Sarah heard her stomach rumble. The meeting with Mrs. Primrose had gone really well. The children's librarian had been sharply dressed in a pencil skirt and bright yellow blouse; her hair falling out of a lose bun. There were enough books in need of attention on this occasion that she and her colleagues had cleared a work area in a spare conference room. "You can set up your work station here. We thought it would be more convenient." Sarah was to come by every afternoon until the task was complete.
The time of the meeting as well as the bike rides to and from though had taken up Sarah's usual lunch time. In her hurry that morning she had forgotten to pack a lunch. She was fairly certain there was some trail mix or other snacks back at the shop. She parked and secured the bike and went to the door. Monty sat at the desk still. If Sarah was judging him solely on his looks then she had to admit he was attractive. The way his blonde hair fell messily across his forehead was endearing and cute. When she had caught his eyes earlier this morning their depth had been surprising. A true green. But he was so brash! That sort of dampened any real attraction. That and he surely had to be at least ten, perhaps even fifteen years her senior. With a small groan she went inside. Perhaps he'd let her be and she could get something to eat.
"Afternoon, Ms. Williams," said Monty looking up. He had several pages laid out on the desk and a magnifying glass in one hand.
"Hey," she returned curtly, avoiding his gaze. She made for the back room.
"I bought lunch," he then said. "If you're hungry, there's an extra sandwich and a bag of chips."
She looked back at him: he was leaning very close to one of the sheets of paper, using the magnifying glass. Well this gesture was unexpected. And thoughtful. "Thank you," she said. Food. Real food. And she could eat in the back in peace while he worked.
She smiled as she moved through the doorway only to hear Monty clearly say, "I'll join you in a minute."
Mr. Proodle had arranged the back room to have a safe area where food and drink would not collide with the precious books he cared for. There was a bistro table with two chairs, as well as a mini fridge and a small shelving unit. She found herself sitting at the intimate table with Monty across from her two clear plastic to-go containers with sandwiches and two cups of iced tea. He had actually served her, pulling the containers out from the mini fridge, and offering her the choice of turkey or roast beef. Sarah kept bracing herself for some ridiculous comment. Finally she blurted out, "What are you doing?"
He pulled open his bag of chips. "Eating."
"This morning you proposed to me and now this-" She indicated the food.
"My, but aren't we full of trust issues," he commented before taking a bit of his food.
Her turkey on rye looked really good and her stomach was demanding the food. "I have no reason to trust you," she replied.
"Sarah, it's a sandwich. A thoughtful gesture of a man attempting to get to know his coworker. As far as I know there's no cultural tradition that says accepting a turkey on rye is the equivalent of matrimony."
"Alright," she conceded, her hunger getting the better of her and she began to eat.
"So how does a delightful young thing like yourself end up working among old books?" he asked in between bites.
"Because she wanted to," Sarah replied.
"Really?"
It certainly wasn't the first time Sarah had met with a degree of disbelief regarding her choice in profession. She had explained herself to others before. But there was something about Monty Jones that had her hackles up. "Yep," she said her tone short.
"Delightful conversation is not your strong point," said Monty.
"And age appropriate ones are not yours," she returned.
"Age appropriate? Oh," he said as if the thought had just occurred to him. "The whole jail-bait aspect. You're what- seventeen? I find it hard to believe that you've never had a man pay you compliments before."
"Compliments, yes. But demands to make out with him or acts of consummation, no."
He smiled and laughed, nearly joking on his drink. "I must confess," he said, clearing his throat. "Though I was enamored with your beauty, I would have been at a loss for words or actions had you consented. I am a hopeless romantic and shameless flirt."
Sarah took a drink and considered his explanation. It had sounded like one of the first genuine things he had said to her. Aside from repeatedly pointing out how he found her attractive. Those sentiments, she had little doubt, were also sincere. "I like books," she said by way of answering his question. When he quirked an eyebrow, she continued, "I mean, I like everything about them. The wealth of knowledge and imagination they contain. The art of calligraphy and the detailed renderings that used to accompany stories. Then when one considers the author and how every word came from someone's mind. Then there's the smell. The older the paper and binding process, the better." She paused. The words had rushed from her mouth. It was as if they had been bent up under pressure inside her and given the opportunity to be used, had escaped with abandon.
Monty was smiling at her. Not the mischievous grin of before, but a simpler one. "The printed word is beautiful," he replied. "Like portals to new worlds."
"Exactly."
They spoke of their favorite books and commented on how the approaching digital age could never replace ink and paper. Sarah wondered if she had misjudged him. Mr. Proodle had told her that he was mostly harmless. When she said she needed to get going, that she had plans for the evening, Monty asked, "A date?"
"No. A brother actually. It's our weekend to hang out." She had her coat and scarf on. "See you later Mr. Jones."
"Have a pleasant evening with your baby brother, Ms. Williams."
Earlier Sarah had wanted nothing more than to put Monty Jones out of her head. Now. Now she wasn't sure what she wanted to do. He still unnerved her. But he had made an effort to get to know her. It had been rather nice to be noticed by the opposite sex, even if the man in question was Monty Jones, hopeless romantic and shameless flirt. Of course Mr. Proodle had also called him compulsively amorous. At home, she wondered if he would say the same exact spiel to Tori if he met her.
Her father had taken Toby to the video rental store earlier and had returned home with two different options: Oliver and Company or The Land Before Time. His weekend, his choice she told him when he asked which one to watch. When she mentioned in passing about having a new male coworker about her father had shown interest. "He's… different," she said when he asked her more about him.
Her father had hummed in a deep tone. Not quite a disapproval. "Is he attractive?" he had then asked.
Sarah eyed him. "Yes actually," she had admitted. But then Toby had come running demanding popcorn and for Sarah to hurry up. She had shrugged and thought nothing more of it. They watched The Land Before Time, ate copious amounts of salted popcorn smothered in butter, and Toby passed out at eight-thirty having never seen the fabled Green Valley the little dinosaurs had been desperately searching for. Her father tucked him in and rejoined Sarah on the couch.
"How about a cup of tea?" he asked suddenly, getting back up.
"Sure sounds good."
"I've got a new herbal one to try out. Supposed to have a nice ginger flavor." Sarah could hear him moving about the small kitchen. The microwave dinged. "I'll put a hefty spoonful of honey in it. Tell me, this Monty fella at work, do you think he would be someone you would want to date?"
"Seriously dad?" Sarah asked incredulously. "Why do you want to know that?"
"Humor your old man," he said.
"Maybe. I really don't know whether I like him or if I want to hit him. He's something else entirely. Thanks," she said taking the mug her father offered her. The tea was funky- not really ginger nor fruity. "What is this?" she asked.
"Ginkgo and gotu kola. Supposed to be good for the ol'thinker," he replied tapping the side of his head. He raised his mug as if to say cheers and drank. "You know, it's good to see you taking an interest in your brother." She smiled and nodded. "I wish he could be here all the time."
She took another drink. Her tummy warmed. "I've wondered why you never pressed for more time. Or even full custody. You always say, 'it's complicated.'"
Her father's eyes went far away for a moment. "Do you remember the day I told you Karen and I were separating?"
"Yes. You guys had gone out the night before, everything had seemed alright; at least as alright as our household could get. It seemed a little unexpected."
"I don't regret it," he said quietly. "I wish I could have done better, done more, but leaving Karen was the best decision. Do you remember anything specific about the night before?"
"Before you told us you were separating? I had babysat. I think there had been a storm."
He sat down on the couch again and encouraged her to drink her tea before it got cold. "I never told you the real reason," he said. "Even though Karen and I dated for a year, there were things about her I never really knew. And still yet other things I chose not to know. Karen had a certain special skill set."
"What, she was a secret service agent? A spy?" she joked trying to lessen the mood.
"A witch."
The word hung between them for a moment. Sarah swallowed another mouth full of tea. She had never known her father to be eccentric or given to hallucinations, but this seemed very far-fetched.
"That night," he continued. "everything had come to head."
Sarah remembered the storm. She had come home soaked in her princess costume. Later there had been lightening that lit up the sky as bright as day and thunder that had shook the panes in the window. Window. In her mind she saw something in the window. It flapped and beat at the glass. She took another drink of tea.
"Karen had arranged everything. I had no prior knowledge until right before we left. I didn't know what to do. I suppose I half hoped that it wasn't real. That I would wake up from some dream, but I also knew that she was very capable. If she said she had made some sort of deal…"
Whatever had been at the window was important. The lightening though made it hard to distinguish its shape. Sarah squeezed her eyes and shook her head. The window. The window. "Dad this tea.. it's messing with my head," she said.
"No, Sarah. The tea is helping. The few years we were married I stayed out of Karen's business. Magic and things relating to it- I just didn't want to know. But when," he paused. He seemed to struggle inwardly with something. He shook his head sharply. "Ginkgo and gotu kola. It's known as Memory Tea. It's the one thing I made sure to acquire, so that when the day came that you needed to remember, I could help you."
"Help me?" she asked. It was as if she could hear the the force beating against the glass right here in the apartment. She glanced at the windows expecting to see the specter.
"His spurts of generosity. He said he would leave the choice of the time and day to me."
Now she really felt confused by her father's words and it would have worried her, if her mind hadn't have been completely absorbed in that night with its storm and sounds.
"I never really knew if I would want you to remember," he continued as if he didn't notice her growing agitation. "Maybe it's your approaching birthday. Maybe it's the sudden appearance of this Monty fella. But, it's time you know the truth. And then you can decide how to live out your last year."
The windows in her mind came crashing open. She felt the chill wind and the splattering of rain drops. Did the water sparkle? The truth, like the windows, broke open upon her. She knew she had said the right words. She knew she had been tempted. She knew she had faced dangers untold and hardships unnumbered. That she had fought. She knew him: The Goblin King. Like a sudden down pour she remembered everything.
Wide eyed and panic rising she looked to her father. How does apologize for wishing a sibling away? Hand shaky she gripped her mug trying to steady herself.
"The truth is kiddo," her father continued, not looking her in the face. "is that you shouldn't feel any guilt about what happened that night. Karen made you. She," he paused. "She had made a deal and you were to be the payment. A contract that stated a child for a child." She saw his eyes fill with tears. His chest shook. With a sound that sounded like a whimper he left her and disappeared into the kitchen.
One moment she had been sitting numbly on the couch, a buzzing in her ears. The next she felt the biting cold of the night air against her face. She had managed to fumble into her coat and grab her messenger bag. She couldn't stay in the apartment a moment longer. She had to leave, to break the cursed spell her father's words had woven. Karen had forced her? Her stepmother had been a witch? She was under a contract to the Goblin King? These questions swam in her mind and muddled together. She zipped up her coat and kept walking.
The night was near freezing. Despite the late evening people still rushed about obscured in scarves and hats, bundled against the weather. They passed her without a glance. How could anyone know that she was a marked woman?
Sarah tried to think. The Goblin King: he had been powerful, alluring, and dangerous. He had… She shook her head trying to right the memories. He had told her that she would have to solve his Labyrinth in order to win back Toby. Yes. Had Karen and him worked out this plan together? Was it a gamble to offer her such an opportunity? She didn't know! Calm down, she told herself. What do you know? You know you entered the Labyrinth with a bit of help from Hoggle. Hoggle! Then there had been Ludo and Sir Didymus. They had all become friends. She caught herself as her memories over whelmed her again and leaned against a random store front.
Alright, so all four of them had eventually stormed the castle. Though she had gone on to face the king alone. Hoggle had called him something. A rat? A rat who called himself, something or another. She fisted her hand and slammed it against the wall. This King of the Goblins had taunted her and toyed with her senses. Every. Single. Step. Of the way.
Frig it's cold, she thought putting both her hands back in her pockets.
She needed to go some where to think. Sort through her memories without facing her father or her brother again. She looked around, realizing she hadn't really been paying attention to where she had been walking. Thankfully she knew approximately where she was. Around the next corner should be a coffee shop. A warm room and a quiet corner was what she needed. As she approached she was glad to see it wasn't very busy. She slid into a corner chair and took several deep breaths.
Okay what else do I know? I know that I won back my brother. We both came home. That was important. Something told her she shouldn't have been able to do that. And for the past two years she had completely forgotten about it all.
She sighed and suddenly a cup and saucer appeared on the table in front of her. Her mind had been so preoccupied that it took a few seconds for its appearance to register, and she looked up blankly.
Monty Jones was sliding into the seat across from her, his own cup in hand. Sarah stared at him for a moment. Gone was the bulky wool sweater. In its place he wore a fitted leather coat and a dark sweater. He looked fashionable and fit. He didn't say anything, but nodded at the drink and produced a book which he began to read. She warmed her hands against the cup and tentatively took a sip. It was a vanilla coffee. She looked across at him again. No judgement. Nothing teasing. Not even a hint of superiority. He just sat there reading, leaving her to her own thoughts.
Her jumbled thoughts. How had her life been thrown into a fairy tale? Bargaining with children. Witches. Kings. Magic spells. It was a regular Brothers Grimm soap opera. Next she just needed to acquire a sharp needle from a spinning wheel and collect a gaggle of fairy godmothers. And a prince charming. She eyed Monty again. Then quickly looked down at her drink.
When her cup was empty, he was also done with his own, and the two of them got up from the table together. Outside in the night with the faint glow of the lights she looked up at him, his blonde hair slightly aglow. He seemed to be expectant. For what? She jerked her head in the direction she needed to walk to head back to the apartment. A faint smile appeared on his lips. The two of them fell into step. Sarah found she was grateful for the silent companionship. She simply didn't trust herself to speak. Especially to this man who was still basically a stranger.
He stayed with her until they arrived at the staircase that led up to her apartment. She wanted to express her gratitude. Felt as if she couldn't say it enough. Her father and the mess she had to sort loomed. Sarah felt her brow pinch.
"Goodnight Sarah," said Monty abruptly.
She nodded. "Goodnight Monty."
He turned and walked away. Sarah climbed the stairs.
She found her father asleep on the sofa. Part of her wanted to wake him up so she could yell and rage at him. But she was brought low with an exhaustion. In her room she found Toby in her bed, sprawled awkwardly. She crawled in next to him, brushing his soft hair back. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.