Free Forests of the Heart by Charles De Lint Page B

someone to help me eat them. Would you have any coffee?”
    Ellie glanced at her coffee maker and pulled a face. “Let me put on a fresh pot. That stuff’s been sitting there all day now.”
    Donal followed her to the kitchen area, marked off from the rest of the loft by a kitchen table and chairs set up close to a large industrial steel sink, a long counter and the pair of old appliances that had come with the place: a bulky fridge and an equally stout stove, both dating back to the sixties. He settled in one of the chairs by the table while Ellie ground some fresh beans for the coffee maker.
    “So I heard you were a bit of the hero last night,” he said.
    Ellie turned to look at him. “Who told you that?”
    “Tommy. I ran into him at the Dear Mouse Diner when I was having breakfast this morning with Sophie and Jilly.”
    “God, what was he doing up at that time? We didn’t get the van back to Angel’s until six-thirty.”
    “I don’t think he’d been to bed yet,” Donal said.
    Ellie shook her head. “We have
such
weird schedules. It’s a wonder we can still function.”
    “And you’re avoiding the subject. That was a good thing you did. Take the compliment, woman. We’re all proud of you.”
    Ellie finished pouring water into the coffee maker. Turning it on, she joined Donal at the table.
    “It was pretty yucky,” she said. “I don’t know what he’d choked on but it took me forever to get the taste of his vomit out of my mouth.” She looked at the bag of croissants that he’d brought. “And doesn’t that little thought do wonders for the appetite.”
    “Sorry I mentioned it.”
    “Don’t be.”
    But she still wanted to go rinse her mouth out with mouthwash again.
    “So your man’s doing fine?” Donal asked.
    Ellie nodded. “I called the hospital to check on him before I went to bed this morning.” She paused, then added, “It’s weird. When Angel had us all taking that CPR course, I didn’t think I’d remember any of it. But when it was actually happening, it was like I went into automatic. I didn’t even have to think about it.”
    Donal slipped into a broader Irish accent. It was easy for him to do, seeing how he’d been born and lived half his life over there. “Sure, and wouldn’t that be the whole point of the course?”
    “I guess.”
    Thinking about last night made Ellie remember the man who was actually a woman with her silver flask filled with Welsh whiskey.
    “Have you ever tried metheglin?” she asked. “It’s this—”
    “Oh, I know what it is. Miki has a friend who makes it. Not quite Guinness, mind you, but it’ll do. Bloody strong bit of the gargle. Sneaks up and gives you a kick like poteen.”
    Ellie nodded, remembering how the liquor had made her eyes tear last night.
    “Where did you have it?” Donal asked.
    The coffee was ready, so over steaming mugs and croissants, Ellie gave him a rundown of the previous night’s events, finishing up with the woman she’d met while Tommy had been talking to the police.
    “I would have thought she was a man, if it hadn’t been for Tommy,” she said.
    “It’s like one of those old ballads,” Donal said. “You know, where your man finds out his cabin boy’s really a woman. I wonder what she’s hiding from?”
    “Who knows? In this city, I’m not sure I even want to know.”
    Donal shook her head. “Jaysus, where’s your sense of mystery? Maybe she’s a deposed, foreign princess and all she has left of her former life is that silver flask. She’d be carrying herself with a tragic air, am I right?”
    “Hardly.”
    “Fair enough. So she’s learned to hide it well. To live with her disappointments. To put the past aside and get on with her life.”
    Ellie sighed. “You know, the way you and Jilly can carry on you’d think every street person is some charming eccentric, or basically a sweet and kind person who’s only had a bit of bad luck. But it doesn’t work that way. They need our sympathy,