Fables & Other Lies

“What do you want to know, Penelope?” he murmured against me.

“Everything.”

“Everything?” He pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to look into my eyes.

“Yes.”

“Be careful what you wish for, little witch. These walls just may grant them to you.”

“Maybe I want them to.” I swallowed.

“What will you do when you learn that everything you thought you knew was a lie?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” I blinked, feeling myself drifting, as if in a dream. “What’s a lie?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” River leaned in again and pressed his lips against mine, kissing me softly, so softly my knees buckled.

His hold around me tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flowing into mine, taking, granting. He felt familiar, yet entirely too exciting to have ever kissed me before. I’d remember this kiss. I’d remember these lips and this tongue and these hands. It felt like my dream, just like my dream, but this was real. When he broke the kiss and pulled away, looking at me with a longing that nearly broke my heart, I knew it was real.

“River?” a female voice called out down the hall.

“We’ll be right there.” He straightened, bringing me with him, and took my hand in his as he led me down the hall.

We stopped in front of a woman and I had to take a second to gather my bearings. It was Sarah, the blonde beauty from the stories. She was wearing a beautiful floor-length dark pink dress that matched the flowers I’d seen on their lawn, and a matching fascinator on her head that made it look like she was either going to a tea party or the Kentucky Derby. She was stunning. I’d seen pictures of her around town, pictures on Missing signs that her husband had placed all over the island, even though he knew exactly where she was and who she was with. Her husband was long gone, but Sarah’s signs remained, faded and ripped up, but no one dared take them down.

No one on the island dared touch anything that belonged to a dead person. It would be like calling death upon yourself, cursing yourself. Still, despite the fades and tears and washed-up signs, Sarah’s face always looked beautiful, but seeing her in person was something else. She didn’t look like she’d aged a day, but that was impossible. I thought of the tree, of the leaves. As if reading my thoughts, she smiled.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Penelope.”

“Likewise,” I said. “You can call me Penny.”

“Oh.” She looked horrified, her perfect mouth turning downward. “Nonsense, love. Pennies are bad luck and my son would never pick up bad luck anywhere, would you, River?”

“No, ma’am.” He smiled. I looked up at River, then back at Sarah. I knew she wasn’t his birth mother, but I’d believe it if they said she was.

“Come. Meet our patriarch.” She moved out of the way, still smiling. “Wilfred. River is here with his date to see you.”

“Hello.” Wilfred Caliban called out as we walked inside the sitting area of what I assumed was their bedroom.

The sitting area was large, with a fireplace, two loveseats, and two chairs around a coffee table. We stopped walking there and waited as the footsteps approached and stopped by the fireplace. Wilfred Caliban, like Sarah, looked to be forty years old at the most. I was no longer holding River’s hand, but I reached for it now. He seemed surprised by this, glancing over at me quickly, but instead of saying anything, he ran his thumb over my hand. The closer Wilfred got, the more I suspected he wasn’t ill at all. His dark skin, darker than mine and River’s, was tight, glowing, and his hair was pitch black but cut very low to his scalp, as if a barber had just passed a machine over it.

“Father, this is Penelope Guzman.”

“Oh.” Wilfred Caliban stopped dead in his tracks and looked at his son, then stared at me. “You chose a Guzman?”

“Yes. Remember we talked about this.”

“Ah, yes.” Wilfred’s brows pulled in and I could tell he was lying to placate his son. “Are you Maximo’s girl?”

“Yes.” I swallowed.

“My condolences,” Wilfred said with a nod. He looked at Sarah, shaking his head. “The bastard beat me in everything, even in death.”

“Wilfred,” Sarah warned.

“Well, no use in not welcoming you. You’re here after all, and under the care of my son. How perfectly fitting.” Wilfred smiled. “You’re a real beauty.”

“Thanks.” I looked down at my feet, accepting the compliment but also making it known I didn’t want any more of them.

“We won’t take more of your time. The guests are waiting,” River said. “I just wanted to bring her to meet you.”

“Thank you for that.” Wilfred nodded at River. “Take your time coming back out to the party. Sarah and I will be introduced now.” He walked away and joined Sarah before they walked out of the room together.