Well Met(90)

“I know exactly where to start.” I didn’t need the map for this. I led her down the lane, winding around the patrons and cast alike. The Celtic musicians had come back for the last weekend of Faire, and I could finally catch their show.

“Oh, good call,” April murmured to me when the performers, a band called the Dueling Kilts, took the stage. Three men in kilts with acoustic instruments. One had long hair swirled up in a man bun, and another wore a devilish smile. It was like I’d tailor-made a show for her. For both of us. I hadn’t even known that about these guys. All I’d known of their act were the bits I could hear from my station at the tavern, but I had to agree I’d made a very good call indeed. They didn’t even need musical talent, really. We would have been happy standing there gazing at them.

Once the show ended and we’d each slipped a tip in the form of a couple folded bills into the waistband of a well-worn kilt, April consulted the map again. “I want to see your tavern.”

“Oh.” I froze. “No.” I’d been so distracted by all the parts of Faire I hadn’t seen that I’d forgotten about the parts of Faire that were as automatic to me as breathing. The tavern. The chess field. Simon. “No,” I said again. “We can skip that part.”

“No, we can’t.” She grabbed my arm and marched me along. “It’s before noon on a Sunday, I just saw a hot guy in a kilt, and now I need a drink. Let’s go get one.”

She would not be denied, and as we rounded the familiar bend my skin began to prickle. By the time we reached the tavern I was one large, quivering nerve ending. My senses were on high alert, my eyes darting for a glimpse of a man all in black. I didn’t know what I would do if I saw Simon. Punch him? Cry? Run away? All of the above?

But he was nowhere to be seen in the tavern, and after hugs from Stacey, Jamie, and the rest of the volunteers, followed by a round of drinks, I felt a lot calmer. Calm enough that by the time we strolled by the chess field a little while later my legs hardly shook at all. As we passed it the match was in full swing, and I kept my head turned away from it. I could do this. I could ignore him.

Actually, I couldn’t see him. As much as I tried not to look, I caught myself scanning the field, more surprised by what I didn’t see than by what I saw. I didn’t see black leather or a hat with a large red feather. I slowed my steps as Mitch stalked to the center of the board to fight, both anticipating and dreading what was coming. Surely Simon would take the field with him. But no, Mitch’s fight was with the Quarterstaff Kid instead.

I looked around for a wild moment, expecting Simon to pop out from behind a nearby tree or something. Where the hell was he? There was no way he’d shirk his responsibilities on the last day. Top priority in his life—he’d made that more than clear.

“What are we looking at . . . ooh, another kilt!” April paused for a moment to watch in appreciation as Mitch spun through the steps of the fight. I couldn’t blame her; the man put on a good show. After spending so many weeks with Mitch’s insane physique I had become immune, but now I saw the fight through my sister’s eyes. A green plaid kilt swirling around muscular thighs was truly a sight to behold.

After Mitch disarmed the Quarterstaff Kid and sent him to the ground, ending the fight, we both shook ourselves and blinked at each other. “So you had no interest in that one, huh?”

“Mitch?” I snorted at the thought. That ship had sailed a long time ago. “No. He’s just a friend.”

“If you say so.” She stole another look in his direction. “I’m just saying, I’d have been a lot more into sports in high school if the coach looked like that.” She was quiet for another moment, then shook off the thought. “Food?” I pointed down the path and we set off.

A couple hours later we had split a massive smoked turkey leg, which was as awkward to eat as you might imagine, and had flower crowns in our hair. The ribbons from the crown floated down my back and trailed down to my elbows. We stopped again at the tavern so April could rest her leg. And get another glass of wine.

I still hadn’t spotted Simon, which at first I’d been relieved about, but as the day wore on I became confused. And more than a little sad. Stacey and Mitch had been so insistent that I come today. Had they given Simon the heads-up so he could avoid running into me? I didn’t like the thought of that. This Faire was Simon’s home. He loved it more than anything. I shouldn’t have come here if I made him this uncomfortable.

“Do you want to head home?” I didn’t like the way April was rubbing her bad leg. But she waved off my concern.

“I’m fine. My stamina’s not what it was before the accident.”

“Seriously, we can go . . .”

“Nah.” She put her leg up on the bench next to us. “I just need to slow down a little. Wine first. Then joust.”

I still didn’t feel great about dragging her all the way across the grounds to the jousting field, but she insisted she was fine and she could rest there while we watched. I couldn’t argue with that, and deep down inside I really wanted to see the joust. I’d been looking forward to it all summer, and it was unlikely I’d be back to the Faire in the future.

“I can’t believe I’ve never seen this!” I squirmed a little on the hard wooden bench. April crunched on a giant pickle she’d bought from a wandering vendor and grinned at me.