Milo...Passage

      By Pattie Lawler

           

Once again, Albany wanted to catch the hair of his previous lovers and strangle them with it. It was an innocent enough question, and yet she could imagine other women—more worldly than she—laughing at it, and him. So she asked him to repeat it, to be sure, and rather than answer, she reacted. Her body was already aflame and throbbing, desperate for his touch…the question only added to her desire.

            Then she was falling.

            Several feelings collided with the sensation. Elation, that the weightless feeling was his doing, was instantly replaced by fear as numbing cold yanked any warmth from her body; and as she landed, confusion as her head connected painfully with the stone floor. She lay, stunned, conscious of the darkness, the damp cold and the earthy smell.

            “Milo?”

            Climbing to her feet, she repeated the call several times, and each repetition became more shrill as panic took hold.

            “Albany.”

            It was a woman’s voice, spoken uncomfortably near her ear. Albany whirled, hastily closing her shirt and coat over herself. “Who’s there?”

            “I am called Sarah.”

            “Sarah?” It could only be the ghost. “Where are you?”

            “Where?” The tone was incredulous. “Cannot thou see? Art thou blind?”

            “It’s pitch dark!” This was greeted by the click of a tongue.

            “Give me thy hand.”

            Reacting without thinking, Albany did as directed and gasped when a colder hand gripped it.

            “This way. Mind the stairs.”

            Stairs? Had she fallen down stairs? Perhaps there had been a false door? Or a priest hole? But surely Milo would discover it. Her knuckles bumped into a shallow, wooden ledge.

            “Wilt thou come?”

            Come? The voice was above her, and she looked up. “I don’t understand.”

            Her hand was caught again and Sarah pulled. “Climb,” she said, as if speaking to a child.

            The ledge was a step? It was little more than a ladder! In a moment, Albany was standing in the kitchen again, but it wasn’t the kitchen. It was the kitchen in centuries gone, and the flaming orange of sunset blinded her. It only took a second to get her bearings, and she turned back to the wall. “Where’s the door?”

            A transparent hand reached past her and pressed one of the stones. There was a faint click and a narrow row of stones swung away.

            “Tis a root cellar.”

            It must have been her hip that triggered the latch. She reached out to touch the same stone, and as she did, there was a wrench, and she was in two places at once. Her hand, still in motion, stretched out, and she saw Milo’s scared hand reaching for the same stone. With a start, she jerked back, felt the same wrenching, and saw Milo whirl, his gaze sweeping the room, her name on his lips.

            “Milo! I’m here!” Sarah called.

            Albany likewise spun, gaping at the ghost. “What are you doing?”

            Sarah turned to the worktable that dominated the room. She picked up a knife and a handful of plants and began chopping. “Thou hast become like me.”

            Her blood ran cold. “What do you mean?”

            Sarah nodded to the blank wall. “I fell into the root cellar and was never found. Thy body lies there yet.”

            Albany reeled. “Are you saying I’m dead?” She looked down at herself, fearful of being transparent, but was relieved to see she looked the same as always.

            “If not now, soon.”

            “Why did you call to Milo?”

            “Because thou could not. Thou were standing in his shadow.”

            Albany turned back the wall. “His shadow?” Was that why their hands seemed to be occupying the same moment of time? Even as she formed this thought, she felt the wrenching again; only this time, Milo wasn’t moving. He stood still, looking at the wall, and so she did, too. Had he seen her hand? Did he know what was happening? With a wrench, he stepped to the left.

            “Milo?” she gasped.

            “In here!” And he hurried away.

            Confusion left her gaping. “I was the ghost that called to him?” She looked at Sarah for confirmation and screamed as the ghost was within inches of her face. Leaping back, she encountered the wall. “Get away from me!”

            “Thou art ill.”

            Confusion deepened, and she stared at the girl. “Ill?”

            “Feverish.” Sarah drifted away and busied herself with a ewer and a small, dark bottle.

            Albany turned back to the wall, desperate for a sight of Milo. She moved back and forth, hoping to somehow step in his shadow again. But no, he had left the room. She had called him away. With a cry, she turned for the door and couldn’t move.

            “What?” she demanded, fighting against whatever unseen force held her in place.

            “In time,” Sarah murmured, moving to join her, “thou will have the run of the abbey, but thou are tied to thy body now.” She held out a pewter tankard. “Drink this.”

            Stories of Persephone filled her head as she looked at the tankard. “I can’t.”

            It seemed that Sarah guessed her thoughts. “No harm will come to thee. I have no power to bind. I was apprenticed to the still room. My skills are feeble, but may aid thee.”

            The plaintive words worked on Albany who took the offering and sipped. The tincture was stronger than any herbal she had ever taken, but it also felt cleaner, fresher...she drew in a deep breath and didn’t cough.

            “What is this?” She tilted the tankard, looking at its dark contents.

            “Cinnamon, cherry bark and nutmeg in strong wine.” She drifted away again as Albany drank the rest of the preparation.

            Albany opened her mouth to thank her when she was again wrenched out of time. Milo was back, calling her name, franticly searching. He stepped back, wrench, away, wrench, and Albany felt her bile rising. Turning back to the wall, she tried to see what he was seeing, her hand hoping to guide his.

            “Calm down,” she murmured, stilling her mind. “Focus!”

            And he did. He stepped back into her, wrench, and she seemed to be seeing with his eyes. She reached out, slowly, and after a second, he followed. Hope swelled as she leaned forward, and together they pressed on the stone. The door swung open and wrench...

  <0>           

            “Albany! Albany! Wake up! Please, my love, wake up!”

            She could hear him, felt he was cradling her, kissing her face, but the numbing cold had frozen her jaw in place. Milo, Milo...do you love me? Am I your love, truly?

            “God, Albany, you have to wake up!”

            “Milo.”

            His cry of relief and echoing full-torso hug to her head, made her smile.

            “I fell into a priest hole,” she whispered, “just like Sarah, the ghost. She thinks it’s a root cellar. Her remains must still be down there. She gave me something for the fever. It felt good.”

            “Well, right now you’re an ice cube, so there’s no way to know if your fever’s broken.”

            “Where are we?” She tried to look around, but his arms still held her head. “You can let go.”

            “What if you’ve broken something?”

            “I’m too numb to know.”

            He laughed, kissed her forehead and relaxed slightly. “You’re right, we’re in a priest hole. There’s barely room for the two of us, and getting you out of here is going to be a nightmare. Jumping down, I was sure I was going to land on you and make matters worse.”

            “There was a set of stairs, like a ladder.”

            “They crumbled to dust when I touched them.”

            “Ah, I see. Or, I would see if I could see.”

            He took the hint and leaned back. Albany looked up and saw the glow of the kitchen a good ten feet above them.

            “You wedged the door open?” He laughed, and she nodded. “Stupid question. So, what’s the plan?”

            “I plan on handing you up to Simon.”

            “He’s here? No, don’t answer that. How long have I been down here?”

            “Long enough for me to truly panic, call for help, and Simon and Lawrence to arrive.”

            “Wow. It didn’t feel like that long. Oh! And it was me that called you!”

            “You called me?”

            “You thought it was the ghost, but it was me. I called you, and you said, In here!”

            “I did indeed. You’ll have to tell me later.” He looked up at the kitchen. “Simon!”

            “Yeah, boss?”

            Albany looked up at the man whose body filled the opening and blocked the light. She waved, “Hi Simon.”

            “Miss Wendel,” he nodded. “You ready to get out of there?”

            She laughed. “I don’t know. He’s kinda comfortable.”

            Simon knelt, reaching down. “If the rumors are to be believed.”

            “That’s enough, you two,” Milo groused. “I’m going to lay you down again, Albany. I have to get on top, somehow.”

            It took several minutes but she was soon on the floor of the kitchen with Milo kneeling beside her. He took a few more minutes to reassure himself that she was fit enough to walk to the car under her own power.

            “We’re going home,” he announced. “You are going to soak in a hot tub until you’re a prune, and I might let you out of bed on Monday. And none of your jokes. You’re going to eat chicken soup and sleep, young lady, until I say when.”

  <0>

             Milo had his own entrance to Owswell Magnum, and he explained it away by saying he didn’t like to worry Fanny with his comings and goings. His niece, in fact, didn’t yet know they were in the country.

            “I don’t like to tell her; my plans change so often. I hate to disappoint her.”

Albany listened to all this while trying to get a look at the approaching edifice. But the gray stones matched the sky too perfectly. She fancied that they were entering a cloud bank and said as much.

            “It’s an impressive building,” Milo agreed. “I’ll never forget my first sight of it. Standing there, the keys in hand. My face probably would have blended with the clouds then, too.”

            She laughed as he helped her from the car and hurried her up the few steps. “I can imagine. Have you owned it for long?”

            “Over twenty years. Joe could tell you the exact date.” He glanced at Simon and Lawrence and bade them goodnight as they excused themselves. Albany joined him in thanking them for their help.

            As she stood in the foyer, looking around at the dark wood furnishings, she tried not to gape. “It’s exactly like a medieval castle from a movie.” She moved to a suit of armor to examine the massive broad sword in the gloved hands. “I’m assuming everything is real.”

            “What didn’t come with the house, I added, yes. But the tour can wait.”

            She turned to face him, her tone serious. “I want you to tell the National Trust about Sarah. She should be buried. She deserves a rest.”

            Milo nodded, catching her hand and guiding her to a flight of stairs. “They knew of her existence, but not of the priest hole. They were very excited, in fact, to be given the missing puzzle piece. I went into the evening owing them, and now they owe me. It was a good haul all the way around. You, Miss Wendel, seem to be a good luck charm.”

            “Or an albatross,” she smiled. “Tell me, can we go to bed and make love like a normal couple, please? No shower, no kitchen…no me falling asleep.”

            He paused his ascent and turned to her, raising her hand to his lips. “I’ll do anything you’d like, Albany.”

            “Then take me to bed, please. I want to be in bed until Monday or Tuesday, but I want you to be the reason and not sleep.”

  <0> 

            “The burning question I have,” Milo murmured, turning so that he was gazing up at her from his position on her stomach, “is how you became an opera singer.”

            Her gaze rose to the ceiling. “The thing to do with Albany, it was decided early on, was to leave her at the library. The librarians would make sure she kept quiet, and there were books galore. And when I had read them all, I advanced to videos. Then, one day, I discovered a DVD that wasn’t where it belonged. It was one of the grownup ones. I knew this because the colors were dark and somber. I was over the moon, thinking I had discovered forbidden fruit.”

            He chuckled, and she smiled down at him, raking her fingers through his hair. “You really are beautiful, Milo.”

            “I’m thrilled you think so, but don’t tease…what was the DVD?”

            “L’elisir d’amore.” Her gaze returned to the ceiling as she relived the moment. “When Nemorino cried Una furtiva lagrima I cried right along with him. I was a lost soul. I thought I had never heard anything so beautiful. So, as I burned through the opera collection, I started teaching myself Italian. Voice lessons were a little harder to manage, but my pleading eventually paid off. The rest you know.” She fell silent for a moment. “It wasn’t a happy time, Milo,” she finally whispered. “I don’t like to think about it. I consider it another lifetime.”

            He rolled off her, moving to where he could look in her eyes. “Then I will never mention it again, I promise.”

            She nodded. “Joe took Fanny to the movies?”

            “Um.”

            “Is there a piano in the house?”

            He wagged his eyebrows at her. “And a doctor.”

            “Goofball,” she chuckled. “Just answer the question.”

            “Two. The music room is closer, if you don’t want to get too dressed.” He sat up, his eyes alight. “Are you going to sing for me?” She blushed, her gaze shying away, and he cocked his head at her. “Albany?”

            Her eyes darkened as they filled with tears. “No one’s ever asked me to before.”

            “I can’t believe that!”

            She nodded, sniffing as she rose to crawl toward the nightstand, her hand out for the box of tissues. Milo got to his knees and followed her to the edge of the bed. “Albany, darling,” he wrapped his arms around her trembling body. “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, her fists full of tissues that she pressed to her face. “Albany,” he soothed, kissing her neck. His arms encircled her, drawing her close, and he continued murmuring assurances until her tears ended. “You’re so lovely, Albany. I’ve been dying to hear you sing for me. Will you?”

            Again she nodded, her gaze averted.

            “Look at me, darling,” he whispered, lifting her chin. “Pretty lady.” He kissed her skin repeatedly until she smiled. “That’s better,” he breathed against her shoulder. “If I never see you cry again, I’ll die happy.”

            “Don’t die, silly.”

            “If you sing for me, I’ll live forever.”

  <0>           

            She took a moment to warm her fingers up before she looked at him through the fringe of her hair. “How’s your Italian? Should I sing in English?”

            “My Italian’s fine,” he grinned, making himself comfortable at the foot of the piano where he could watch her.

            Nodding, she began to play. Her head was bowed as she stroked the keys but rose as she drew in breath to sing.

            “One tear that falls so furtively
            from her sweet eyes has just sprung...”

            Milo watched, enrapt. Albany immediately sank into the rhythm of the music, her eyes closed to external distractions. She appeared lost in the love song that effortlessly poured from her lips, and his gaze was arrested by their movement. Those same lips that had caressed every inch of his body; had screamed his name; had whispered to his skin.

            Those lips I can kiss at any time, that voice that tells me I’m beautiful... His heart was swollen with the thought, She’s mine!      

            Her song neared its conclusion as he moved along the piano, conscious of the fact that he was grinning like an idiot and not caring.

            “Heavens, please take me now:
            All that I wanted is mine now!”

            Her gaze sank again as the keys fell silent.

            “That was...incredible, Albany.” He dropped to his knee beside her, his hand out for hers.

  <0>

            “Are they going to kiss?” Fanny demanded of Joe as she peered through the sliver of space she had made in opening the music room door.

            “Probably. Come away, Fanny. It’s not nice to spy on people.”

            “But Joe!” she whined as the door was silently closed.

            “No buts. Bed for you, young lady. Leave your uncle alone.”

            Fanny hung for her head for a moment, but then brightened. “I like Albany.”

            “So does Milo.”

            “Maybe they’ll get married.”

            “Maybe. Now go wash up, Fanny. You can visit in the morning.”

 

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