My pointed ears had no lobe to speak of, so I never wore earrings, but I slipped on a bracelet that matched the necklace to complete the ensemble.
Sophia finally settled on a pale blue dress with a spattering of sequins after I vetoed her first two choices. The sequins danced in the light, along with her lively dark eyes. She was dazzling. However, she begged to wear her pink sneakers with the dress. In the end, I gave in to her unrelenting pleads.
We went downstairs and found Alexander and Matt waiting at the door. Both men wore suits, a nice change from their usual jeans and muddy work boots.
"Tressa, I have something for you," Matt said as we drove to the church. He handed me a velvet drawstring bag. From the feel of the bag, I guessed that it contained cut gemstones. I opened it and poured a few onto my palm.
"River Rock," I said, surprised. I rolled the polished beads around in my hand. The silver specs in the navy stones glittered in the morning sun. "You did a beautiful job with them."
"They're the stones Xander and I found in the mountains last spring. Since Holly is determined to move off the estate today, I thought you might make something pretty for her to wear? So she has a little added protection," he hastened to explain, blushing. Obviously, he still had a crush on my friend.
I cupped my hand to make a funnel and rolled the beads back into the velvet bag, careful not to lose any. Matt had a good idea-River Rock had properties that kept the sound of the human voices around it out of the wind.
The wearer would be harder to find for any fae searching for them. A Sidhe in the near vicinity would diminish the magic, but living away from me, the stones could help keep her safe. I would make a piece of jewelry for Holly, and one for Matt, too. Alexander already had a River Rock ring—a gift from his mother.
Mass was letting out when we arrived at St. Francis Church. Cars lined up to leave the parking lot, but we pulled in and parked with ease.
Holly had arrived earlier to attend the service. Normally the priest conducted Baptisms during regular Mass, however Holly had made special arrangements for Trayce's to be performed privately.
We took a seat in the last line of oak pews while we listened to the final verse of the exit hymn. The church smelled of pine needles and candle wax. Evergreen wreaths and trees still decorated it throughout, though we were midway through January already.
Candle flames flickered around the altar. Thankfully, a young altar boy wearing white and black robes soon came around to extinguish them with a long handled snuffer.
I closed my eyes, shutting out the visual distractions and the shuffling sounds of people making their way down the aisles. I took a minute to appreciate the powerful essence that dwelled there and acknowledge its grace.
The church grew quiet as the last of the parishioners left and the organ music stopped. With the service completed, we joined Holly where she stood with the priest by the baptismal font. She cradled Trayce, who was swaddled in a lace-edged white blanket that draped over her arm.
She smiled nervously as we approached.
"Father Michael, these are my friends Tressa, Matt and Alexander," she said. The sturdy, middle-aged priest nodded at each of us in turn. Sophia tugged on Holly's dress, pouting at being forgotten. "Oh yes, and this little lady is Sophia."
"Who are the godparents?" he asked, foregoing further small talk.
"Tressa and Matt," Holly answered.
Father Michael arranged us in the proper order around the marble basin filled with holy water. Holly handed Trayce to me, as per his instructions, and Matt and I stood next to each other.
"What name do you give your child?" The priest asked Holly after the opening prayer.
"I call him Trayce William Moyer."
Holly and I had discussed this earlier. It was at this point I would true name the baby. I had instructed her to say 'I call him' instead of 'his name is'—which she had already been doing instinctually—to keep his mind open to receive his true name.
As Holly answered the priest, I lifted the baby higher and whispered into his ear with an extra push in my voice. I said a simple invocation to ingrain the name I had chosen into his subconscious. The naming went quickly—if the priest had noticed, he would assume I had been whispering endearments to the baby.
"What do you ask of God's Church for Trayce William?" Father Michael continued.
"Baptism," Holly answered solemnly.
"You have asked to have your child baptized. In doing so you are accepting the responsibility of training him in the practice of the faith..."
ALEXANDER
Someone must have entered the church. I had my back to the door and couldn't see them, but I noticed Tressa steal her gaze away from the baby to peer over my shoulder. She must have heard something when they slipped in that the rest of us couldn't hear.
I wouldn't have thought much of it, but her eyes didn't immediately return to the infant as I had expected. Instead she blanched before quickly regaining her composure. A crinkled brow was the only telltale sign that she remained concerned.
Still, I didn't turn around until Holly looked behind me and went pale. A middle-aged couple made their way down the church's center aisle. The man, with salt and pepper hair and a stocky build, strode aggressively in our direction. His wife, an older version of Holly, trailed behind him, looking as if she wished she could melt.
"What are you doing?" Holly's father roared from halfway down the aisle. He pointed his finger at Tressa and his face went bright red. "You bring this witch into our church, to our grandson's baptism, and you don't invite us?"
Tressa pulled the baby to her protectively. Sophia's eyes grew wide, and she pressed herself between Tressa and Matt. A surge of anger went through me at that moment—something about his hostility toward my loved ones triggered my protective instinct to a degree I had never experienced before Sophia and Tressa's recent abduction.
I had made a solemn oath to myself that no one would hurt either Tressa or Sophia again as long as I could stop it...
But there was something else. As the adrenaline boiled inside me, my arm began to tingle. The urge to wield the sword that hung sheathed between my shoulder blades nearly overwhelmed me—regardless of the inappropriateness of the reaction.
"You better back away, sir," I said. I spoke as civilly as I could manage, but I moved so that my body blocked him from reaching anyone in our group to reinforce my words. "This isn't the place to cause a scene."
The older man became even more belligerent, though his timid wife pulled on his arm. He jerked away his arm away and threw her a threatening look.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You can't talk to me like that," he roared.
I took a step toward him, determined to keep him away, when I felt a hand on my arm. Matt was beside me, suggesting with his touch that I should stay in place.
"Dad, please just go," Holly said, tears filling her eyes even as she lifted her chin with determination. "I told you, I don't want you around my baby or me. Mom, I'm sorry, but that includes you as long as you stay with him." Her father's face went red with anger.
"How dare you disrespect me in that way?"
At this point Father Michael took control of the situation, stepping between Holly's father and me with his arms outstretched. The robes he wore unfolded as he extended his arms, making his posture seem prayerful and reminding Holly's father where he was. His demeanor flipped in an instant. He apologized, putting on the façade he wore in public to cover his abusive ways. We watched in silence as he gently led his wife out of the church.
"Let us continue," Father Michael said when the door had closed behind them.
We returned to our places around the baptismal font and the priest continued with the service, but I had stopped listening. I replayed what had just happened and thought back to the times in Faery when I had a similar experience. It dawned on me then that the sword responded to my emotions—or perhaps to my adrenaline level. It called to me whenever I went into a defensive or agg
ressive mode. If I didn't watch myself, I would do something crazy—like wield a sword in church.
My attention came back to the present when the priest stopped speaking. He made the sign of the cross on Trayce's forehead in silence.
With the christening finished, we left the church through the main entrance. Across the street, Holly's parents sat in their parked car. Her father glared at us as we descended the stairs to the sidewalk.
We headed toward the Apple Dumpling Café—next door to Tressa's Treasures. Tressa walked beside me, carrying Trayce, while Sophia pushed his empty stroller. Holly and Matt walked ahead of us. Matt moved to the outside of the sidewalk, placing himself between Holly and her parents.
"Is she going to be okay with him?" Matt asked.
"My mom? You mean will he hit her?" Holly asked. She shook her head. "No. He uses words as weapons. I just refuse to be around that anymore."
Matt looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure about this moving into town? He could show up at your door any time."
Holly took Matt's arm and smiled at him.
"Mattie, it's been wonderful living next to you. You've been such a great help these last few months. But it's time I learned to take care of myself. I really believe this move will be a good thing for me."
As we arrived at the café, a small moving truck pulled up next door at the shop. Holly had hired a few men to move her things into her new apartment while we had brunch.
The café—technically a bakery with a few tables inside—served a light fare of breakfast and lunch. The proprietor, Ida Krauss, a tall beefy lady with graying hair, came out of the kitchen to make a fuss over us as we settled around a table in the back.
"Oh, let me see that precious boy!" she cooed over Tressa's shoulder. "He's beautiful! Such unusual eyes." Then her attention turned to Tressa. "Tressa, so good to see you. It's been months, where have you been? What were you thinking, leaving Holly all by herself at the store—and when she was expecting this little one?"
Tressa blushed and looked sheepishly over at Holly. Ida's tone was light, but she had a way of spinning everything in the most negative way. Holly winked and smiled to put her at ease.
"It's a good thing you hired that young Linda Singer, Holly. I'm sure you wouldn't know what to do without her." Ida shook her head as she left to greet her other customers.
I watched Tressa as I ate my egg and ham sandwich. She had brushed off Holly's suggestion to put Trayce into the stroller while she enjoyed her meal. She ignored her food, beaming down at him.
Many of the Sidhe women I'd met in Faery were childless. I believed their custom of raising children as a community stemmed from their need to spend their maternal energy. Tressa followed that tradition with Sophia and she had already started with this new baby, but I knew she longed for a child of her own.
She looked radiant as she cooed at Trayce, her skin's opalescence restored and her metallic coppery hair cascading over her shoulder. It was at moments like this, looking at her as a distant observer, when the strength of my love for her hit me the hardest.
We had finished eating and were saying our goodbyes when my phone rang. Sophia hugged me as I fished it out of my pocket. I waved as she left with Matt; they had arranged a play date with his nieces. I didn't recognize the number on the caller ID, but I answered it anyway.
"Hello?"
"Your dad's in trouble. You better get the hell over here," the caller said before abruptly disconnecting.
I stared at the phone, puzzled.
"What was that?" Tressa asked.
"I don't know. He—or maybe she—said something like 'your father's in trouble' and hung up." I pulled up my father's number and called. It went straight to voicemail. "He's not answering."
"It must be a prank. If it was a friend, why wouldn't he explain what was happening?"
TRESSA
After the christening brunch Holly insisted on giving me a tour of the shop to get my approval of her changes. The familiar sound of door chimes greeted me as we entered through the front, almost as if they were welcoming me home.
The inside of the store, like Pine Ridge Estate, had undergone quite a transformation during my absence. I glanced around as I took in the changes, wistful for my old familiar store.
Holly started by pointing out what remained the same. My workstation was just as I left it, down to the pile of amber beads from my last project. My worktable was technically in the next room with a cutout into the showroom. A counter lay across the half wall were customers could sit and watch me work.
She had reupholstered the two stools on the store side of the worktable and the other chairs in the shop with a matching damask fabric. She had also painted the walls a smooth eggshell white.
The same case displayed my jewelry, although it was nearly empty; the stock had been depleted in my absence.
The rest of the store she had rearranged. Two new cases displayed the Belleek china and the Galway and Wedgewood Crystal.
Holly studied my face, worry lining her forehead. "Do you like it?" she asked.
"Pix, it's beautiful. It looks sophisticated and refined."
It was true. Holly's cultured style had replaced the earthy and cozy mood I had created in the store. It seemed right, like a natural evolution for the shop.
Her body relaxed, releasing the tension that had built while waiting for my approval. Smiling now, she led me to the shelves that used to display the linens and wool sweaters.
Purses, spanning the spectrum from large casual leather satchels to dainty clutches, filled the shelves in their place.
Holly's face flushed as she waited for my reaction—telling me this new merchandise was important to her. I picked up a fabric bag with metallic accents and opened it to examine the workmanship. The construction was flawless, though I wouldn't have expected anything else of something Holly brought into the store.
"These are lovely. Where did you find them?"
"They're mine," she said, beaming. I looked at her quizzically. "I designed and made them myself," she explained.
It made perfect sense. Holly—always a fashion aficionado—had been under the tutelage of my cousin Rosheen, a famous fashion designer in both the Human World and the Otherworld.
"So it's okay to sell them here?"
"Aye, it's more than okay. I'm proud to have them in my store." She nearly danced with pleasure.
"Okay, I have one more thing to show you."
She led me to the large storeroom in the back where she had cleared away the corner closest to the door and created a miniature nursery and a sewing room.
"I wanted a space where I could work on my designs, manage the store and keep Trayce close," she explained as I walked around, looking at the details.
"Sure and it will be grand to have a baby around while we work," I said, truthfully. As I turned to her I saw something in my workroom that I hadn't noticed before.
A dollhouse, styled like an old Irish cottage with a thatched roof and stone walls, sat on a shelf on the wall next to my worktable, nestled into an arrangement of houseplants. I walked over to get a better look.
"This is adorable. Is it meant for the store?" I asked, though it didn't fit in with the elegant tone she had created in the front.
"It's a sample left by a salesman. I keep it there for the Pixies."
If she had said it was for a family of mice she wouldn't have surprised me more. I had never known Pixies to be inside a building.
"What do you mean, for the Pixies?"
"Well, I worried about them being by themselves down by the lake. It's so cold, you know, so I invited Brenna and the others to stay here."
"That was nice of you," I said. "Are they here now?"
I twisted my neck, trying to see inside the tiny windows.
"No, they come and go."
I nodded and smiled politely to cover my amusement. Holly had made an easy mistake. Pixies resemble human toddlers, though they are only about three inches tall and have dragonfly
wings. Brenna was an adult, as was Kerry, though between their appearance and their silly behavior it was easy to forget that and think of Pixies as helpless babies. Evidently Brenna had elected not to tell Holly that Pixies generate their own heat and aren't bothered by the cold weather in the least.
Holly left me then to start the work of moving into her new home. I spent the next hour making jewelry out of the River Rock Matt gave me. It felt wonderful to be back at my workstation, manipulating stones and metal into pieces not only beautiful, but also beneficial.
I created two pieces for Holly. Matt had cut the largest stone into a teardrop; I used it to make a pendant that she could hang under her clothing if it didn't match her outfit. Then I crafted a bracelet of beads, strung together with silver accents.
I made another bracelet—for Matt this time—with the last three stones. I twisted and braided straps of leather for a more masculine design.
When finished, I went to help Holly unpack. As I climbed the staircase that led to her apartment, I heard terse and urgent voices coming from inside. I stopped halfway, unsure if I should continue up or retreat down the stairs.
"Mattie, you know you're my best friend," Holly said, her voice strained with emotion.
"And you know how I feel about you, Holly. I don't want to be just your friend anymore."
"Fred may be in jail, but I'm still married. I have a newborn to worry about. And I need to learn how to stand on my own two feet. I don't want to lose you as my friend, but I'm in no position to start a relationship right now." Holly's words were choked with emotion.
Embarrassed to be eavesdropping, I tiptoed back down the stairs.
CHAPTER SIX
I found Alexander packing our things into cardboard boxes when I returned home. He looked up when I entered our room and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank goodness you're finally home."
Xander's Folly Page 4
