Chapter 8

Randy walked slowly toward her desk. She really should look for a job, she supposed, spend a bit of time working on her resume. She yawned as she reached the desk. No hurry, a few days of relaxing wouldn’t have her living on the street. She glanced out the window and groaned just as she had when she’d woken to see the heavy rains falling. Crappy day, she thought with another yawn.

Smirking at the computer, she realized Jareth had left it on, probably because he had no idea how to shut it down. She wiggled the mouse until the screen came back to life. A note document was open. Leaning closer, she smiled. Jareth had left her a note! She beamed; it made her feel like a kid receiving a note from her first boyfriend.

She looked around the room. Even though she couldn’t sense him, she still had to look and make sure. Picking up her coffee she read his note.

little one i hope this finds you well rested. i had not intended to keep you so long from your bed. i shall have to attempt to remember to note the clocks now that i share my time with another. i will return when the sun reaches the highest. regards jareth blackwood do not inquire as to the length of time passing as i worked to leave this for you Smiling, she read it a second time. Signing his last name probably wasn’t necessary, but it was sweet that he had done this for her. She chewed the inside of her cheek. It might be time to show him how to make capital letters, and possibly how to start a new line. She really had no clue how he moved the mouse to even find the right program, but she could picture him bent over in deep concentration as he had done this...just for her.

Moving the mouse to check the time, an hour more and he would be here. She cast the note another wry look; at least he’d given her a time...sort of. Shaking her head, she got up and grabbed her coffee mug as she walked quickly toward the stairs. Belly-revealing clothes were out today with the damp weather.

She reached the top step and stepped in something damp. Looking down slowly, she spotted a small wet spot on the floor. Huh? Something dripped on her head. She looked up and groaned. The ceiling was leaking. “Great!” She sighed and went to her room to grab some jeans. “Doesn’t the house know I’m on a budget? It had to pick right now to spring a leak?”

~

Jareth was more than stunned to find Miranda, or at least her bottom half, on a ladder with her top portions above the roof at the top of the stairs. He could see the light flashing about and hear her mumbling not-so-pleasant words to herself. He stood there with his arms crossed looking up at her. Truthfully, he wasn’t certain whether he should be smiling, yet he was.

He studied her bottom enclosed in her snug pants again and stood right where he was until the remaining part of her was visible to him as she started to climb down the rungs.

“Just freaking amazing! Between my crap-ass car and this damn house I’ll be broke before the week is out!”

Randy stepped off the ladder and turned. “Oh!” She grabbed the ladder as she encountered Jareth face-to-face! “You scared me half to death!”

He stifled a grin. “I apologize. I was attempting to ascertain what precisely you were doing.”

“I was having a minor meltdown. The roof is leaking.”

Jareth looked up. “It is raining.”

She sent him an exasperated glare. “Thanks, that helps.”

“I would offer assistance if that were possible.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. How hard is it raining outside?”

“Quite fiercely.”

She shook her head and stomped down the stairs. Jareth followed her quickly. He caught up to her with her head stuck in the coat space mumbling. She turned and held a slicker in her hand. “Miranda? What are you doing?”

As she shoved her arms into the slicker she sighed again. “Apparently I’m going up on the stupid roof in the middle of a freaking storm to cover the damn leak with a tarp or something until it stops raining and I can get to town to buy some tar and whatever!”

He stood there, completely uncertain of how to reply to such a statement. Instead of going outside, she went over to a door beside the stairs and opened it. Another exit perhaps? He followed to find it was in fact a cellar and not a path to outside after all. “Miranda?” He went down into the cellar and found her digging about in a pile of many items. “Do you think it’s wise to go out during this weather?” He could hear the water slashing against the house even louder than it had earlier.

Randy stopped and looked over at him. “It’s not really a choice, wise or not. I can’t do anything about the leak from the attic and even if I had a can of tar, I don’t think it would work out in the rain, so all I can do is cover it for now.” She turned back to the piles of stuff she had been telling herself she was going to go through for four years now. Finally she found an old orange tarp. She pulled it out and shook it open; it seemed to be free of holes. Tossing it on the floor, she turned and started to dig through another box. “If I could just be lucky enough to have some rope...” She pulled out a bungee strap and examined it. “Might do in a pinch.” She tossed it on top of the tarp.

“You are scheming to go up on top of the roof in this storm and tie a...whatever that is to the roof?” He studied what she had thrown to the floor; he truly did not know what it was.

She straightened and looked at him. “I was...” She looked at the tarp. “You don’t think I should tie it?”

“I am not certain it will stay where you require it to.”

“Crap! You’re probably right.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “Any suggestions?”

He frowned and looked at her. “I cannot recall ever repairing a roof.”

“What did you seal your ship with?”

“A mix of sulphur, tar, tallow and ...”

“That doesn’t help me.” She sighed and turned around the musty basement. Squinting, she spotted some cans sitting in the one corner. She went over and started looking through them. One of them was a small can of tar. “Bingo!”

Jareth sighed, once again uncertain of how a game had one bit to do with the canister she held in her hand. He stood back as she clattered through an odd assortment of what he perceived as tools. When she stood again she had a short instrument in her hand. It was too thick to be a knife, yet the end was formed into a flat point. He went closer and realized it was a driving tool. He watched her lever open the canister with the end of the tool. He leaned closer and observed her dipping the tool into a thick black mixture.

“It seems okay to me.” She got up off her knees and looked up at him. “We have tar. Chances of it working in the pouring rain?”

He smirked. “I do not ever recall tar requiring any particular weather to be of use.”

She nodded. “All right, now I just have to get up there.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “I don’t think my ladder will reach.” She started for the stairs. “There used to be an old one in the back porch...”

Jareth followed along behind her. He was very uncomfortable with the thought of her climbing on the top of her home in the storm. He glanced down at his hands and clenched them twice. He was of no use to her. Sighing, he turned to see she had already left the house.

His heart stopped when he found her dragging a wooden rung ladder from the back of her home. This ladder appeared to be in age close to his own, the age since the time of the curse. He had more than a few thoughts that the likeliness of it holding her was not high odds at all. “Miranda?” She most likely could not hear him with the rain thrashing her slicker. He went over to her. “Miranda, in all that was once sacred, tell me you are not going to use this rotting ladder to climb upon the house.”

Randy stopped and looked up at him and then back to the ladder. “It should work. I’m not that heavy.”

Raising both eyebrows, he glared at her. “Whether you are heavy or light is not the quandary here.” She frowned at him. “That wood is more than half rotted through.”

She shrugged and started to pull it to the front of the house. “Unless you’re going to boost me up there, it’s going to have to work.” Reaching the front, she stopped and looked up at the edge of the roof. She looked from one end of the house to the other, as if she was guessing the location of the leak.

Jareth looked up at the steep roof. He watched her stagger a few times placing the ladder against it. She at least had the good sense to spring on the bottom rung and secure it into the soil. He walked over to her. “Miranda, please leave it be until the rains cease.” She continued on with a quick shake of her head. He clenched his jaw and longed for this one time to have form enough to turn her over his shoulder and force her out of the heavy rain.

He continued to drift on the air behind her as she worked her way slowly up the wet wooden rungs. Twice he caught his hands reaching to steady her when her foot slid on the slickness of a rung. He clenched he jaw and silently cursed his own useless state. She lay there, her arms sprawled onto the rooftop while still keeping both feet on the ladder. He knew then she did not wish to be up here anymore than he wanted her here.

~

Randy clawed the shingles as she worked her feet to the roof. Her hands were covered in bits of shingles. It was much worse up here than she had thought it would be. She wasn’t a roofer by any means, but if the way they looked were any indication, she needed a new roof ASAP. Double crap! she thought to herself, afraid to speak out loud. The rain felt like it was hitting her harder now that she was higher up and droplets were now running down into the jacket. Her legs were soaked, and there wasn’t a worse feeling then wet denim clinging to you.

She slowly managed to get to her hands and knees. A part of her wanted to look down and see just how far up she was—a very small part, but she kept her eyes on the roof next to her hands. She couldn’t crawl up the stupid thing. Taking a few shaky breaths she very, very slowly brought her feet in contact with the shingles. Now she looked like she was doing a downward dog yoga position, with her hands and feet touching the roof and her butt in the air.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring herself to straighten up at all. Bending her knees, she squatted down and waddled farther up the roof, performing a childlike duck walk. Her foot slipped, causing her to smack down onto her stomach to stop from sliding down and off the roof. She lay there with her eyes clenched tightly, trying to slow her heart rate. The can of tar dug into her hip, but she didn’t dare move to adjust it.

Jareth moved over beside her and leaned down to her face. “Miranda, are you well?” She could hear the concern in his voice.

Opening her eyes slowly, his face a few inches from hers. “Just ducky, you?”

He sighed in exasperation. “I do not think this is the time for flippant remarks!” Why would she not see reason and come back down to the ground?

“Seriously, if I don’t joke about it right now I’m going to freak right out.” She pulled her knees up slowly until she was able to shuffle them up closer to her arms. Moving a few inches at a time, she finally got back into her duck position. She could barely see with her wet hair hanging in her face and the hood of the jacket clinging to one side of her head. Without turning her head she looked to try and figure out where the leak would be located.

Spotting a shingle holding on by a corner piece, she headed in that direction. Please let this be the stupid leak, she prayed. Her feet slipped twice more as she moved closer, but she was able to prevent the rest of her body from following this time. She dropped to her hands and knees when she finally reached the shingle. It was almost ripped off completely. Part of the shingle below it still showed. Was this her leak or not? She glanced around the rest of the roof; it was the only spot she could see.

With one hand she wiped at the water running down her face, only to wipe the grit from the shingles off her hand onto her face. Sighing she wrestled the can out of her pocket and rested it against her knees. Feeling around she found the pocket on the other side of her jacket and pulled the wide screwdriver out. At least she hadn’t sealed the lid again completely. She popped off the lid and then slumped in frustration as it skittered across the shingles and over the edge of the roof. She sighed, wishing she wasn’t up here.

Holding the screwdriver securely in her grip, she tipped the can and scraped at the sticky gloop until it reached the edge of the can. She then poured tar slowly onto where the shingle should have been. When she thought there was enough, she tipped the can upright and spread the tar around with the screwdriver. Hoping it was going to do the trick, she placed the shingle back into its uniform slot among the others and patted it firmly. It seemed to be stuck enough. With that she shoved the screwdriver into one pocket and fiddled with the can so it was upright inside the other. She really didn’t care if the jacket was ruined; if she made it off of here in one piece, it would be a victory.

Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Jareth was right behind her. The look on his face was not a happy one, to say the least. She’d deal with that later, live now. She found where the ladder was sticking up a foot above the eaves and started to slide backward toward it. There was no way, no how, she was turning upside down here and heading headfirst toward that ladder.

When she knew she was only a few inches from her foot touching the leg of it, she stopped and tried to figure out how she was going to get back onto the ladder. She didn’t look at Jareth, because honestly she didn’t want to see if he was still pissed or not. She turned to watch her foot as she slid a bit farther toward it.

Her shoe lightly tapped against it. She stopped and lifted the upper part of her body; moving an inch at a time, she positioned her body sideways until she could reach one foot to the first rung. Wrapping her leg around the back of the ladder she held it so she could push her upper body from the shingles and lower more of her weight down as her leg slid along the wood.

It felt like it had taken fifteen minutes to get both feet to the first rung. She sprawled her arms out and took a gulps of air before attempting to climb down. As she worked slowly down the slippery rungs she promised herself she was never, ever going up there again. If it started to leak in twenty places she would just buy lots of pails and have a symphony of dripping inside her house.

Her foot slipped on the second to the last rung and she fell back and landed on her butt in the squishy wet mud. Damn! She’d almost made it! Dragging herself to her feet, she looked up the ladder and decided it could stay right where it was. Walking awkwardly in her soaking wet clothes, she went back to the front door. She quickly stripped her jacket off and held it with two fingers as she opened the door. She kicked her shoes off and turned to hang the hood of the sopping coat on the doorknob.

Taking a deep breath, she looked down at herself and assessed how much of a mess she’d make on the floor just by getting to the bathroom. She decided she didn’t care at the moment; she just wanted to be dry. She looked up to see Jareth standing no more than a foot from her with his big arms crossed over his chest. Wow, he looked every inch a pirate at the moment. “I know...”

“Do you?” His voice was ice cold and barely more than a hiss. “Do you have the slightest of notions of what could have happened to you just now? Have you lost all sense, Miranda? You could have plummeted to your death by pulling such an ill-advised deed!” He was seething with anger and fear and the loner he assessed her standing there dripping right through to her skin, covered in pieces of the roof she had slinked over to repair, the more livid he became. “Go draw a bath before you catch a chill!” He turned and went into the first room that did not have her in it.

Randy stood there shivering and stunned. She couldn’t even be pissed at him for talking to her like that, because as her teeth started to chatter she knew he was right. If she had fallen, no one would have known. Wrapping her arms around her waist, she headed quickly into the bathroom. She didn’t even want to check to see if the ceiling was still leaking; she’d do that after she soaked in some hot water.

She flicked on the light and turned to look in the mirror. No wonder he was glaring at her. Her hair dripped; it was beyond wet. She had pieces of grit across both cheeks, probably from lying there clinging to it when she slipped. She had tar on her chin and a scrape along her jaw that she had no clue how she got. She turned and flipped on the taps and started to peel the wet, clinging material from her body.

~

He had paced throughout the entirety of the house, twice, before he heard movement inside the wash closet again. He did not feel one bit soothed since she had gone inside it. If anything he had spent the moments torturing himself with the worst possible outcomes of something having gone wrong while she had been on top of the house. He stopped and drew a few deep breaths. He knew they weren’t real but the very motions made him feel better of it.

His mind had slowly calmed to a more peaceable place when he heard the door open. He stepped into the arch of the door to look at her. She stood in the door wrapped from head to toe in a deep blue dressing gown. Her wet hair had been pulled back from her lovely face to reveal the scuff along the frail flesh of her jaw. Standing there looking upon her, whole and well, he felt the anger fade. He sighed and walked over to her, stopping a few feet from her and looking down into her eyes. “Were you harmed at all?” She shook her head. “Good, then.”

Jareth could not prevent the movement to bring him closer to her; he was drawn to her by a force he could not name. Reaching out, he held his hand just beneath the scrape on her otherwise flawless skin. The tingle he craved went through his palm. “I apologize for speaking harshly, little one. I was filled with such fear and unable to assist in any measure. It unmanned me, I am ashamed to say.”

She looked up, her eyes searching his own. “It was a stupid move. I don’t even know if it worked.”

“It did. The drip has ceased.”

“Well, at least it wasn’t for nothing, then.”

He stood there, holding his hand near to her and looking down into the endless brown pools of her eyes. Any words of scolding he had thought to speak while she had bathed were gone. The longing he felt for her had returned, and he could not stop from leaning down closer still to her. He spoke with his face held just over her upturned one. “I beg for your word that you will never attempt such a feat again, Miranda. I fear I could not bear it if any ill fate should befall you.”

She looked at him with soft eyes. “I promise,” she whispered.

He watched her eyes as he lowered his mouth over hers. Moving his lips he felt the same faint tickle he had the night before. He inhaled and wanted nothing more than to smell her fresh scent from the bath. Straightening, he looked down at her. “Go clothe yourself and get something to warm your insides.”

Raising a hand to her lips, she looked up at him and nodded as she turned and walked to the stairs. Either she was dreaming or his mouth had actually touched hers very briefly.

He watched her go up the stairs before he turned to walk over to the window. Never in all of his existence had he felt such fear for another. He knew for a fact that she had not craved to do what she had done. Yet she had braved it, and finished it without falter.

Sighing, he walked back into the next room to the shelf that held the likeness of his ship. Miranda, he thought. A proper name made to place on a vessel. With all good will, the vessel would then hold the strength and fortitude as the small woman whose home he now stood in.