by Kimbra Swain
“I’m just Aunt Grace,” I said bending down in front of her. Her small hand touched my face.
She giggled when she realized how cold my skin was. “You have sparkles on your face,” she said. The normal fairy luminescence was amplified by my cold exterior.
I went and sat down on the steps of Dylan’s house. He took a seat next to me, and the ice queen melted. Winnie ran up to us, standing with Dylan. I supposed she wasn’t so sure about me changing costumes in front of her. I’d think of some way to explain it to her. Perhaps I was her fairy godmother in disguise.
Exhausted, I beckoned the trolls to approach. They stood around waiting for my permission to stay in Shady Grove.
“You have to make up for the things you’ve done,” I said. They looked at each other than formed a little huddle to discuss amongst themselves.
Finally, they turned around facing me with large grins. Lamar stepped forward toward Winnie. He cupped his hands and shook them. Lifting his top hand from his bottom hand, a small wooden carving of a unicorn sat in his hand. He offered it to her. She looked at me for permission, so I nodded. “Thank you,” she muttered.
Phil approached her. She watched him pull a copper cup out of his pocket. “Little miss, milk is best in a metal cup. It stays cold.” He offered her the cup, and she gladly took it.
“Thank you,” she smiled.
Eric, the bed pan troll, stepped forward, producing a metal chain with a W charm hanging from it. He offered, she received and thanked him. The gift giving continued with each troll.
Cory offered her a small spoon with a long handle. He informed her it was for ice cream sundaes for which Chad, the bowl thief gave her a tall sundae glass.
Willie, the leftover troll, gave her a small container with dividers. He told her that she could keep anything in it she wanted, but it was perfect for separating leftovers.
Phillip, the bane of Brad the BBQ man, handed her what looked to be a miniature sausage extruder. He pulled the knob back and instructed her to push it back in. As she did, the warbling song of a bird. She pulled it in and out several times giggling with each whistle.
Richard, the peeping Dick, presented her with a small pair of binoculars. She put them to her eyes and stared at us all up close.
Bo, the nosey cake-eater, offered her a beautiful red velvet cupcake with green sprinkles. She danced with excitement. She’d started handing gifts off to Dylan and me as she anticipated the next one.
The truck destroyer, Ryan, offered her a die cast red Camaro just like Dylan’s. I laughed, because I knew she loved his car.
Sweet, lovestruck Taylor approached. “She’s like a mini-you,” he said to me.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Dylan said.
“No, of course not,” he said. He pulled out a red rose made of pure crystal. She squealed.
“Oh, so pretty,” she cooed. He handed it to her and slowly backed away.
“My queen, each year, my brothers and I will make amends by presenting the children of Shady Grove with toys, if they are good,” Lamar said.
“All of you?” I asked. Lamar nodded. “Hey, what about you, Door Slammer?”
Keith stood in the back with his hands in his pockets. He snarled, stepping forward. Reaching in his pocket, he revealed a golden key. He handed it to her. “This key is special, Winnie. It opens the door to heaven. So, if you are ever sad or missing someone who no longer lives here with us. You can hold your key while thinking about the person, and they will look down from heaven and see you.” He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and backed into the crowd of brothers.
I had to wipe the tears from my cheeks as Dylan put his arm around me. “I don’t know anyone in heaven,” she said clasping the key.
“Winnie, come here,” I said. She stood before me holding her little key. “Your momma is in heaven now with the angels. So, let’s hold your key together and think about her.” Little tears formed in the corners of her eyes, but she offered me the key. I wrapped my hands around hers. Dylan put his warm hand over both of ours. I hadn’t realized that Levi had made it back from the field, but he put his hand under all of them.
“Can she see me?” she asked.
“Of course, she can. She’s smiling at you. You got so many new presents, and she wants you to be happy,” I said choking the last words out.
The trolls sniffed. Ryan produced a hanky blowing his nose loudly as Lamar elbowed him in the ribs. They all cried, except Keith who watched the ground at his feet.
“Who is my mommy now?” she asked.
“If it’s okay with you, I want you to stay with me,” I said. She nodded as we all released her hands. She wrapped her arms around my neck and hugged me. “I promise I’ll take good care of you.”
“I know,” she muttered. “As long as Uncle Levi can still be my Uncle. And Mr. Dylan can be my Mister.”
“I think that would be fine,” I replied.
“Absolutely,” Levi said. Dylan smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead.
“Thank you all,” I said to the trolls. “I look forward to the thirteen days of Christmas next year.”
They smiled and wiped away tears. Turning to walk back down the lane, they caught up with Krampus who offered them all a place to stay in his barn until they found proper homes around the exotic fairy city of Shady Grove, AL.
That evening Remington Blake called to wish us all a Merry Christmas. The hospital had contacted him about Bethany’s death. He asked me if I wanted to handle the funeral expenses. I told him that I did. I wanted it to be simple though for Winnie’s sake. He agreed to take care of the details for me, and that the paperwork giving me full custody would be filed with the state right after the holiday.
Levi put Winnie to bed. I asked him if he had plans to see Kady, and he said no. That they were still dating, but needed to see less of each other which made absolutely no sense to me. However, I needed to stay neutral when it came to his love life. No more assaults on girlfriends. Unless they deserved it, of course.
Dylan and I curled up on the couch watching the fire and the lights on the tree twinkling.
“It’s over,” he said.
“Heavens to Betsy, it better be,” I laughed. “You were impressive, Mr. Fire Bird.”
“She was frightened of me. I think it was mostly a show of strength. She knew she couldn’t take us all,” he said.
“It was you,” I reinforced.
He nuzzled my cheek. “I want you to stay. Give Levi the trailer when you get a new one. Keep a room there if it makes you feel better, but I want you here with me.”
“I don’t think it matters whether I call that home or not. I will be with you wherever you are,” I assured him.
“I love you, Grace,” he said. “Beautiful Grace.”
“I love you, too.” I reached under the couch, pulling out a wrapped box.
“You already gave me a Christmas present,” he smiled.
“Yeah, but you can’t show that one off. This one, you can,” I said.
Untying the ribbon, he carefully pulled the paper off. He smiled at the wooden box with the name D. Riggs carved in the top.
“Open it,” I prodded.
“Okay, okay,” he said as he clicked the latch. Opening the lid, he found two engraved 1911 Kimber pistols. One was intricately tooled with flames running down the barrel and a fiery winged bird on the wooden grip. The other had Native American geometric shapes along the barrel with a traditional thunderbird carved into the wooden grip. He stared at them as he ran his fingers over the tooling.
“Well?” I asked.
“Grace, these are amazing. Where in the world did you find someone to do this?” he asked.
I reached in and flipped them over. D. Riggs was tooled into the other side of each barrel. He shook his head in amazement. “I know a guy,” I smiled.
He closed the box and laid it on the floor as he pulled my face to his. “I’m blown away. They are perfect. I had to give my favorite guns back to the d
epartment when I left. These are amazing.”
“I knew you had to give them back. Troy told me. Plus, if you are going to be a private investigator, you will need them,” I said.
“Nestor said you were worried about that,” he said.
“Nestor needs to keep our conversations private,” I laughed. “I just don’t want lose you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said as he kissed me again. “I don’t want you running off on me.”
“What? I’m not leaving,” I said.
“You’ve said several times that this Queen thing was more than you anticipated. Part of me wonders if you will run eventually,” he said truthfully.
“I promise. I couldn’t leave you. If I leave, I’m taking you with me,” I laughed.
“I certainly hope so,” he said with a strange look in his eye.
“What’s wrong?” He pushed me up off of him, grabbing the gun box. He headed to the stairs.
“Dylan?” He ignored me practically stomping away.
I followed him. He opened a small door in the hallway that I thought was an electrical box, but it was a safe. He punched in a code, the placed his thumb on a pad. The safe popped open, and he slipped the guns inside. He shut the door back, locking the safe. His right hand twitched inside his pocket.
“Grace, let’s go to bed. It’s been a long day,” he said turning toward the bedroom. I grabbed his arm and pulled. “What are you doing?”
Levi came out of his room. “What’s going on?”
“I guess we haven’t fought in a while, and Dylan felt like it was time,” I said.
“Levi, go back to bed,” Dylan growled.
“Dude, chill out,” Levi said as he went back into his room. I felt his presence close to the door. My bard worried about me.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said as he pulled his hand out of his pocket. I saw what I knew he had. A small velvet box.
Looking at him, then down at the box, I realized that he had cold feet. His last relationship caused him a lot of anxiety about asking her to marry him. I approached him slowly. “I don’t want to fight either,” I said. “But if you don’t give me my Christmas present, I’m gonna be pissed.”
He smirked. “So pushy.”
“It’s almost fitting that we pretend to fight during this, right?” I asked trying to make him calm down.
“No.”
Sigh. “Put it back in your pocket,” I said. “I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.”
He spun and stalked to the bedroom. I followed in behind him. Once both feet were in the room, the door slammed behind me. He was pressed against me in a moment. His forehead leaning down to touch mine. “You weren’t the only one that used to be afraid,” he said.
“I know that,” I said.
“Would you shut up?” I laughed, but nodded. “I knew I wanted you. I knew I wanted us, but the fear was actually getting to this point. Getting over the past. Accepting what we have.”
He kissed me on the cheek. The hand holding the box met mine. Pressing the box between our hands, I felt the soft cover on it as he clamped down on my hand to prevent me from opening it.
“And now?”
“Now, I just want you to have everything, and it be perfect. But I let my nerves get the best of me. Now, we are standing here like fools talking instead of making love.”
“Skip the box, then,” I suggested.
“You would really do that?” he asked.
“Lord knows I’ve tortured you. You might as well torture me,” I said. For a moment, I looked into his eyes. He really wasn’t going to show me what was in the box. He was going to chicken out. I tightened my fingers around the box, yanking it as hard as I could. He laughed, but I had his hand too with the box.
“Stop, Grace, stop,” he ordered me.
I paused. “I’m waiting?” I said.
“For what?”
“Show me the fucking box,” I said.
“Vulgar mouth,” he muttered as his lips met mine. I kissed him back tracing his lips with my tongue. I felt his hand loosen, and I jerked again. “Good try.”
“You aren’t nervous. You are a damn tease, Dylan Riggs,” I shouted.
“Stop, you’ll wake up Winnie,” he laughed.
I tried just yanking my hand away from his without the box, but that didn’t work either. “Shit or get off the pot, Dylan Riggs!”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said as he sank to his knee.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered. He laughed.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, blue eyes shining.
I looked down at his hand and nodded toward the box. He shook his head. “What?!”
“Answer me. Grace Ann Bryant, will you marry me?”
“Yes, now show…” he was up again with his mouth on mine pulling me toward the bed. When we reached the edge, he sat down on it and opened the box.
“You devil,” I said. The logo on the inside of the box was the same as the logo on the inside of the pistols I gave him. He knew a guy, too. Much like the guns, the sides of the band of the ring were tooled. One side with delicate snowflakes, the other with flames. The center stone was a heart shaped diamond with a flanking ruby and sapphire. As I stared it, a lump grew in my chest pressing down on my lungs.
“Say something,” he whispered in my ear.
“I will when I can breathe again,” I said as he removed it from the box. He slipped it on my finger, but kept his eyes on mine.
“Better than the one Levi gave you?” he asked. I’d completely forgotten my fake engagement to Levi, but he hadn’t.
I laughed expelling the air I’d held in my lungs. “I, um, what?” I lost my train of thought staring at it.
“Tongue tied?” he asked.
“No, you just got my tinsel in a tangle,” I laughed.
Acknowledgments
I knew I wanted to write a Christmas story for Grace and crew as soon as I finished the first book. I enjoyed writing her story so much that I debated on writing a Christmas short for my Path to Redemption series or to write a Christmas book. Timing was definitely an issue, but as soon as I started writing Tinsel in a Tangle, I knew that it didn’t matter when I finished it that it would be so much fun to read.
As I researched Christmas traditions and mythology, I came across the story of the 13 Yule Lads. I debated on tackling such a vast story considering that I wanted to adapt it to modern day. In the legends, the Yule Lads do forsake their mischievous ways and bring presents to Icelandic children for thirteen days leading up to Christmas.
The challenge also was to name all of these characters. I decided to pattern them after my co-workers who have been extremely supportive. So, when you read about the trolls, they are my fellow workers at my “other” job.
Thank you to Lamar, Phil, Cory, Willie, Chad, Keithon, Kevin, Phillip, Richard, Bo, Ryan, Chris (Taylor), Jessica, Sharolyn, Tonya, Brad and Tabitha. I’ve always written my books with keen awareness to the meanings and origins of names. In this book, the origins are simple. They are the people I see daily who challenge me. Thank you all.
About the Author
From early in life Kimbra Swain was indoctrinated in the ways of geekdom. Raised on Star Wars, Tolkien, Superheroes and Voltron, she found herself immersed in a world of imagination. She started writing in high school, and completed her English degree from the University of Alabama in 2003.
Her writing is influenced by a gamut of favorite authors including Jane Austen, J.R.R. Tolkien, L.M. Montgomery, Timothy Zahn, Kathy Reichs, Kevin Hearne and Jim Butcher.
Born and raised in Alabama, Kimbra still lives there with her husband and 5-year-old daughter. When she isn't reading or writing, she plays PC games, makes jewelry and builds cars.
Kimbra is currently writing Reincarnation, Book 3 of the Path to Redemption Series to be released in February, as well as two historical novellas for that series, Deception and Devotion.
Grace and company will return in January. The book, which doesn’t have a
title yet, will focus on the new fairy council elections. If you think humans have wild elections, just wait until they are Shady Grove style.
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