FORTY-FIVE
Folken Lacour surveyed his appearance in the wall mirror of his small wash room. Peering intently into the glass, he frowned and brushed at something on the front of his coat, adjusted the mantle around his shoulders, and smoothed out the sleeve that helped to hide his mechanical arm from the rest of the world. I feel like I'm going to be sick . . . is it just the light in here, or do I really look that pale . . . c'mon, just try to relax . . . breathe . . . relax, it's just a day like any other . . .
"Yeah right," he muttered to himself. "Like I get married every day . . ." He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to focus his thoughts as he had been taught. Clear the mind . . . focus your energy . . . think only of the task at hand . . . shut out everything else . . . focus . . . calm mind . . . clear mind . . . focus . . .
After several minutes, Folken felt himself start to relax and the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach started to dissipate. He took one final deep breath and slowly opened his eyes. After one last look in the wall mirror, he turned and went into the adjoining bedroom. Reaching down, he picked up a black velvet jeweler's pouch that rested on the bed and stowed it away in the breast pocket of his coat.
Continuing on through to his front room, he stopped at the paper strewn worktable. Spread out across the scarred wooden surface were schematics and drawings of the guymelef prototypes that had exploded during training exercises. Folken was still working on comparing the various preliminary drawings with the actual finished plans -- a job that had not received his complete attention in the past week. Juri is going to have my hide -- I'm supposed to be done with these the day after tomorrow. I hope Marco will get a chance to work on them -- he did promise to try.
Thinking of his fellow apprentice, Folken smiled as he picked up the small brass key that Marco had left there earlier. Folken almost laughed aloud as he tried to imagine what Jindra's reaction to Marco's "present" would be when the man gave her it's twin later on that morning. I'd wager a gold coin her cheeks will be as pink as sunberry tarts once he tells her what it's for. Folken put the key in the pocket of his trousers and sighed. We owe Marco so much -- without him, I don't think any of this would be happening. He's been a true friend and I know how fond Jin is of him . . .
Not for the first time, a hint of jealousy clouded Folken's thoughts as he thought about how much time his fiancé had spent with Marco Dimetra in the past few weeks. The man had helped set up the appointment for the wedding ceremony, obtained all the necessary forms and documents that the couple needed, arranged for a carriage, reserved a suite of rooms at a nice little inn for an abbreviated wedding night and most importantly, had acted as a go-between for Folken and Jindra. It was through Marco that the two were able to communicate -- he carried notes back and forth and relayed verbal messages -- all the while appearing to enjoy the subterfuge. Although Folken trusted Jindra completely, he still couldn't quell the flame of jealousy that flared up whenever he thought about the two of them together.
He recalled the brief time that he had been able to spend with Jindra a few days ago. They had wandered, hand-in-hand, down the carefully tended paths of the city park for about an hour or so -- mostly silent, instead preferring the simple joy of just being with each other. Jindra had started to tell him about something that Marco had done, her voice light and full of laughter, when Folken had interrupted her. "Why do you always have to tell me every little thing that Marco does? All I ever hear anymore is Marco this -- Marco that. Why can't we just spend some time together without Marco Dimetra?"
Jindra had let go of his hand as she stopped. "What's with you?" She then looked up at him, "In case you've forgotten Folken, he's your friend -- you're the one who asked him to help us."
"I didn't ask -- he volunteered."
"You're -- you're jealous!" She sighed and shook her head. "Folken . . . there is absolutely, positively nothing for you to be jealous about. Marco is your friend -- do you think I could do that to you? Do you really have that low of an opinion of me?"
Folken had felt himself blush, "Jin, you know that's not true -- I love you and -- and I trust you. I-It's just . . . I can't help it -- I've seen how he flirts with you . . ."
"Please Folken -- when it comes to flirting, Marco Dimetra is a rank amateur compared to my brother. Besides, he has no interest in me whatsoever -- he even told me so -- it's just the way he is; he flirts with everyone." She gave him a smile, "Marco is a nice distraction, but I much prefer to be with the real thing -- if you know what I mean." She took his hand again, "As much as I like his conversation and wit, he's still not you -- and you are the only man that I want to be with Folken Lacour . . . now and for the rest of my life."
The clock on the table chimed, pulling Folken from his recollection . . . and starting today, I want to spend the rest of my life with you Jindra Roh. Patting the breast pocket of his coat one last time, he left his quarters and started down the shadowed hallway.
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Folken walked through the cemetery towards Coren Roh's grave. He had not been there since Coren's funeral -- his grief over his friend's death had opened up many old wounds that Folken had believed closed – mostly having to do with his own father's death. Folken stared at the gray stone marker, lost in his thoughts. Three years -- and it's still feels like yesterday . . . I'm sorry father -- sorry I wasn't ready to take your place . . . I tried -- I really did . . . but Van is strong -- he'll make it -- Balgus will guide him . . . Van will make you proud . . . Folken felt the wetness on his face, and he scrubbed at his eyes with his long fingers as he turned away.
I wish you could have met Jindra . . . she's the best thing that ever happened to me . . . I know you would have liked her -- she has such a gentle heart, just like mother . . . and she loves me -- despite everything that I've done . . . despite what I've become. Maybe someday I can take her to Fanelia –I know she'd like that . . .
It was a long time before Folken turned back towards Coren's grave. Bending down, he bowed his head for a few moments in silence. "I promise you Coren . . . I'll take care of her and protect her . . . whatever it takes, she'll never lack for anything. I-I-I just want you to know how much I love her . . . how much she means to me." His voice faded to a hoarse whisper. He kneeled for a few more minutes while the sunlight shone down on his pale hair and glinted off the tips of his metal fingers as he reached out and touched the grave marker. "I'll never forget you Coren . . . if it hadn't of been for you, Jin and I never would have met. Thank you, my friend." Slowly rising, Folken once again brushed tears from his eyes as he walked away.
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Marco watched Jindra as she sat across from him in the coach. He could see that she was nervous -- her hands were crossed over her middle as if she were trying to stop the fluttering that he knew was churning around in her stomach. She looks positively horrible for someone who's about to get married; he thought. He reached over and touched her arm. "Are you alright, Jindra?"
"Uh . . . oh . . . maybe . . . I--I think so . . . no . . . yes . . . oh, I don't know." Her voice was hoarse and she sounded like she was on the verge of tears.
"Jindra . . . I don't want this to sound the wrong way, but you don't seem like a very happy bride."
Marco had picked Jindra up a few blocks from her home. He had arranged for a room at an inn, where Jindra could change and freshen up; and where Folken would meet her before their appointment at the registrar's office.
"I-I . . . my stomach feels like its doing somersaults . . . my palms are sweating . . . I want to cry and laugh at the same time . . . and I feel like I'm going to be sick. Can you laugh and be sick at the same time, Marco?"
He gave her a reassuring smile, "On today of all days -- probably." He reached across and pulled at her hand, until he had it grasped firmly in his. "You'll be fine . . . I know you will." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, "Just take a few deep breaths . . . in -- out . . . in -- out . . . that's it . . . good girl . . . feel better?" Jindra nodded her head slightly as he released her hand. "I guess this isn't exactly the kind of wedding you always dreamed of, huh?" He asked her.
Jindra shook her head, "I-I never really thought about it before . . . I mean, I knew I'd probably get married some day -- but I never sat around and daydreamed about it, if that's what you're asking. " Her voice sounded thoughtful, "I never really wanted a big formal wedding . . . my friend Laurelle had a huge wedding -- there must have been three hundred people there. She looked so beautiful . . . but she seemed so unhappy too. I remember she told me that she would rather have eloped . . . she just wanted to marry the man that she loved -- not be the center of the biggest social event of the summer."
"I just always saw myself with something -- less grand, I guess . . . just my family -- my close friends . . . " Marco saw her smile, "I always pictured my father standing on one side of me-- my fiancé on the other. My mother would be crying -- and Coren . . . Coren would be making faces at me behind my back . . ." Jindra sniffed a few times. "I just wish . . . I just wish that things could have been different . . . I wish I didn't feel so -- so guilty."
With the exception of her brother's death, Jindra felt that the past two weeks had been some of longest and hardest in her life. She had been so nervous that she could barely eat or sleep; but it was the guilt that made her feel the worst. Never in her life had she felt as guilty as when she saw or spoke to her parents, knowing that she was marrying a man they despised behind their backs and that she would be running away with him afterwards.
So many times in the past week she had wanted to sit the two of them down and tell them everything -- but it was her fear of what they might do to prevent her marriage to Folken that had stayed her tongue. She hated keeping everything a secret -- she knew that her parents would be hurt and disappointed once they learned what she had done; but she firmly believed that they would forgive her. I have to believe it -- it's the only thing I have; she thought more than once. If only they would see . . . maybe someday they will.
Marco saw the sadness on Jindra's face. Glancing down at the large bag sitting on the floor, he quickly tried to change the subject. "I still can't believe you stuffed your wedding dress into that bag."
"Well, I couldn't very well carry it out of the house with me -- that really would have caught someone's attention. I just hope it isn't a complete wrinkled mess . . . "Jindra had tried to wait until the last possible minute before she had to fold up the dress and put it in the bag. Then she had quietly slipped out of the house, after dropping the bag out of her bedroom window, and hurriedly made her way to meet Marco. She had also tried to arrange her hair as best she could and even applied a few cosmetics so that she would have less to do when they arrived at the inn. She had been so nervous; her hands had been shaking the entire time.
"Well, don't worry -- I'm sure you can have someone press it out when we get to the inn. That's why I wanted to pick you up so early -- so you'd have time to get ready." He leaned towards her, as if he were sharing a secret, "Although I don't know this firsthand, I've heard that it takes women an inordinate amount of time to get ready -- especially for something special." He sat back a little, "I believe your wedding day qualifies as something special."
He gave her a rakish smile, "That reminds me . . . I have something for you;" he said, handing her a small box.
"What's this?"
"A wedding present for you -- and Folken."
"Marco -- you didn't have to . . . you really shouldn't have. You've done so much for us already -- you didn't have to do this."
He waved his hand dismissively, "It was all my pleasure, Jindra . . . I just wanted to help Folken -- and you too, of course," he smiled. "Well, aren't you going to open it?"
"If it's for the both of us, then I should probably wait for Folken -- so we can open it together."
"Oh, don't worry about that -- I gave Folken his earlier this morning." He saw the puzzled look on her face, "I gave him the same thing -- so you can go ahead and open it." Jindra untied the ribbon on the small box and opened it -- inside was a small key. She gave him another puzzled look.
"It's to a suite of rooms at the inn where you'll be meeting Folken. The suite is yours until tomorrow morning;" he said with a wink. "The innkeeper assured me that you would have complete privacy -- he was really quite understanding." He smirked as he watched the deep blush that bloomed across Jindra's cheeks.
"Marco! That's -- that's . . . I can't believe you -- you . . ."
"What? I just explained what I wanted -- how else do you think I got you the best set of rooms the man had? Private bath, wonderful view . . . the biggest bed I ever saw in my life . . ." He gave her that rakish smile that so reminded her of Coren that she wanted to hit him. "You should be thanking me . . . I couldn't stand the thought of you two being unable to . . . to uh, celebrate your nuptials properly . . . the two of you are lucky to have someone like me to look out for you -- to think of these things."
Jindra glared at him, "I'm going to open the door of this carriage and push you out. I can't believe you told a complete stranger -- I can't go there now -- they'll all know, they'll all be staring at me!"
Marco laughed and shook his head, "Gods, Jindra -- you're going to be married in a couple of hours. What do you think happens during a wedding night -- that you shake hands and say goodnight?" He gave her a knowing look and Jindra felt herself blush even more, if that were possible. "You know better than that -- I know you do." Marco gave her a sly wink. I'm going to strangle Folken when I get my hands on him. I can't believe he told Marco about -- about . . . I swear the man is going to be deader than dead!
It seemed as if Marco had been reading her mind, "Don't hurt him too much, Jindra -- especially after all the trouble I've gone through to set up such a perfect scene for romance and seduction. I'd really take it as a personal affront if my good friend were unable to . . . well, to perform his husbandly duties on his wedding day." He laughed again, this time so hard that tears started to form in his eyes.
Jindra's eyes grew dark as she glared at him. Balling up her fist, she leaned forward and punched Marco in the arm as hard as she could. "Ow! Damn it woman -- that hurt!" He rubbed at his arm, "Gods -- that's probably going to leave a bruise!"
"You're lucky I don't punch you right in that nosy little face of yours, Marco Dimetra!" Jindra let out a frustrated sound, "What is it about men? Why do you have to joke about everything? How can you take something that's so -- so personal . . . so special -- and -- and intimate and make it sound like some kind of dirty joke?" She sat back, crossed her arms over her chest and turned to look out the window. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she tried to blink them back.
Marco looked at the profile of Jindra's face and he felt slightly abashed. He ran his hand through his dark curls and sighed. "Jindra -- Jin," he tried to make his voice light; "I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to upset you -- that's the last thing I wanted to do, especially today." He reached over and touched her arm, "I only wanted to -- to help ease some of your nervousness – try to get your mind off everything . . . distract you a little. Are you crying? Gods, don't cry -- all I need is for Folken to know that I made you cry . . . then I'll wish you had pushed me out of the carriage." He smiled at her, even though she still had her face turned away. "Jindra . . . look at me, please?" She slowly turned to face him.
"I'm sorry, really I am. I-I only wanted to do something nice for the two of you -- really, I only had the best intentions in mind. I- I just wanted to make today even more special for you."
Jindra regarded Marco for a few minutes. "It's alright Marco . . . I'm just -- I'm just . . . my nerves are all bundled up . . . I haven't been able to sleep all week . . . I'm so nervous -- and anxious . . . my emotions are so -- it's like I've gone crazy or something . . . I don't know what I'm doing . . . I want to laugh and cry all at the same time . . . "
She reached over and took his hand, "Thank you Marco – it was very thoughtful of you . . . you're right, we are lucky to have a friend like you -- I really appreciate everything that you've done to help us." The carriage pulled to stop and Jindra released his hand.
Marco gave her a small smile, "Friends again?" he asked. Jindra nodded, "Oh . . . I suppose so." Suddenly, she grabbed his arm, "Marco -- the present! Where is Folken's other present? You didn't forget it -- did you? Please say you didn't."
"Present . . .?" Marco pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, "Gods -- I was in such a hurry this morning . . ." he trailed off as he reached under the seat and pulled out a long, dark wooden case. "That I managed to grab it before I left." He smiled at her teasingly.
"I swear Marco Dimetra; you're going to be the death of me today." Jindra scolded as she touched the dark wood with her fingertips. He only smiled at her with wide-eyed innocence.
Marco opened the door, climbed down and helped Jindra from the coach. Taking her bag, he set it on the ground next to her, along with the wooden case. "This is as far as I go." He reached for her hands, "I wish the two of you every happiness, Jindra. If any two people in the world deserve it -- it's you and Folken." He bent his head and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I've grown quite found of you, Jindra. You're like the sister that I never had. So just remember, if Folken Lacour ever makes you cry or does anything to hurt you – well, you just let me know and I'll sort him out for you." He smiled down at her, "You and Folken are the first true friends that I've had in a very, very long time. I'm going to miss the two of you terribly when you leave for Palas."
Jindra could see the shine of tears in his eyes and she squeezed his hand. "We'll miss you too . . . we wouldn't have been able to pull this off if it wasn't for all your help, Marco. I don't know how to thank you for everything that you've done . . . we'll always be indebted to you."
Marco swallowed down his emotions and gave her another one of his big smiles, "Just try not to faint during the ceremony, okay?" He said as he released her hands. "Although I won't guarantee that your intended won't hit the floor first. I think our dear Mr. Lacour was even more nervous than you."
Jindra returned his smile, "Let's just hope we don't both pass out at the same time anyway."
Marco turned and climbed back into the coach, "I'll be thinking about you." He shut the door. Leaning out the window he gave her a sly grin, "Oh, and don't do anything I wouldn't do," he said with a laugh. "But since there isn't much I haven't done -- well, the two of you should have a very enjoyable evening."
"Marco!" Jindra exclaimed as the carriage pulled away. She could hear him laughing as he waved goodbye through the window.