It was the witches’ brew; side st mystery scene continued

 

It is hard to say just how long that kiss went on for. Faun was too absorbed elsewhere to notice time and was mostly focused on figuring out how to unknot his tie while being able to kiss him at the same time and what happened was, a reminder of the quiche which came by a slight burning smell 

“Oh no!” she jumped off off his lap, like with a reflex of spider-sense and was at the oven in half a second, only pausing for the oven gloves…. “saved—its perfect! It only started to burn a little, a bit toasty….” she talked a lot when she was nervous. And moved about a lot, being hyperactive by nature which gave her a sort of flightiness in her movements; pronounced because of him; because she wasn’t sure if ….they should —out of respect to the Bishops —yes, but also she didn’t want him to do something he might regret later—was it the grief ….? And was she wrong to let something happen between them if ….that were the case 

He watched her from the chair as she fluttered around the kitchen arranging things; cutting pieces and selecting dishes from the polished wood cabinets and on two antique Johnson brothers mismatched square chintz plates she put a piece of quiche and walked over to the table with them. She put one in front of Grant and one on her side; went back for forks and paper napkins and laid each beside either plate. 

“It’s too hot to eat yet—we should let it cool down,” she said 

He had been watching her do this, finding it amusing and when she finally sat down in front of him, he was pouring more wine into the glasses, suspecting the reasons for the subterfuges, and thought wine might take care of matters. 

He raised his glass and clinked it to hers,

“to King Leopold,” and he indicated with his head, she had to raise her glass too. So, she did, of course,

“To King Leopold,” and at mention of his name he awoke from his nap by the stairs and got up with a “whuff”, sniffing the air as he came walking over. This made them laugh and then Grant said,

“bottoms up— you are required to drink all of that, it’s a toasting rule,” he said 

“Is it?” she looked back at him and automatically lifted her glass and sipped it thoughtfully. You see, she was feeling the effects of the first one still. 

“All of it,” he said and reached across the table as she had been about to put it down, but he brought it back up to her lips

“It’s really good wine, what is it called?” she asked as she let him turn the glass up against her mouth 

“Witch’s Brew,” he said, “it’s spiced,” he said and it seemed he was closer suddenly. She didn’t notice he moved his chair over—well, not until the glass was empty and he was putting it down and pulled her head to him with both his hands and kissed her hard. He felt her go limp. But now his stomach growled. He broke the kiss,

“we should eat,” he said but he reached across for her fork and broke off a piece of the quiche with it, bringing it up to her mouth, wanting to watch her now swollen mouth as he fed her.

And as they ate together, he pulled her back into his chair, his arms around her as he said, “we can just cuddle, if you want.” 

“Yeah. Ok,” she said, even as he was kissing her 

“And I think—it’s safer with regards to the intruder —we don’t leave each other alone tonight—to be safe,” he said 

her move; Castled & Granted a toast off the sidewalk inside

 

There was a moment when Faun caught a glimpse of Grant as they were sitting facing each other slightly at the small square wood kitchen table after he had poured the wine. The lights had felt too bright, so, Faun took out some wide pillar candles and set one at the table and one on the counter by the sink and one above the stove on the little ledge by the spice cabinet.

It was the way the lighting —or lack there of— seemed to allow some layers to drop. As it seemed.

He must be thinking of Fiona, Faun could sense it, and it did not require a seance to sense his mood, despite ….as Halloween loomed everywhere, somehow the feel of the Bishop’s ghosts loomed a little too near. 

She had wanted to ask him about if he needed help with ….the funeral—or what was even happening about it but, how to ask and at the appropriate moment?

“Do you need help with —their arrangements?” Faun blurted out because his face looked suddenly vulnerable. Which was very becoming on him, somehow; it was something about those poet’s eyes of his and the pout of his mouth when he got to brooding. As she had seen him do. He’d tug at his beard and bite his lip as deep creases dug between his thick, pensive brows—as he did now; something Byronic; that indescribable thing about him that made her melt whenever he looked at her —or sat in front of her….like now ….

He looked back at her now as she reached for his hand and those meadows drew her in 

Slowly, he smiled but she noticed that his eyes were suddenly a bit bloodshot. His fingers tightened slightly as he looked at her. He said softly,

“thank you—I’ll let you know ….” then sighed but after a pensive pause he reached for a wine glass, clinked it to hers and said, “you know, they would want us to toast them,” he forced a smile, “but—yeah….I am glad you are here.”

It was the openness there in his eyes at that moment that she could not help but be caught under. He was saying more with his eyes as he looked right at her. It was this moment when Faun understood what it was about him; that quiet poet within that never spoke what he felt and most believed it was not there but she saw it all in his eyes. And in the tones he spoke in. Even his pauses spoke volumes. And she had no idea why she could see all this —she could not know. Unless it was something possibly familiar had she been more self aware. And she was attracted to this about him. It was even more intense for her than just his natural air of masculinity that he exuded in the most unconscious and minuscule of ways. 

It was that, ultimately that …. and it was just after their toast to the Bishops—and it could be the wine went to her head and made her do it —and it might have been, too, the loosened tie he wore and flannel jacket, the scruffy beard or that pout? It had to be his eyes that made her stand up and go over to him. She slid, facing him and climbed into his lap, putting her arms around his neck, her burgundy dress falling in long folds across her hips as her legs went around him on the chair, kissing him full on the mouth, her hands and fingers in his hair 

Our friendly sidewalk street policeman

When they got in, he said in a very low voice,

“you stay down here —while I look upstairs ….just to be safe….I’ll check your—the bedroom and—“ then Leopold barked at him and ran up to follow excitedly sniffing around as they went up the stairs ….

Faun sighed as she wondered about the state of her room….

Oh no….she realized what a hurry she’d left in this morning —she’d missed the alarm getting up because she couldn’t sleep last night and when she finally did the sun was coming up and she missed the alarm —so the floor was a nightmare of this morning’s rejects of clothes and of course underwear ….God! How embarrassing —did she make the bed….? 

She paced the kitchen and looked around for signs of anyone ….ohhh….

“Uh—Grant!” she suddenly shouted, “come here!”

And together, beast and human came running down the stairs, 

Faun stood by the door where it joined the other kitchen—the doorway that lead out towards the ‘community area’ with the salmon couches. 

She pointed to the floor—which was red brick—and what she pointed to —there was a clear outline of a muddied shoe—coming from that direction —it was a very big bootprint—and if the intruder hadn’t risked putting on the light, he’d not have known what he left of himself behind. 

“That’s not my foot,” Grant said, matter-of-factly, “someone’s been here, I think.”

“Should we call Pierre Reaux?”

****

In the end, they settled on just calling Officer Sullivan and as he’d given them his official police ‘business’ card with the direct extension printed clearly on it, this seemed the better choice.

This time Officer Sullivan wasn’t as suspicious nor was he as unfriendly as before. If anything, he seemed glad of the interruption on his slow night, and had even chuckled saying so.

He came right over and looked around, letting King Leopold sniff him before following Grant upstairs ….and then through the kitchen doorway —pointing out the footprint before getting a guided tour with Grant, dog en-toe.

But, in the end, after some casual chatter with Grant about England he shrugged, filling out the report with Grant, whilst sealing up the lighter in a plastic baggie,

“I’ll run some prints, maybe, who knows? I’m glad the dog turned up—I wonder where he had gone ….well, let me know if anything else strange or unusual happens,” and then he left 

“Well….” Grant shut the kitchen door that lead out to the porch and leaned on it thoughtfully. 

“It is unsettling that someone has been here—“ Faun shuddered looking up at him 

“Come here,” he said, even as she was only a few inches from him; he tugged just hard enough on her raincoat to make her fall against him, “maybe you shouldn’t be alone tonight—if you are scared,” he said this against her ear as he took hold of her head in his hands and added, “I promise to be a perfect gentleman,” and held back a laugh.

And her stomach growled again, 

“I just realized I made a spinach quiche earlier—do you like tomato and basil? I think it came out tasting more like pizza,” she laughed as she went to the refrigerator, getting it out, 

“that sounds great,” he said 

She went to the oven and turning the dial and he followed her, pulling her against him when she had stood up from the oven. And then saying, “where were we?” running his hands up the back of her neck through her hair 

But then—

“Wait right here,” he said suddenly and removed his hands from the thickness of her hair, regrettably dropping the weight before sliding his hands down her face, down her shoulders and arms to her waist then rested on her hips then went through the doorway through the other kitchen. 

Soon he came back as she was shutting the oven door. He had two plain glasses and a bottle of wine,

“I was saving this for something but now seems the right time.”

a lighter note Mystery walk home

 

And as they walked, the drunken feeling had remained upon Faun, still, from his kiss.

Some awareness did seep in when she thought she spotted something on the driveway as they walked up towards the gate 

“Hey, what’s that?” Faun pointed to the ground; it was about midway up the drive

So, they went that way towards Faun’s Volvo to see what it was on the ground

Faun bent down and picked it up 

“A cigarette lighter?” she looked from the cheap, ordinary, bright orange disposable lighter then up at Grant, “is this yours?”

“No—that’s not mine,” he said and they looked at each other wondering who could have dropped this, and what were they doing on the property?

“That wasn’t there before,” Faun looked at Grant then at the ground and, consciously lowered her voice, “when we walked by before with King Leopold ….”

“No….” Grant agreed.

They stood there thinking about this. Yet, King Leopold looked unconcerned. Odd. He was a very good watchdog. He always picked up on danger and knew the right people. Right now he was quite calm and almost docile. 

Grant sighed over all the tedious concerns that came with this,

“let’s go in your way—I want to make sure someone didn’t try and get in that way,” and—again he took her hand; so reassuringly warm and so natural too as if they had always done this, his fingers wove between hers on the way to the door….how can such an innocent touch ….as that….become more….she wondered…. But the reaction it caused—was it from the fear? the adrenaline? The way how he slid his fingers in between hers, the way it was as if he was touching her somewhere else 

but he reached for her hand 

A short dogwalk back down the sidewalk street, granted by the fawning sky

 

During their ‘exchange’, Grant had dropped the leash, he realized, but King Leopold had been laying on the pavement at their feet; the red leather handle in his mouth as he watched the occasional car drive by. It was clear out now, after the rains and it was possible to see the stars in the sky. 

“Oh look,” Grant pointed up as he casually bent down to take the red dog-leash handle from King Leopoldo’s mouth (Faun hadn’t noticed), “that is the Dog Star—Sirius—you see it there?”

She looked up,

“oh it’s bright,” she said seeing this clearly 

And as King Leopold stood up, the three of them headed back in the direction of the grey-lilac Victorian house, with the now drenched overgrown garden 

side street dogwalk with some wolfish intent

 

Faun took the umbrella for the walk, even though the rain had stopped and Grant had purchased a dog leash which clipped on neatly to his collar. 

They walked without any hurry as King Leopold lead the way, leisurely stopping to sniff the ground at times as they walked down the block, passing the quaint, little houses nearby with their unique individualistic twists to the original architecture of the homes that sat closely to their neighbors. 

And as they walked, Fawn tried to keep her mind off of what had just happened between them on the couch—as she wasn’t sure if it had all been her own action that brought it about and fearing it was, she felt embarrassed about her actions. What had come over her to behave in such a way?

But she reined her thoughts from continuing in this direction and made an effort to walk respectfully outside what she thought of as his personal boundaries. She had, for a few moments, berated herself too with thoughts of— how could she take advantage of the poor man when he had just had such a shock and ….then there was that otherworldly ringtone she kept reminding herself about that kept haunting her since the last times it happened. These thoughts caused her to pull her rain jacket around her tightly, and turn up the collar demurely, along with her guilty thoughts of the feeling of that kiss; how it had felt in the heat of the moment ….well, it burned in her memory and swept over her body with its liquifying, residual impression.

She reprimanded herself because she knew she should instead be thinking about all the things that happened when the police and detective had arrived.

But she really didn’t want to think about this either. She didn’t want anything to disturb or rather ruin ….that something ….she had felt which had passed between them with—that kiss. The quick flash of this thought burnt her skin everywhere despite all good intentions…. and, absently, she stole a quick glance at Grant as she thought this…. she wasn’t sure, but when she turned to look at him under the fall of her hair, she thought she had caught him looking at her…. but then he was being pulled away by King Leopold as he had found some favorable spot.

Faun turned away under pretense of respect, which allowed herself a fleeting moment. She touched her full mouth. She could still feel him there. And she wondered how she would ever be able to erase its effect upon her. His. In her own memory, she could not ever remember any other ….who had such an effect. And it was not the first time she had felt it with him. It had happened other times, if she allowed herself to ….recall….but she avoided this thought. It would have brought her to the first time when she had looked into his green eyes which subconsciously had the ability to make her feel she walked in a field of lush grass each time she looked into them; one like rich green-ochre and the other that had shards like the Gulf Stream and could somehow pull her under its bog

She forced herself not to let herself further go there, and made herself focus instead on the adorable little houses that she loved to look at on her local walks of the neighborhood. Tonight all their Halloween lights glowed in the evening, and she marveled at the imaginative residents who were so creative in the displays they achieved. And as they walked, it seemed a wonderland of something magical, as if all of it had been put there just for them. The orange and the Halloween purples, the flying witches on broomsticks, the Nightmare characters, the bats, and Great Pumpkins…. but—then she’d caught the scent of him; it was something in the scent of his hair from what he used; somehow it lingered on her. She realized it was on her fingers—she….had touched his hair….during their kiss. She recalled this now. As she had landed upon him and fell into his mouth, her hands had reached to feel what it felt like—first to his neatly clipped facial hair, that same rich brown as his hair, and then had gone to his hair, lavishing in his textures, so thick and coarsely ….masculine, like his scent which….still lingered on her fingertips.

But like a song you don’t want to keep playing in your head when one gets stuck there, was that ringtone. Who was it that kept calling him? 

She physically shook her head now to force away how this made her feel….and she reminded herself….’it is not any of my business, what right do I have to presume to be jealous?’ 

“Are you ok?” Grant suddenly asked her having noticed this and he himself felt concerned of his own actions of offending her during that moment; had he taken advantage of the kindness she had showed him?

“Oh!—yeah!” she said—with maybe too much enthusiasm

In the street light he could see her delicate complexion flush again…. but then, she did not pull her eyes from his right away; she seemed to search his carefully as she moved slightly closer. Searching. For…. ? it was actually for a sign of ….what he might be thinking….and if she were honest with herself then she would have admitted it was for a sign of what his real reaction was of her forward move on him. But she couldn’t really tell. He seemed to be studying her with his own concerns that she could not interpret which masked any clue for what she was searching for.

She had no way to know that his own doubts of offending her were much the same.

Faun caught another warm scent from him—this was slightly different, a kind of pleasant, wood-like, spicy scent she could not place but caused a sensation to rush through her as she inhaled it; it made her feel a bit dizzy and she tried to not allow herself to reveal this but, she lost her balance by the effects. 

He caught her arm as she was about to trip over the uneven pavement of the sidewalk

Again, they both started to speak at the same time 

“Look, I’m sorry if—“ (him)

“Hey, about wh—“ (her)

They both stopped in their speech realizing they were about to refer to the kiss —and, truth be told; it had not just been a kiss. There had been something —much more intended that had most overtly ….transpired ….and covertly, her face burned at the memory of the clear evidence of his desire —and the effect it had left upon her at the time had clearly left her with its takeaway reaction. Along with the lingering aftermath that also lingered. And wickedly played with her mind. At this moment it made her uncomfortable; but not out of embarrassment. 

Had he picked up on this? 

She moved to turn away just then but something stopped her, because, yes, her own effusion of scent mixed with lily of the valley, or was it patchouli or bergamot—?he couldn’t be sure ….gave her away—and that was the signal that caused him to suddenly push her up against the tree they stood by under the street lamp, holding her there, his hands in her thick and wild rubicund mane of hair, gripping hold of her skull in his hands. And this time there was no mistake about concern or worry for the action so that she forgot to think and forgot where they were—forgot King Leopold on the leash and the street with the possibility of passing cars; so caught in the feel of his kiss and the feel of his hands in her hair; the feel of his body pressed to the length of hers, the fabric of the drape of her burgundy dress strained and pulled slightly across her hips and lower between. And maybe she should have been thinking. Had she remembered how. But she wasn’t. It just felt too good to …. just give up ….to it. And lose herself.

She was not aware, then, that she had run her hands and flattened them to him; up and across his shoulders, while wantonly pressing into him and within the flannel business jacket he still wore, her fingers moving to and running along his scruffy jaw, stealing touches of him and his textures, desperate to know what they felt like and then burnt by the knowing of what she found. 

But then it was the loud sound of her growling stomach that caused Grant to break the kiss,

“I think you’re hungry,” he said, “I wonder if we can find any place open at this hour?”

It took a few beats to comprehend his words. His lilting accent spinning its poetry in her mind but once replayed a few times in her thoughts, she decoded his meaning, and flushed vividly under the streetlight,

“this town closes up like a drum by eight— do you like scrabbled eggs? I’ve got eggs at home”