Rantings of an Arranged Mind

Sorry everyone: I'm not feeling too well so there isn't a Diggory update for Friday. I'll try to pick things up next week. In the meantime, here's more of the No Man an Island sequel. Hope you enjoy!

Three:

I woke up when my number-one daydream rolled out of bed. Ethan got up at the crack of dawn to feed the cows and chickens every morning. I ran my fingers down his back and he looked over his shoulder at me with a soft smile. He turned and kissed my palm, and then my wrist, and then left for his chores.

Much to my disappointment. But, I had a warm bed to snuggle into, and pretty soon fell back asleep. I got up around seven-thirty and made breakfast before waking up Rhia for school. She was eager to go, and slurped down her cereal in record time.

“What’s the rush, Monkey?” I teased, as she ran to get her shoes and backpack.

“I wanna go play with Shauna and Lily. I haven’t seen them in forever!”

“It’s only been two days, honey. The weekend isn’t that long.” I couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s three whole sleeps! I’m five, Mom, not stupid.”

I laughed out loud. I had taught her to deliver this in a saucy tone of voice when she was three, to tick off my dad when he talked down to her. She still knew how to put it to good use unexpectedly.

We held hands as we strolled down the dirt road towards town. It hadn’t been hard for Ethan to convince me to move out to the farm. I loved the place. I filled Rhia’s head with stories about how we met, and life at the farm before she was born.

We came to the corner by the cemetery. “This is where you met Daddy, right?”

Rhia asked me this every school day. “That’s right.”

“And you knew right away that you were going to marry him?”

“That’s right. Love at first sight.”

“Like Prince Charming and Snow White. He was your prince, wasn’t he, Mommy?”

“Yes, Monkey. Just like a fairy tale.”

“And I’m your ‘happily ever after,’ aren’t I?”

I smiled. “You absolutely are.”

We walked on. I was glad that the questions stopped there. I wasn’t ready to tell my little girl that, while it had been the start of the fairy tale, it had once been the site where it almost ended before it began.

Four:

I found out the first day of school that Ethan and I walking together was a bit of a fluke. The elementary school started a half hour before the high school, and let out earlier in the afternoon. The only reason we ran into each other was that the school had asked the grade nines to arrive early for orientation.

I desperately wanted to see him again, in the mooning, silly way girls have when they have a crush. Looking back, I’m a little embarrassed about the poems I wrote in my diary. As much as I love my husband, that young girl was in love with an idea, garnered from books and movies.

But, because it seemed like such a silly crush, based on a single meeting, I didn’t do anything about it. Leaving a half-hour early for school in the morning just to walk with him seemed a little extreme. Riding up the dirt road and knocking on his front door seemed equally silly. He’d probably think I was just a dumb girl, I told myself.

Plus, I was busy enough that I mostly didn’t think about him. I had new classes and homework, and a new pool of acquaintances and friends. It wasn’t long before I was sleeping over at girls’ houses, riding my bike with my new friends, shopping downtown and having normal youthful fun.

In spare moments, I still wrote gushy poetry and drew idealized sketches. But it was a fantasy. I wasn’t worried about it. Part of the fantasy was that fate would intervene and bring us together, if it was “meant to be.” Plus, he’d be going to my school the next year. I wasn’t in any rush. For a girl with a head full of fantasies, I was also very practical about how to handle them in real life.

When fate did conspire to bring us together, it took a very odd shape. The shape of a snowflake. Well, millions of them.

I was walking down the corridor at school in the middle of February. A junior whistled at me. I glared at him, only to see him blow smooch kisses in an obscene sort of way. His friend beside him made an even more vulgar gesture. I stomped off.

I hated being pretty. For the last two years, boys had been virtually unable to have a conversation with me. They either acted like jerks or were too nervous. Since the first week of school, older guys had been asking me out. If they were semi-polite, I just told them that my parents wouldn’t let me date until I was sixteen. If they were pushy, I was a little more forceful. One boy ‘accidentally’ got a knee in his groin.

I was used to it by this point, and able to look out for myself. I didn’t give the two clods in the hallway another thought. So, as I walked home that afternoon, I was quite surprised when they pulled up beside me about three blocks from my house.

“Hey, hotness! Want a ride home?” The driver rolled down his window.

I pushed my gloved hands deeper in my coat pockets and kept walking. He drove alongside me.

“Come on, sexy! I just want to drive you home. It’s freezing!”

I put my nose in the air like I didn’t see him, and walked. It was starting to snow, and the clouds looked big and dark. I wanted to be home before the storm.

He whistled again, and I glanced at him in annoyance. He wiggled his tongue at me. I couldn’t resist. As he turned to laugh with his friend, I hit him with a snowball. He swore loudly and stopped the car. He and his friend got out.

“Get her!” The leader growled. I gasped, and ran.

I could hear them coming after me in the snow as we bolted down the street. The occasional snowball flew past my head, and one hit me in the shoulder. I sprinted, hoping to get home before they could catch me.

All I had to do was round the bend at the end of this street, and home was another block down the road. My lungs burned with the cold air, and I could feel my heart in my chest, pounding with fear and the need for escape. I tripped on an icy patch as I curved around the bend. I tumbled into a drift of snow, tears running down my face. I fully expected them to fall upon me a moment later.

Instead, I heard a war cry, and the sound of snowballs hitting their targets. I heard swearing and yelling, howls of outrage. I sat up and saw a boy in a dark coat tossing snowballs at my pursuers. They turned and started for him. He ran, coming my way. I saw a moment later that it was Mr. Ethan Pitney himself, apparently late coming home from school. He bent down and helped me to my feet.

“Run. Run home!” He pushed me a little in the right direction, and ran across the street himself. I bolted, a fawn escaping wolves. I looked back halfway up the block and saw him darting in and out amidst the trees along the road by the cemetery, throwing snowballs at my assailants. Two against one wasn’t very fair, but he was holding his own.

I ran for home, thinking about how stupid boys could be, and glad that at least one of them had some sense of chivalry. I got out of my winter gear in the front hall, and plunked down in the living room. Ethan would have to come by the house on his way home, and I would call him over to thank him. There would be hot chocolate and I would tell my mother about his heroic rescue. Maybe he would stay for dinner.

The clouds outside began to unleash their snow even more fiercely, a real blast. The wind swirled outside the window, and pretty soon there was no visibility. I shivered just at the sight. It looked like a real blizzard.

I turned on the radio and this was confirmed. There was a blizzard warning across the region. A half hour had gone by since I had seen Ethan, and he hadn’t passed the house. I began to get really worried.

I ran to the kitchen and found my mother’s phone book. There was one number for Pitney in the book, so it wasn’t hard to get the one for their farm.

“Hello?” A lady said.

“Is this Mrs. Pitney? Ethan’s mother?”

“Yes it is, may I ask who’s calling?”

“Mrs. Pitney, you don’t know me. But I’m a friend of Ethan’s. I live in the old Sterns’ House, and I saw him down by the cemetery. He hasn’t passed here yet, I don’t think. Did I miss him? Is he home?”

“No, I’m afraid he’s not. I was beginning to get worried, what with the storm. Did you say that you saw him?”

“Just down the block, about a half hour ago, maybe a little more. He should have been home by now, shouldn’t he?”

Mrs. Pitney paused. “Yes, he should have. I don’t like this weather…”

“I hope nothing’s happened.” I bit my nails.

“I’m going to go get his father. Thank you for calling, dear.”

She hung up. My heart was pounding as bad as it had during my run: Mrs. Pitney sounded scared. I looked outside as the wind and snow tore across my field of vision. The world was a white blur. The radio said that temperatures had dropped drastically. Everyone was warned to stay inside. I chewed my nails, and made a decision.

I grabbed my coat.