Mike & Karen Ch. 17

"Perhaps, but not exactly fair to those other students," Mike sighed, shaking his head. "Maybe somebody in town'll let me stay in a room if I-"

"There's another possibility," she suggested.

"Fire away, I'm all ears, Tammy."

"Hardly," she snickered, looking up and down his massive frame. "There's a few of us employees of the college who live in a house together at the corner of the campus. While it's meant for staff, in theory, there's never been a hard-and-fast rule that says a student couldn't stay there, you know? The scholarship funds meant for your room and board could be put towards the place's upkeep. And it'd be nice to have a strong man around, since it's just us three women at the moment. Y'know, to reach those... inaccessible places and so on."

"That... hardly sounds appropriate, although not unappealing," Mike said somewhat uncertainly. "How on earth would you get away with that, even if your roomies agreed?"

Tammy laughed again. "Trust me, Kong, they'll agree when they see you. As for the college, do you have any idea how many rules they had to bend or even break to get you here? Trust me, they ain't gonna blink if you end up in a bedroom in our big house. So long as you're not raping, killing and eating us, they'll happily look the other way."

"Sounds a lot better than crashing in my sleeping bag in the middle of the campus lawn," he said readily. "So now what?"

"First you go and get rejected by the residence Nazis," she said, holding up a finger. "Once you've been officially rejected on a technicality, my girls and I will present the solution, and even Kelso'll back it up. You ready to live with a bunch of girls who walk around in their underwear?"

"Girls who aren't my younger sister? Hell yes."

"My semester's lookin' way up," Tammy purred, lowering herself from the stone and sauntering over to him.

***

The Bridle Path, the present...

The small group strolled through the back lot, while Freja, Jeanie and Heather were getting all the volunteers organized for dinner. Karen walked with Jordan, her arm through his, while accompanied by Mike, Alex, and Alexa. The late afternoon sun was shining as they strolled along the snow-covered moss path, surrounded by rows of tall trees. The day was mild, and the world quiet.

"You know you're no longer our employee, Jordan, yes?" Karen said as she walked along with him.

"Perhaps, but it is very hard to stay out of a mode of behaviour one was so comfortable in for so long," he replied, enjoying the constitutional after spending most of the day thus far in an office, conducting interviews. "But as I pointed out, I am perhaps uniquely qualified to determine who should be working here, my dear."

"Oh, I won't argue that," she agreed, nodding. "What I am saying is that you needn't drive yourself into the ground with these interviews. We have hired five of the ten live-in staff we will need, and the rest will come shortly. I insist you enjoy yourself as well as work, good sir."

"Well, there is no saying no to you, once you have engaged your will, is there?" Jordan quipped.

"Seconded," Mike said, striding alongside them, and making everyone laugh. "Kar's right though, Jordan. Take it easy. You're family, not the hired help. If there was a way to adopt an eighty-seven-year-old man as a son, I'm sure Kar'd do it."

"Just to have her deny me an allowance? I think not!" Jordan sniffed, making everyone laugh again. "Oh, I do love these grounds on a mild winter day."

"It brings back a lot of memories, doesn't it?" Karen said wistfully, watching her breath steam in front of her as they walked toward the northwest edge of the property. They were approaching a small, abandoned stone house. "How many times did I walk this path..."

"If memory serves, it's where you met your little feathered friend, isn't it?" Jordan mused.

"You're talking about Tylluan, aren't you?" Alexa piped up, smiling brightly. "Mom told me all about him."

Karen nodded. Tylluan had been a small wild owl that lived somewhere on the property and had befriended Karen when she was around ten years old. He wasn't exactly a pet, so much as a drop-in family member who liked to eat mice. "I miss that little twerp."

"Mom said dad kinda hated him because whenever you let him in the house, he barfed in dad's slippers," Alexa giggled. "Is that true, or was mom just trolling?"

"He regurgitated mouse bones and hide into our father's slippers at least once I can recall," replied the older sister. "Although to hear mom describe Tyl, he was eight feet tall, and had a thirty-foot wingspan. He was more the size of a kitten, really. A kitten with extra-pointy talons and beak."

"That's the way she made him sound, all giant and stuff," Alexa snickered. "I'm surprised I never heard any tall tales about you riding on his back to school. Not that I would have doubted it."

They arrived at the small, carved stone house, and paused to just look at it. To the rear was a small stream, currently frozen, and a little wooden bridge that crossed its short span. Spaced around the tiny house were small plots meant to be gardens, but long since overgrown. Lattices and arbours abounded. It had been uninhabited for decades and it was last used as a little more than a shed for obsolete tools.

"What was the name of the man who owned this place?" Alexa asked. "I don't think mom ever told me."

"Old Hiram Burke," Jordan answered, smiling and Alexa and putting a kindly hand on her shoulder. He was so happy to have this remarkable young woman back in his life. "His lawyer had finally sold the plot to your grandfather, Frederick, when your father just a little boy, if memory serves. Oh, I wasn't there for it, of course, but I heard often enough about how troublesome old Hiram had been."

"It was his legacy, his little corner of this big world," Karen sighed, looking at the place. "Everybody needs a place to call their own, after all. Oh, Jordan, a question."

"Yes, Karen, my dear?" the old man queried, looking at her.

"You wouldn't happen to have a loonie on you, would you?" she asked.

Jordan considered for a moment, felt around in his various pockets, and finally fished one out his jacket. "Yes, I do, as a matter of fact."

"Will you give me that loonie, please?"

Jordan blinked, but handed it over to his beloved Karen without hesitation. She looked at the dull gold-coloured coin and then placed it in Mike's palm. "Will that be enough?"

"To cover all the restoration work involved and make it a charming cottage? Certainly," declared the lord of the DeBourne clan. "And with money to spare."

"I don't understand," Jordan said, rather confused.

"It's very simple, really," Karen said, smiling while pulling Alexa close. The blonde girl was almost fit to burst with excitement as each of them took one of his hands. "Congratulations, Jordan Winson. For a single dollar, you have purchased the Burke Homestead. It is legally yours, lock, stock and barrel. The papers have already been drawn up, all I needed was a dollar and now your signature."

Jordan's mouth moved, but he seemed incapable of saying anything.

Karen smiled, her eyes shining while Alexa was already sniffling. Mike and Alex watched on, grinning in satisfaction. "Alex had the idea a few days ago, that we give the house to you, to be your own. Yes, you'll always be a member of our family, Jordan, but we figured you might want some privacy, rather than living in one of the suites, surrounded by our chaos. The suites are for transient guests, after all."

He gaped at the sisters, still saying nothing.

"We're going to fix it up, Jordan," Alexa said, picking up where her sister left off, still holding his hand in hers. "A Christmas present, a month late, I guess. We're going to turn it into the prettiest little cottage, like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting. And it'll be all yours. And we'll come and visit you every day, because it'll be the most serene spot anywhere on the property. I can't wait."

"Words fail me, my dear," he said finally. "But I... I cannot wait either. How can this old man thank you?"

"By accepting my family's thanks for everything you've ever done for us, Jordan," Mike said, looming over everyone. "Alex is right, this is just a small token of our appreciation. But maybe it's a start, hm?"

"I accept your gratitude most humbly, sir," Jordan said before Karen and Alexa squealed and hugged him, bursting into tears of joy.

And another piece of this wondrous new mosaic had fallen into place.

***

St George Campus, 1985...

Lisa was giggling at some absurd statement her new roomie had made as they walked arm-in-arm across the campus. It had been a blithe joke, and more than a little risqué, but somehow Karen had pulled it off while still sounding sophisticated and dignified.

"Oh my God, you telling naughty jokes is the best thing I've ever heard," the redhead snickered. "Do you know any more?"

"None that I should be telling while the sun is up," Karen quipped, winking at her roomie. "But maybe I can-"

"Wow, you two are a cute couple," remarked someone nearby. The pair paused and turned to look at the speaker. A young woman about their age, wearing a baseball cap over brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, was smiling at them from a bench they'd been passing. She wasn't sitting on the seat of the bench, but the back of it, her beat-up sneakers resting on the place people would normally sit. Her hazel eyes glinted with amusement. "But I guess that's good advertising for the movement in this day and age, huh? Kudos!"

Karen stepped forward toward her, mindful of the cigarette the girl was holding casually in the hand which rested on her knees. "Karen. Karen Gordon. And your name?"

"Janet Remington," said the girl in a lazy tone, shaking Karen's hand readily. "First year Law."

"Civil? Criminal? Family? Corporate?" queried Karen.

"Not sure yet," Janet replied, shrugging. "Maybe all four if I'm feeling ambitious. How 'bout you?"

"Physics, Mathematical and Experimental," Karen said. "Minoring in Music and Divinities."

"Ooh, an egghead," Janet quipped, grinning. "I could use a friend like you, keep me on my toes."

"Well first, then..." Karen announced, taken the cigarette out of Janet's hand, and then dropping it and squashing it under her shoe. "That will be enough of that."

Janet looked down at Karen's foot, and then up at her face, rather dumbfounded. "I wasn't done with that."

"Yes, you were," Karen replied simply. Lisa watched on uncertainly, not at all sure what was about to happen. "You said so yourself."

"I did what?" Janet exclaimed. "Since when?"

"When you announced we were to be friends, of course," Karen explained, as if the truth was self-evident. "And that certainly will not be happening while you pollute the air around me."

"Y'mean if we're gonna be friends, I can't smoke?" demanded the brown-haired girl.

By way of explanation, and to Janet's shock, Karen moved forward and simply pushed her hand down the front of Janet's shirt. Janet's eyes went wide as Karen fumbled around for a moment in the girl's bra before pulling her hand back out, holding a small pack of cigarettes in it. Lisa stared rather blankly from nearby. Had her new roomie just done that in broad daylight?

"Oh, awright!" said a young man who was walking by and happened to witness the moment. He was wearing a big, leering grin. "Gottny more'a that for me to see?"

Karen's head snapped around to glare at him, her golden-amber eyes flashing as she marched up to him deliberately. She was just a shade shorter than he was, and he backed up uncertainly.

"You will keep a civil tongue in your unprepossessing face!" she said loudly enough for people nearby to look and see what was happening. The colour was leaving the guy's face as he took another step back.

Janet looked at Lisa and mouthed the word 'unprepossessing', the question of meaning implied. Lisa shrugged helplessly.

"Okay! Okay! Sorry! Don't hurt me!" he said hastily, worried that she might bite his head off and eat the contents.

"Good," she said tersely, thrusting the pack of cigarettes out to him. "Now be on your way and get rid of these!"

"Yes, ma'am!" he said as he hustled off, determined to get as far away as possible. Once he was out of kicking range, Karen turned and headed back to Lisa and her new associate. Janet was still gaping at everything that had just happened.

"W- what if I wasn't done with those?" she asked, still not sure she'd seen it.

"You'll need to quit cold turkey, of course, I believe that's the appropriate term," Karen answered before turning her head to look at Lisa. "Cold turkey? Is that the right term for quitting some bad habit completely?"

Lisa fumbled through a shrug helplessly.

"And not only did you destroy or give away my cigs, you copped a feel off me," Janet said, trying to sound indignant. "Not all of us are lesbos, y'know."

"Neither am I, I'm technically bisexual," Karen said, cocking her head at her roomie. "I believe my roomie might be a lesbian, though."

"I... yes? Maybe?" Lisa offered.

"Here's the deal," Karen said, fixing her gaze on Janet, who met it for less than two seconds before looking down. This woman's eyes were terrifying. They punched right through to your soul, and made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

So why didn't she hate it?

Karen continued, even if Janet wasn't looking at her. "You give up smoking, right now, and you're in with Red and I. Because we will be the dominant force on this campus. Are you in?"

Despite the nicotine fit she was already having, Janet considered. She'd half-considered quitting a dozen times recently anyway, hadn't she? It would certainly ease her financial crunch to ditch the habit.

"You're not gonna make me give up sex, are you?" she asked. These strict types could be problematic. "Because that guy you just scared off by threatening him with my cigs? I've had my eye on him since I arrived three days ago, and I was gonna see if I could get him in bed."

"You can do better," Karen said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Your body is your own, provided it has no negative impact on the health of myself or Miss Heyman, which smoking most certainly would. And your purse will no doubt thank you as well."

"We'll see about that," Janet muttered, shaking her head. "Fine, princess, I'm in and the cancer sticks are out. Do we have some goofy secret handshake or something for this little club of ours?"

Karen looked at Lisa and cocked her head, indicating that she should come closer. Lisa did so, holding out her hand to Janet. "Uh... Lisa Heyman, First Year Sociology."

"Janet Remington, reformed sinner and aspiring lawyer," Janet sighed, shaking the redhead's hand.

"As blithe a contradiction as one could ever ask for," quipped Karen, making Lisa giggle and Janet roll her eyes. "Come, I'll bring you for dinner as well, Janet."

"Oh yeah? Where we headed?" Janet asked, clambering off the bench and falling in beside Karen as they began to walk. "If we're goin' anywhere fancy, I'll need to-"

She almost ducked and Lisa squeaked as Karen's hand flashed out and snatched a sheet of paper out of the air, carried by a stiff September breeze. She drew it in and glanced at it, while her friends leaned in to take a peek.

"Wow, not bad at all," Lisa said while Janet whistled. A highly stylised but exquisite charcoal sketch of Robert E. Howard's fantasy hero Conan graced the page, holding his massive sword in the air and glowering while a buxom and scantily clad woman hugged his muscular thigh.

At least, Karen guessed it was Howard's Conan. She couldn't readily tell.

"Oh, thank God you caught it," said a young black woman as she hurried up, holding a portfolio book against her chest, her kinky afro flowing in the wind. "Thank you so much!"

"You did this? It's very good," Karen said, handing the girl the sketch. "I don't know much about Conan or fantasy art, but-"

"Uh, close, but it's actually just my personal take on Darkwolf and Teegra from the animated movie Fire and Ice by Bakshi," the young woman said somewhat hesitantly, strangely reluctant to correct the beautiful stranger.

Well damn, Karen thought, shrugging to herself. You can't be right about everything. Close, though.

"Your eyes," the black girl said, staring at Karen. "They're incredible. I... I'm sorry, but you're beautiful. May I do a portrait of your face some time?"

"That depends," Karen said, holding out her hand. "My name is Karen Godon, this is Jane Remington, and that's Lisa Heyman. And what's your name?"

"Mona Bresciani," replied the girl, taking Karen's hand and shaking it. "Visual Arts, specializing in animation."

"Welcome aboard, Mona," Karen said pleasantly, already adoring the girl. "Come with us, I hope you brought your appetite..."

***

Blackwell Manor, the present...

Dinner had arrived from several restaurants, with everyone's personal orders having been taken earlier in the day. It was the least the residents could do to express their appreciation. Nearly fifty people now sat around on the floor inside one of the large rooms, enjoying their food while talking and listening to their hosts tell strange tales of past family incidents.

"It seems to be a clan curse," Karen said as she continued to relate her story. "On the Blackwell side of my family, at least one person in every generation has died or been killed in some bizarre way. It's recorded that my great-ancestor, Gerrard Blackwell, was a lieutenant of the Third Regiment of Foot Guards. When Wellington ordered his entire front line to retire two hundred yards, Gerrard refused, and marched forward, by himself."

"Oh, jeez, in the middle of battle?" exclaimed one young man sitting nearby. Karen was seated on a stool, while Alexa was nearby, strumming out soothing notes on an acoustic guitar. Mike and Alex leaned against the wall, simply watching.

"That's what the regimental report read," Karen confirmed. "And he was rewarded by a greeting of several hundred musket balls from Napoleon's Old Guard. There wasn't enough left of him to recover, I'm told, although his perforated hat is sitting in my office at Blackwell HQ in Quebec City. And he's not the most bizarre death, I assure you. Perhaps just the most stupidly heroic."

"You don't have any plans to go out like that, do you, prof?" asked one young woman, looking at Mike in amusement.

"Hey, I'm a DeBourne, we live to ripe old ages by not doing phenomenally stupid things, so leave me out of this," Mike replied, eliciting gales of laughter from the volunteers.

"Says the man who once attacked close to four hundred Nazis by himself at a rally before he was twenty," Karen said dryly, garnering yet more laughter. "Alfred Blackwell, a young scion in the mid-sixteenth century, was trying to print pro-aristocratic propaganda, and got squashed in the printing press somehow. Crushed his skull like a melon."

"Guess he made it into the headlines after all, mom," Alex quipped, grinning. "Or the deadlines."

Karen played her part and rolled her eyes in feigned exasperation while everyone else roared with laughter again at Alex's remark. Mike inched away from his son, as if trying to avoid the incoming lightning bolt, and people laughed even more.

"I can't believe you grew up here, ma'am," said a one girl, pausing in eating her vegetarian food. "Like, why would anyone need to work if they came from a place like this?"

"In my family, you were of use, or you weren't," Karen answered. "You showed your value and made your contributions, without question. If you were incapable, you were shunted off to some remote place with a stipend that got you through comfortably to your dying days, but also ensured you were not an embarrassment to the family. There was no room in my young life for not succeeding. I was quite driven to prove my worth. But I didn't want to be some corporate monster, and I chose my field and never looked back."