That Old Familiar Feeling Ch 01

Author's Note:

Greetings! It's been a while since I've written anything so I'm happy to get back on track with this six-part story about a relationship between consenting adults. I hope you find it entertaining and a little "different" than what I've written before. As always, comments and emails are welcome and all feedback is appreciated. May I also express my appreciation to the author Karaline for her feedback and editing. Please enjoy, and thank you for reading.

*****

"Ma'am? Ma'am?"

The male voice sounded distant, and Monica was momentarily confused. The side of her head throbbed. She was in her house -- the enveloping scent of it was familiar and safe...but something wasn't right. Realization dawned on her all at once. There was a strange man in her house!

Her eyes flew open and she struggled to bring the room into focus. She was on her back, lying on the couch in her living room. Attempting to push herself into a sitting position didn't work -- her body wasn't cooperating and she could manage only a feeble flailing of her arms. The pounding pain in her head amplified. Why was there a man in her house?

"Hey, relax. You're okay. Just take it slow," he said, and his voice sounded calm and non-threatening. And close by! Her eyes finally resolved the blurry image in front of her.

He was a young man with short, brown hair and penetrating dark eyes. A student, perhaps? Someone from the local college? His handsome face wore an expression of genuine concern that couldn't be faked. He was worried. Worried for her. How did he get into her house?

"Who..." she trailed off and gingerly prodded the painful lump on her head with her fingertips.

He pressed a cool, wet cloth into her hand and guided it against the lump just above her right ear. She was too disoriented to be panicked by his touch.

"I'm Garnet. From Big Deal Superstore? I was delivering your groceries and you passed out as soon as you opened the front door. Banged your head on the floor -- you really went down hard. How do you feel?"

She frowned, but slowly the memory came seeping back. She'd been expecting a delivery. She remembered seeing the Big Deal delivery van pull up...but not much after that.

"My head hurts." Why wasn't she terrified of this strange man? Even the idea of human interaction usually made her anxious, let alone the idea that a complete stranger was in her living room as she lay helpless on the couch. By rights she should be cowering in fear. Maybe the bump had dulled her senses.

"You're not bleeding, but it was one heck of an impact. Lie still, I'll call an ambulance."

He slowly rose from his crouch started to dial his cell phone.

"No!"

He paused in mid-dial and looked down at her with a puzzled expression.

"No ambulance, please. I...I can't leave the house."

He was silent for a few moments. "Ma'am, you hit the floor pretty hard. I'd really feel better if you got yourself checked out. You could have a concussion or..."

"No! No, I'm fine, really. I don't want an ambulance." The idea of more strangers in her house, talking to her, handling her, taking her out into the dangerous world -- it made her shudder.

He hesitated another second, then put his phone away. "Well, at least let me get you some pills and an ice pack to put on that goose egg."

"No, I'm okay, just..." She tried to pull herself into a sitting position but a flaring pain in her head made her reconsider and she sagged back onto the couch. "Maybe...some pills would be good. In the cupboard above the fridge."

He nodded then went to retrieve the medicine and some water. She watched him moving through her kitchen. It made her uncomfortable, someone from the outside invading her safe space, but in her condition there wasn't much she could do about it. The pain was intensifying by the minute. She closed her eyes and when she opened them he was crouched beside the couch, handing her some pills and steadying her hand as she raised the glass of water to her lips. He pressed a wet dishcloth wrapped around some ice cubes to her head.

"Look, you lie here with the ice and I'll put away the groceries. After that we'll see how you feel about an ambulance."

She didn't feel up to objecting and remained on the couch, her eyes following him as he moved through her kitchen, opening cupboards and the fridge, finding the right places for the groceries through trial-and-error. A nerve-wracking intrusion into her inner sanctum, made even worse by the feeling that she ought to be absolutely terrified by this turn of events, but was merely uneasy. Was it his youth? His clear concern for her well being?

A few minutes later he'd finished and was beside her again, gazing down at her, his intense eyes lingering on hers for long enough to make her aware of it. If their age disparity hadn't been so great she would have assumed he was 'checking her out', but she had thirty years on him at least.

"Can I do anything else before I go?" he said at last. "I've got a few more deliveries..." He nodded vaguely in the direction of the front door.

She shook her head. He smiled and she caught herself unconsciously copying the gesture.

"I'll swing by after my shift to check up on you," he said as he stepped out the door, closing it gently behind him.

*

After a short nap she found she could get her feet under her and move through the house without too much pain, as long as she didn't jostle her still-tender brain. Wednesday was dusting day, and she'd been half-done when Garnet had arrived with her groceries. She decided to finish.

Garnet. An unusual name, especially for a boy. A young man, rather -- she doubted a mere boy would have had the maturity to help her the way Garnet had. He'd shown real competence.

And she hadn't even said thank you! That brought a wince, although under the circumstances she figured the lapse was forgivable. She replayed their meeting over again in her head. What stood out most was her muted responses to a terrifying encounter. The blow to the head seemed to have knocked the fear right out of her head, at least temporarily.

But when she remembered his intention to come by after his shift, the anxiety returned in a hurry. Should she pretend not to be home? Or would that cause him to panic and call an ambulance, thinking her in distress? Maybe keep him outside and speak to him through the locked door? How rude would that be, especially in light of her lack of thanks for his earlier help? Passing him a note then shutting the door in his face was likewise too abrupt.

No, she'd have to let him inside, there was no getting around that. She'd let him in, give a quick thank-you and usher him back out. She could claim a bad headache to move things along. And she'd email his boss at Big Deal a glowing recommendation. Surely that would be enough to settle her debt with her young hero.

*

Sure enough, he knocked early in the evening, as he'd promised.

She opened the door and stepped back as he entered, then wiped her clammy hands on her jeans. She'd dressed up a little -- gone were the sloppy, gray track pants and oversized sweater she'd been wearing that morning. Blue jeans and a button-up blouse weren't much better, but at least she felt presentable.

"Hey, you're up! Glad to see that. How's your head?" he asked with an encouraging smile. His eyes held hers and she read in them some concern. A part of her was touched by that. There were still truly nice people in the world, it seemed.

"Oh...still not good. I...uh...really appreciate your help today. Thank you so much." She realized she was slowly backing away as she spoke and it was an effort to make herself stand still. "Thanks for coming by. Really, my head's hurting and I was just on my way to bed, so-"

"It sure sounds like a concussion. Are you sure it wouldn't be best to-"

"No, no. Really, after a good night's sleep I'll be okay. Thanks for coming. I'll recommend you to your boss..." She trailed off as she realized she was STILL backing away from him with tiny steps, and put a stop to it.

"Look, you don't need to be nervous," he said, "If you're uncomfortable I'll go." He took a step toward the door.

"I'm sorry...it's not you at all, it's me. I get...panicky." The young man had probably saved her life and she was treating him like a leper! She took a quiet breath and forced herself to take a bold step forward. "I'm just not good with people or new situations or...going outside."

Why was she sharing so much? He'd been about to leave and she'd delayed him! She silently cursed herself.

His smile returned in full force and once again she found herself returning it involuntarily. "Hey, no problem. It never hurts to be cautious, right?"

Cautious was an understatement -- she hadn't left her house or admitted a visitor in months. Still, she nodded and then froze, unsure of how to continue the conversation. The silence grew stale before he continued.

"Listen, I don't want to pry, but when I was here earlier I noticed the back lawn...I could take care of that for you if you wanted? No charge."

Ugh. Months of neglect had her backyard looking like an encroaching jungle. The tool shed needed re-shingling and painting and the lawn needed weeding and cutting. Last week one of the neighbors had left a letter of complaint in her mailbox. The situation was reaching critical mass.

"That...would be lovely," she said after a long pause. There was no reasonable way to refuse.

"Great! I'll be here tomorrow morning then to get started." He held out his hand and after a brief wave of panic she managed to shake it. His hand felt warm, firm and dry -- a sharp contrast to hers in every respect.

And then he was gone and she was locking the door behind him and wondering what she'd gotten herself into.

*

Garnet turned out to be a blessing. He showed up the next morning and managed to beat back the encroaching wilderness - at least a little bit. Monica watched him from inside the house as he mowed and weed-whacked and reclaimed plastic patio furniture from the tall thistles.

He worked up a sweat and his cotton shirt soaked through and clung to him, revealing a surprisingly well-proportioned body, with muscular arms and a chest that suggested faithful gym attendance. An attractive young man. If she were a few decades younger and cured of her crippling anxiety, she'd have been out there flirting, for sure.

Late-morning she met him at the back door with ice water and cookies, getting a grateful thank-you before thrusting them into his hands and retreating into the reassuring confines of her house, then watching him as he sat on the dilapidated back porch and relaxed.

She summoned up the courage to hand over finger sandwiches and soda shortly after noon. By the time he left in the afternoon he'd managed to domesticate her lawn.

He finished the job the next day. She supplied snacks and lunch, and lingered for a short conversation about the weather.

The day after, he tackled the tool shed. She lunched with him briefly on the back patio before retreating to safety again. He was easy to talk to and they chatted about current events. His smile was relaxed and she found his attentive, dark eyes disarming.

It rained Sunday and Monday, and Garnet didn't show. Rather than being relieved, Monica found herself a little lonely in his absence. It surprised her how much he'd grown on her in just five days. He was less an intruder now, and more a welcome addition to her day.

The dry weather returned on Tuesday and Garnet came by after his grocery deliveries were done to put the finishing touches on the tool shed. The work now finished, the two of them talked for more than an hour. Monica told him about her late husband Bill's losing battle with colon cancer. Garnet shared memories of his deceased grandfather, who had raised him. Later, as Garnet packed up to go, Monica conveniently remembered some work she needed done in her basement and Garnet offered his services without a word of complaint. Free of charge.

He visited eight times over the next two weeks. He tidied and painted some rooms in the basement as Monica lingered in the doorway and watched and sometimes pitched in with a comment or two. He took apart some old furniture in the storage room and moved it out to the back patio for a charity to pick up. He tore up and replaced several of the more deteriorated planks on the back deck.

Monica found herself eager for his visits, even dressing up for him. Nothing too fancy -- a long skirt instead of jeans, more colourful blouses, her silver-streaked black hair in a ponytail. The clothes made her realize how much weight she'd lost over the last few months -- she'd always had a lean build, but apparel that had fit well when Bill was alive now seemed to hang off her. She vowed to take better care of herself.

After the deck was done, Monica took the plunge and invited Garnet over for dinner to thank him for his mighty efforts. She didn't have much money -- Bill's pension covered the necessities and little else -- but she could show her appreciation by cooking for him at least.

It wasn't too formal -- they weren't dating, after all -- but the steak and salad turned out well and Garnet feasted heartily. Conversation with him came easily now, her anxiety had almost vanished where he was concerned.

"I wish there was more I could do to repay you for your work," she said as she cut him a slice of apple pie.

"Well," he said, then hesitated.

"Go on."

He smiled sheepishly and gave a quick laugh. "Okay. So I know this is going to sound weird, but hear me out."

"Of course."

"I think you can really help me in my research, and I think I can help you with your anxiety. I think we can help each other out."

"I didn't know you were in school!" After almost three weeks she was surprised he hadn't mentioned it before.

"I'm not in school. It's...independent research. Kind of. It's my life's work."

"It sounds important. What's it about?"

He hesitated for longer this time, as though deciding what to say.

"I'll tell you what. Let me get some stuff from home and I'll tell you tomorrow. It's sort of easier to show you than to tell you." She must have looked doubtful because his grin widened and he added "I'm NOT selling anything, I promise."

She laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Well now you've got me desperately curious!"

*

He showed up the next evening with an armload of ancient-looking books and they sat together in the kitchen, side-by-side at the table. Monica marvelled that only a few weeks ago she was almost too scared to shake his hand and now they were seated so close to one another. Somehow, Garnet made it feel natural.

"Okay, again, this is going to sound weird. I get that. Just...hear me out until the end?"

Monica nodded. Garnet turned his chair to face her and took a deep breath.

"I'm a Knight-Observer of the Holy Order of Tristan." He paused as though waiting for a response he knew was coming.

Monica didn't know what to say. She would have laughed but the serious look on his face told her it was not a joke. Half a minute passed before she could speak.

"A knight? You mean like King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table?" She kept her tone light and inquisitive. She wouldn't mock something important to him.

He smiled, and it broke the tension. She felt herself relax.

"Yes and no. We take knightly vows and are subject to a code, but we don't carry swords or slay dragons. Actually, we have a strict rule of non-violence. Our mission is to do research and to further our knowledge of how the world works. That's why we're Knight 'Observers'.

"I see," she said, struggling to keep an open mind. Garnet didn't strike her as someone who'd lost his grip on reality so she wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. "It's a holy order, so are you affiliated with a church?"

"More philosophically than officially. The Church doesn't officially recognize the Holy Order but we have many beliefs in common. Let's just say that we operate independently."

"What kind of research do you do?" she asked.

He hesitated again, a sure sign that whatever was coming was even more far-fetched than what had passed.

"We research Daemons and Daemonic energy."

"Demons?"

"Not like the horror movie monsters. Daemons are spiritual entities that come into our world from beyond the Barrier. They can be good or evil - sometimes they've been known to help humans, but mostly they keep to themselves."

Monica again took a moment to put her skepticism in check. Garnet's eyes were as clear and lucid as ever. No sign of wild-eyed fanaticism or delusion. No sign of danger.

"So...have you ever seen one?"

Garnet met her eyes with a steady gaze. "I think you are one, Monica."

"Me?"

"You may not realize it -- crossing the Barrier can affect perception and memory. But I'm almost sure you're a Daemon."

"Oh, come on!" Monica said, disbelief flooding her tone. She'd tried to be fair-minded by this was getting a bit much!

"There are tell-tale signs," he said, grabbing a leather-bound book from his pile. He quickly flipped to a page and slid the book in front of her.

The writing was hand-done in neat black lettering, slightly faded with age. 'Signs and Symptoms of Daemonic Origins' was the heading at the top of the page. She read as Garnet continued.

"Daemons are always female. They tend to inhabit a specific territory and are reluctant to leave. They have eyes of blue or green," he said, counting the list off on his fingers. "They're slight of build and have hair with more than one colour."

"Garnet, that list could apply to anyone who's thin and old. Go to any nursing home and you'll find a bunch of thin, blue-eyed old ladies with graying hair who never go outside."

"AND a Daemon will react strongly when it first encounters an Aura Stone -- getting dizzy or even fainting, just like you did when we first met," he finished.

"What on earth is an Aura Stone?"

"This." Garnet fished a silver pendant on a chain from inside his shirt. There was a small blue stone affixed to the centre of the vaguely crescent-shaped pendant. "When I delivered your groceries, you opened the door and immediately collapsed to the floor. That's when I started to put it all together."

She was quiet as she read in the book exactly the signs that Garnet had described. Finally she sighed and met his eyes.

"I'm sorry Garnet, I'm human. I was married for almost thirty years! I must have been hungry or maybe I had some kind of bug -- that's why I fainted."

Monica continued to read down the list of Signs and Symptoms. Daemons were apparently childless because they couldn't conceive with human partners. They had no brothers or sisters. She had to admit, so far she met all the criteria. She flipped the page.

"Ah, see here? 'Daemons are immune to disease and infestation'," she said, jabbing her finger at the book. "I've had the cold a bunch of times, even the flu. I had the chicken pox as a kid." Part of her couldn't believe she was arguing her humanity with a nineteen year-old.

Garnet nodded slowly. "Okay, but you have to admit, aside from that one, you're a perfect match. Seven out of eight. And even you have to admit, the timing of your fainting spell was a little too perfect to be a coincidence, right?"

"Garnet, I know this means a lot to you and you take it seriously. I'm not dismissing your beliefs. But...I mean, come on! It just isn't so. I'm not a Daemon -- it's just not true."

Unexpectedly, he grinned and chuckled. "Hey, I warned you it was weird. And I know you don't believe me and I totally get that. It sounds crazy. But I've been learning about this stuff since I was five. My grandfather was a Knight too and he taught me everything there is to know. I'm...kind of an expert on this."