Hilary and the Beasts, Part 28

July 1930

The rain finally cleared up in time for the 4th of July. It left heat, radiant sunshine, and sticky humidity in its wake. They didn’t have any fireworks to set off, but Mrs. Fox made delicious hamburgers and hot dogs, and there were salads from the garden and jello molds with fruit. Puppy, Betty, and Maple strung Japanese lanterns from the trees and arbors, giving the whole garden a fairy-tale quality. 

Hilary walked down the path, fanning herself with a beautiful Japanese-style wood and cloth fan. The white flower print on the turquoise backdrop fluttered against her red organdy with the blue ribbon trim and her best straw cloche. She smiled, watching as Mr. Rabbit played “I’m a Yankee Doodle Dandy” on Miss Organ with such tender reverence, she believed the bunny-man was totally besotted by the talking instrument.

She watched as Maple, in her blue-Swiss-dotted sundress, hurried over to Eagle as he brought a bundle of fish to be grilled with their dinner. Maybe it was her, but the way Eagle looked at her sister, he was almost in love with her. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Her sister had many suitors over the years. She usually wasn’t serious about them…but there was something about Eagle that made her really take him under her wing, so to speak. 

He’d been scarce for almost a week after that vivid dream Maple had. She mentioned his neck was badly sore for more than a week following that afternoon in the office. Her sister brought him broth and fish and liniment for his neck. She even got Miss Organ into his office and played the latest hit ballads from the movies for him. 

He certainly seemed to be fine now. He even let Maple draw him into a dance. She sighed, watching them wistfully. Eagle kept stumbling - talons weren’t meant for dancing - but he seemed happy enough as she twirled and swayed in his wings. She hurried away as Miss Organ switched to the graceful waltz “Ramona.”

It wasn’t hard to find Betty and Bear. They sat together on a wrought-iron bench in the shade of a massive apple tree, the same place they’d been since the weather broke. Even here, they were reading. Betty, looking like an angel all in white organdy, read “The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere.” Bear, his sleek, newly-trimmed black and silver fur covered by a light blue cotton shirt and navy trousers, hung on her every word. His big amber eyes gazed at her with a look somewhere between reverence and devotion. 

She sighed. This wasn’t what she wanted for her sisters. They were too beautiful and talented to be in love with animals that could never take care of them. And yet…there was more and more evidence that these weren’t really animals. Those dreams…Bear’s charming smile…all those papers in Eagle’s office…it all seemed so familiar, like a dream she couldn’t hold onto.

Miss Organ had switched to “Roses of Yesterday” as Hilary turned the corner into the rose garden. She was surprised to see a skinny, sickly green back bent over an empty row of black dirt. Troll was stripped to the waist, showing off his bent, gaunt back with its near-skeletal ribcage, the sun glinting off the ever-present slime. She was surprised at the strength and delicacy he showed as he dug his sharp claws into the soft earth.

“Hello there.” She knelt on the soft towels next to him. He was stripped to the waist, his coarse tangle of mousey curls pulled back with a thick scarf, the curly ram’s horns tangled in the blossoms. She grabbed a pair of gardening gloves. “Could you use some help? I’m not bad with roses. My…ex-husband…and I had a garden of our own in New York. I wouldn’t harm them for the world, and I won’t keep them if you don’t want me to.”

He only nodded, snorting through his non-existent nostrils. “It’s all right, Hilary. I’m usually the one who does this.” She was surprised at how charming his smile was with no lips. “I might as well do something with these,” he held up those razor-sharp claws.

“Oh,” she chuckled, “so that’s what those pruning shears on your hands are good for?” 

“You’d be surprised.” Now his grotesque grin was nearly boyish. “I can cut my own steak at dinner with no knife, and cut the roses precisely with no pruning shears, too.” She watched as he kneaded his hand into the deep, dark earth, turning it over with his dirty fingers. “I may not be the smartest freak of nature on the planet, but I do know how to do this.” 

Those lashless almond eyes turned away from her, almost…ashamed. “That's all I can do, now. Since she…” He coughed again. “Well, I’m just a gardener now, running a house full of animals. Not much more intelligent than Bear. I can read well enough to figure out the invoices for our supplies, but writing…” He ruefully held up his soil-crusted claws. “Let’s say it’s hard to hold a pen or pencil when your nails are longer than a carving knife.” 

“That’s far from the truth.” She took the trowel from a wicker basket in between them and dug into the earth next to him. “When we talk at dinner, and you’re not asking me to marry you, you seem intelligent enough. The conversations we’ve had about acting, how to project your voice, the shows we’ve discussed and read about in Newspaper and Variety…no mere fool would know so much about the stage. You’re almost as knowledgeable as me, and I come from a great theatrical family.”

“Thank you.” Troll’s wan chuckle came out more like a mild growl. “I suppose that’s the closest thing I’ll get to a compliment from you.” 

She made a face. “You’re not exactly profuse with the compliments yourself. Even when we talk theater, we just end up arguing. You can be infuriatingly stubborn, for a…a…”

“Troll?” He said, those almond eyes unreadable. “A hideous freak?”

“Well, no.” She pushed harder at the trowel as she widened the hole he began. “I’m not sure what you are…but whatever it is, you are NOT a freak.” 

He gave her a smile that managed to be so sweet and boyish, even with those pointy canines of his. “It’s good to hear you say that. Your father certainly thought I was.”

She glared at him, slamming her trowel hard into a particularly rocky spot. “From what he says, you screamed at him over a rose, then forced him to send his oldest daughter to you!”

“First of all,” he snapped, “as you may have noticed, these roses are important to me. They were intended for…well, they and this house are all I have left. Second, he screamed in my ear and practically fell at my feet, begging me not to hurt him! I’d never seen a hammier performance. Third,” his voice softened slightly, “it was selfish of me, maybe, but…it was the only way I could think of to see you.” 

“Me?” She finally managed to get the rock out, piling it next to the basket. “Why did you want me?”

“Let’s say I’m an…admirer of yours.” He picked up the bush, grunting and panting. “I wanted…a chance…couldn’t think of…another way…”

Hilary took the bush’s trunk without thinking, her own perfectly rounded red fingernails laced around his jagged claws. “Let me help you. No admirer of mine should be grunting like an underfed hog.” 

It took a few minutes, but they managed to get the rose into the ground together. “There,” she panted. “All we need to do is cover it and water it.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your help. Not many people understand these beauties like me.” She started patting the earth around the flower. He joined her, gently putting his hand over hers as they worked. “Hilary,” he went on, “would you like to watch the fireworks tonight with me? I was told that the municipal fireworks display can be easily seen from the garden. Maybe we can watch it at the fountain after dinner.” 

That boyish, toothy grin…even with the fangs, it was almost strangely beautiful, in a rough, slimy way. “I accept.” She stood, patting his hand. “See you tonight?”

He smiled. “See you tonight. We’ll eat dinner with the others tonight. Mrs. Fox makes excellent barbecue ribs.” 

That toothy grin nearly left her in a puddle. Something in the back of her brain stirred. “It’s a date.” She hurried off to change, feeling like a schoolgirl with her first crush. She hadn’t felt this way since…no, she wouldn’t think of him now. She wouldn’t think of what she lost. Only of the here and now, at least on this day of freedom.

She could have sworn, as she turned the corner, that she saw him reach into the scarlet rose bush they planted. He touched them so tenderly, and were those…tears? How could a monster cry like that? She thought of going to him, but she decided she’d address it at dinner instead and hurried off to wash her hands and change into something more attractive for their date.