Spindle(71)

He shrugged at Fanny. “I’ve failed in every way. My kiss didn’t even heal her.”

Briar blinked. “You thought you could heal me with a kiss?” Okay, that was a little romantic, even if the setup was lacking. “Fairy tales are best left to children,” she said. Hot tears flooded her eyes and she turned to face the wall. How humiliating to be so hopeless that Henry had to resort to kissing her in a final attempt to save her.

“Maybe she needs Wheeler,” Henry whispered to Fanny, but Briar could hear him. Now her face truly burned. She did not need Wheeler.

“No, dearie, it’s an old curse, and therefore unpredictable. I can’t say if the kiss would have worked even if you were grounded properly.” She stamped her foot on the worn wood planks. “This floor feels all wrong. I can’t believe it, but Miss Prudence forgot to set the foundation. She never forgets anything. Humph. Must be old age—but don’t tell her I said so.”

Briar stole a glance to see Fanny nudge Henry back to the bed. “Take her out into the woods and tell her your part of the story. It’ll make you both feel a whole lot better and give me time to think.”

“I can’t walk,” Briar reminded them. “I can’t even stand. My legs are asleep.”

Henry shook his head. “They only think they’re asleep. We have to convince them otherwise. I can help.”

Briar tried not to be annoyed. The last thing she wanted to do was attempt to walk in front of Henry. He really didn’t understand what was happening to her. Or maybe he did. The kiss had distracted her. He knew about the spindle. Which meant her early suspicions that he knew Fanny were correct, too. He knew all about Fanny. And he hadn’t told her any of it.

“That’s kind of you, but no. Thank you. I’d rather stay here.” She smoothed a wrinkle in the sheet with her fingers, pretending that even that much motion was no big deal.

“You can sit, can’t you?” Fanny retorted. “May as well get some fresh air.” She exited the door and then returned with a wheelchair. “From town,” she said. “It’s a bit dusty from the walk up the lane, but it’ll do.”

Briar eyed the set of wheels with distaste. To go from the freedom of a bicycle to the confinement of a wheelchair was too much.

Henry lifted her like a bale of cotton and transferred her to the chair. Her legs wouldn’t cooperate, and Fanny had to bend them as best she could so they weren’t sticking out too much. So stiff.

They positioned her like a porcelain doll and she couldn’t fight them. She wanted to punch and kick and flail her arms in protest, but it took all her energy just to breathe.

“Off you go, then,” Fanny said, tucking the patchwork quilt around her.

Briar tried to relax as Henry pushed her along the bumpy path, but it was hard to have so little control. The path was narrow and filled with rocks threatening to bump her right out of the chair. She had to completely trust him to steer clear of the branches and keep her from tumbling over. That he could take care of her in the forest, especially if something were to go wrong.

“Why did you kiss me?” she asked as soon as they were out of sight of the cottage.

“You mean a reason other than I’ve been wanting to kiss you for months?”

She could sense the grin in his voice. There it was. The old, incorrigible Henry. Never serious.

“Tell me. Life has gotten a bit strange since you left. Nothing can surprise me now.” She wanted to hear him say it. To hear him explain how he was not the person she thought he was.

“I will.” His voice sounded sad again. “But in the proper place.”

After several minutes of silence, and Henry struggling to push the wheelchair over the forest path, he said, “We’re nearly there.”

“Thank you for the fresh air,” Briar consented. “I feel better already.” She didn’t really, but it had broken the monotony to get out of bed.

They continued on until the path ended. Henry tried to forge his own path, but the wheels got stuck in the undergrowth, nearly toppling Briar out. Without a word, he reached down and scooped her up, bouncing her a few times until she was settled snug against his chest. With great effort she put her arm around his neck. “Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” he said. His voice rumbled from deep within his chest and her stomach flip-flopped at the sound. She wasn’t used to her body reacting this way to Henry. She was used to him being her chum. It didn’t matter that he kissed her not twenty minutes ago, it was going to take some time to get used to thinking about him differently. Time she didn’t have, but desperately wanted.

His jaw was set in a determined line as he proceeded through the forest. Then he stopped and said, “Here we are.”

Briar pried her focus off his mouth to see where he had taken her. It was the place with the hollow tree fallen across a little brook. She drew in a deep breath. She hadn’t been back to this place in years. Not since her mother died. If she closed her eyes she could picture Mam bent over the fallen log, arranging the moss for their fairy garden, teaching Briar and also Henry, who insisted on following one day.

“You remembered,” Briar whispered, looking up into Henry’s eyes. He was grinning like the twins did whenever Briar caught them being especially good. Her gaze dropped to his lips, which were close enough he could kiss her again if he wanted to. Does he want to?