A Knight in Central Park(43)

Ari did not look convinced.

Joe didn’t want to be the one to disappoint all of these people. It was too much pressure, too much responsibility for one man. He had to make Ari see that he wasn’t their savior. “I’ve been to church maybe two times in my entire life. God would never have picked me to do anything so grand, so noble, so honorable.”

Ari laid a gentle hand on Joe’s shoulder.

“Look at my hands,” Joe rambled on, holding his hands outward, palms up. “Not a callus in sight. I’ve never touched a sword in my life. I gave up using my fists about the same time I gave up waiting for my father to show up when I was small. I’m just a regular Joe who was this close,” he said, pinching two fingers together, “to having a nice, respectable life. And then Alexandra showed up and BAM, shot it all to—”

“I knew it!” Garrett cried out, startling both men. “I told you he was not the Black Knight!”

“Not now, Garrett,” Ari said, before turning his attention back to Joe. “Alexandra said you saved her grandfather and her brother. Sir Richard’s henchman mentioned to an innkeeper yester eve that you snapped your fingers and caused flames to dance at your fingertips. But it wasn’t until Harig saw the medallion that he realized who you were.”

Ari gestured toward the medallion hanging about Joe’s neck. “That’s when he knew the Black Knight had arrived. The people of Brookshire have prayed for this day.” Ari clapped him on the shoulder again. “If anyone can help us, ’Tis you.”

Joe watched Ari walk away. Crazy talk. He turned toward the horse, made sure the animal was tied securely to the post before he began to search through the saddlebags, slowly at first, and then faster, tossing out a woolen blanket and some dried fruit in order to find what he was looking for.

There it was. His briefcase. He smoothed his hand over the leather case. The familiar object calmed him, told him he was sane after all. He glanced at the people lining the path. Hope filled their eyes. Ignoring the rot and the stench, he gazed at the tiny huts they called home. He thought about his work, about all of the endless years of research. In all those years, not once had he fathomed putting himself in the shoes of the people he studied. Never had he stopped to consider what it must have been like to live in this time-truly live in this time—without electricity, soft mattresses, and all the other modern conveniences he’d taken for granted. His thoughts had always been on the lost treasures and of being reunited with his father. Nothing else had mattered.

“Every hero I ever heard of carries a sword,” Garrett said, jerking Joe back to the bowels of reality.

“Never said I was a hero, kid.”

The boy crossed his arms. “There must be something you can do.”

Joe set about repacking the saddlebag. When he finished, he was disgruntled to see Garrett still standing there, straight and stiff, hands on hips, waiting for a reply.

“Okay, kid, want to see some magic?” Joe pulled a coin from the leather bag at his side and placed it flat on the center of his palm.

Garrett looked bored.

Joe waved his other hand in the air, swirling slowly at first, then swiftly over his palm, making the coin disappear.

Garrett frowned. “’Tis all you can do? Can you make me disappear?”

“Not that lucky kid.”

Garrett snorted. “What kind of warrior carries no weapons, can hardly climb from a tree, and considers himself magical because of one disappearing coin?”

“A simple man from another world who never asked for any of this, that’s who.”

“Alexandra said you plan to leave us upon your return from Radmore’s Keep.”

“That’s right.”

The boy kicked at a pebble with the tip of his worn boot. “Destiny brought you here and destiny is going to make you stay.”

“You’re wrong there, little buddy, because I have the stone. And that means I’m calling the shots.”

“Who gave it to you? Where is it?”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Joe said with a wry grin. “I don’t trust you any further than I could throw you.”

“You dare throw me and I-I will make your life miserable.”

“Now that, I believe.” Joe turned toward the horse, untied the reins, holding the leather straps a foot from the animal’s mouth so the beast would not be able to bite him. “Listen kid,” Joe said over his shoulder while at the same time trying to figure out how he was going to get on the animal. “Destiny or not, in twenty-nine days I’m out of here. Now be a nice kid and give me a lift.”