D. MacHale - The Pilgrims of Rayne

Courtney and Dodger turned slowly to face the sour-looking host who loomed over them.

“No, thank you,” Dodger said. “Just looking for some friends.”

“Do you have reservations?” the host asked as if he already knew they didn’t.

“No, we won’t be dining here tonight,” Courtney answered.

The host gave them a skeptical look. Dodger went on the offensive. He stood up straight and snapped, “Is there some problem we can help you with?”

The host backed off.

“Forgive me,” he said apologetically with a deep bow. “If there is anything I might do for you, please do not hesitate.” “We won’t,” Dodger said coldly. The host slinked off, chastised. “That was great,” Courtney giggled.

“Hey, we’re paying customers. He can’t treat us like we don’t belong.”

“Except we didn’t pay and we don’t belong.” “Details.”

“So now what do we do?”

“No problem, I got this covered.”

Courtney gave him a doubtful look.

“What?” Dodger said, offended. “Have I ever let you down?” “I barely know you.”

“But what you know, you like. Admit it,” he cajoled. “Dodger! This isn’t a game.”

“Sure it is, and I know how to play,” he said confidently. “Keep an eye on them. When you get the chance, pull Mark outta there.” “What? How?”

Dodger smiled. “Trust me. Bring him to the stern. I’ll meet you there.”

“Where are you going?” Courtney asked.

Dodger put a finger to his lips. “Shhh, trade secrets. Just be ready.”

He took Courtney’s hand and gave it an elegant kiss. He then winked and backed away, headed toward the host. Courtney watched as he whispered a moment in the guy’s ear and cagily slipped him something that could have been money for a tip. He cuffed the host on the arm as if they were old friends, and left the restaurant. What was going on? The host left his post and walked casually through the dining room, headed for the band. There was a dance floor between the dining tables and the stage, where several people moved to slow music. The host approached the bandleader and whispered something to him. The bandleader nodded and the host left. What had Dodger done?

It was time for Courtney to start doing her part. She had to get close to Mark’s table without being seen. She slipped through the potted palms, nearly falling over a table where an elderly couple sat.

“Oops, sorry,” she said as she caught a bottle of wine that nearly fell to the floor.

“You!” the elderly woman exclaimed in anger. It was the same woman she and Dodger ran into, literally, when they first boarded the ship. The woman looked around for someone she could call to deal with Courtney.

“Sorry, ma’am, my fault,” Courtney said as she carefully placed the bottle of wine back on the table. “This wine is on me. Charge it to my room. Twelve-twelve. Galvao.”

“Why, uh, thank you,” the elderly man exclaimed.

The woman just looked sour. She gave Courtney an annoyed look and went back to eating her soup. Courtney got away from her and moved closer to Mark’s table, always trying to stay shielded by other diners. She got as close as one of the wide, wooden columns that was only a few yards from Mark. She stood with her back to it, waiting for… what?

The answer came quickly. A young steward hurried through the dining room holding a silver tray with a note on top. He went right to Mark’s table, where Courtney heard him say, “This came in on the wireless for Mister Mitchell. From London. Apparently there is some urgency.”

“Thanks,” Courtney heard Andy say. Her skin crawled, knowing it was Saint Dane.

Andy read the note and scowled. “Shoot,” he exclaimed angrily.

“What’s the trouble?” Nevva asked.

“It’s from KEM,” Andy shot back. “I gotta wire them back. Now. C’mon, Nevva.”

Courtney heard him push his chair back.

“Excuse us, please,” Nevva said politely.

“Is there a problem?” Mr. Dimond asked.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” Andy growled.

Andy and Nevva left the table and walked by the column where Courtney was hiding. They passed right by her on either side, inches away. Courtney held her breath. If they turned around, they’d see her. Courtney wanted to kick herself for getting so close. She watched as the two hurried away through the crowd without looking back. Courtney started breathing again. Now what? Was this her chance? Should she confront all three Dimonds? She liked Mr. and Mrs. Dimond. Maybe they’d listen to her. Or maybe they’d call the authorities, and she’d land back in the brig. She figured she had to take the chance. She was about to round the pillar when the band stopped playing and the bandleader stepped up to the microphone.

“We have a special request,” he announced. “A spotlight dance for a happy couple who we understand are celebrating a very special occasion. Let’s bring up Mr. and Mrs. Dimond. Where are you folks?”

The audience applauded and looked around, searching for the mystery couple. Courtney smiled. She knew that Mr. Dimond would be mortified. He wasn’t a very good dancer. She also knew that Mrs. Dimond would drag him onto the floor anyway. She loved to dance. Courtney also knew that Dodger was a very crafty guy.

The room went dark. A spotlight kicked on and scanned the diners until settling on the Dimonds. The crowd continued to applaud as Mrs. Dimond dragged Mr. Dimond up to the dance floor. All eyes were on the Dimonds. Courtney slowly peered around the pillar to see Mark sitting alone, his chin in his hand, drumming his spoon absently on the table.

“Ten minutes,” she said as she walked toward him. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

Mark jumped as if there were an electric charge in his seat.

“C–Courtney? How d-did you-“

“You’re stuttering. That means my Mark is still in there. Please come with me.”

“I c-can’t,” Mark said, looking sheepish.

“Yes, you can, Mark,” Courtney implored. “You have to.”

“Please, Courtney,” Mark begged. “You can’t ask me to do anything that might hurt them.”

They both looked up at his parents, who danced alone in the spotlight. Courtney thought they looked radiant and happy.

“Hurting them is the last thing I want to do. But you have to know what’s going on. There’s a lot at stake here. You of all people should know that. Or did you forget everything that’s happened over the past three years?”

Mark’s glance darted nervously from his parents to Courtney.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Courtney said. “Bobby is about to go to war, and you’re the only one who can stop it.”

Mark’s eyes focused. Courtney knew that look. She’d seen it many times as they read Bobby’s journals together and puzzled over the realities of time and space. She’d seen it as they were about to step into the flume, when they saw Black Water for the first time, and when the flume was created before their eyes in the basement of the Sherwood house. She knew she hadn’t lost him.

“You gotta get back in the game, Mark.”

Mark glanced at his parents. A sad smile crossed his face. He took a breath, tossed his spoon on the table, and stood up to face her.

“Hobey-ho,” he said.

(CONTINUED)

They moved quickly through the ship, avoiding crowds, taking routes that kept them away from curious eyes. Courtney knew they didn’t have much time. She figured that when everyone returned to the table to discover Mark was gone, they’d probably give him a few minutes, assuming he went to the bathroom or something. That would be it. Saint Dane and Nevva would know something was wrong. Soon they’d have the whole ship looking for Mark. They’d discover Courtney had escaped. It was all going to fall apart very quickly. Courtney figured she had a small window to save Halla, and Mark.