Harry's notes, Chapter 5: Harry returns home after a benchmark night of emotions. He will not see Sandra until Saturday morning, instead he will question his sanity in alcohol, dreams, and apprehension of the truth. At the end of this chapter he is inundated by the waters of Fay culture. The action begins to accelerate all through this chapter and speed into chapter 6. I still get misty at the end of the chapter. (smiles)
Chosen Mate
Chapter 5
Revelations of Love and P.M.S.
Harry slowed the truck by the kitchen window, waving to Maddie sitting behind the glass, then drove on to the shop, accompanied by Max. The hill stood in emerald timeless beauty across the fields, as he drove to the door and parked; it was like a neon sign advertising the impossible presence of the Green Warrior discovered high on its terraced slopes. He glanced at it, then turned his gaze inward, and found the Green Warrior unchanged in his waiting posture. He could feel the owl visored creature looking down from the hill. Hell, he could see him!
--It is not considered polite to stare buddy, Oldman commented, wondering if he would get the same response as Harry received yesterday. There was no acknowledgement.
--Watch him, he told Oldman, who wondered what it was like to laugh hysterically. He replied.
--What else can we do but return the favor Harry? When are you going back up there?
--Soon I think. I've got to go back to see where it happened. Sandra will keep me busy tomorrow, and I'm not ready to deal with customers yet. I'll just take it day by day. He sighed. Time to go to work.
He began preparing for tomorrow's sales by moving the stage and mirror near a wooden screen, covered in oil paintings done from sketches at the koi pond; it separated the pool table from the main shop. He carefully swept the floor and cleaned the restroom. He put his benches in order then worked on a matching underwear top to go with Sandra's thong.
Oldman continued the carefully planned construction when Harry drifted away to study the Green Man. He enjoyed the chance to use Harry's hands. He thanked the Creator silently for the invention of hands and wished he had his own pair. Glancing at the image of the garment that floated in Harry's imagination for reference, he bent once more over his cherished task. When he led Harry away to the house, a long padded back lace, a similarly padded neck strap, two triangles of creamy suede, joined by a copper ring latch, a beaten copper broach with a wide slot at the bottom and copper catches attached to the top corners, waited for its final assembly.
***
Harry rubbed his tired eyes late that night. His inspection of the photographs confirmed his earlier observations. It appeared that he had not been mistaken. The longer an unbroken inspection of them, the more details they revealed. A blink of the eye or instant of distraction, returned them to their original condition.
That simple fact alone would have been enough to render one to be confused and unbelieving. However, the images they contained were so fantastic, so amazing that they left you stunned. The fish, birds, and insects gathered near her form became visible; they changed with an uninterrupted gaze to become magical creatures of grace and wonder. He had lost his place there many times. But they were only pale shadows of her image. Beginning the long stressful process once again, he was at last able to see her true form in the photographs.
Already glowing in sun or shafts of light and the dappled spots of illumination and shade that covered her like graceful garments, she slowly changed. Wispy thin tendrils of feather-like filaments of light or energy crept from her body and elongated slowly until they formed wings that waved and shimmered about her elfin appearance.
He was beginning to believe that he was going insane, seeing things that were not there as he had over this past year. Daily, sudden movements plagued him from the corner of his eye. The fast moving scurrying shadow-like forms that were not there when he turned in their direction, The blackouts, always in some spot that was filled with special feelings of peace, contentment, or wonder that were hidden from his mom by omission. The trance-like moments where he completed tasks without a remembrance of labor haunted him.
Then there was the Green Warrior saying nothing, doing nothing, waiting. His intrusion into Harry's thoughts confused as well as interested him. Now this exhausting conformation of his innuendos and wild, half-joking declarations had come to rest. He brought his sketchbook out and began to draw the hidden images of the photographs from memory. If madness was the price of such beauty...so be it.
***
Saturday morning, Sandra and the Caddy slunk up the pre-dawn driveway and cat-footed to the already lit shop; light spilled from the open doors. She carried the medicine-bag used to transport her gifted treasures home on Thursday; it was filled with breakfast and lunch. She walked in. Inside, Harry was sipping coffee and working at his usual spot at the bench. She looked at him and realized that he knew.
"Hey!" she chirped, pausing to let her eyes capture the sight of him intent on his labors.
"Lady," he answered, saluting with his cup and a worried smile. She gave him a dimpled curtsy and then walked over, giving him a kiss on the brow before making a spot on the bench to lay out the morning meal. Max sat at her feet, tail thumping, drool hanging from his jowls, at the fragrant scent of fried bacon, waiting patiently. She gave him the extra biscuit that she had made for him; He carried it away in his mouth.
"What are you doing?" She asked, pulling out the thermos and biscuits. He held up a bikini top that would match her thong perfectly.
"This needs to be fitted." She glanced at her watch.
"Do we have time?" She wondered.
"Max will bark as soon as a strange car starts up the hill. Harry took a sip of coffee and a bite of biscuit while she freed her upper body for the fitting. "How would you like a pair of shorts?" he asked.
"What style of shorts?" she asked.
"Hiking, short shorts, loose, tight, mid-thigh, it's your choice. I've never made any before. It should be an interesting project. She answered immediately.
"Tight short shorts." She said, at last finding her smile.
--Somehow I knew that. Oldman said.
Harry began to assemble the top on her. The neck-strap tied to the clasps of the broach; it looked like a necklace. The padded back-strap connected the bottoms of the triangles comfortably under her breasts. The laces attached to the top of the triangles joined loosely to the slot at the bottom of the broach until the fit could be adjusted correctly and comfortably.
"How much cleavage do you want?" He thought about it, then sent her to tie it herself.
Max began to bark. Harry called out to her but she would not give up the top. Instead, she merely drew her denim on over it and let the lightly tied laces hang.
