A Hoboken Hipster In Sherwood Forest (11 page)

And what was it
Nimue said about me finding love here? She called me the gentle soul that would tame an outlaw's thirst for revenge or something. Obviously she must have been talking about Robin Hood. But do I really want to go there? Reveal my feminine side and start a relationship with a guy who lived and died hundreds of years before I was born? Sure, I could see Robin as a pretty de-lish boyfriend. But the whole scenario seems a bit shortsighted. Like, what—we fall in love, start doing the happily-ever-after thing, then King Richard shows up with the Grail and I get my chance to go back to the 21st century? What then? Will I be forced to choose my love over my life? Give up everything I've worked so hard for in order to be with this other person? Uh, been there. Done that. And I don't much like the T-shirt I got from it.

A noise behind me makes me turn around. Robin appears through the trees, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when he sees me sitting here. I probably should have picked another spot. Or maybe I subconsciously was hoping he'd show up.

He says nothing and simply sits down beside me, close enough to touch were one of us to reach out our hand. The proximity does funny things to my insides. His scent, perhaps. A bit smoky from the fire, and musky. You'd think someone who spent his entire lifetime camping in the woods would smell sweaty and gross. But he doesn't, for some reason. I almost wish he did. Would make it a bit easier.

"
‘Tis a good spot for thinking deep thoughts, is it not?" he remarks quietly, staring out into the water.

"Yeah."

We both fall silent. But it's not the uncomfortable silence you get on a first date. In fact, it's nice in a way. Intimate. Danny was always talk, talk, talk. He couldn't stand the quiet parts of life.

"Must be a bit unsettling for you to be here," Robin says after a while.

I turn to look at him, surprised. "What do you mean?" There's no way he could know I'm not from 12th-century England, is there?

"An outlaw's life, mayhap, was not one you thought you'd lead. Your abbey likely had warm beds and hot meals."

Ah, he's talking about my supposed great escape from the church. "You got that right." Funny. He isn't far off the mark, though he's talking about some 12th-century cathedral, not 21st-century Jersey.

"I understand more than perhaps you know. I grew up in a small castle, myself. I had many servants and loyal subjects and never had to lift a finger for anything. I thought '
twould be the only life I ever knew. I would inherit our small fiefdom when my father died and be a fair and kind ruler to my people. Those who worked hard would always have meat on the table under my rule. I would marry Maid Marion, King Richard's niece and my childhood playmate, and produce an heir. All very simple wishes, I thought."

"But things obviously didn't work out that way."

"Nay," he says, kicking at the ground with the toe of his boot. "King Richard launched the third Crusade, asking that all able-bodied men join him on his quest to seek the Holy Grail. My father loved King Richard so. And for him to provide his king with his only son—well, he was only too happy to do it."

"And it all went to pot from there I take it."

"I am loyal to my king," Robin says with a shrug. "And we should not question the decisions he makes. But to abandon his country, to fight in a foreign land for some religious cause and leave his own people unprotected from his evil blood relative—well, that seems an unwise decision to me."

"Yeah, pretty dumb. He should have at least left some sort of force behind. Like the Knights of Homeland Security or something."

"So you see, Christian, this forest existence is not the life I hoped to lead. Or one I could ever be truly content with. I was born to lead knights, not a band of ragamuffins. I was born to sit on a throne, not a stump of wood." He fidgets, trying to get comfortable. "At the same time, in many ways, this forest life agrees with me. It's simple. Honest. And I know, forsooth, my men are true. They would stand with me in the face of death, should I ask it. You do not often win such true friendships in a castle court, where the power-hungry vie for control."

Hm. Sounds a lot like the fashion-mag biz, if you ask me.
A bunch of skinny, Gucci-clad prima donnas fighting as if their life depended on getting that cover-story byline. So often I've imagined a simpler life. A less glamorous job in a small town. One where people know their neighbors. Where families help each other out. Where you can make trustworthy friends. Marry trustworthy people.

"What about Maid Marion?" I ask, curious. I've been wondering about her: a major character in the Robin Hood legend, but completely absent from what I've seen. And after all, if I were to decide to start something with Robin Hood, I've got to size up the competition.

Robin scowls. "She chooses the life of a lady in waiting at Prince John's castle. She has no interest in coming out into the woods and getting her soft white hands dirty.''

Ah, I'm starting to see more why the guy's so bitter against women. He lost his titles and riches and his chick went running in the other direction. Stupid
gold-digging, uh, wench.

"That's pretty lame," I say. "If you two loved each other..."

"I loved her more than anything. Mayhap, I still do. But I cannot say whether she ever loved me or simply what I once had. All I know for certain is that she seems no longer interested in my affections."

"Are you sure? I mean
, have you talked to her?" Oh jeez, I am the incurable matchmaker, aren't I? Still, I can't bear to hear the hurt in his voice without at least trying to Dear Abby.

"When I first returned from the Crusades, my only wish was to see her again. But after I became an outlaw, I realized I could not by right walk through the castle gates. So I risked all, sneaked into the city dressed as a beggar and climbed over a back wall into the castle gardens, desperate to find her. And I did find Marion there, but she was in the arms of another." Robin stops for a moment and I can see his hard swallow. "She did not wait for me."

My heart pangs in my chest as I steal a glimpse of his hurt face. If only he knew how much I understood. That devastating moment when the world as you know it crashes down, when the one you love more than anything betrays you in the worst possible way. I will never, ever be able to burn the image of Danny, skinny jeans down to his ankles in that bathroom stall, pounding away at that waitress. Him stopping when he heard someone opening the door. The color draining from his scruffy face as he realized it was me.

Time stopped. I don't know if I said anything.
If I cried out my horror and surprise. The next thing I remember was running through the coffeehouse, Danny chasing me, still rezipping his trousers. Calling my name. Begging for me to stop. To turn around. To give him a chance to explain.

But how can you explain something like that?
Something so obvious? Danny, my first and only love. The one I gave my virginity to. The one who swore on our wedding day that he would be true 'til death. The same man who now saw fit to violate our marriage, our trust, our love, by sticking his cock into another person. Someone who didn't matter. And who knew if that was even the first time he'd done it? Working as a bartender, he'd had plenty of opportunities. Plenty of nights to come home late. Plenty of chances to betray me.

Robin hates women for what Marion did to him. I can see why. I definitely have a thing against certain men.

"Wow. I'm so sorry you had to go through that," I say, realizing I'd been lost in my own angry thoughts and hadn't properly responded. "That really sucks."

"Sucks?"

Oops. Gotta chill with the 21st centuryisms. "That's terrible," I amend. "Very ... bad."

"Aye."

I look at him thoughtfully. "Would you ever go back to her? If she came out to Sherwood Forest and asked for another chance?" I always wonder this about myself. If Danny begged for forgiveness, would I grant it? Or perhaps more importantly, should I? We vowed through good times and bad. I just never thought the bad would involve a waitress with Megan Fox-like boobs.

Robin shrugs. "To be honest, I do not know. But 'twill never happen, so 'tis useless to talk of it."

Sigh. He's probably right. Why would the gold-digging chick want to live this type of life when she's probably got a sweet setup back at the castle? But that's so sucky. I mean, how could she choose some other random guy over Robin here? Sure, he can be a bit arrogant and pigheaded, but he's really a nice guy. Loyal, brave, confident....

Eesh
. Now I sound like I'm falling for him. Which I'm totally not. I mean, yes, I'm attracted to him. How could I not be? He's handsome as sin. But that's as far as it goes. I'm not ready for a new relationship yet. Especially not with a 12th-century outlaw who thinks I'm a eunuch. No matter what Nimue predicted, it just ain't happening.

Besides, the history books always have Robin ending up with Maid Marion, right? What would happen if I showed up and inadvertently changed all that? I mean, hey, I've seen
Back to the Future 2 a few times, and changing history is never pretty.

Bottom line? It's totally not worth altering the
world as we know it for a quick rebound romance, no matter how hot the guy.

Once again, it seems like my role here is to fix things. Now that I've got Robin stealing from the rich and giving to the poor, it must be time to get his lady friend back. Luckily, I've seen a lot of Dr. Phil.

"Look, Rob. It may feel useless to talk about it, but in a way it could be therapeutic too."

"
Thera—?" He cocks his head. Oops, psychobabble terms have probably yet to be invented.

"Um, good for the soul," I amend quickly. "The heart. You know, it's not always healthy to keep your anger wrapped up inside. It'll just eat away at you. Make you bitter and vengeful. Do you really want her having so much power over you?"

"She has no power over me," he retorts—way too strongly.

"Um, yeah, sure." I laugh. "Look. First you need to give yourself permission to feel hurt at her betrayal. Men hardly ever do that, you know. They just push it down deep inside. Pretend it doesn't matter. And then their anger grows to monstrous proportions and they go punch walls. Or start wars. But if they'd just talk about it, get it out..."

Ugh. I feel like I'm lecturing myself. I haven't exactly been forthcoming about the whole Danny thing either. In fact, no one knows it even happened. It's just too embarrassing to admit, even to close friends. Not that I have many close friends.

Robin scowls. "I told you everything already."

"Right. Well, how about this? What would you say to Marion if she suddenly showed up to camp?"

He shrugs his shoulders but says nothing.
Grr. Men can be such pains in the ass at times.

"You're in a safe place here. You can say anything," I press. "What is said at the lakeshore stays at the lakeshore."

He stares down at his hands, stripping a twig of its bark.

"Come on, man," I say, softening my tone. "I know it's something you've imagined a million times."

He narrows his eyes and presses his lips together firmly before speaking. "I would...." he begins, his voice surprising me with its unsteadiness. "I would... ask her why she did it," he says slowly. "Why she did not wait for me."

The pain in his voice makes me ache inside. Poor guy.
Poor, poor guy. This Marion chick is a real bitch and a half, isn't she? I know what I'd do if she showed up at camp. I'd smack her upside the head.

"That'd be a good start. What else?"

"I do not know," he says, shrugging his broad shoulders and staring at the ground.

"Yes, you do."

He sighs deeply. "I would... I would tell her that I loved her. That I would have done... anything." He looks over at me for the first time, his brilliant green eyes clouded. "I would have... I would have died for her, Christian."

Tears prick the corners of my eyes as I look back at him. How could Marion do this, blow off a guy who loved her so much? Stupid bitch. She doesn't know how good she had it.
A once-in-a-lifetime storybook love. A man willing to lay down his very life for her. And she gave it up for a few pieces of silver.

What I wouldn't give to have someone feel that way about me. But that'll never happen. I'm not the kind of girl who gamers that kind of love. Hell, my own mother would have sold me for a nickel bag of pot. Actually I think one time she did. And Danny... Oh Danny, why?

"Are you crying?" Robin asks suddenly, cocking his head in confusion. "Did I upset you by my words?"

I swipe at my eyes with my sleeve. "No. Sorry," I say, my face burning with embarrassment. "Your story just... affected me. I'm real sensitive. Always crying at movies—
er... plays." They did have plays in medieval times, right? God, what I wouldn't give for five minutes with Wikipedia to look this stuff up.

Robin reaches over and awkwardly takes my hand in his, giving it a small squeeze. The gesture sends a flood of longing straight to my already aching heart. He's so sweet.
So genuine and true. He would have never cheated on Marion with a waitress. Heck, he wouldn't have cheated with the queen of England. He's the type of man who's loyal to a fault. The one who loves with all his soul.