In Low Ferry, they usually settled in the field out by The Pines and came in to sell their goods: cold-weather clothing sewn by hand, chickens and rabbits raised on the move, sometimes knicknacks picked up from other small villages. They have a man who sharpens knives and scissors, and a couple of leather-workers who are good at fixing tack or shoes. And they had the most remarkable storyteller I'd ever met.
"We should go," Gwen said, when their tea was done and mine was getting cold. "Others'll complain if we aren't there to help set up camp. You will come tomorrow, Saint Christopher?"
"Of course," I said, and hugged her again. "Looking forward to it. I'll bring my wallet," I added with a wink.
"Good man. We'll show ourselves out," Tommy said, and they clattered down the stairs. I watched from the window as they climbed into Tommy's truck and pulled away.
When they were gone I poured out the remains of the tea, put the mugs in the sink, and lay down for a minute, just to stretch out before I unpacked my bag. I was asleep almost immediately.
I woke, disoriented, to the telephone ringing. I hadn't turned any of my lamps on and it was already falling dark; the only light was coming through the window from the street. I fumbled towards my desk, almost knocked both the lamp and the phone over, got it lit, and answered just before my answering machine would have picked up.
"H'lo," I mumbled, throwing myself into the chair.
"Christopher?" a hesitant voice on the other end asked.
"Lucas?" I asked. My breath was coming short and I felt a little bit like I was falling apart. I inhaled deeply, relieved when I found that I could.
"Hi," Lucas said apologetically. "Bad time?"
"No, sorry, I just woke up."
"Is it...late – it's not late..."
"No, I got back in from the city and fell asleep. Are you okay?"
There was an awkward cough on the other end of the line. "Yeah, I – think so. I don't know."
"You don't...know?" I prompted.
"Christopher, there's a bunch of people here, they're outside my house. Down in the field, below the hill."
I rubbed my face and laughed halfheartedly. "Is that all?"
"It's not all, there are strange people in the field!" he said, and I caught a note of hysteria in my voice.
"Calm down, they're just the Friendly."
"How do you know that, they – "
"Not friendly, the Friendly. I know them, they're okay."
"Who are they, though? I was coming back from the village and they were all there, and I had to go around and there are fires and – "
"Lucas, they're just travelers. They come through every winter."
A long silence. "Oh."
"They're harmless, they won't hurt you. I spoke to them this afternoon, they know you're there."
"What did you tell them?"
"Nothing, it's all right. I just told them you were there, asked them to leave you alone. They seemed interested in you. I told them you make masks."
"Why'd you tell them that?"
"Well, they asked, and I didn't think it was a secret," I replied. "Take a deep breath or two. They won't bother you tonight, they just needed someplace to camp and they usually camp out there."
"Are you sure?"
"I'm positive. Two of them gave me a ride in to town from the train station."
"Oh – god, Christopher, I'm sorry, how are you? Are you okay?"
I laughed again. "Relax, Lucas."
"But I – "
"I'm fine. You're safe tonight. I'll come out tomorrow, say hello, introduce you to them."
"Well, I – I'd like to see you and hear about it. I would. But maybe you shouldn't, you should rest -- and anyway you don't have to introduce me. You don't, do you?"
"Kiddo, either I introduce you to them or they're going to come introduce themselves."
He was silent for so long that I asked, "Lucas? Still there?"
"Yes," he answered.
"You'll like them. I'll be out tomorrow to visit, okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. Now. I'm going to go back to bed."
"Okay," he repeated. "Uh. Bye..."
"Goodnight, Lucas," I said, and hung up the phone.
***
When I woke, late the next morning, some of the Friendly were already in town. They were working their way down the street, knocking on shop doors, asking to put handcrafts on display for sale or barter goods for things they couldn't make themselves, like hammers and rubber boots.
I opened the shop and was immediately swamped – not by Friendly, but by townspeople who had seen me return the day before or heard about it from others.
"So," Paula said, as she browsed. "How was the big city? Get mugged?"
"No," I laughed. "It's not that dangerous."
"You can't be too careful," Nolan said, laying down a stack of magazines to purchase.
"Well, that's true, about being careful," I allowed. "But I grew up in Chicago, you know."
"What was that like?" Nolan asked.
"Busy," I said absently.
"Why'd you go for so long, anyway?" Paula asked. "You didn't even bring any books back."
"How do you know that?" I asked.
"Ron saw you last night, said all you had with you was your bag," Charles answered shamelessly. "Getting out of a Friendly truck, she said."
"Nothing wrong with that. They saw me at the station, thought I'd save you the drive."
"They camped out at The Pines?" Paula asked. "Lucas won't like that."
"Lucas is fine," I said, shoving Nolan's magazines into a paper bag and handing them to him.