My Unfair Godmother (25 page)

“What is it?” Hudson asked. He stood up and walked over.

My father, who sat next to me, leaned over and read, “The young guard carried the miller’s daughter to the wall where they escaped from the king’s men, making their way into the surrounding wilder-ness. That night they slept under a blanket of stars.” It was the last sentence written on the page, the new end of the story. Dad examined the picture more closely. “Is that supposed to be last night?”

From my other side, Hudson looked at the picture. “How come it doesn’t mention anybody else?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Artistic license, I guess?” Nick reached over and took the book from my hands. “Hey,” I said, trying to snatch it back. “I’m supposed to write the moral.”

“It will help us figure out the moral if we know the story.” Nick proceeded to read the entire thing, including the passages about the handsome young guard who came to the miller’s daughter’s rescue.

Nick snorted during those paragraphs, then turned to Hudson. “I think this book seriously has a crush on you.” I blushed. Did the book know I found Hudson attractive, that I had liked the feel of his hand around mine last night? Is that why it had painted him as some romance novel hero?

“So,” Nick said, “the new moral of the story would be what? ‘Make sure you’ve got a buff guard to carry you around’?” 230/356

I reached for the book again, but Nick still held it away. “No?

Okay, I’ve got the real one. It’s ‘Always be prepared.’ ”

“That’s the Boy Scout motto,” Hudson said, like this automatically disqualified it from being the moral.

“Then what is it?” Nick asked Hudson. “The new part of the story is about you, so you should be able to figure out the moral.” He handed the book to Hudson, who flipped through the pages, searching for clues. Or maybe he wasn’t searching for clues. Mostly he seemed to be examining the paintings. He looked carefully at the ones of us together. He took in the details, noting the way I held on to his neck while he carried me and the longing that had been painted into my eyes.

I expected him to laugh like Nick had, but he didn’t. He lowered the book and looked over at me, examining my eyes in real life. I could barely hold his gaze. It felt like he could see into my mind, like he could open up my thoughts and sort through them. Did he know I had a crush on him? Would it make things awkward between us now … or was it possible that he liked me too?

I kept my voice casual, unconcerned. “So what do you think the moral is?”

He paused, keeping his gaze on mine for another moment. Then he handed the book back. “I wish I knew.” I’m not sure why that answer disappointed me, but it did.

Chapter 17

While everybody else cleaned up breakfast and worked on packing our stuff, I sat by the fire and wrote down morals, starting with the Boy Scout motto.

It did sound like a good moral: Be prepared. If you’re going to travel to the Middle Ages, do it with boxes of canned goods, fire extinguishers, and automobiles with loud horns.

Nothing stuck.

Maybe the moral of the story was that magic books are evil and they want to make you suffer. I didn’t bother writing that one. There was no point in antagonizing it.

Finally, I put the book down on my lap in disgust. “This should work. We escaped. The story is over.” Only Hudson was listening to me. He was shoving one of our sleeping bags into its sack while Nick and Sandra took down the tent.

Dad had gone over to talk to Robin Hood.

I ran a finger over the book cover dismally. “The hero and heroine made a dramatic escape and slept underneath a blanket of stars.

That’s a good ending.”

“It’s not even accurate,” Hudson said. “You slept in a tent with your family. I slept on a bedroll next to a bunch of outlaws.”

“It doesn’t have to be accurate,” I said. “It just has to be good.” Hudson gave the sleeping bag one last shove, pushing it into its sack. “So the moral of the story is that if you can turn things into gold, you can buy off people to help you do anything you want.” I tapped the pen against my hand. “That doesn’t sound like a very good moral for a children’s story.”

232/356

“No,” he said. “But it’s true, isn’t it? And what are you planning on doing with all that wealth now that you’ve got it?” I didn’t understand his sudden snippiness. Did he think I was going to turn into a King John? That I was going to sit around all day admiring my stash of gold and paying off lackeys to do my bidding?

“I only asked for this enchantment because I wanted money to keep the library open so my dad and Sandra wouldn’t lose their jobs.” Hudson let out a laugh like he didn’t believe me. “So when we get back home, you’re not planning to move to some mansion somewhere and spend your time hobnobbing with the rich and famous?” I slid the pen back into the book. “You make it sound bad when you put it that way.”

He shook his head. “So the moral of the story is about money, isn’t it? ‘Get as much as you can.’ ” And what was wrong with money? I wanted to finally have a say in my own life instead of being pushed around by everyone else’s circumstances. I wanted to be able to live whereever I wanted. Money was freedom.

I stood up and brushed the dirt from my dress. “I shouldn’t have expected you to understand.”

He straightened. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’ve never tried to understand my point of view in anything.”

“
I’ve
never tried to
understand
?” He tossed the sleeping bag into one of the boxes. “I risked my life to rescue you. I carried you along the wall.”

“Thanks,” I said. “What do you want as payment for that? Just name your price.”

233/356

He let out a groan. “You know, not everything in life is for sale.” Then he turned and headed toward the Merry Men. “I need to help your dad pick out horses.”

I watched him go, wondering why he was so upset. I wasn’t trying to buy him off; I was being generous. We could all be rich when we made it back home.

I should have gone to help Sandra pack things, but I watched Hudson for another moment. His boots, sword, and chain mail—they looked normal on him now. Normal in a masculine, rugged sort of way. It was hard to imagine him back at Rock Canyon High in jeans and T-shirts. When we returned, would he talk to me in the hallway?

Pretend none of this had ever happened? Treat me with the same sullen distance he used with the other girls at school? But then, if I moved to a mansion somewhere in another city, it wouldn’t matter. I wouldn’t go to school with him anymore.

I didn’t like that thought, not after we’d gone through so much together.

I had the sudden desire to yell out to him, “I don’t have to move to a mansion. I’d be perfectly happy with my old house if it weren’t trashed and stuck in the Middle Ages.” But that was assuming too much. He probably didn’t care about seeing me again.

I went and helped Sandra and Nick pack up the boxes. Before we were done, Dad came over, frowning. “Robin Hood says they can’t spare any horses because they need them to carry their provisions. He says Hudson should go to the nearest village and buy horses for us. In the meantime, he wants us to drive the cars about ten miles down the road to a better hiding spot. It’s less populated there.” Nick grunted as he set the tent bag down. “That’s what we get for giving them so much gold. Now they need all their horses to carry it.” 234/356

Dad rummaged through the supplies, taking a few things out.

“They don’t even want to let Hudson borrow a horse so he can make it to the village faster. He’s still trying to convince them about that.”

“Hudson is going to walk?” I asked. I had heard the Merry Men talk about the village this morning. It was six miles up the road.

Dad put a flashlight, matches, and a box of crackers into a pillowcase. “Hudson is the only one of us who knows anything about horses—and he’s got a sword. He’s the best choice. We’ve set up a meeting place and I’m giving Hudson one of the walkie-talkies so he’ll be able to reach us when he gets close.” Dad dropped one of the walkie-talkies into the pillowcase, then added granola bars and a water bottle.

I turned to look at Hudson and Robin Hood. They still stood talking by the horses. From the way Hudson’s jaw was set, I didn’t think it was going well.

Dad left the pillowcase on the ground and hefted the biggest box onto his shoulder. “Let’s pack up the car.” Nick picked up his backpack and the tent bag and followed after him. Sandra grabbed a couple of sleeping bags. When I picked up a box, she shot a look at the Merry Men and motioned for me to stay.

The men were busy wrapping up their gold inside their bedrolls, and they were talking loudly enough that they couldn’t hear us. Still, Sandra leaned toward me and whispered, “Someone should guard these supplies until we can lock them in the cars again. We only took them out last night because we needed room to carry the men. These modern things …” She ran a hand over a box. “I don’t completely trust the Merry Men, so we shouldn’t tempt them.” Sandra walked off in the direction of the car and I sat down, trying to find a place on the ground that was less dirty than the rest. Although, really, it didn’t matter. My dress was stained enough already.

235/356

My gaze drifted over to Hudson and Robin Hood again. I couldn’t help but compare them. They were both tall and handsome, but Robin Hood didn’t seem nearly as … as solid and sturdy as Hudson. I didn’t know how else to describe it, and I didn’t know why I found it so attractive, but I had felt it every time I’d touched Hudson: that solidness.

Hudson motioned to a horse. Robin Hood wrinkled his nose and said something that made Hudson narrow his eyes. I had wondered last night if Hudson and Robin Hood remembered each other. I could tell now that they did. And since the common enemy was gone, they weren’t getting along anymore.

Finally Hudson turned away from Robin Hood and strode back to me, his expression grim.

“Robin Hood wouldn’t let you borrow a horse?” I guessed.

“If I ever get back to the twenty-first century, I’m going to write a new book about Robin Hood.” He came up with a few titles then, although none that publishers would ever print.

I stood up. “I can pay him for a horse. I’ll just change something else into gold.”

Hudson sent Robin Hood another withering look. “I offered to buy one, but they already have as much gold as their horses can carry.

Right now, they’re over there deciding which town they’ll go party it up at.”

I let out a sigh. “I guess it was too much to expect that they’d give any gold to the poor.”

“Oh, they’ll be spreading it around at every alehouse and inn they come to,” he said. “The poor will get a share.” I handed him the pillowcase with the supplies. “Do you have enough gold to buy horses in the village?” Without giving him time to answer, I added, “I can give you more.” 236/356

“I have enough.” His next sentence came out slowly, thinking out loud. “But it’s still tempting to take more.”

“It’s not a problem.” At least it wasn’t much of one. I picked up a handful of acorns from the ground and changed them, only flinching a little.

I held the acorns out to him. He stared at them, but didn’t take them. After a moment of waiting, I slipped them into his pocket.

His gaze moved to my eyes. His expression was a mixture of realization and reproach that I didn’t understand. “I let you change those,” he said, “even though I knew it would hurt you.” He shook his head as though he regretted that and looked me over. “How bad is the pain?”

“It’s not bad for little things.”

“The whole enchantment is bad.” He took an acorn out of his pocket and turned it over in his hand. It glistened in his fingers like a piece of jewelry. “Your enchantment unleashes a powerful dark magic.”

“What do you mean?”

“Greed,” he said. “If it’s doing this to me, what is it doing to someone like him?” He nodded over at Robin Hood. “It’s got to have occurred to him that his band will have all the money they want if they don’t let you go.”

“They wouldn’t …,” I started, but I didn’t finish the sentence. Why
wouldn’t
they keep me a prisoner? King John had been eager enough to do it.

Hudson didn’t take his gaze off the Merry Men. Friar Tuck and Will were shoving each other over some insult, and the rest of the men were laughing. “I shouldn’t leave you with them,” Hudson said.

“You’re outnumbered, and your family doesn’t have any real weapons.

Why would bandits ever let you go?”

237/356

I had left the magic book sitting on top of one of the boxes, and now I picked it up and held it tightly. Suddenly I worried that Robin Hood would take it from me. Did he understand what it was? We had been sitting in two separate groups this morning at breakfast, but some of the men must have overheard us talking about it. If Robin Hood took the book away from me, I couldn’t write the moral, and I would be trapped here.

I stepped close to Hudson so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice while we talked. No, that wasn’t why I stood close. I wanted to be near him, to feel his sturdiness.

Hudson lowered his voice. “When I leave to buy horses, Robin Hood will probably take you somewhere different from the meeting spot and then say I didn’t show up. He won’t let you leave.” I clasped the book harder. Hudson might be wrong—I hoped he was wrong—but could I take that chance? “We never should have told him I could change things into gold.” My gaze swept around the forest and the thick wall of trees that surrounded us. At breakfast, the forest had seemed beautiful, but now this place seemed remote, isolated.

“You’re right. I can’t trust him.”

Hudson stared in the direction my family had gone. “Well, at least you’re finally listening to me about men.” I rolled my eyes. “I never had a crush on Robin Hood. Bo cured me of thinking bad boys were a good thing.” For a moment I worried this would count as a lie and my sparkler hat would go off. Because really, Hudson had cured me of that as much as Bo had. I hurriedly added, “I like more solid men now.”

“Solid?” Hudson’s eyes slid to mine again. “As opposed to wispy, transparent men?”

I ignored that line of questioning. “Do you have a plan?” 238/356