This will be my last entry, I think. Tonight, I can’t stop thinking of Nigel’s question:What would you do differently if you had a chance to live your life over again?
I can’t stop thinking of David speaking at Nigel’s celebration of life.Living well is the best revenge.
Let’s turn that cliché on its head, my darling child. Dying well is the best revenge. It’s mine, anyway.
I stare at the reflection of my own red eyes in the glass and smile.
What would I do differently? Let’s findout.
A Midsummer Night’s Scheming
Delilah S. Dawson writing as Isla Jewell in the world of Arcadia Falls
It all began with a donkey. A stubborn, dirt-spackled, flop-eared donkey ruled by his many appetites. A donkey named Gary. A donkey who, for some unknown reason, chose to rear up on his little black hooves and attempt to make sweet, sweet donkey love to the booted foot of his beloved mistress, Keelie King, as she rode her palomino mare through the forest and contemplated revenge against the man who had hurt her sister.
The town of Arcadia Falls had been named for a single waterfall, and not even a particularly big one, but it was a lovely place to stop along the trail and think about how to ruin Mark Ranger’s life while Marigold drank from the pool and pawed in the clear water. Gary the donkey always came along on Keelie’s trail rides, and, usually, he behaved himself. He was the loudest thing in the county and didn’t like men who got too close to Keelie, so she felt well protected. Being on a sixteen-hand horse with hooves the size of dinner plates also helped with the safety aspect of traveling alone through the summer woods, as did the squirrel-chasing dog who completed their little party. Peach Pit, a chestnut-brownpit bull, would defend Keelie with her life. Gary would, too, she was fairly certain.
But just because Keelie had no fears about being alone in the national forest didn’t mean she was safe—at least not from stealthy donkey loveplay. Gary reared up onto his back legs and wrapped his front hooves around Keelie’s paddock boot, braying his most romantic love song, and Marigold startled and bolted directly into the pool as Peach Pit barked her fool head off. Honking his dismay, Gary fell forward into the pool, too. The poor mare couldn’t find her feet on the rocks, so Keelie bailed off her back, scraping her elbow in the process, and flailed into the water—directly into the path of the waterfall.
The water that emerged from a spring far overhead should’ve been quite cold, even on a summer day, but to Keelie, it felt like warm honey cuddled her shoulders and filled her with a strange golden glow. At least for a few seconds—and then reality came crashing down along with the icy water and she spluttered and stood, instantly reaching for her phone. Marigold dragged herself back up onto the bank to shake off the water, and Peach Pit stopped barking to cock her head quizzically and unhelpfully back and forth, but Gary just stood there silently, which wasn’t something he generally did.
“What the devil?” someone said—a male voice with a cultured English accent.
Keelie staggered out of the water, clutching her phone and preparing to dial 911 if the creeper dude turned out to be a threat…but she didn’t see anyone around the pool, especially not a confused British tourist.
“Hello?” she said, doing her best to sound aggressive even though she was a hundred and twenty pounds of silly goose, according to her older sister. Keelie wasn’t the kind of person whocould intimidate Jell-O, but that didn’t mean she was going to just lie down and become a victim of opportunity. “I have a gun.”
“No, you do not.”
That voice again.
Definitely male. Definitely nearby.
Definitely sounding a lot like Mr.Darcy.
“Who said that?” Keelie barked.
“Me.”
“Me, who?”
A pause. “It is I, my beloved. Gary.”
Keelie looked at the donkey. He stood chest-deep in the water, dirty gray fur soaked, left ear pointing out to the side, while his right ear pointed straight up. He looked…disturbingly earnest.
“Say that again,” Keelie whispered.
“After all these years, after all my sonnets and songs, my heart is on fire, for finally my lady love can hear my words of adoration.”
She was staring directly at the donkey as she heard the words, and although his dark brown eyes were full of emotion, Gary’s lips were not moving. He took a step toward her, tripped, and flopped face-first into the water.
“This isn’t funny,” Keelie said, rubbing her sopping wet phone on the driest part of her T-shirt. It was an old phone, and it appeared to be dead, but nobody else had to know that. “I’m calling the cops.”
“The cops,” the voice snapped as Gary found his feet and pinned his ears. “IloatheOfficer Ed. I hate Officer Ed with the fire of a thousand suns. I despise Officer Ed like—”
“Shut up.” Keelie sat on the ground and took off her helmet, feeling all around her head for a painful lump. “Shut up. I think I have a concussion.”
As Marigold watched warily, Gary the donkey struggled up out of the pool and staggered over to Keelie, gently nibbling at her hair. “A concussion. Surely not. Perhaps you are overcome with passion, as I am.”
