Chapter Six: The Last Homely House

      Eoin was still confused as to how the police neglected to search the under seat storage on the boat. Luke had attempted to explain that Pete had interrupted them before a proper search was done, but that didn't explain how their bags had sat in the storage, unmolested, for several hours. He looked around nervously as the three of them transferred the luggage from the boat into Pete's Blazer, idling in the large parking lot adjacent to the dock.

      “Why do those southerners feel the need to speak in such incomprehensible riddles?” Luke was saying to Pete as they worked.

      “He seemed to presume that you would work it out. And to be fair, when have you ever said anything directly?” Pete grinned playfully at Luke.

      “Oh come now, defending those degenerates? Would you prefer a goat or a young boy?”

      “I'm not quite sure. Will you be choosing a stonemason or a stallion?” Both men erupted into howls of laughter as Eoin confusedly brought the last bag to the car.

      “Hey Pete, are you sure that Wendy won't mind us stopping in?” A very troubled look crossed Pete's face but was quickly replaced by his usual manic grin.

      “Of course not! She'll be thrilled to see you, you're one of my only friends who she actually likes.” He started up the car and pulled away, music as strange and eclectic as Pete's personality blaring.

      Pete and Wendy, it turned out, lived quite close to the bus station where so much excitement had recently occurred. It was an older house, divided into apartments. There was a large red pickup truck parked in the driveway, they had to squeeze past it in order to get to the front door. Pete led the way, and just as he was about to walk past the truck, he unfolded a pocketknife and proceeded to run it along the side of the truck. “Don't mind your bags,” he grinned back at Eoin's horrified expression and Luke's amused chuckle. Eoin noticed several scratch marks lining the side of the truck as he carefully slid past.

      The best description of the interior was quaint; not the pejorative quaint, but the comfortable quaint which instantly makes you feel at home. The decorating was intriguingly archaic, almost a mix between a small European farmhouse and a university library. In the kitchen, drying herbs hung from a line running between cupboards, garlic hung from the window sills, and a small herb garden flourished above the sink. Cast iron cookware hung from a nifty pot holder and a pressure canner was neatly tucked in the corner of the stove. Maps, various coats of arms, and beautiful paintings lined the walls.           Walking into the living room, two things dominated your attention: books and instruments. Bookshelves lined every wall, a brief glance at the titles revealed a collection that would make any librarian drool. Every space not occupied by books was filled with a beautiful assortment of traditional instruments. There was no television to be found and the only sign of technology was a macbook resting on an end table and a stereo wedged between books on one of the shelves. Partially open sliding doors revealed a bedroom with a canopied bed, more bookshelves, and an easel with a partially painted canvass in the corner.

      “Did Wendy do these paintings?” Eoin asked in wonderment. He knew that Wendy was an artist but he had no idea how talented she was. Luke was examining the paintings with a studied eye.

“Perhaps young Wendy would be able to make sense of our mysterious message. She is obviously familiar with Southern nonsense in addition to our noble Northern ways.” Pete let out a laugh,

      “Xenophobe” he jovially accused.

      “And you aren't?” Luke smiled back, “now introduce us to your wife and allow her to serve us whatever is creating that wonderful smell.”

      They found Wendy in the yard, and what a yard it was. A large, wooden deck held several benches and a grill which obviously doubled as a fire pit, circumnavigating the city ordinance against bonfires. Against the deck was the first of the raised beds. Not your typical half foot flowerbeds, these were three foot deep, mini farm beds. Three quarters of the yard was taken up by these gigantic beds, separated into three gardens. All of the wonders of the yard were dwarfed, however, by the beautiful girl crawling through the garden and gathering salad mix in a bowl. Long, pale red hair outlined her porcelain skin and coordinated perfectly with her vibrant blue eyes. She smiled with a heart-stopping, innocent grin and stood up. If ever there was a woman who inspired ancient men to take up the brush, she was standing in front of the three men. The classic beauty, held so dear by the Greeks and Romans, was illustrated in each subtle movement of her near-perfect body.

      Before she could greet them, what looked like a gigantic black hellhound erupted from the edge of the yard. It briefly stopped at Pete's feet, sniffed him, and moved on to tackle Eoin to the ground. Eoin struggled with the great black beast, laughing and dodging dog kisses. “Cavall, get over here, you filthy hound!” Pete made a move to free Eoin from the giant dog. He needn't to have bothered, Cavall had already finished his greeting and was now carefully approaching Luke. “This is my child, Cavall.” Pete proudly introduced the dog to Luke. Luke smiled,

      “An apt name, he reminds me of someone I once knew.” Pete took Luke's hand and placed it in Cavall's grinning mouth. The dog looked confused for a moment, extracted his mouth from around the hand, and began to lick Luke's arm, gazing up at him with a friendly look. “I stand corrected.” Luke laughed good naturedly and scratched the happy creature behind the ears.

      As this exchange had been occurring, Wendy was approaching the three men. But before she came to the porch, she stopped in her tracks, staring at the man now petting her dog. Luke seemed to be the only person to notice her hesitation, he made eye contact with her and nodded in a most respectful manner. Eoin, oblivious to the strange interaction, walked up to her, giving her a warm hug and kissing her on the cheek. “Hey Wendy, sorry for barging in like this. How have you been?” Wendy managed to greet Eoin with heartfelt courtesy while delivering a glare to Pete that could only be described as a tolerant chide combined with an icy stare of death.

      “Don't worry about it, Pete; it's really great to see you. I've been great, how are you?”

      “Well it's been a wild few days but I'm actually doing quite well.” Luke had finished petting Cavall and was now standing next to Eoin. “Wendy, this is my...um...friend, Luke Lee Smythe; Luke, this is Pete's wife, Wendy.” Luke took Wendy's hesitantly outstretched hand in a grand yet delicate gesture, bowing and raising her upturned fingers within millimeters of his lips.

      “Madame, I am humbled and honored to make your acquaintance. Your home is charming to an level beyond categorization.” Pete ran up with Cavall close on his heels.

      “We're sheltering them on their journey, babes; I'm like Tom Bombadill!” She smiled tolerantly at him as he began to waltz along the porch with Cavall. Luke laughed,

      “I'm not sure about Tom Bombadill...” Pete stopped, mid waltz, “perhaps The Last Homely House might be a more apt comparison.” Pete's face lit up as he began discussing his elvish heritage with Cavall. Eoin had been listening to this interaction with a look of complete bemusement. Wendy noticed this and, knowing her husband would never explain an allusion, took pity on him.

      “It's from the Fellowship of the Rings,” blank stare, “Tolkien...”

      “Oh, I haven't read Tolkien.” Pete stared at him with a terrified expression,

      “I don't understand.”

      “I just never got around to reading him.”

      “I don't understand.” Pete repeated with a flat tone of absolute horror. Wendy glanced hopefully at Luke but he was watching with rapt amusement.

      “Come on, boys; I just gathered the salad and the pork roast is ready.”

      “I'm surprised you didn't figure it out, Mr. Smythe. It seems you may have spent too much time in retirement.” Wendy had warmed ever so slightly to Luke but she still maintained a wary suspicion, a somewhat palpable wary suspicion.

      Eoin had been studying the dining room. They were sitting around a large oak dining table which seemed to coin the style, Versailles-Farmhouse Chic. Surprisingly, this combination was more pleasing than most designs featured in catalogues. A Rembrandt etching hung beside victorian plant prints. An ornate wooden chest sat next to a homemade shelf holding grow lights and trays of seedlings—Pete had proudly declared that he had used his friend's sawmill to make the shelf “from a goddamn tree!”. Wendy's quick response when presented with their mysterious riddle brought him back from his mental meanderings.

      Pete looked at her in between devouring his third helping of perfectly prepared pork roast and root vegetables, “Tell us, darling; the suspense is killing us.” She shook her head at his almost-sarcastic dramaticism.

      “It's a reference to palm reading, the road of the fates is the fate line, right here—she indicated a line running up the center of her hand. And the road of the sun is right here—she indicated a line running up the edge of her hand, opposite her thumb.”

      “That's my wife, the witch; I'd burn her if she wasn't so good in bed. But what the shit is that supposed to mean?” Pete deftly dodged a playful blow from Wendy.

      “Ninety six.” The three of them looked at Eoin who had been sitting quietly through the entire exchange. Wendy smiled but the two men looked confused.

      “What did you count this time? See, I've always said he has some form of atypical autism.” Pete grinned playfully as he continued to bat back and forth with Wendy.

      “No, look where the lines are located. The palm represents Michigan, the fate line is roughly where 127 is and the sun line is...

      “Ninety six, well done, dear boy! I am surprised at myself. Thank you for your help, my dear; you are truly a gem.” This last comment earned Luke an appreciative smile from Wendy.