short story: becca bilbo-dorris
A Caretaker’s Desire
The wind stirred her skirts and tugged her worn sweater open as she carried her heavy load. Her arms needing to hold on and support her pack laden with goat cheese and milk were unable to wrap it back around her. Like the button would hold the stretched and strained holes. She fought her teeth from chattering and ignored the hair standing up on the back of her neck. Better to just keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other. Her movement would warm her. Though the half-moon was bright and beautiful on this cloudless morning, the sky was already greying whispering that the dawn approached. She breathed in the quiet and thought of basking in the golden rays on the return journey home. They gifted her with the energy and hope to continue on.
The sun was cresting as she reached the top of the last and tallest hill before she reached the weekly market on the outskirts of town. She paused, a tingling sensation at the back of her neck ran down her arms. She shivered at the sensation as she was no longer as cold as she’d been at the base of the hill, the long hike having warmed her blood. She feigned needing a moment to breathe and gazed slightly to the right, toward the rising sun. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a dark shape moving slowly in her direction along the forest edge. She adjusted her pack, shifting it slightly to relieve the pressure on her shoulders, and used the excuse to turn her body to get a clearer view of what was following her.
Dark eyes reflected the glow of the sunlight, casting a fiery glare in her direction, then the dark shape vanished. She was frozen for a moment, then shook her head and rubbed her eyes.
“A deer,” she consoled herself, no longer finding comfort in the quiet. “It was just a large deer, a very large, very dark deer. Or the shadows from the trees made it look darker than it was. But how did it just disappear?” She kept glancing from side to side and saw nothing as she cautiously hurried down the other side of the hill. Nothing but the forest to her right, an empty field to her left, and the dirt road in front of her, winding its way ahead. Almost to the crossroads and then the town. She could barely make out the steeple peeking out over the treetops.
Her heart quickened at the site. Panic washed over her for some unknown reason. Should she turn around? She was curious to know what that thing was. She glanced over her shoulder. No sign of the eyes, or any large animal. Just the birds chattering.
“You can investigate on the way home,” she coached herself, dragging her feet forward. Her hurried pace had slowed as the ground leveled out. The rapid clatter and clomping of a horse and wagon approaching ahead drew her attention. Too fast. They were approaching that intersection too fast.
She slowed as the crossroads came into view and watched as the young George Stewart stood in his wagon, holding the reins of his horse like a racing Roman chariot. He didn’t bother to slow as he attempted to make the turn. The wagon lifted on one side and George cackled like a maniac as the wagon swerved and righted itself, then continued on to town. The idiot. She rolled her eyes at the dwindling sight of the lad. If she’d been two minutes earlier he’d have run her over. How loud would he have laughed then?
The soft dirt road became hard cold stone as she encroached upon the small town of Tuirsimshire. Once a place that excited and enticed her as a young girl now filled her heart with dread. Pity and heartache hung in the air. If only pity would pay the bills and keep her family fed. The debt she’d inherited after her father’s untimely death loomed over her. If she didn’t make enough, what else would she lose?
She sighed heavily as she laid out her blanket on the small table. Bishop Jacobsen knowing her predicament had loaned it to her for the day and had set it in the shade of her favorite tree in the corner of the market closest to the church. The spot in which her mother used to set up when she was a girl. The same place she and her brother claimed after she passed. Ever since Everett had moved to town and married Rina, she had set up alone.
As she slowly laid out her wares, she glanced around at the other vendors. The sounds of chatter filled the air as they got ready. Pies and cakes, apples and potatoes, candles, produce, crafts, and, and books. That’s new. There hadn’t been a bookseller in the market in years. Old Farzin sold books in his store but she hadn’t bothered to go in there in months. No desire to tempt herself with such frivolity. Though, it might be nice to see his friendly face again.
“Miss, excuse me, how much is this and what is that?” a young woman asked, pulling her from her thoughts. She plastered a smile on her face and tended to the customer. One after another. Several of her regulars throughout the years came. Several others who knew her family came by and bought something small. They all extended their condolences then walked away. Even Bishop Jacobsen only nodded in her direction as he walked through the crowds. No friendly chatter, no discussions lest it be of cheese. Even her brother only stopped long enough to buy a log and give her a weak smile.
She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead then pinched the bridge of her nose. Pushing away the thoughts creeping in, willing her tears to stop before they formed.
“Ah, you made it,” crooned a taunting voice. “Nice to see you, lil’ Missy.” She dropped her hand and opened her eyes to see young George giving her a look that would send other girls’ hearts swooning. It just pissed her off.
“What do you want?” she scowled at him.
“I was hoping we could chat, darling,” George leaned over the table. “Alone, preferably.”
“You won’t like what I have to say, dear,” she warned in a tone laced with venom, crossing her arms over her chest. “But fine, go ahead and speak.”
“I was hoping you’d go on a stroll with me?” George offered her his hand. “Away from the crowds.”
“No,” she cocked an eyebrow at him.
“Then perhaps I will call on you next week?” he asked, placing his hands on her table and leaning even further in. “Perhaps we could go for a ride.”
“I would rather be caught kissing Bishop Jacobsen in the rectory than be caught dead riding in your speed wagon of terror. Even if I wasn’t dead when I started, I would surely end up that way.”
“Come now, surely you don’t think I’d harm a hair on your head,” he tugged on a strand of her long hair, cascading over her shoulder.
“Kindly remove your hand from me before I break it,” she hissed, clenching her hands into fists. Her heart beating wildly in her chest. It took all her willpower to not break his nose and give him a chance to remove himself. Blood splattering on the cheese wouldn’t be good for business either. She heaved a sigh and stared at a chip in the corner of the table.
“If you want an excuse to hold my hand,” he said removing his hand from her and held it out, palm up. “You’d only have to ask and I’d freely give it. I’d give you a lot more if you’d only let me take you on another evening stroll.” His breath tickled her ear as he leaned in and added, “I’ll never forget that night.”
Her entire body was simultaneously frozen and on fire. “Hmm, I got everything I could possibly want from you that night. You were so,” she smirked. “Disenchanting. I don’t need to learn that lesson twice.” She tried to shake the images of that night from her mind. I will never mix that much wine, grief, and a handsome jerk again. She shook her head and quipped, “It’d only leave me disappointed anyway.”
“Deceive yourself all you’d like,” His eyes twinkled as his voice lowered. “But you gave the impression that you were anything but disappointed. And if you were, all the more reason to give us another chance.” He dipped his head and raised his eyebrows. A cold shiver went down her spine as she met his smoldering gaze. Her nostrils flared and her stomach clenched at the memory of his fingers playing with her hair, the moon shining so brightly behind him as she leaned forward to claim his mouth with hers. “Even if all you need is comfort, say the word and my shoulder is yours to cry on.”
The heat in her cheeks rose as she muttered, “That’s not necessary.”
“I’ll see you soon, love.” George winked at her and chuckled as he walked away.
She rubbed the heels of her hands in her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “I should’ve never been so stupid.”
“And why is that?” said a warm unfamiliar voice. She removed her hands from her face and opened her eyes to see a man staring at her with raised eyebrows. His soft features gave no hint as to his age. A lightness shone from his dark brown eyes that danced and invited one in. His dark hair fell disheveled around his ears, a few strands blowing in front of his eyes. He was neither plain nor extraordinary. He simply was, as if he’d always been and always would be, like home. Whether it was pristine or in complete disarray. Home, to her, was always that safe haven from the world. “You don’t look like one to make foolish decisions,” he said, his voice light and teasing.
“Ha, more like I’m not given enough chances but when I am,” she smiled as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She met his gaze as the tension in her shoulders eased. Her heart pounded faster the longer she stared into his eyes. She was terrified and mesmerized. “I promise I make many foolish decisions. Some intentional, some not.” She shrugged and pursed her lips to stop herself from revealing everything to this stranger. She blinked and shook her head slowly. When she opened them she studied his ear lobe, refusing to lose herself in the depths of his stare again. “How can I help you?”
“I am more intrigued than satisfied with that answer,” he smirked. She felt his gaze travel down her body. “Now I wonder what you consider to be foolish if you’re so drawn to it.”
“Well, we don’t always get an answer, let alone one we like,” she crossed her arms over her chest, chilled by a sudden breeze.
“Hmm, in that case,” the man picked up a hunk of cheese, not removing his eyes from hers. “I’d like to buy this,” he said as he dropped more than enough money in its place. “Keep the change.”
Her eyes widened as she saw the amount on the table. “Thank you, sir. You left plenty if you’d like something else.” She gestured to what remained on her table.
“It’s been,” He paused, his eyes dancing as he shook his head slowly. She lowered her eyes away from his warm gaze back to the table. “…a pleasure, Mara,” his voice lowered as he purred her name.
“I’m sorry, do I,” She looked up from gathering his money, but he wasn’t there. “Know you?” She muttered to herself. She looked around but couldn’t pick him out in the small crowd. Strange. Perhaps he had overheard someone say her name today? But most called her Em. That is if they bothered to say her name at all.
Before midday Mara had sold everything she’d brought to sell. All but one small hunk of rosemary chevre. If she’d been able to ride, she’d have brought at least three times the amount and sold most of it by afternoon. She tapped her fingers on the table, debating whether it was worth it to wait and sell one more item, or to go on home. She glanced around and saw that the other tables near hers had also left. Most of the crowds were on the other side of the lot. A glimpse of fiery red flashed in between the group further down her row. Her stomach flipped. George. Ugh.
That settled it. Mara grabbed the remaining cheese brick and quickly packed her much lighter sack. The desire to peruse the books dissipated into a desperation to get on the road towards home. Her stomach felt sour. Dread of being cornered by him in public was enough to make her feel ill, she couldn’t imagine seeing him in person after what he… she… they did.
“I just want to think about anything else besides what happened.” She had told him while standing in the shadows of her yard. She had gone to escape the warm and jovial celebration remembrance of her father continuing inside. She stepped further from the light spilling onto the lawn when she realized he had followed her and asked her what she was up to. “I want to forget it all. I love them,” she gestured to the door. “But I just want to be free… to feel good again, just for one night.”
She had rambled for so long, walking slowly away into the darkness. She hadn’t noticed when he had gotten closer. He had been there, staying with her. He had listened. Why, why had he been there? Why did he have to be the one to wipe her tears away? Had someone told him she needed to be looked after? That she shouldn’t be alone? Did he just happen to be there? Or did he actually care? Cared enough to see how desperate she was to feel anything but the agony of the ever-growing hole of grief inside her.
Mara brought a hand to her lips as she slipped through the crowd. She took a breath to try and squelch the nausea forming at the memory. He needed to forget her. Sara would have her head if she knew what had happened. He was supposed to be hers… according to Sara anyway. Getting in Sara’s way was more trouble than it was worth and Mara would love to avoid her at any and all costs. Which was fine. Mara never wanted him. Not that getting rid of this strange new fascination George had with displayed today.
Yes, George was one of the most attractive boys in town. However, he was just that, a boy. Her junior by two years, and acted as such. She barely noticed him, would notice him less if it wasn’t for his luscious red hair. And perhaps her eyes occasionally lingered longer on his muscular build, and his brilliant green eyes, but she was only admiring God’s creation. He was careless, immature, and had hardly acknowledged Mara until that night. He’d been around, sure, hovering on the outskirts of her social circle. He knew her sister, Amber, much better being that she was best friends with his younger cousin, Alice. It was a small town, a small parish. Though the town had grown over the last few years, those who’d grown up here knew of each other.
Mara continued racking her brain as she climbed back up the giant hill closest to the town. Trying desperately to make sense of why he’d want to talk to her about anything. Nothing. There was no indication in any of their previous interactions that she could remember that would explain the way he’s been acting. Why couldn’t he exude that comforting aura like that new customer? Confidence and maturity with an air of playfulness oozed from every one of his exposed pores. The look he had given her as he’d paid had sent such an intense heat through her core. A heat of sensuality and desire. Unlike the irritating pang, she felt grow whenever she heard George’s voice. She wanted to know him better. What was his name? Where was he staying? Would his lips taste as sweet as George’s or would they be even better? She ran a finger over her lips.
Reaching the top of the hill, Mara paused to wipe her brow and shrug off her ratty sweater. She smiled as the sun caressed her exposed skin and stretched her arms overhead. The heat a welcome distraction from her jumbled thoughts. She shoved her sweater in her pack and slung it back over her shoulder. Her arms grateful for the reprieve, having carried so much extra the last couple of weeks than she was used to. As she adjusted the straps the hair on the back of her neck prickled. The chilly sensation branched out and traveled down her arms towards her fingers, leaving raised goosebumps in its wake. Her eyes darted to the line of trees on her left, scanning for any hint of the strange dark beast she had seen earlier that morning.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing except the lonely road before her, the forest on one side, a field on the other. She looked back over her shoulder down the hill. No one. She shook off the feeling and continued towards home. To Amber and Evan. To her goats, and the milking, and the feeding, and the garden needed tending to, and… Her thoughts trailed off as she saw it seemingly coming out of the road. Not a deer. Standing before her was a large black horse, its long mane and tail flowing in the breeze.
“Oh hello, handsome,” she reached her hand out in greeting. Mara stood still as the horse approached, nuzzling its nose into her palm. “Are you lost? Surely such a beautiful beast as you has a home and someone who loves you.”
The horse let out a gentle sigh in response and leaned deeper into her touch. Mara closed her eyes as her hands drifted over his silky mane. A sudden gust of wind blew a few strands across her face causing a prickling sensation to run down her body at the touch. The wind changed direction and she opened her eyes. Somehow she was riding the beast as he galloped through a verdant field, her hair mingling with his mane as the wind whipped about them. She weaved her hands into its mane near his neck and gripped tightly. She squeezed her thighs to keep her from falling off as her heart pounded. “Am I dreaming?” she breathed softly. She dared to relax her grip in one hand just long enough to pinch the sensitive skin on the back of her other hand. “Ouch, dammit.” She muttered to herself shaking her hand out. Her heart raced. “Not a dream. What is happening?” Mara whispered meekly. The horse’s pace slowed slightly. She could swear it snickered at her. “Are you laughing at me? Was this just a joke to you?”
“Oh, but you’re enjoying yourself,” a taunting tone teased came from within her but it wasn’t her voice. It was the new customer’s.
“Fantastic Mara, now you’re imagining you’re talking with that mysterious man because you are exhausted and never socialize,” Mara patted the horse’s neck. “What do you think? Am I really here or am I hallucinating after falling and hitting my head on something?” The horse shook its head gracefully. “No? Well, what do you think of a mysterious man who knows my name and paid more than he should’ve? It was strange. He wasn’t very handsome, he didn’t say much. However, his gaze… It was like he knew me.”
The horse stopped and glared at her over his shoulder. “Not very handsome?” The voice inside her head asked her disdainfully.
Mara raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that look. I didn’t say he wasn’t handsome. He was handsome, more of a comfortable handsome than stand out in a crowd handsome. Why should this matter to you? Is that your owner? Are you wanting to protect his vanity because you are such an unbelievably fine specimen of a horse?” The horse began walking again. She started giggling. “I don’t know why I’m so concerned with convincing a horse that some random stranger is indeed appealing. You know, it really doesn’t matter what someone looks like. That’s why I don’t like George. He’s good looking and he knows it and acts like an ass because of it. And I don’t want an immature ass. I’d much rather have a strong stoic stallion like you.” She reached forward to stroke his neck.
The lush rolling green hills became jagged and sharp as the salt in the air thickened as they continued their journey. The wind whipped and tangled Mara’s hair with the horse’s mane as she rested her head against his thick neck muscles. The canter of his movements lulled her into a calm state of semi-consciousness. “If only Father was still alive, he’d like to meet you.” If only we’d had a horse as strong as this one that day, maybe the accident wouldn’t have happened and Father would still be here. If only Amber and Evan were a little older or if Mother was still alive, maybe this all wouldn’t be so hard. Mara let out a long sigh, “It’s all on me now to care for my family and things are not great. Oh, how I wish someone would help me take care of them and keep them safe and fed and happy. I love them so much and they’re all I have left. I’d give anything that I could, including myself.”
Mara shut her eyes, a feeble attempt at keeping the welling tears at bay. She kept them shut until she was sure she had her crying under control. On opening them she tried to focus on something in front of her but she found she couldn’t hold her gaze steady. There was a radiant light cast on everything, like the midday sun reflecting blindingly bright off the waves on a cloudless day. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes of any remaining tears, but it didn’t help. She rubbed her eyes with one hand, the other still grasping the horse. She sat up straight to get a better view. She still couldn’t clear her vision.
Her pulse quickened as her thoughts sharpened. A dark horse that had looked like something else mysteriously appearing, a dark stranger with an even stranger aura around him, cloudy vision, conversation with an animal… “Oh, no,” she breathed as the hair on the back of her neck prickled. “Are you the reason I’ve felt like I’ve been being watched since Father’s death?” No response audible or otherwise from the horse. “You have me under a spell, don’t you? That’s why I can’t see.” The horse continued ignoring her and maintained its’ canter. “Are,” her voice shook, “are you a fairy?
Finally, a response as the horse gave her a neighing chuckle and a quick look over its’ shoulder at her.
“No?” her voice rose, hopefully. “Then what are you?”
“A horse,” the voice no longer sounded only in her head.
“I know that,” Mara chortled, “but what else are you?”
“Your guardian,” the voice replied simply.
“Guardian angel? Did my father send you?” Mara’s breathing quickened.
“I don’t fly… per se, and no. Your father has nothing to do with me.”
“Oh,” Mara bit her lip and lowered her head. “Is this even real? Are we really talking or am I imagining things?”
“Whichever you would prefer will be what is,” he answered cryptically.
“But why?” she asked exasperatedly. “I’d prefer to know what actually is, not what I want to hear. I prefer to not be lied to. If I wanted to play these kinds of mind games I’d have gone with George!” She buried her face in her palms and growled. “Just tell me. What kind of guardian are you? Why are you mine, and what do you want with me?”
The horse let out a long sigh. “I am yours because I owe you a boon. You were kind to me, long ago. I had had an… altercation. I was so disoriented I didn’t notice there was a trap until it was too late. You, Mara dear, you saved me. You tended my wounds. You freed me. You never even suspected what I was.” He sighed again before continuing. “When I could, I watched over you and waited for you to say what you wanted, to ask for something, anything that was in my power to grant. But you never did. I watched you as you took care of your mother, brushed her hair, sang for her, you cried with her as she grieved and withered away. I saw you take your mother’s place in the house. You raised your siblings as if they were your own children. You helped your father as if you were a son. You were wise, kind, and strong. And then one day you did.”
“What was that? When? I don’t recall asking anything of anyone other than for Amber and Evan to do their chores. If I’ve asked, then why are we here…” Mara’s voice trailed off.
“What you wanted… was something I couldn’t give.” The horse slowed to a walk, every step seemed heavier just as her heart sank in her chest as she recalled the memory his words invoked. “You stood over his body and knew he was gone. Before your tears began, you said you wanted him back. You begged for anyone to bring your father back, for it all to be pretend. I heard every word. But alas, this was something even the king of faeries could not provide, as our kinds of magic are only for the living.”
The words she had said as she sank to her knees next to her father that day echoed in her head. “No, no, no, no. You’re not dead. You can’t be dead. Please, I’ll do anything, just be okay. Be okay. Someone please, bring him back. I want him back. I can’t do this alone. I need him, please, I need him. I can’t lose anyone else. Please. I’ll do anything, give anything, take my life, just bring him back. Bring my father back…”
“So what does that mean?” She asked through the cascading tears, no longer bothering to wipe them away. “You couldn’t help me when I asked, so what does that mean? I didn’t even know anyone was listening…”
“It means, I needed to get you to tell me something else that you wanted. You finally did. So, I will take care of you, and them. It means I will provide what they need to survive and thrive. And it means that you will see me again, in another form or two. And when the time is right I’ll take you.”
“Okay,” Mara nodded her head, shut her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. Help, she was going to be helped. Her eyes snapped open, “Wait, what? Take me?”
“You said you’d give anything including your life for your family’s sake.”
“So you’re going to take me… where? Am I to be your slave? Will you eat me?”
“I thought at first, you could be my servant, but then,” He chuckled. “I did start to wonder what you’d taste like…”
Her lips trembled, “Oh, okay then. When? When will you take me?”
“So eager to join me?”
“Psh,” she rolled her eyes, “I want to know how long I have until I die, I have things I’ve always wanted to do…”
He neighed a laugh. “I’m not going to kill you.”
“You said you wanted to taste me!”
He laughed again. “I will come calling, and when the time is right, you’ll be wanting to taste me too.”
Mara tilted her head to the side and stared at the back of the horse’s head.
They came to a stop. She looked around and realized the spell must’ve dissipated as her sight was clearing. She was suddenly in front of the walkway that led to her house from the main road. “You brought me home?”
“As I said, when the time is right, I’ll take you away. For now, you need to be with them.” He nodded his large head towards her house. “But don’t worry, you’ll be seeing me, soon.”
She gracefully slid off his back but found the earth spinning beneath her feet. She stood there for a moment, a hand resting on his shoulder until she found her balance. “You never answered my question about when. How long do I have until I go? I’m assuming once I go, I’ll never come back?”
“We might be able to strike a deal for visits, short ones. But not until after.”
“Ok,” Mara nodded her head slowly and walked to his head. She stared into his dark gaze and demanded, “And when is that again?”
The horse sighed, “When you fall in love with me and agree to be my bride.” He nuzzled her shoulder playfully.
“I don’t fancy horses,” she snickered as she pushed his big nose away. “I’m sorry.”
“Good,” he nudged her hand gently. “I’m not a horse.”
“Then what are you?” Mara crossed her arms over her chest and waited.
The horse exhaled forcefully, his hot breath blowing over her face like heat from a fire. “More than a man, less than a god,” he said as he faded into the darkening eventide.
Mara’s head pounded as she slowly made her way up the lane to her front door. She rubbed her temples and lifted her eyes only when she reached the first step. There was George, sitting on her bench, waiting.
“Why are you here?” she sighed, placing a hand on her hip.
“I wanted to see you,” he stood, eyeing her up and down. “Where were you? Are you okay?”
“I needed to clear my head,” she sighed, looking up at the cloudless sky. She found the first star and finally lowered her eyes to meet his gaze. “No, I’m not.”
“What can I do?” His voice was full of concern.
“Ugh,” she crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lip. Her heart raced and her legs felt like they’d give out at any moment. “I want you to hold me,” she mumbled.
“What was that?” He smirked slightly.
“Just hold me, dammit.” Silently he pulled her into his tight embrace, crushing her to his ribs, and placed a kiss on the top of her head.
“Don’t,” she scolded him, her voice muffled from being buried in his shirt.
“Don’t what?” she could tell he was smiling from the tone of his voice.
“Ruin this,” she pulled back enough to see his face and glower at him down her nose.
“I would never want to ruin this,” he responded by gently brushing a hair off her forehead then placing a kiss where it had lain. “I want to cherish this,” he whispered before capturing her mouth with his.
She moaned as she leaned into his touch, tasting the sweetness of his lips.
He pulled back just enough to speak, “Are you feeling any better?”
“No,” she pursed her lips into a sad pout. “You ruined this.”
He raised his eyebrows, “Oh, really? How so?”
She furrowed her brow and glared at him. She opened her mouth to respond but words escaped her. She let out a frustrated sigh instead.
“I see,” George pulled her in tighter. “If you wanted more, all you had to do, was ask.” His eyes twinkled as he leaned forward and kissed her again.
Begrudgingly her hands slipped their way up his chest, around his shoulders, and pulled his neck down to deepen the kiss. Her fingers wove their way into his wavy locks and held him against her. Dammit, he was exactly what she wanted right now.
about the writer: becca bilbo-dorris
Becca Bilbo-Dorris fell in love with crafting stories, telling yarns, and creating beauty before she could even write. She lives in middle Tennessee with her husband and their three boys. They recently left suburbia and bought the family farm complete with ducks, chickens, and enough room for her plant babies. She is surrounded by a beautiful, natural and inspiring landscape which only fuels Becca’s desires to write, paint, and eventually acquire alpacas.
Instagram:
Life- @rebilbo
Art- @redbilbo
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