. Huff’s shop was served along with biscuits from the bakery.

The small hall in which the adults crammed was loud and warm from their talking and their body heat. The women and the men alike were wishing each other happy Christmas’ and they were discussing the night before and the joys of the morning.

Ms. Grace stood by the window to keep the skin of her back cool as she too chatted merrily with her old circle of friends. Ms. Grace was her cheery self again. The women could not believe all that had happened, but they certainly loved to hear about her evening with the reverend. Of course, she edited out the part that he looked at her back and that they spent the night beside each other, but she did say that the man was the best host in Providence. And while the women joked that they were all proud of Ms. Grace for not waking up beside him (as none would have ever believed otherwise), the reverend watched from afar.

Mr. Tamrin was doing his reverendly rounds after church, walking from group to group. He happily wished every person he passed a happy Christmas, shaking their hands or bowing his head. He was his old cheery self again. His words and his expressions were light, almost triumphant. No one knew why exactly, but a scene secretly kept playing in his head over and over again: waking in Ms. Grace’s embrace; reluctantly yet delicately slipping out from her arms; covering her like a good gentleman with the blankets to fortify her virtue; and finally stealing a soft kiss to her temple to secretly bid her good morning ere he left for church. It was exactly as he had imagined what his married life with her would be like. The thought alone made his cheeks a little pinker.

In the packed hall with his wife and Mrs. Huff, Mr. Winford looked as though he had a sweet little secret in his heart. He saw how the reverend and the teacher glowed - and he could not be happier for them.

Another hour passed before every last person save for Ms. Grace and Mr. Tamrin were left in the church’s backroom. They stood on opposite ends of the building from one another. Ms. Grace finished helping to clean the last of the teapots for Mrs. Huff who left to check on the cats. Mr. Tamrin was locking the doors to the storage room where the church’s few relics were kept. The pair tacitly walked into the main hall of the church together as they prepared to leave.

“Are you ready to go now, Ms. Grace?” Mr. Tamrin asked. He pretended to be ensuring that all of the church’s windows were closed from his post in the aisle when in fact he was silently admiring how elegant Ms. Grace looked in green.

Wiping her hands on a damp white cloth Ms. Grace gave the reverend a curt nod. “Yes, dear sir,” she said as she came beside him in the aisle. “Quite.” She wanted nothing more than to relax with him in the comfort of his home. Her back had a constant throbbing pain, which was more pressingly noticed by her senses than before.

The gentleman offered his arm to Ms. Grace and the pair walked up the aisle together out of the church. At about five steps down said aisle the pair looked at each other and sheepishly darted their eyes back to the church’s doors. They both felt rather silly, but it was a good feeling to be walking up the aisle together.

During the short walk to the reverend’s house, Mr. Tamrin asked Ms. Grace if she slept well and if her back was feeling at all better.

“I’m afraid not,” she shamefully answered. She originally answered affirmatively to both questions, but the gentleman knew better than to trust Ms. Grace on this subject. Her stubbornness and her incredibly high tolerance for pain naturally made the reverend suspicious when she said that she was feeling “right as rain.”

The reverend felt resolute in his idea for the surprise to which he alluded in his note. He knew what had to be done, but there was a certain manner in which it had to be performed if his company were to be accepted. When the pair made it inside the reverend’s house, the gentleman immediately asked, “Do you think that you are well enough to ride?”

Ms. Grace thought the question to be rather odd. People in Providence usually did so little travelling outside of the town that hardly anyone owned a horse. There was no need to travel by horse; everything anyone could need was readily at hand, so the question of being fair enough to ride was rightfully puzzling. As she untied the rope holding up her new black overcoat Ms. Grace wearily answered, “I suppose? Are we going somewhere outside of town? Is that the surprise?”

The reverend had already begun to head to his room to change out from his Christmas chasuble and tab collared shirt, but he sharply turned back to peak his head into the kitchen where Ms. Grace was located, “What sort of secret leaves you with any clues?”

“You’re maddening, do you know that?” Ms. Grace shouted after the man as again he disappeared down the hall.

It was his point to be maddening. Throughout the night and the morning as he prepared for church, he could do nothing but think of his conversation with Mr. Winford yesterday. Mr. Tamrin had made up his mind. Today was his last chance to do everything in his power to convince Ms. Grace that she was so in love with him and that he was so in love with her that surely they would be able to find some way to solve the school’s financial problems together without the blasted Higleys. Her house falling apart, however great a tragedy, happened for a reason. Mr. Tamrin was convinced that she was meant to stay with him so that he could win back her heart. By hook or by crook, Mr. Tamrin was not about to sit by and watch a brat like Brian Higley take his lady. The reverend’s heart was galvanized to action at last.

The reverend quickly changed into clothes suitable for travel on a cool day. True, today was much warmer than yesterday, but the sky was threatening rain. Mr. Tamrin dug through his one set of drawers in attempt to find a scarf to offer Ms. Grace in case it became much colder. He did not want the poor girl to come down with a cold on top of everything else. Throwing the somewhat old woolen scarf in the bend of his arm, the reverend scurried back into the hall, but his altruistic heart was distracted by a jolting thought. There was one last thing he absolutely could not forget. Mr. Tamrin went running to the thin wardrobe in the room. He swung open the oak doors and dug through the jacket’s pockets that he wore yesterday. The small gift he removed glimmered in the palm of his hand scornfully. It was offended for almost being left behind. He kissed the ring (more for luck than as an apology). He had nothing to lose and absolutely everything to gain.

The gentleman went running out to the kitchen to find Ms. Grace sitting in the booth waiting for him.

“All set to go wherever we are going?” she sweetly asked as she stood.

“Yes,” the reverend succinctly replied, “but here, I want you to drink this first.” In his whirlwind of scurrying around this morning, he had made a drink from honey and stored herbs that would help to ease the ferocity of her pain. He handed to her a glass filled with a thick and vile looking liquid.

“What is it?” she asked with a grimace.

He merely chuckled and said, “Don’t worry, it’s uglier than it tastes. It’ll help make you more comfortable – it’ll take the swelling down.”

Ms. Grace was uncertain that the squished-grass colored mud would taste like anything normal, but she was terribly uncomfortable. With her lip curled she raised the glass. “Cheers,” she dryly toasted. The reverend watched with a smile, for he knew that she would be extremely surprised. She closed her eyes and held the bottom of the glass high as the dreadful looking liquid slowly slid down the glass to her tongue. The medicine fell into her mouth like a thick mud would fall from a shovel. However, her body did not writhe or convulse from disgust. On the contrary – the drink was cool, refreshing, and it taste of nothing but rich honey.

“Did the bees share this recipe with you?” she asked as she gulped down the rest.

Mr. Tamrin only smiled and after she finished drinking the medicine, he was quick to help drape her cloak back over her shoulders. He handed her the scarf, which she lazily threw over the back of her neck as the reverend more than less scooted her out the door.

“Are we in some sort of rush?” Ms. Grace asked, finding Mr. Tamrin’s scattered behavior to be curious.

Mr. Tamrin was already saddling his horse by the time Ms. Grace posed her inquiry. The gentleman briefly explained that he did not want to be caught in the rain. This was true of course, but it was not his real reason for making such haste. He was anxious as to what exactly would happen when they arrived where they were going, but he would not yet share their intended destination with Ms Grace.

The old horse was saddled and ready for the road. Ms. Grace doubted that she would be able to get up onto the horse’s back with her own feeling so wretched, but Mr. Tamrin was one step ahead of trying for that fact. The gentleman placed his hand on the horse’s snout and something remarkable happened. Without any obvious command, the horse kneeled down for her.

“That was extraordinary,” the lady said as she sat side saddled on the horse. She had little experience with riding horses, but Mrs. Huff was sure that all of the girls in town knew never to straddle, for that was the farthest thing from being lady-like imaginable. “However did you train your horse to do that with just a touch?”

The reverend dismissed the compliment with an airy comment as he again gave the horse a command with a touch. Ms. Grace was flabbergasted by this but if the reverend was so humble about his gift of being honed into nature through his birthright as an aritoir that he it did not deserve a second’s thought. He was used to the horse doing what he thought without verbal commands, for it was one of the gifts Mr. Tamrin had as an aritoire.

As the reverend began to lead his horse down the western road out of Providence, Ms. Grace asked again simply to annoy. “So where are we going?”

~*~*~

 Where on earth will Mr. Tamrin take Ms. Grace? Tune in next week to see!

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Your humble author,
S. Faxon

A Day in the Life and Providence

I know, I know, I skipped last week - but it was a holiday and I spent last Sunday eating potato salad with my family, which was a lot of fun. And as much as I know you all love my bog, reading it on Easter Sunday is not a ten minute escape from the 9 to 5. However, because I deprived you of escapes during the week, this one deserves to be extra awesome.

The last week has been pretty busy - yesterday alone I went down to the harbor,

It was a blustery day...

Strolled through Art Walk in Little Italy,

Happy 30th Art Walk San Diego!

Sipped specialty cocktails with locals, (my sister and her fiance),

We got to keep the mason jars and yes, that's a crab leg reaching for a cherry.

All before dawning my orange,

To celebrate Koninsgrad with the Dutchies!

Myself, Lieke (the Dutchie), and Melody at King's Day Celebration.

For those of you who may be unaware of the Orange, Koninsgrad, or the Dutch, please click this post link, "The Dutch", so that you don't feel left out when everyone is talking about my post around the water cooler on Monday.

And now that I've told you about a day in the life of me, let's get to the real reason why you're here. (Stop reading now if you're not caught up with the last Providence posts and go catch up. Go on, quit reading this one and take care of this business, no one likes people who skip chapters to figure out what happens next.)

Last week, Ms. Grace's house collapsed! (See, if you didn't read last week's that would be a total shock to you, so stop fooling around and go back to catch up!!!)

Whatever will become of her now? Guess you'll just have to read to find out what happens to Ms. Grace on Christmas Eve...

Chapter 16 Continued, The Gifts of Christmas

It was very late in the night once Ms. Grace finally returned to nearly full cognition. She sat up in a bed that was not her own. To her chest, she clutched a lovely quilt that she did not recognize. Upon further examination of everything she was also wearing a nightgown she had never seen before in a room that was foreign to her eyes. ‘What a queer surprise,’ she thought. Even though Ms. Grace initially did not have the foggiest recollection of what brought her to this place she was somehow comfortable with everything. With only two candles softly aglow, the room she was in was warm and inviting, almost familiar. There was a window on the other side of the small, cozy bedroom. She removed herself from the warm daybed to look through the glass. It was already dark out. She wondered what time it could possibly be. Her rational mind brought her back to the side of the bed to think a moment before leaving the security of the room to explore her surroundings. She sat back down tenderly, for her calf and back hurt cruelly for some reason or the next. Ms. Grace pulled up her night gown to rub her leg, for she thought it was simply asleep, but instead she found a horrific sight. The candles on the nightstand cast light onto a rather nasty looking bruise upon her fair leg.

Then it hit her.

A wave of memories bombarded Ms. Grace. Her house was destroyed because the infrastructure could not handle her body being used as a battery ram to break the door down so that Mr. Higley could do his wicked deed. She then remembered the sounds, none distinct, of dozens of voices rattling off gifts and assurances to her as she was kindly taken away to where she could not exactly remember. The gap between walking down the snowy main road of Providence and being helped into this bed by Allison and her mother was blank and empty. It was all very puzzling.

But, her rational mind would not stand to remain in the dark. Her unfocused eyes did another quick scan of her surroundings to see a robe – also not hers – neatly lying on the foot of the bed. Ms. Grace did the simplest act of reaching for the robe, only to retract her arm immediately. Her shoulder hurt dreadfully. She quickly untied the string holding the nightgown onto her body to evaluate the damage done. She turned herself this way and that in attempt to see the wound or bruise or whatever it was on her back in the small oval mirror on the bedside table. However, the light was far too dim to do anything but cast shadows across her skin, thus surely playing tricks on her blurry eyes as to the extent of its severity.

Her rational mind quickly discerned that she needed help. Ms. Grace restored her night gown to propriety’s standards and she delicately maneuvered herself into the robe. Oh, it was so deliciously warm and comfortable! Ms. Grace looked into the small mirror from the provocation of the robe feeling so large. She laughed out loud at the sight. It was the robe of a gentleman, but at least it covered her.

With a quick inhale to strengthen her nerves, Ms. Grace pushed open the door.

A smile was the instantaneous result of the environment change. She would know the sight of that hall and the scent of this house anywhere. She was in the care of the beekeeper. She laughed to think of how inappropriate this arrangement had become, but it suited her perfectly. In fact, being with the reverend in any way at all was her wish for Christmas this year. Her advice earlier to the young Mr. Winford was apparently spot-on.

The room that she left was the space where many a boarder had slept when the prices of the inn had turned passers-through-Providence away. The door of the reverend’s home was always open to those who were in need. It seemed funny to Ms. Grace that only when she had become a vagabond that she managed to justify coming into his home as one in need as opposed to simply one wanting attention.

She walked down the hall to the living room. It was filled with a gentle glow of warmth and light. When she passed the opened door of Mr. Tamrin’s room she glanced in to see if the good man was in bed. She saw no body in the bed, so with her heart pounding she proceeded forward under the assumption that it logically must not be too late in the night. However, had Ms. Grace seen the time her pocket watch was ticking, she would have returned to bed that instant. But because she was innocently ignorant to the hour the lady continued forward. Her bare feet made not a sound upon the long wooden planks. She tread lightly, for she spotted her host on the couch – his body was not angled towards her, so she could not see if he was awake or asleep.

Mr. Tamrin was in an awake-like state, but his head made not a thought or his body a move. His handsome almond shaped eyes stared unfocused into the fire while the pocket watch lying on his stomach ticked the time away.

Ms. Grace loomed over the other side of the couch to admire the peace of the moment. She briefly imagined herself to be Mr. Tamrin’s wife emerging from the bedroom to coo her husband to bed for rest. She could see that by the fire there was a pan of chestnuts ready to be roasted; for a moment she imagined that he had put off making the delicious treat for their children to be awake for the process in the morning. It seemed so real a fantasy in her heart. Ms. Grace was then awfully grateful for her rational head, which reminded her that the score was only pretend.

With absolutely nothing else to do, Ms. Grace softly cleared her throat to announce herself.

The relatively hushed declaration of another soul’s presence roused the reverend from his daze. “Ms. Grace,” he said as though surprised to see her. He quickly removed his outstretched legs from the couch, grabbing the pocket watch from his chest, to stand like a good man of Providence for a lady.

“Please, there’s no need to stand,” Ms. Grace excused with a hand held up to yield the man’s act. She chuckled then added, “This is hardly a formal meeting.”

This was true.

Mr. Tamrin slowly lowered himself back to the couch’s embrace and invited Ms. Grace to join him, but he had to turn his face away for a moment. Leaning over the arm rest pretending that he thought he dropped something, the reverend was able to conceal his expression, which said how perfectly lovely Ms. Grace looked wearing his robe. As the gentlelady took her seat, clinging the neck of said robe tightly closed over her chest, Mr. Tamrin attempted to recover himself through a nervously stated explanation of the situation; “I know that you must be thinking how inappropriate this is for us to be, well, to be alone together, but everyone else’s homes were full because of the holiday and it was unanimously agreed that putting you in a room at the inn was unacceptable,” (Ms. Grace snorted, scoffed and rolled her eyes, for she did vaguely remember that part of the hulabaloo.) “And since I usually welcome boarders into my home, I-I merely mentioned that I had the spare room, Ms. Grace. It was actually Mrs. Huff who had the final say so and condoned your staying here.” He would never have admitted it, but for once Mr. Tamrin was happy to not have been considered an eligible bachelor.

The gentlelady sat quietly, staring contently at Mr. Tamrin. She leaned back against the soft embrace of the couch only to jolt forward. The poignant reminder that she was injured came with the slightest touch of the cushion. The reverend saw the queer motion and promptly inquired if she was alright. Ms. Grace only nodded. She did not yet wish to spoil the moment with a complaint that was surely nothing. She instead adapted to the discomfort, leaning the right side of her body against the couch’s cushions for comfort’s sake. “Oh, Mr. Tamrin,” she sighed, “What on earth could I have done to merit such misfortunes? My whole house fell to pieces and I lost everything of material value and now I am stuck here with you.” She sighed again though this time with a playful smile, “Surely it is some trick of fate.”

The reverend thought so too, but he did not say anything. He was blissfully content to have such a forbidden intimate moment with Ms. Grace. He too imagined in his most secret thoughts that they were married and enjoying nothing more than a quiet Christmas Eve together – it was his Christmas wish to spend this night with her.

The pair stayed in such a peaceful way for a long time. In their silence Ms. Grace listened to the snaps and crackles of the burning logs, the ticks of the watch clutched in the reverend’s hand, and she even heard the calm steady breaths of the gentleman. But the ticks brought back to her thoughts one of those questions which frequented her mind. “What time do you have?”

With a sigh the reverend looked to his watch. He was not surprised to see that the hour was so late. “It’s a couple of minutes ‘til midnight,” he answered.

“Gracious,” Ms. Grace replied. In the absence of conversation she had forgotten her pains and mistakenly leaned back into the couch. Yet again she had the same concerning reaction.

“Ms. Grace?” Mr. Tamrin scooted himself directly beside the lady so he could ascertain what was so physically viciously grievous. “You’re hurt.”

However reluctantly, Ms. Grace nodded. “I do not know the extent,” she informed. “It’s actually the main reason why I came out; I have a favor to ask of you, Mr. Tamrin.”

“Anything,” Mr. Tamrin assured, hoping that he would be able to help Ms. Grace in any way she asked. Ms. Grace felt very uncomfortable asking this of a reverend especially to one that she found herself irrevocably attracted, but she needed to know. Ms. Grace pushed herself to sit at the edge of the couch. She swallowed hard then softly said, “Mr. Tamrin – I think that my back may have some sort of damage to it, er, I did try to look in the mirror to see how badly, but I couldn’t.” Ms. Grace refrained from admitting to the reverend that it was because her eyes were blurry, which made her unable to see the damage – she did not want him to think her weak in any way. (Mr. Tamrin swallowed hard. The poor man was growing increasingly nervous on two accounts: the first was for Ms. Grace’s sake – he saw the amount of pain she was enduring from something as insignificant as a touch from a pillow; the second, he already knew what she was going to ask him.) “Mr. Tamrin,” she continued, she then decided that if she said it all quickly it would seem that less a chore for either of them. “If I slide down the back of my garments would you look at my back and tell me if I ought to, I don’t know, be put in the care of the doctor in Portland or something?” Ms. Grace did not know if anything could be done for her injuries, but she had to hope that the grievance was not to the extent of needing medical attention.

Mr. Tamrin gulped out a ‘yes’.

Ms. Grace turned her front side completely away from Mr. Tamrin. She hesitated. She could almost hear what scorn would come from someone like Mrs. Huff for such a vulgar and unlady like act, but after a moment of reflection Ms. Grace failed to care. The woman slid the top part of the robe down past her shoulder blades. She tucked the lose parts of the robe underneath her arms only to realize that more of the robe would have to be removed so the nightgown could be taken down as well. Sighing at her foolishness, she had hoped to do this quickly and coolly as though she was totally comfortable with the situation, but her nerves were obviously clouding her thoughts. Her hands were trembling.

The reverend was not watching Ms. Grace perform her part. He was too much of a gentleman. His gaze instead watched the flames in the hearth dance. He only returned his focus to Ms. Grace once he realized that she had stopped moving. It was obvious that she was uneasy. He was glad to know that he was not the only one nervous for something as innocent as checking a friend’s back for injuries.

“Ms. Grace,” he kindly cooed, hoping to reassure her heart and head. “I assure you, dear lady, that my intentions are honorable. I would never compromise you in any way.”

Ms. Grace’s heart beat again. She was able to undress herself to the extent that she had planned. She would later consider herself silly for ever doubting Mr. Tamrin otherwise, but her reason was still scrambled from her experience earlier that day. It was the residual shock. Truth be told, thanks to Mr. Higley’s act, it would be ages before Ms. Grace was ever completely comfortable with any man alone save for Mr. Tamrin.

The black robe and the white nightgown were now safely tucked beneath Ms. Grace’s arms. Her back was exposed down past her rib cage, but her hands firmly pressed her clothes over her chest. She was comfortable with the reverend, but she was puzzled. For what reason was he so silent?

“Oh, Ms. Grace,” the man was finally able to omit a sound, but it was hardly comforting.

Finding herself to feel mildly awkward, the woman made a light joke, “Have I developed a hump? Glaring wickedly at you, is it?” The reverend did not laugh. There was nothing funny about what he saw. “Mr. Tamrin?” Ms. Grace timidly called.

The reverend’s heart actually hurt from the sight. It looked as though the house had fallen on Ms. Grace. Mr. Tamrin swallowed hard then said, “Ms. Grace, my God, why didn’t you tell anyone that something fell on you? Or that you were in any pain at all?”

Ms. Grace bit her lower lip. She did not tell anyone that something had fallen on her because nothing had done said deed. She was numbed from the pain because of her shock of nearly having a series of unspeakable deeds happen to her along with witnessing her house’s demise. These were not things one recovered from easily. (Let us not forget that this was the second house Ms. Grace had watched fall to the ground in her life.) Ms. Grace tried to conjure something to say because she did not want to be lost in the grim memories of losing her parents and nor was she ready to tell the truth about what happened earlier today. “I guess whatever fell on me must have knocked my head too,” she lied. “It all happened so fast, Mr. Tamrin. I, I really cannot remember if anything fell on me or not.”

The lateness of the hour and the sight of Ms. Grace’s bruises were trying on the soft hearted reverend. The swollen and discolored skin made him a little queasy, but he managed to collect himself. “Ms. Grace, why don’t you go lie down. I’ll be in there in a minute. I’m going to make a cold compress for you,” he instructed and informed.

Ms. Grace nodded then she began to restore her clothes to their proper places. She arched her shoulders to scoot the clothes up, but the act was horribly uncomfortable. Her muscles were so sore. Mr. Tamrin saw the way the ache afflicted Ms. Grace. Without time wasted on thought or a request from Ms. Grace for help, the reverend came to the lady’s aid. The gentleman helped her maneuver her nightgown back up and the robe’s sleeve’s back onto her arms. He did try to keep his fingertips from making direct contact with her skin, but (he would later admit only to himself) it was difficult for him not to absorb a thrill from so intimate an act.

“Thank you,” Ms. Grace whispered over her shoulder for services rendered. She sighed and kept her blushing face away from the reverend’s sight as they went their separate ways. The two were parted for only a couple of minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Alone, the rooms they occupied were so cold.

“Here you are, Ms. Grace,” the reverend said as he entered her room. She was sitting in the center of the daybed. In his absence, Ms. Grace removed the robe and nestled herself within the coverlet.

Seeing Ms. Grace looking at him so expectantly with an aired bed as the background made the reverend chuckle as he said, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but down flat on your stomach, you.” He could repress a smile, but he could not keep his face from blaring red.

Ms. Grace laughed regardless of her pain. This night only increasingly became more and more inappropriate, but she guessed that no one in Providence would so much as think that anything would pass between these two aside from congenial and proper conversations. Chuckling, she asked, “How on earth could anyone misinterpret that request?” She lay down on her stomach and pulled her nightgown to her shoulder blades, once more revealing her gruesome bruise.

The reverend sat on the edge of the bed beside the school teacher. It was very hard for him to see Ms. Grace with such an abhorrent looking contusion on her skin. He knew that she had to be in a considerable amount of pain, but she was hardly one to complain. “It’s amazing to me, Ms. Grace, that you are even able to walk with that much bruising on your back. You are very lucky that your spine’s not damaged.” The gentleman shook his head then he softly pressed the partly frozen cheesecloth full of snow to her back.

Ms. Grace tensed from the touch. The cold and the weight on her aching skin were not a pleasant mix of sensations. Her hands tightened into fists and her face scrunched. It felt downright awful. “Ugh, I guess in that case I am lucky,” she agreed with her face partly buried in the pillow. And as the reverend pulled up the quilt to cover her as much as possible without interfering with the compress, Ms. Grace again fell so in love. He plainly cared for her so much. It was sickening when she thought of Mr. Higley who was the complete opposite. With Mr. Tamrin she was safe. If she married Mr. Higley, the guttersnipe (to use Mr. Winford’s word), he would have every legal right to neglect, abuse, and punish her for anything he pleased. But if she did not marry the blighter there would be nothing she could do for the sake for her school. Regardless of her decision earlier, the selfless woman was regrettably stubborn.

But so was Mr. Tamrin. He would not so easily let her go.

The reverend lifted his legs from the floor to rest them on the bed beside Ms. Grace. He was not about to leave her side tonight. He was not sure if he imagined it, but during the day he swore he saw something like fear streak across Ms. Grace’s complexion at the queerest things. He knew that the dear woman was and would be shaky for some time, but he was not aware entirely of why. So for the time being Mr. Tamrin decided that regardless of her reasons, Ms. Grace needed to feel protected and safe. The gentleman propped himself beside her on that wee bed to be her guardian for at least this night. He kept the compress in place on her back and he even used his handkerchief to wipe away the condensation as it dripped down her sides.

The pair was quiet for a long time until the reverend omitted a tangent chuckle. Ms. Grace lifted her face from the pillow to inquire the meaning of his sudden chortle to which the reverend smiled charmingly. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Grace,” he wished, realizing that surely today was now the twenty-fifth.

Ms. Grace too smiled. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tamrin,” she gaily returned. The gentlelady bit her lower lip then bashfully added, “I must confess; we are only a couple of minutes into the date, but thus far this has already become the best Christmas of my life.” She did not wait to see the reverend’s reaction, instead nestling her face back into the pillow. (The man was glowing with his elation.) Ms. Grace too was inwardly overjoyed. Thanks to that sniveling twit Mr. Higley, Ms. Grace and Mr. Tamrin were able to receive the best Christmas gifts either could have then imagined: a night beside the one they loved. 

~*~*~

Things could not be going better for Mr. Tamrin and Ms. Grace! But, will things stay this way in Providence, or will matters slip away from paradise? Tune in next week to read what happens next!

I'm determined to finish writing a book today, so we'll see how that goes. In the mean time, nothing to do and all caught up with my posts, why not read my book The Feasts and Follies of the Animal Court, available on Amazon Kindle and Barnes & Noble Nook. Full star reviews have to mean something good :)

Your humble author,

S. Faxon