11
Sherwood Forest
When Jill’s tears were spent and all she had left were a swollen face and runny nose, she knelt at the stream and cleaned herself up as best she could. The sobbing fit had been a purely physical reaction—understandable given the adrenaline surge, new surroundings, and impossible situation. She’d had no choice but to succumb to the biology of the moment. Anyone would have. But she felt better now. The cold water soothed her hot face and restored some degree of logic.
Wrapping herself in her cloak, she settled back between the roots of the tree to analyze the morning’s events. While the rescue’s theoretical concept had been sound, the failure lay in the lack of planning. Robin’s charisma and energy came in a never-ending supply. He was undeniably charming. But he had no clear vision, and he certainly didn’t give much thought to logistics. In fact, he didn’t give much thought to anything or anyone besides himself.
Someone should have scouted the castle in advance. Even better, Robin needed spies who worked closely with the sheriff and Gisbourne and could forewarn Robin of important details such as whether or not the sister they were supposed to rescue had been switched out for a smelly teenage boy. The merry men were so merry they didn’t pay attention to details, but details got people killed.
Robin had made a series of wrong moves since Jill had met him, miscalculating how his actions affected others, concerned only with his own affairs, and maddeningly blind to potential consequences. Jill could have died when they jumped off the castle wall. Little John could have been executed. Any one of the merry men could have been captured. And Joanna could be dead…
Jill shifted her position to allow the tree roots she leaned against to press on a different part of her back.
Joanna was not dead. More than likely, she had found an ally somewhere. If Jill had landed with the outlaws and was enjoying a childhood fantasy, perhaps Joanna was savoring similar wish fulfillment—probably protected by some handsome stranger who whisked her away to his castle where Joanna and he engaged in some gothic romance.
Yes, Joanna enjoyed being the damsel in distress who always needed rescuing. Why couldn’t she have stayed on the stupid horse and avoided the dramatics? That was what Jill did. Jill had made a lifetime of flying under the radar, plotting her moves both privately and professionally in order to avoid getting hurt. When the twins were little girls, Jill had always played the daredevil, the one who plotted new adventures and came up with the crazy ideas. But for all her planning, had Jill ever attempted those new schemes first? No, she had let Joanna try first and then judged her own involvement in the scheme based on Joanna’s success or failure. This tactic had resulted in multiple injuries and humiliations for Joanna, all the while leaving Jill safe to analyze the outcome.
Until today.
Today Jill had been in the thick of danger and had come closer to death than she ever had before. The result was completely unexpected—she felt invigorated. The last twenty-four hours had been the greatest adventure she had ever experienced. Coming that close to death and yet not dying had produced an adrenaline high she hoped to recreate. Having devoted her entire life to analyzing adventure and keeping the danger under control, how many opportunities had she missed out on?
She could have done so many things differently. But more importantly, she had lied to herself. The entire time that Jill had believed herself to be the greatest adventurer in the family, she ensured she played life the safest. The revelation of this self-deception had the power to change her entire life or ruin it. Maybe the real purpose of her life hid underneath all that.
The world was funny that way. A girl could go through her whole life believing life was a certain way, and then she took a horseback ride into the twelfth century and suddenly all she knew about herself and the world changed. Everything Jill had read about the Middle Ages told her it was a brutal place where a woman on her own couldn’t survive for long. But here she was, alive and well, even after an impossible jump from a castle wall.
Jill shifted again, ignoring the damp seeping through her cloak and closed her eyes. At some point she needed to rescue Joanna, address the time-travel issue and figure out how to return to her present. She had to believe all the pieces of the puzzle would come together eventually, but fighting her current drowsiness wouldn’t speed up the process. She let sleep win.
■ ■ ■
Even before she completely awoke, she heard someone move nearby. Immediately watchful, Jill opened her eyes to see Robin sitting several feet away, tossing pebbles into the stream one at a time where they landed with a steady plop, plop. She felt instantly irritated and physically sore.
Robin’s sheepish grin when he saw Jill was awake reminded her of a boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“I made a mess of today’s proceedings.” He stared into the trees across the stream and snorted softly. “I had hoped to impress you.”
He was fishing for comforting words she was in no mood to give. From a spot nearby he retrieved a stack of clothing Jill immediately recognized as Joanna’s.
“I thought you might want these now that we’ve found Lester more suitable attire.”
He handed her the clothes and sat down beside her. Jill took the sloppily folded khakis, shirt and socks along with Joanna’s shoes and placed them in her lap. The items would have to be washed before Joanna wore them again.
“What do we know about this kid?” Jill asked.
“Guy paid him to pose as your sister, threatened to kill him if he bungled the ruse, which is why the boy wanted to escape with us. I thought Lester might be a spy, but spying requires intelligence and he’s quite stupid. He’s as much a victim as Joanna in all this, so I invited him to join our band.”
“Did you make him fight you?”
Robin’s brows knit. “Why would I do that?”
“Hello? What about challenging me to a duel with staffs on a slippery log above a stream? You made me earn my place, but you let some stupid teenage boy join you without even a thumb war?”
Robin tugged at his collar, which was already loose. “I suppose I hadn’t considered the situation in that light.”
Hearing her heartbeat in her own ears, Jill knew her emotions bordered on being out of control, but she didn’t care. Robin was an idiot who deserved a piece of her mind.
“Out of curiosity, how do you plan on becoming a legendary outlaw when your membership requirements change according to your mood? How are you ever going to make a difference in this world when you do everything half-baked? You’re a grown man, for crying out loud! Start acting like one.”
Robin swallowed. “Legendary outlaw?”
“That would be the only part you heard.”
“What exactly does being a legendary outlaw involve?”
“A mission, a code, consistency, and focusing on someone other than yourself. Oh, and actually being able to pull off a plan successfully. That would help.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “As bent as I’ve been on revenge, I see I’ve missed a lot of opportunities. I watched you do things today that I’d never even considered. You gave a child in Nottingham your bread. You put yourself in jeopardy to free those prisoners. What gave you the idea to release them?”
“They were right there asking for it. Pretty hard to miss.”
Robin threw another stone into the stream. “You’re right that I held you to a different standard than I did Lester. Him I feel sorry for. But you I wanted to test. I knew you’d handle yourself well. From the moment you stepped into my life, everything started to change and I have a feeling this is only the beginning.”
The words What’s that supposed to mean? sat on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t speak them because she knew the fearful and defensive tone with which she would say them. But what frightened her even more was how he might respond. She took a deep breath and changed the subject. “Who was that man in black who tried to stop us?”
“Guy of Gisbourne. My
arch enemy—and my brother.”
That’s a new twist.
“He knew our plan somehow. If you hadn’t been there and distracted him, the situation might have ended quite differently.” Robin’s mouth tilted up into a lopsided, sad smile. “We’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for three years. Today, I was grossly unprepared for the new circumstances, and I almost got myself killed. If you hadn’t spoken to him…” He took her hand, wrapping his warm fingers around her cold ones. “I need your help, Jill. I don’t want my life to be all about revenge any more. I want to build something that will last, something that will make a difference. Will you help me?”
Jill’s memory flashed back to the night of her birthday when she had joked with Joanna about the genius behind Robin Hood’s image. Could that genius be Jill? Was it possible she had been transported to the past to teach Robin how to be the legend he was destined to be?
She looked into Robin’s earnest blue eyes and knew her answer. “Of course.”
“Excellent! Our first mission will be to rescue your sister. With your brains and my strength, we can’t fail.”
Holding Joanna’s clothes in one hand, Jill allowed Robin to pull her up. As she walked with him to the camp, her spirits soared. Things had a way of working out. A plan for rescuing Joanna and returning to 2009 would come to her and everything would turn out fine.
Jill smelled the roasted meat as she and Robin entered the camp. Most of the men were already eating around the fire. Little John, a head taller than everyone else in the camp even when he sat down, rose when Jill approached. His sad eyes reminded her of a whipped puppy. He hunched his shoulders as he walked toward her, his head down.
“I’ve upset you, Jill.”
“Let’s forget about it.” Her statement came more from a need to preserve her dignity than from a show of generosity. She would rather everyone forget her emotional episode.
“I can’t, though,” Little John protested. “You and your sister look so much alike that I see you and think of how I failed her. If any of my sisters had seen the way I let Joanna be taken, they’d beat me with a thorny rod and set me to soak in salt water. Perhaps you’d feel some comfort if I told you how I found Joanna and how we were captured?”
Jill did a mental check to see if she might cry again, noting with satisfaction her waterworks were under control. “Tell me everything.”
Little John motioned for her to sit by the fire. Taking a spot where he could face her, he folded his frame until his knees reached his chin. Robin joined them and handed her bread and meat. While she ate, Little John recited everything he remembered from first finding Joanna on the ground after her fall to Sir Horace taking her away. He ended with Guy coming to the dungeon to throw Lester (dressed as Joanna) into a cell.
“In my defense,” John concluded, “it was very dark and I hadn’t known Joanna for very long.”
“So she’s a prisoner of Sir Horace now?” Jill asked.
“Not anymore.” Robin rested his forearms on his knees. “Guy killed Horace and took Joanna for himself. From what we’ve heard this afternoon, Guy sent Joanna to Locksley Castle last night. We were already too late when he got there this morning. There’s no way we could have saved her today.”
Jill understood the justification Robin was trying to make and held back a smile at his insecurity. She recognized how frequently the name Locksley appeared in Robin Hood lore and asked Robin, “Locksley Castle—do you know it?”
“It’s my ancestral home and my birthright.”
“Will Joanna be safe there?”
“We still have good friends at Locksley. She’ll be well looked after until we can rescue her. No need to worry.”
So, at least one castle existed where Robin had an informant. Perhaps he wasn’t as incompetent as she thought. But then another thought occurred to her that made her stomach tighten in panic. “Didn’t you say that Guy killed Marian? What makes you think he won’t kill Joanna as well?”
“His ultimate goal is to destroy me. Now that he knows Joanna has a sister who’s part of my band, Joanna will be especially valuable to him. He’ll use her as bait to catch us.” His look gave Jill the impression he had more he wanted to say.
“What aren’t you telling me, Robin?”
“Guy has always been more adept in winning feminine affection than I have. Since I was a boy, he has enjoyed multiple…conquests. And given how much you and Joanna look like Marian…”
“Yeah, I see what you’re saying.”
Jill debated Joanna’s lack of self-control where men were concerned. Up until now, if a man made a move toward Joanna and he was reasonably attractive, she pursued him. But the breakup with Mark had shaken her badly. Would Joanna allow herself to fall for a man who was so obviously bad news? Probably. Joanna kept charging into the same situation over and over. Unlike Jill. Jill got hurt once and decided never to love again.
“Jill?”
“We need to get her out as quickly as we can.”
Even as she said it, Jill felt disappointed. She wanted Joanna safe but not part of Robin’s band. Jill had only begun to understand her own purpose. With Joanna present, the purpose wouldn’t be only Jill’s anymore. The twins had happily shared many toys, rooms, and experiences in their lives, but Jill had no desire to share Robin Hood’s attention with Joanna or any other woman.
Little John rubbed his palms together. “May I ask you something, Jill?”
“Sure.”
“Are you from the future?”
Jill felt her guard go up. “What makes you ask that?”
“Joanna told me she was from the year 2009. Then, in the sheriff’s hall, she told a story of traveling through the air like angels and demons, putting a mark on the moon. Are all these things part of what is to come?”
Jill hesitated. She was already messing with the timeline by teaching Robin to be an outlaw, but if she already knew him as an outlaw in her own time period, that meant she had already been here and taught him what he needed to know. Still, it didn’t seem like a good idea to share too much.
“Joanna’s always been a good storyteller,” she finally responded.
Little John looked at her a long moment, then shrugged, apparently content to let the matter drop.
A question occurred to Jill, and she wondered why she hadn’t asked it before. “John, when you found Joanna, did you see her horse anywhere?”
“No.”
Jill turned to Robin. “Could it have run far?”
“It would depend on how frightened it was. Someone has probably found it by now.”
“I’ll need that horse. Without it, Joanna and I may not get home.”
“Stutely!” Robin motioned for the bearded man with the wild, dark hair to approach. “Take Lester and go in search of Joanna’s horse. Jill, I assume the horse’s tack will be similar to what we saw on your own steed?” When Jill nodded, he continued. “That’s good because the horse will be easier to identify. Stutely, I want you and Lester to turn over every bush until you find that animal.”
Stutely nodded and exited the camp with Lester loping behind him.
“This is one rescue mission we will succeed in today,” Robin declared.
“Attention, everyone!” Alan interrupted. “I’ve written a new song in honor of today’s adventure.”
Robin planted his face in his palm. Little John cleared his throat ominously and made a slicing motion at his throat, but Alan seemed oblivious to the nonverbal cues as he plucked three chords on his lute and began to sing:
The great Robin Hood meant to rescue a maid
Whose virtue was threatened by Gisbourne’s brigade.
Fair sister was she to the lass of the band
Who’d throttled poor Robin at staffs hand to hand.
“I’ll free thy poor sister,” pledged Robin to Jill,
“I’ve naught been denied but one thing ‘gainst my will.
While Guy might have stolen my birthright from me,
/>
I’ll have my revenge when I set thy kin free.”
This piece would end badly. Too bad Joanna couldn’t teach the kid a thing or two about writing. Until now, Jill had never appreciated Joanna’s poems. Most of them were free verse, but Joanna had written a few rhyming poems Jill kind of liked, and those were Pulitzer-Prize worthy compared to Alan’s attempts. When they rescued Joanna, perhaps she could work with Alan. If Jill was going to improve Robin’s image for the ages to come, someone needed to record his deeds appropriately. Joanna would be the right person to help.
Alan continued singing:
But Guy, in his wisdom, showed he would laugh last,
For Robin’s own arrogance proved him an—
Alan’s song stopped abruptly when Robin’s fist met Alan’s jaw before the insult could be completed. Alan fell backward off the log with his legs sticking up into the air. The men broke into laughter as Robin rubbed his knuckles then stomped off. Will led the gang in the chorus:
Oh, tra-la-la-lilly and la-di-da-dum!
The life of an outlaw is a lonely one.
But weep not, my laddies, our courage won’t fail.
We’ll drown all our sorrows in tankards of ale.
At the end, as they had done the night before, the men raised their tankards in salute and took a long drink of ale before laughing again. Jill rose, intending to go after Robin, but Little John wrapped his giant hand around her forearm and gently pulled her down.
“Don’t, lass. He’ll need time to calm down. A man expects to be taken down a peg by his mates. But when his lady is present, that’s a different matter. Rescuing your sister would have made him a hero in your eyes. Instead, it’s been a day of constant shame.”
“That seems a tad melodramatic.”
Little John shook his head. “You don’t know what he’s given up. Playing the executioner is Robin’s favorite role—he’s always had a flair for theatrics and he loves a good crowd. But he passed up the role and missed a chance to kill Guy of Gisbourne because he didn’t want to endanger you. Now, he’s broken his word to you. So you see, the day has been difficult.”
Jill wondered what Robin had told the men about his encounter with Guy. From what Jill saw, Guy clearly had the upper hand. Robin hadn’t even had time to draw his sword. Only Guy’s distraction when he saw Jill had allowed them to escape. Apparently Alan wasn’t the only member of the outlaw gang who embellished the truth when it suited him. But the mention of theatrics caught her attention. Bravado was already an integral quality of the gang. Could she harness that to provide Robin a better “stage” for his performances? She needed to think this through.
Alan pulled himself up, rubbing his jaw. Little John clapped the young man on the back.
“You were justly served for insulting Robin.”
“I should be able to sing whatever I like.” Alan’s lower lip protruded. “I’m a minstrel, and we’re expected to provide entertainment.”
“It’s not a free country, Alan,” John instructed. “Play some music without words. That will keep you out of trouble.”
John sat down next to Jill as Alan began to play a somber tune. Jill marveled at how tiny she felt next to the giant. His hands were the size of her head.
“Alan is the third oldest child of my oldest sister. He’s always had a soft spot for the ladies and getting himself into scrapes. I remember when he was a boy…”
Little John continued the story, but Jill stopped listening. She didn’t care what had happened to Alan as a boy and doubted it had any relevance to anything. John had a tendency to ramble about useless subjects, so she quickly tuned him out. Her thoughts returned to Robin. Little John had referred to her as Robin’s lady. Did that mean Robin liked her? She blushed at the thought. Regardless of what had actually transpired between Robin and Guy today, Robin had retold the story as though he was defending Jill. Was this because he wanted to look valiant in front of his buddies or because he liked her and wanted to protect her? For a moment, her heart warmed, thinking of a man wanting to look out for her. In her experience, men only pretended to have her back when doing so suited their purposes. When she really needed someone, no one had been there.
She supposed there should be one great event that had made her distrust men so, one evil human being she could blame for breaking her heart and leaving her incapable of emotional intimacy. Truthfully, there was Brian, but as quickly as his name came to mind, she pushed it back into the vault where she kept all her memories of him. Certainly he had contributed to the current state of her heart. But her lack of trust in men came from a much broader experience of tiny slights relating to choices Jill made at a tender age. Early on in the twins’ childhoods, Joanna had chosen the liberal arts as her passion. At age four, Joanna was already dictating stories for Mom to write down and commanding an audience with her cute antics. Jill had taken longer to find her passion. At age nine she consciously chose to read a children’s scientific encyclopedia because Joanna would never do such a thing. Hence, Jill’s separate identity was born, more out of a desire to be different from Joanna than because of personal passion. As the years went on, because Jill studied science, enjoyed math, and found herself in a man’s world, the men she worked with accepted her but never saw her. She was their buddy for a superhero movie or the shooting range, but when it came to romance, guys looked elsewhere. A lifetime of being overlooked had made her doubt whether any man would ever look at her and see a woman. Jill had no desire to be the damsel in distress. She wanted to be the Bonnie to someone’s Clyde, the yin to someone’s yang. She wanted a man who would see her as an equal and go on adventures with her. She didn’t need rescuing like Joanna. She needed a questing partner, and Robin was the likeliest candidate she had ever met for that type of relationship.
“I see Alan didn’t go down for long,” Robin said, suddenly beside her.
Jill put a hand to her chest, unwilling to admit he had startled her. “At least he’s not singing,” she replied.
“His spirit is un-crushable. If only he were better with words.”
While Jill had been lost in thought, most of the outlaws had retired to their beds except for Little John and Will who still sat by the fire. “Why do you keep him around then?”
“He used to be a clerk in Nottingham and even played for the sheriff on occasion. But he fell in love with the daughter of one of the sheriff’s knights. Her father didn’t approve. Alan escaped with his life—and his lute. Given my own hardship in love, I feel compassion toward anyone else who has suffered as well.” She felt her stomach flutter as he whispered, “I can’t imagine my good fortune that another man hasn’t already won you.”
Jill blushed.
Little John cleared his throat. “Will we have council meeting tonight?”
“Yes. Jill’s our newest member. She has wisdom that will allow us to transcend our present reality and enter the halls of greatness.”
Little John and Will blinked in silence for several seconds before Will spoke. “If you want her on the council because you like her, we’re fine with that, too.”
“Noted.” Robin turned to Jill. “Jill, how do you think we should begin?”
“Do what you normally would,” Jill assured him, aware of the cost to his ego the concession caused. “You’re still in charge here. I’ll jump in with a question or suggestion if I have one.”
He straightened his shoulders and nodded to Little John who, after exchanging a glance with Will, pulled out a parchment scroll. Jill observed with amusement there were no words on it, only small pictures. It hadn’t occurred to her until now that Robin and Alan were probably the only men in the camp who could read or write.
“Tell us what’s on the schedule, Little John,” Robin ordered.
Although Little John studied his drawings, Jill suspected the information was stored more in his memory than on the page.
“Well, today is Friday. Before Friar Tuck left, he said he wanted us at confession tomorrow. Mid-morning so
the priest can see us in secret.”
“Better cancel.” Robin rubbed his chin. “I want the schedule open for the rescue operation.”
“Alan’s de-licing is also tomorrow,” Little John continued.
“Add Lester to that,” Will advised.
“Monday is tax day for the shire,” John pretended to read. “But Sunday is the tournament—“
“So soon?” Robin interrupted. “I thought that wasn’t until next month.”
John shook his head. “You’re thinking of the one at Barnsdale, which you’re boycotting this year.”
“Whatever for?”
“Wasn’t someone cheating?” Will asked.
“The duke of York,” Little John confirmed.
“There’s so much injustice in the world,” Robin lamented. “I wish someone would do something about it.” He turned suddenly to Jill. “Wait, is that someone me?”
“Yup.”
“I haven’t sworn anything about the Nottingham tournament, have I, John?”
“No,” John replied. “But you do have a running vow that you won’t step foot in the town center during market day again.”
“What happened?” Jill asked.
Robin shuddered. “It involved a cart, two barrels of ale, and a fish wife with a whip.”
Jill cocked her head, trying to picture what that might have happened. John seemed anxious to avoid further questions about it because he quickly moved on to the next item.
“At the tournament, we expect a poor turnout for the jousting contest since most of the knights are in the Holy Land with King Richard. So, the emphasis is on the sword fighting and archery.”
“Really?” Robin’s face brightened. “What’s the prize this year?”
“A golden arrow.”
Robin whistled in appreciation.
“It’s probably not solid gold,” Will offered. “The sheriff’s too cheap for that.”
“All the same, it surpasses those withered laurel wreaths I’ve won in the past. They aren’t worth anything. But a golden arrow! With it I could purchase numerous loaves for hungry children.”
Jill grinned her approval. Robin hadn’t exhibited a great deal of original thought, but at least he was learning to imitate. That was a start.
Will stoked the fire. “I suppose we’ll use plan 25.”
“Ah, the travelling gypsies!” Little John smiled fondly. “I love playing the fortune teller.”
“No.” Robin’s tone allowed no negotiation. “We’ll use plan 14.”
Jill raised her eyebrows. “Plan 14?”
“I compete in the archery contest as a stinking peasant with rotten teeth,” Robin explained. “I’ll look and smell so despicable that the sheriff and his men won’t come anywhere near me. Then I win the golden arrow—”
“While the rest of us roam around in disguises,” Will interrupted, “munching on turkey drumsticks and wenching.”
“But what does this have to do with rescuing Joanna?”
“Everything. Don’t you see, Jill?” Robin clenched his jaw. “While I’m winning the archery contest and attracting a crowd, you grab Joanna.”
“If she’s there, you mean.”
“I’m certain she will be. Guy won’t miss the chance to display Joanna and set a trap. When I go after her, he’ll try to ambush me. We’ll fight—and maybe I’ll get to kill him this time.”
Jill frowned. “Your plan is pretty vague.”
Robin shrugged. “We have two days to prepare the details. I suppose you’ll want me to draw a map in the dirt.”
“That would be helpful.”
“I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m getting tired. Let’s adjourn for the evening.”
“Wait.” John held up his hand. “There’s something else bothering me. This afternoon I saw the Widow Tinsley. She told me she’s behind on her taxes, and if she can’t pay in full, the sheriff will turn her out. She’ll be homeless.”
“How dreadful!” Will lamented. “Someone should do something.”
“The world is full of terrible injustice.” Robin shook his head. “There are good people like her who are poor as field mice. Then we have rich sinners like the bishop who will parade through the forest tomorrow and flaunt his wealth. Too bad he won’t share with those that need it.”
“Then why don’t you make him?” Jill asked, wondering why no one had mentioned this before. When the three men gazed at her in confusion, she continued. “If this bishop has more money than he needs, you can help him share it with the less fortunate.”
“But that’s stealing.”
Jill would have laughed at this last remark if Robin’s face hadn’t been completely serious. “You’re already an outlaw, and it’s not exactly stealing. It’s more like redistributing the wealth.”
John frowned. “Isn’t that morally ambiguous?”
“Of course it is,” Jill retorted, “but not as ambiguous as living a life based solely on revenge.”
Robin scratched his chin. “Will stealing from the rich to help the poor will make me legendary?”
“I guarantee it.”
“Then we’ll do it. No rich man will ever pass through our forest again without paying a toll to Robin Hood and his merry men! Jill, I’d be honored if you would assist us in planning the raid.”
Jill bit her lip to hold back the swell of exuberance she felt at the idea and forced herself to look serious. “Sure, but first, I need you to walk me through what we already know about the bishop.”
■ ■ ■
Two hours later, the new plan, number 54, had been thoroughly discussed and illustrated with multiple drawings in the dirt. A briefing for the merry men was planned for the morning. Marveling at how good it felt to have a group of men listen to her and value what she had to say, Jill didn’t notice immediately how much of her personal space Robin had invaded while they walked away from the fire until they stopped in front of her shelter. As they faced each other in the silence, Robin’s fingertips brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen across her cheek.
“Has any man ever told you that you’re a beautiful woman?”
She swallowed hard. “Not recently.” Or, more appropriately, not ever.
“You are.”
“Is it because I look like Marian?” Although she feared his answer, she had to know he looked at her and actually saw Jill Mason, not the lost love of his youth.
“I’ll admit, your resemblance attracted my attention, but you’re very different from her. She was proper. I doubt a life in the forest would have suited her very well. But you seem to become more beautiful the longer you’re here.”
“I’m having fun. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun before.”
He leaned in close and his lips touched hers. Jill’s heart fluttered as she enjoyed the long embrace. If kisses were supposed to feel this way, then she finally understood why Joanna persisted in seeking new relationships after heartbreak. The quickened heartbeat and warm, tingly sensations could become addicting.
Robin pulled back long before she wanted him to and wished her goodnight.
Later, as she lay alone in her shelter trying to sleep, she pondered the events of the day. Life certainly had a way of surprising a girl. For so long Jill had craved a purpose for her life, a way to make a difference and find meaning, and someone special to share the adventure with. Now, here she was, almost a thousand years in the past, and she had everything she wanted. Well, almost everything. She longed to be able to discuss the events of the evening with Joanna who had the experience and perspective to help Jill know how to treat Robin tomorrow morning and how far she should let their relationship progress.
No one understood Jill like Joanna did, and Jill missed her sister with an intensity that momentarily overpowered her feelings for Robin. She missed her parents, too. True, she was an adult and didn’t need them the way she had as a child, but family had been at the center of every important moment of her life. Was the elation
of romantic love and life’s purpose worth the sacrifice of the people who had been at the center of her life for the last twenty-five years?
If she were in the movies, the choice would be clear. Movie heroines regularly abandoned everything familiar and familial to pursue love and adventure, hardly stopping for a goodbye or even a wistful tear. But Jill wasn’t a character in a movie. She was a real person with a real heart and a real family she might never see again. Even if she felt gloriously happy cavorting with Robin in the forest, what would happen to Joanna? How would her parents feel, never seeing their twin daughters again? Her father would blame their disappearance on the British. Jill had to smile thinking of the international scene he would cause when the twins did not return. But the smile faded away as she considered the loss, grief, and pain her parents would suffer. Mom would never get over it.
Jill would rescue Joanna and find a way back to 2009 because she had to. In the future, Jill would spend more effort proving to her father that the British shouldn’t be penalized for how they treated the colonists in the eighteenth century. She could never tell him she kissed Robin Hood, of course, but as she drifted off to sleep, an image floated into her dreams of her father meeting Robin Hood and upbraiding him for having allowed taxation without representation.