I scanned Lenny’s bar, taking in the motley crew of drinkers and talkers whose lazy gazes gave me the once over check before resuming their business of sinking sorrows, avoiding life, and or looking for a chat. There were a lot of “and ors” here this afternoon, the Friday afternoon crowd working its way up to the Friday night fun.
I didn’t expect to find Raven here, let alone Skye and Sherman, but it was a last ditch hope. Hope born of desperation that came from scouring every one of his haunts I could think of in this city. Except the main haunt. His place. I had no idea where that was, and for the first time I stopped to wonder why. What had seemed convenient and lazy for me when he’d come to my room either on his own, or with the others, now seemed to signal another difference. Or hint at the reasons why it was impossible for us to be us. He was here and he was nowhere. Nowhere in this city except when he wanted to be. Or needed to be. And now, no text, no responses from my phone. He was gone.
To the reservation? Maybe there? But inside, way down deep in my corvid sense, I knew that was just mist and mirrors too. Sure, he’d blown smoke in my face the whole time. I was a right eejit to think or believe anything different, because I’d known right from the start that Raven was something more, hadn’t I? That what I took to be his “Indian-ness” was actually peculiar to Raven himself. The feckin’ powwow should have told me that.
I stood there in the bar and all the other “should have known” points when Raven had been in my company came flooding back. Well, didn’t he tell me he was a trickster on more than one occasion? Yeah. Eejit.
And with him went Skye. Sky Woman. And Sherman.
The reservation, though. Maybe. His work wasn’t done. Their work wasn’t done. Could I help? I shoved aside the night before, the messages he’d sent that even now I refused to receive.
I went over to the bar where Lenny was serving up a beer. “Lenny.”
Lenny nodded to me. “Hey. What’s up? You’re not on until six.”
“Right, fine. I know. I just was looking for Raven. Have you seen him?”
Lenny shook his head. “Naw. Not since he was with you. But he don’t come in that often. Usually when you’re on. So he may be in tonight, you never know.”
“Would you know where he lives?”
Lenny laughed. “Yeah, check with my social secretary.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, it was just the off chance.”
I turned away and headed out the door, pausing at the entrance. Where to next? The door opened, and would have banged my face if not for my cowgirl boots. Those boots. I jolted back and an auburn head popped into view. Tight curls, hanging longer than they used to. I caught my breath. Surprise. Good or bad, it wasn’t who I expected and, I told myself, who I wanted.
“Maura,” said Finn, a relieved look on his face. “I’m glad I found you here.”
I stepped back further so he could enter. “Why?”
“Why?” he said. “Because here is the only place I know that you might be found.”
His words suddenly seemed too much more than idle responses or quick banter. I could hear the undercurrents going strong, and I didn’t want them to pull me with them, words wooing me down that river, into that sea.
“I’m just leaving, sorry,” I said.
Finn caught my arm. “Wait, Maura. Please.”
The currents swirled around me, tugging at me. It was his power, his words, him. I tried to shake them off, but his grip was firm.
“Can we talk?” he said softly. “Let me get you a drink.”
I found myself saying yes, just as part of me wailed at the thought of that yes, where it would take me and what it would mean.
“I can’t stay long,” I bit out.
“Fine,” he said. “A quick drink.”
He pulled me along, his hand on my arm and led me to a booth at the back, away from the light of the window. My boots clattered across the floor, their noise trying to knock some sense into me, keep me straight, keep me on that horse named “cowgirl times”.
He’d ordered two beers from Lenny as we passed by and they came soon after he’d planted me in the booth across from him, our knees nearly touching, my boots knocking his with a click.
I took up the beer bottle in my hand, noting it was Lenny’s attempt at stocking a craft beer. I took a sip, hardly tasting it, and watched Finn do the same. Copper stubble glinted on his chin and his eyes were lined and revealed a weariness I’d never seen before in him. His expression was both pained and cautious and so unlike the Finn I knew. My Finn. I scrubbed the thought and waited for him to play the opening gambit. It was enough to have the currents swirling, I needed all my energy to resist the rest. This was seanchie time, the tale teller who would weave spells with words was stepping up. I could see his expression change and watched him reach within himself, drawing on that well of words that would invoke so much emotion in a listener they’d be full to the brim with it. I knocked my boots together once, bracing myself.
“Maura,” he said.
“Ah, no,” I said, cutting in. “I think you mean Morrigan. Because that’s who you want. That’s what this is about.”
Suddenly I was off, taking this bull by the horns before it took me. It was a plan, the one that found me and I would take it, because it was all I had.
“You want the warrior, the goddess of war, the one who can help you defeat Balor,” I said in a low menacing voice. “That would be Morrigan.”
“No,” Finn cut in. “I’m not here for Morrigan.” His words were firm, direct and his gaze fixed mine into place. His eyes darkened and then flared, his own emotions surfacing to mix with mine.
“What?” I said. The plan seem to crack and fall apart then, leaving me standing, bare and unprotected.
Finn looked down at his hands which were clasped around his beer bottle. He took a sip. Ran his tongue along his lips and feck me if I didn’t follow that tongue and imagine it travelling along other places. I flushed with the thought and looked away.
He placed a hand on my arm briefly and took it back. I felt its heat, even after he removed it. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look back at him.
“Maura,” he began again. “I’m here because I care. Because I wanted to understand what it is that drew you here and if it’s enough to keep you here.”
“What drew me here?” I said, echoing him. It was an echo that repeated again and again inside me, the great question that I’d only ever answer with my own smoke and mirrors.
“The wind,” I whispered. I looked up at him. “The wind?”
“Some wind,” he said. “An east wind?”
“Winds of change,” I said without thinking.
“Winds of time,” he said, his voice low.
“A changing wind,” I said. It was banter and yet it wasn’t. It was a game of exploration of possibilities, a search for answers and only Finn could play this game with me.
He reached out for my hand and squeezed it. I held on to it tightly. This exploration of possibilities was taking me to places that were unfamiliar. It was unnerving. I felt off balance.
“Another side of Maura discovered?” he asked.
I blinked and gave him a faint smile. “Maybe. Cowgirl Maura?”
Finn laughed. “Cowgirl Maura. I like the sound of that. I’d like to get to know cowgirl Maura.”
“Got the boots to match.” I said with my best American accent. I clicked my boots together, the sound echoing. “She’s a real hardass, that Maura.”
“Always,” said Finn. “Just like all the other Mauras.”
“Feck yes,” I said. “She can do line dancing.”
Finn’s brows lifted. “Line dancing? Is that so?”
“She can of course.”
“She also made some interesting friends. Learned about powwows.”
“Cowgirl Maura is really amazing,” said Finn. “She’s someone I’d be proud to know.”
“You like cowgirl Maura, eh?”
Finn nodded. “Very much. Just as much as I like the other Maura.”
I sighed. “And who is that other Maura?”
He was still holding my hand and he took it now, brought it up to his lips and kissed my knuckles. I blinked back the tears that came to my eyes.
“A person who is witty, brave, beautiful, loyal and even occasionally kind.”
“Kind?” I said, my voice ragged. I attempted a laugh. “I’ll have to fix that.”
He kissed my knuckles once again. “No, don’t fix anything. You’re perfect as you are.”
“Am I?” I asked, looking into his eyes. They were a sea of emotions of kindness, compassion and love. I felt them envelop me with all their warmth, embrace me with their strength.
“You are.”
“And who is that?” I said.
“You are who you are,” he said. “Maura. My Maura is a warrior goddess and so much more.”
“Your Maura?” I gave a wry smile.
He said nothing, just kissed my knuckles one more time. Three times the charm. And that charm pulled me to him and I kissed him briefly on the lips.
“Come home, Maura,” he said softly. He stroked my hair. “Come back to Ireland.”
I clicked my boots again, trying to fend off the tidal wave of emotions, but that click, being third and like that charm, could only take me one place. Home.