Xander's Folly

by Belinda M Gordon

  Gobban pursed his lips and looked away. I looked back at Matt, who raised his eyebrows and mouthed 'torture?' I nodded and turned back to the other fae. He stubbornly refused to look at me or respond to my questions. As the silence stretched on, I began to consider how I could help ease his pain.

  "I can make you an ointment that will ease your discomfort."

  "No." He was still looking away.

  "It's easy to make. Why live with the pain if I can help?"

  His head whipped back toward me, anger blazing in his eyes.

  "You've already made me one cheap trade. Don't insult me by making me into a beggar. I have nothing to give you in exchange for such a gift."

  Before I could speak a word of protest, he crawled down from the log and, leaning heavily on his walking stick, limped away into the woods. I sighed as I watched him go.

  Matt sat next to me and stared after the fae. "So, I gather he was a Leprechaun after all. Will he keep his word?" I looked over at him, at first astonished by the question before reminding myself how little he knew about the fae.

  "Leprechauns hold bargains sacred. They'll work to drive a hard deal, but once an agreement is made they consider it a matter of honor to hold true to it."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Alexander spent the three more days in New Jersey. Each day he sounded more convinced his father was okay. They spent their time working on the Mustang and talking sports. John had had no additional moments of confusion and spoke in detail about his beloved Boston Celtics. When John's doctor found nothing wrong with him, Alexander decided he could come home.

  He had grown restless from inactivity during his time away, so he was eager to return to work the next day. Although he had missed the fall semester at Marywood University, where he had been a guest lecturer the previous spring, they were happy to have him back for the winter semester.

  A few days later, I sat at my worktable making an elaborate necklace. The design involved weaving several strands of silver wire together while strategically placing different types and sizes of blue gemstones along the strands.

  It would be a showpiece when I finished, though probably too expensive for my clientele. However, when I had envisioned the piece I liked it so well I simply had to make it. And to be honest, my jewelry making was less about making money than about my joy of using these natural healing elements in a creative way.

  The chimes over the shop door tinkled as customers arrived. Linda gave them a bubbly greeting before leading them to the crystal display. Linda, once a frequent customer, had become a talented salesperson. She asked questions to learn what they were shopping for, then pulled out several pieces for them to examine.

  The next time the doors chimed, a glowing Allison came in, followed by Matt. I rushed into the showroom to greet them.

  "Allison, I'm so glad you came. I hope you plan to accept my offer."

  "Well, Matt insisted." She smiled up at him before glancing around the store. "Wow, this is a cute shop!"

  "Thank you. We're very proud of it," I said, leading her over to the jewelry display.

  "Let me know what I can take out of the case for you."

  Allison pushed her purse behind her back so it wouldn't fall off her shoulder as she leaned over to examine the jewelry through the glass.

  "Is Holly here?" Matt asked.

  "Aye, she's in the back with Trayce and Sophia. You can go back if you like."

  "No, that's okay," he said, shaking his head as if convincing himself that he didn't want to see her. A shadow fell over his face and I thought it best to change the subject.

  "Any more sightings of Gobban at the resort?"

  "Not since we spoke to him last week."

  "My brother saw him here in town," Allison piped in, pointing to an amethyst and diamond bracelet. "Can I try on that one?"

  I pulled out the purple bracelet and handed it to the young lady. The color was a good choice for her—it played well off her dark skin. The diamonds were a waste, too stingy to share their essence, but the amethyst had good energy.

  "You didn't mention that before," Matt said, surprised. "Was he scamming people on the jewelry again?" She shook her head as she wrapped the bracelet around her wrist.

  "I don't think so, but I hear he's squatting at a boarded up building on the end of Second Avenue. You know, the one that used to be a feed store." She twisted her arm back and forth, watching the facetted stones glitter in the light from the window.

  "Are you sure about this? It wasn't your fault I got duped, and I'll still wear the other bracelet. No one can tell they're not real."

  I gritted my teeth but covered it with an awkward smile. Passing off the man-made gemstones as the real thing felt like a crime against nature.

  "I insist. You will find, if you pay attention, that this bracelet makes you feel better than the other."

  I settled back at my workstation after I wrapped the bracelet for Allison and bid them both goodbye. I picked up my tools and continued where I had left off.

  Trayce began to cry in the back room; it would soon be time for his bottle. Sophia cooed to him and I imagined her back there rocking his cradle. Trayce stopped crying and gurgled at her instead. Sophia adored the baby, as did everyone else. Lately she'd been spending more time at the store to be near him, however I expected Shamus would arrive soon to take her home.

  I went back to my work, so deep in concentration that I didn't notice when the door chimed again.

  "Look out, Tressie. Witch lady here!"

  Brenna's fluttering wings tickled my cheek as she flew in and landed on my shoulder.

  "Brenna, what a terrible thing to say," I whispered, not wanting to attract anyone's attention in the store. Humans can't see or hear Pixies unless their eyes were opened to the fae.

  Brenna stood on her tippy toes and whispered into my ear, mocking my need to whisper. "That's what she calls you."

  I shook my head, knocking her away. She laughed as she tumbled to my worktable, landing in a summersault before sprawling spread-eagled. She lay there and giggled up at me.

  I frowned at her disapproving, but she had raised my curiosity. I glanced around the showroom for the new arrival. A woman stood in front of the shelves of purses. She wore a bulky down coat with the hood pulled over her head. The hood blocked her face from view.

  "Mrs. Davis, how can I help you?" Linda asked, her voice nervous.

  "Is my daughter here?"

  Linda hesitated, biting her lip as she considered what to say.

  "Um, well yes… she's working in the back," she mumbled before abruptly changing the subject. "Is there something I can help you find?"

  "Just tell Holly I'm here."

  I felt so sorry for Linda, who looked profoundly uncomfortable, that I put my work aside and went to rescue her, tapping on the storage room door as I passed by.

  "Mrs. Davis, how nice of you to come visit," I said as I rounded the corner. Both women jumped at the sound of my voice. Linda flushed with relief and rushed away, eager to leave the troublesome visitor.

  Given our history, I expected outrage or some other disapproving reaction from Mrs. Davis. Instead, she looked at me with longing, mournful eyes. The depth of her sadness stunned me into silence.

  Sophia skipped into the room at that moment. Unaffected by the tension in the air, she ran to hug me.

  "Shamus is here. We're going home, okay?" she said, seeming to include Brenna, who flew in circles around her.

  "Aye, a leanbh. I will be home soon," I said as I leaned down to kiss her forehead.

  "This is your child?" The venom in Mrs. Davis's words stunned me and put me on my guard. I put a protective arm around Sophia's shoulders.

  "Aye, she is mine," I said, glaring at her in warning.

  "How nice for you to have your child so close, when you have taken mine from me."

  Her words were shocking and simply not true. I opened my mouth, preparing to defend myself, I but didn't have time to say anything. Brenna, ange
red by her attack on me, flew toward her with her hand raised, ready to throw Pixie dust on her.

  "No, don't!" I called to Brenna, imagining Holly's mother dropping to the ground in an instant deep sleep that would last for hours. Brenna stopped in midair and turned, her little hands balled into fists, stomping her foot.

  "Mean lady. Shouldn't talk to you like that."

  "Mom, what are you doing?" Holly said, her voice filled with disappointment. "I told you not to come here."

  Everyone turned toward her. Holly's entrance distracted Mrs. Davis from the rest of us, giving me the chance to extricate Sophia from the ugly situation. Shamus stuck his head into the room as if on cue.

  "Miss Sophia, I'm waiting on you," he said in that blustery way he had of implying a 'tut-tut' at the end of every sentence.

  "Coming!" she said as she ran after him.

  I waved a finger at Brenna, indicating she should go with them and feeling relieved when she followed my instruction.

  Mrs. Davis approached her daughter, or more accurately, the bundle in her arms. Holly, on the defensive, held Trayce tighter against her body.

  "I just want to see the baby. How can you deny me that? Your father doesn't know I'm here. I want to know my grandson. Is that so terrible?"

  The anguish in her voice weakened Holly's resolve. She brought Trayce over to her mother, who gazed down adoringly at the sleeping baby.

  "Oh, look at him! He's beautiful. He looks like Eileen as a baby, don't you think?"

  "Mom, Eileen was older than me. I don't know what she looked like as a baby," Holly said, amused.

  "Oh, you've seen pictures. What did you name him?"

  The question surprised me. I knew Holly and her parents were estranged, but to go three months without knowing the baby's name meant that Holly's friends had disassociated with them as well.

  "Trayce William," Holly said, looking away from her mother and beaming at her son.

  "Trayce? What kind of name is that?" Holly rolled her eyes.

  "My god. Really?"

  "I'm sorry, it's a wonderful name. I'm sure I'll get used to it."

  Since the situation had calmed down, I decided my presence had become an intrusion. I went back to work on the necklace. Removing myself to my worktable only gave the illusion of privacy. I could still hear their conversation as if I were next to them. I could even peek at them through the cutout into the showroom if I wanted to.

  Mrs. Davis peppered Holly with questions about the baby. Holly's voice grew warmer each time she spoke. Like all new mothers, Trayce was her favorite subject to talk about.

  Trayce, ready for his bottle, began to squirm and awaken. I thought Holly had gotten to the point where she would let her mother hold him. It would be a good thing for Holly to have family to help raise her child. Sidhe children are always raised by the entire community.

  "What's wrong with his eyes?" Mrs. Davis's sharp words cut through my thoughts.

  "There's nothing wrong with his eyes," Holly said, her answer just as sharp. "They're beautiful."

  "It's that witch, isn't it? She did something to him!"

  Holly and I sighed simultaneously. "Can't you see she's crazy, or possessed? You saw her a minute ago. She talks to imaginary people! She probably hears voices, too."

  "Wow, Mom. That's enough. Tressa is my friend, and she has been good to me."

  "Holly, sweetheart, I'm just trying to protect you."

  "Well that's the thing, Mom. You're always trying to protect me from the wrong people," Holly hissed. "And all I do is end up getting hurt."

  Trayce, too long denied his meal, cried in earnest now.

  "This was a mistake," Holly said. "You need to leave now." She spun and left her mother standing in the showroom.

  Mrs. Davis stood frozen for a few beats before making her way to the door. She turned and looked at me before exiting. I couldn't quite read her expression. Where I had expected hatred, maybe even fear, I saw something more like hurt and confusion than anything else.

  I thought about her as I worked. Mrs. Davis often touted her husband's rhetoric, but her aura differed significantly from his. Mr. Davis's aura was dark and snarly. His wife's, on the other hand, resembled Holly's, though she lacked Holly's strong will.

  Her actions went against her nature—something my grandmother had told me to watch for. Perhaps this clandestine visit today was a first step in reversing her husband's influence.

  When I came to a good stopping point in my work, I put the necklace away and prepared to leave. The door to the storage room was open; Holly was inside, rocking Trayce and rubbing his back as she tried to coax out a burp.

  She looked up when I entered. Her eyes were red from crying.

  "I'm sorry for my mother's behavior, Tressa. She doesn't understand how much you've done for us." I smiled and shook my head to show it didn't matter.

  "Holly, don't give up on your mother. There still may be hope for her yet."

  As I walked to my car, I realized that I sounded like my grandmother—making cryptic remarks without explanation.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  The smell of beef stew simmering on the stove greeted me as I entered the backdoor of the farmhouse. Someone had already set the table for dinner with three flat bowls, a basket of rolls and a dish of butter placed in the center.

  Alexander and Sophia's voices drifted in from the living room. They sat on the sofa, Sophia leaning against her father as he held a photo album out in front of them. They both looked up when I entered, smiling their matching smiles. Alexander patted the spot next to him and I sat down beside him.

  The album was one from the pile Alexander had brought back from New Jersey. John, an amateur photographer, had taken endless pictures documenting Alexander's childhood: photographs of holidays, vacations, birthdays and family gatherings filled dozens of albums.

  Alexander and I had scrutinized them all, thoroughly examining each of them for any clue to Neve's disappearance. Sophia combed over them repeatedly, fascinated by the snapshots of her father as a child.

  They had the book open to the last few pages with pictures from a community day celebration. People were crowded into a park, picnicking and playing games.

  "Where were these pictures taken, Daddy?"

  "That's Memorial Park. Grandpa takes you to the playground there all the time."

  "There were fireworks that night, right, Daddy?"

  "You got it, sweetie." Alexander patiently answered her questions as if it was the first time she had asked them.

  "This is me with my best friend Eddie," Alexander said, pointing to a picture of himself as a seven-year-old with a towhead boy of the same age. Each boy had an arm thrown around the neck of the other. They held baseball gloves in their other hands. "We spent that whole summer playing baseball."

  He moved his finger over to the next photo. "Here he is with his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson."

  "The neighbors with the Irish Wolfhound?" I asked, picking up on a new detail.

  "Yes, they lived down the street," he said, nodding. "The dog just showed up one day. Eddie wore his parents down until they said he could keep her." Alexander laughed at the memory. "That boy always got what he wanted."

  "What happened to him?" I asked.

  "Hmmm? Oh, nothing. He lives with his family in California. His folks moved out there to be closer to their grandchildren three or four years ago."

  A thick envelope slipped out from the back of the book onto Sophia's lap. She picked it up and peaked inside.

  "What are these, Daddy?" she asked, pulling out a stack of dark strips.

  "They're the negatives. They used them to print photographs before everyone took photos on their phone," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Hold one up to the light and you'll see the pictures."

  Sophia took one strip, smudging it with her fingerprints, and held it up to the lamp on the table next to the sofa. She squinted at the row of pictures. "They don't look like the photographs."

&
nbsp; "Well, not exactly, but look at that one. Can you see that it's the picture of Eddie and me at the park?"

  "Oh, yes!" she exclaimed. "Now I can. It's kind of backwards."

  "That's right, Sweetie, you've got it."

  "But Daddy, what about this one?" She pointed a stubby finger at the next photo in the strip. "I don't remember seeing it before."

  He took the negative from her and slid himself closer to the lamp, pulling her onto his lap as he moved. He held it up to the light. Then he took another strip from the envelope and did the same.

  "She's right. Some of the photos on this roll of film aren't in the book. This day in the park was about a week before my mother disappeared. Do you think someone could have destroyed them?"

  "You should take the negatives to get printed. It's the only way to know for sure what's on them—or what's missing," I suggested.

  Later that evening, while Alexander was putting Sophia to bed, I grabbed the thick wool blanket I kept folded on top of a chest in the living room and set out for my spot at the lake.

  The moon, high in the night sky, illuminated the way past the frozen, bare branches and dormant flowerbeds. The air smelled frosty and fresh.

  I spread the blanket across the glider, curling up with my feet on the seat and wrapping the blanket around me like a cocoon. I didn't come to this spot as often in the winter, but this peaceful oasis was still the best place to think no matter what time of year.

  Sitting on the glider was like being wrapped in the arms of nature. The shrubbery behind the glider blocked the buildings on the estate from sight. The frozen lake lay before me, and beyond it the pine forest from which Pine Ridge derived its name. Sitting in the midst of such beauty was always restorative.

  Before long, the inhabitants of the large maple tree beside the glider felt my presence. Three Pixies tumbled out and leapfrogged over a tree root before zooming up to hover in front of me.

  "Good evening, Precious Brenna. Kerry, who's your new friend?"