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After a few seconds, he shakes his head and looks at me with the glossy eyes of someone who just stirred from a nap. “Yeah. Sorry. Let’s go back to the house.”
No words pass between us as we walk back to the house. I’m not sure if it is the cool air this deep in the woods or the pollen, but I feel a trickle of snot making its way down toward my mouth. I sniffle loudly to try and suck it back in, a snorting nose coming from my throat. For a moment, I’m embarrassed, but George is so wrapped up in his own head that he doesn’t hear it.
When we walk through the front door, he heads straight for the kitchen. “Coffee?”
I am on my way to the powder room to blow my nose, but I pause so I can answer him. “Have you ever known me to say no to that question?”
While we warm our bodies back up with the hot cups of deliciousness, George is still shaking his head.
I bite the side of my lip, trying to think of something comforting to say to him. “The good news is that the spell seems to have been limited to that time last night with the trolls, right?”
He nods and swallows a gulp of coffee. “Yeah, I think so. Although who knows if any of my other memories were affected, and I just haven’t tried to think of them.” He drains his mug before continuing. “Okay, I’m going to the dojo to dig up some more rope. You go to the library and find some books on knots. I’ll meet you there.” He disappears out the doorway closest to the dojo.
I look into the caramel-colored liquid still in my own mug, the glorious nectar I had planned to savor. I guess break time is over, and of course no liquids are allowed in the library because of all the ancient and priceless volumes. I whisper to the mug clutched in my hands, “I’m so sorry for the atrocity I am about to commit.” Then I gulp it all down and force myself off my counter stool before I can have the opportunity to pour myself another cup. I walk away, wistfully looking back at the pot sitting on the warming plate, and follow George into the massive, wood-paneled library.
I am grateful that whoever built this shrine to knowledge put in a card catalog and that it is somehow, mysteriously, maintained. I find cards for several books about knots, all in the same area of the Dewey Decimal System. Hey, there’s some random knowledge I should thank my grade school library teacher for.
I look through the stacks until I find the shelf I need, tucked out of the way in a back corner. It makes sense that they’re not front and center. I’m a little surprised that we even have them. In this line of work, we’re more likely to needGrimm’s Fairy Talesthan something as practical asThe Ashley Book of Knots.
I bring an arm full of books to one of the tables. I have gotten as far as the differences between knots, hitches, and lashes when George comes in, his arms laden with various lengths and types of ropes. I take two identical segments of rope from the heap he dumps onto the table, about the same thickness as the paracord I used last night, and begin practicing the square knot I remember learning when I was in scouts as a kid. Unfortunately, I acquired any previously held knot tying knowledge so long ago that my Guardian skills are not kicking in to refresh my memory. Every time I tug at the ends to tighten the knot, it all comes loose again.
“Here, try this one.” George’s blunt fingertip points at a photo labeled “Two Half Hitches: used to secure an animal or item to a bar or pole.”
I shrug before diving in to my next attempt. I follow the pictures, and the knot almost looks right. “Oh! I think I got it!” And then it falls apart in my hands. I grunt and smack my thighs in frustration.
George snaps his head to me, his brow furrowed. “What the hell was that?”
I rub my hands down my face as I answer him. “I’m frustrated.”
“Okay, I get that. But don’thityourself!” His voice goes so high on the word hit that it cracks.
I can’t help but smile. He’s so protective of me, even from myself. “I’ll try not to, but it’s pretty ingrained in me.”
“Well, I don’t like it. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself.” He’s quiet and serious.
“Thanks, Doctor. I’m cured!” My voice is full of fake brightness and joy before I go back to my ropes.
The library is quiet the rest of the day, so quiet I could have heard a fairy fart. (I’m assuming. I’ve never actually heard a fairy fart.) And when I say quiet, I mean aside from my shouts of excitement when I finally master the square knot and two half hitches and my exclamations of irritation with every failed attempt.
Finally, it’s time for me to leave. As we approach the door, I blurt out, “If you ever want to come over for dinner again, just let me know. You have a standing invitation. Maybe I really can set up a training space in the basement, and we can get the kids in on it. I think they should know how to defend themselves too.”
“That’s not a bad idea.” He’s holding open the door, his forehead resting on his hand. “I would like to know the kids can take care of themselves. Now that I know them, I kind of like them.”
I smile, but he seems sad or distracted or something. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I just wish I could remember last night. I think I’m going to take a bath and meditate.”
“Just don’t drown in the tub or anything, okay?”
He laughs. “I’m not you, Miranda.” His eyes are warm and twinkle when he winks, making sure I know he’s just teasing.
“Ha ha ha. Very funny.” But Iamsmirking as I walk to my car because it was pretty funny.
Chapter 11
George
I start the bath and sit on my bed to check my phone. There are no new messages, but that doesn’t surprise me. The ball’s been in my court since Andrew texted me Sunday afternoon. I can’t believe I’ve let a full day and a few hours go by without replying to him!
