Wickedly Ever After: A Baba Yaga Novella(13)
He shook his head. “Liam not only saved me that night, but every good thing that came afterward was because of him. I don’t know exactly what this is all about, but he told me that your future happiness together depends on having this frog. As far as I’m concerned, it’s little enough to ask.”
Liam’s ears burned a bright red in the dim light of the parking lot. “You’re exaggerating, Phil. I was just a friend when you needed one, that’s all.”
“You were and are a good man. That’s a rare thing.”
Barbara put her arm through Liam’s. “He’s right, you know.”
Little Babs had been listening quietly, as usual. “Liam saved me too. A bad lady had me and he and Barbara saved me and took me home with them. Now we are a family.” She looked up at Liam seriously. “You are a good man. You are Barbara’s good man and my good man. And Chudo-Yudo’s good man. You told me that when someone says a compliment to you, you are supposed to say thank you. Are you going to say thank you?”
Liam chuckled. “Sometimes you learn your lessons too well, kiddo.” He turned back to Phil. “Thank you for the compliment. And for the frog. You have no idea what this means to us.”
“Maybe you can tell me the story sometime,” Phil said hopefully. “I get the feeling it is even more interesting than Spider-Man.”
Liam and Barbara exchanged looks. “Maybe,” he said. “You never know.”
After another round of manly back thumping, Phil climbed into his car and drove away. Barbara buckled a droopy-eyed Babs into her seat and they set off for the campground where they’d rented a space for the night.
“I like him,” Barbara said finally, after they’d been driving in silence for a few minutes. “Did you really keep him from killing himself the night you met him?”
“Mmm, I suppose I did,” Liam said. “Although there was always the chance he wouldn’t have gone through with it. But he was standing on the edge with one sneaker in midair when I walked onto the roof looking for a quiet spot to think.”
“How did you talk him out of it?” she asked.
Liam laughed. “I told him that I was studying criminal justice, and asked him if he realized that suicide was against the law. Then I threatened to perform a citizen’s arrest. While he was trying to figure out if I was serious, I just walked up and pulled him away from the edge. It wasn’t a big deal.”
Barbara squeezed his hand. “He was right, you know. You are a good man. I look forward to spending many, many years listening to your ridiculous stories.”
He smiled at her, but worry still lurked at the corner of his eyes. “Two down and one to go, eh?”
“Yes,” said Barbara. “Too bad the one that’s left is the most impossible task of them all.”
***
The next morning Liam and Barbara leaned on the counter in the Airstream watching Babs eating her current breakfast of choice, whole-wheat toast with liverwurst and sliced-up prunes. A glass of orange juice sat at her elbow; she would take one precise bite of her food, chew it thoughtfully, and then wash it down with juice. Every week she chose a different combination and seemed to eat them all with the same intense concentration, and, as far as they could tell, enjoyment.
Barbara’s other sister Baba, Bella, had managed to get away for an hour to visit, although she hadn’t had time to wash the smell of smoke from her curly red hair and there was still a smudge of soot on the side of her nose. She had listened to their story with fascinated interest, but hadn’t had anything to suggest on how to obtain their third impossible item, alas.
“I don’t know how she can eat liverwurst for breakfast,” Bella said with a shudder. She took a bite of her own toast, mercifully liver sausage free.
Liam did the same with his own toast, and a smear of marmalade clung to his bottom lip. Barbara wiped it away with her thumb and licked it off. “I hate liverwurst,” he said. “Disgusting stuff.”
“It’s better than the sardines from last week,” Barbara reminded him. “I couldn’t even stand to have breakfast in the same room with her. I like sardines well enough, but not before eight a.m.”
Liam nodded in agreement and took a sip of coffee, then looked at his mug dubiously before sniffing it and taking another sip. “What the heck is in the coffee this morning? I finally got used to the hint of blue roses, but this is . . . well, I don’t know what it is.” He took another mouthful anyway.
Barbara stuck her long nose down near the top of her own mug, smelled it, then took a sip too. “I’m not sure. Cinnamon and something else. Nutmeg, maybe? Or cardamom? I think the coffeemaker is in a snit this morning. Sorry.” It wasn’t always easy living inside a sentient hut, no matter what it looked like these days. She felt a burning desire to return home to their old farmhouse; she’d only just gotten used to spending most of her time in a house that didn’t talk back. Well, other than the ghost, of course, but she was mostly pretty laid-back. You know, for a ghost.
Barbara sighed. It was weird being homesick. Having spent her entire life traveling around inside her home, it was a strange new experience. Well, at least Liam was with her. For now.
“What was that big sigh for?” he asked, giving up on his coffee and putting it down on the counter with a thud. “We already have two of the three impossible tasks done and we’ve got more than a week left. I would think you’d be a little happier.”