The real Mother Goose

She didn’t know how long it took, but finally, they did go, the King vowing to come back with the dogs, and she knew he would. Of course, they wouldn’t just be any dogs, not regular domesticated dogs, but rather the dog-humans, whose sense of smell was ten times greater, who could track a man through water if they had to.

And where was she going to go? There was no portal left, no escape.

She unveiled herself carefully, slowly, listening to the sounds of the forest around her to make sure they were gone. When she was positive, she stood, leaning against a tree for a moment to regain her footing, her balance, her composure. Gathering her thoughts, she turned in the direction of the portal and began to walk. It was worth a chance, she thought. Perhaps the magician had left a hole, a gap, somewhere she could slip through.

She tried to keep herself down low in the tall grass, walking beside the path rather than on it, afraid of being out in the open, knowing the King might have posted a scout to watch for just this possibility. The portal stood, as it always had, looking huge and solid, but it had always been deceiving that way. Mother contemplated it for a moment, reaching a tentative hand out to touch its surface.

“No,” she whispered when her fingers touched the hard, rough surface, refusing to move through. She pressed harder, but the object was immovable. “No!” Frantic, she

searched the edges of the stone for resistance, scraping her fingernails against the rock, front and back, finally resorting to beating it with her fists. “No! No! No!” Finally, she collapsed, exhausted, sobbing on the ground. There was nothing left for her, then. Nothing. The world she’d left behind didn’t mean anything without the hope of Artan returning, and the other world she’d hoped to join was now inaccessible to her. Her future was beyond bleak, but she didn’t even care, her grief to raw and open to allow her to think much past her punishment. She didn’t fear it. She didn’t even fear death. What she couldn’t face was living without even a thread of hope that Artan would come for her.

She pressed her wet cheek to the cool dirt, closing her eyes, her thoughts returning to the last happy moment she’d had here, on a blanket spread wide in the field, feeding Artan fresh picked berries and honey. His bornday, her special surprise their picnic alone and a medallion he’d been searching for, found and brought through the portal by Willie in great secret.

She remembered the light in his eyes when he opened her gift, his face a mix of pleasure and disbelief. “Maren! Where did you find this?!”

“The man in the moon,” she teased. “Is it what you’ve been looking for?” He nodded, lifting it slowly in the bright sunlight, turning its silver surface over, studying the markings. “This here.” He pointed to the star shape on the back. “It’s authentic. You’ve found the real thing.”

“Well I should hope so,” she laughed and then mock-pouted, stretching out on the blanket. “You have no idea the hardship I went through to get it. Oh, the trials…!”

He grinned, leaning over to kiss her deeply, breathing her in, his hand pressing her naked breast, and then sliding down the firm, smooth flat plane of her belly.

“Now,” she whispered, threading her arms around his neck. “Let’s get busy making that baby we keep talking about.”

His eyes softened, and he leaned in to kiss her again, this time briefly, a place holder. “I’ll be right back!”

“Artan!” She called after him, laughing, shading her eyes to see him shimmering through the portal. It was the last time she saw him-his smile roguish, his dark, curly hair too long and in need of a cut, wearing the medallion she’d given him as a gift.

She waited, all afternoon and toward evening, the setting sun bleeding through the sky like her heart broken open for everyone to see, until Blue had come on horseback, looking for them both. He’d taken her back to the house, insisting she not go through looking for him-there were things at home that needed to be taken care of, and he was right. Willie had gone, Blue, too, after a fashion, but had found no sign of him.

He had left her alone, waiting for him, her heart holding out hope for the words,

“Maren! I’m back!” whispered into her desperate ears.

But she’d never hear him say her name again. The thought clenched her belly and she sobbed, burying her face in her arms, wishing the pain away, wishing she could hear him, just one last time, whisper her name.

“Maren, I’m back!”

She sobbed harder, her body wracked with the months of waiting, of holding space for him to return, the words so real she almost felt them, the heat of his breath, soft and sweet against her ear.

“Maren! It’s me! It’s Artan-I’m home!”

Her head came up like a shot, and she thought she’d slipped into insanity, her mind finally letting go, giving her the mirage of her husband in her last, final moments.