Have Yourself a Faerie Little Christmas

by Michelle L. Levigne

  Her words jolted into his consciousness. Picking up after him? Had she been picking up his papers all day and putting them back into his pocket?

  But how could she have put them in his pocket without him noticing? Unless she was a pickpocket, or a magician?

  "You, Mr. Willis, need a keeper." She leaned forward, and just when he thought she was about to kiss him, she wiped snow off his face.

  Brick laughed and pushed his questions aside for later. If he let them occupy his mind, he would sit here all day, slowly freezing and becoming one with the hill. He wondered if it was any consolation that he might not be going crazy after all.

  But that brought up new questions, the first one being: Why had Lori gone to such trouble to keep putting his paper back in his pocket without him knowing? Did she have time to look over the paper? And if she did, why hadn't she said anything about what she had read?

  Then he had a more horrid thought that wiped out all the others. From what Will had said at breakfast, Lori was in something of the same position as Brick, with people coming after her for her money and family connections and social standing. If she thought he was broke, did she think he was only being nice for the sake of her money and connections?

  Was she going to dump him because he was seemingly penniless, but for the entirely wrong reasons?

  Sometimes, he scolded himself as they dragged the sled back up the slope, you are just so smart you're stupid.

  * * * *

  Something ached to the point of distraction that evening, when Brick made his slow, limping way into a Christmas party committee meeting for the Chamber of Commerce. Part of it came from being unable to go to the movie with Lori, Will and Phill tonight. Part of it came from his aches and bruises from sledding that afternoon. And part of it was the horrid fear he had made the worst mistake of his life, and anything he did would only make things worse. He would lose Lori before he even had a real chance of winning her.

  Thursday, December 13

  "What is your problem?" Phill said, planting her hand flat in the middle of Will's chest and stopped him on the steps of Divine's Emporium.

  With her other hand, she snapped her fingers and flung a shield around them, sliding them into a parallel dimension. They were effectively invisible and mute to anyone who might come to the doorway of the shop. Anyone who used the door could even walk through them. Phill was determined to get some things out in the open, even if they had to stand there all day.

  "Problem?" Will looked down at her hand and shuddered, ever so slightly. Then he summoned up a cocky grin. "What makes you think I have a problem?"

  "Besides running around like a madman, always wanting to do something, see something. You're all fun-fun-fun since the moment we dropped Lori practically on Brick's head. What's the rush? We're not under some deadline. Or are we? Something you're hiding from me?"

  She held her breath and stared him straight in the eyes and waited. For good measure, she crossed her fingers, two sets on each hand, as well as managing to cross her big toes over the ones next to them, despite the tight quarters inside her boots.

  "No deadline." His voice cracked on the second word.

  "What is going on with you? Why can't we have fun like we always do when we remember to get here for Christmas?"

  "We're not having fun?" Will settled on the railing of the porch. Because they were in a parallel dimension, he didn't disturb the snow that had piled up overnight. Phill wished that he could feel the cold of the snow, or even have it melt into his clothes, but that was impossible right at the moment.

  If she had to, she would lift the dimensional warping shield and knock Will onto his back, sit on his chest, and wash his face with snow until he confessed--or drowned. Whichever came first.

  "Aren't we having fun? We're doing everything we always do. Caroling and playing Secret Santa with half the town and helping the kids with their Christmas pageant rehearsals, unseen, as always. And isn't it even more fun than usual, since we can hang with Maurice? And going sightseeing. That's a blast, playing tour guide for Lori. Right?"

  "All that, and more. It's like you have to cram ten Christmases into just a few days. It's like you think we'll never have another Christmas again." Phill gasped and nearly lost her grip on the shield. Then a gaggle of children, escorted by a dozen adults, ran right through her, and she almost did lose her grip.

  She watched the children go through the door of the shop. What were they doing out of school? Had she lost track of time? Wasn't it still morning, barely ten?

  "Christmas storytime," Will said, leaning to one side to look around her and watch the children scurry into the shop. He flinched when the door slammed shut. "Don't you wish you were a kid, a Human kid, believing that magic is real even without much evidence? And then coming to a place like Divine's where you get just enough proof to keep believing, even when adults tell you magic isn't real. Sometimes I envy Humans. Life is so much more of an adventure, when you don't know, when you don't see and--" His eyes widened and his eyebrows raised up almost past his hairline when Phill slapped her hand over his mouth, silencing him.

  "Are you sick?" She glared when he didn't answer. Then she realized she still had her hand over his mouth. "Is that the problem? You're sick and you think you're dying, so you're cramming everything in?" She took her hand off his mouth and stepped back.

  Maybe that was the problem with them both. Need wasn't turning on because Will was dying. How could she bond with her best friend, her partner in crime-and-adventure, if he was dying? It was kind of like a protective reflex, according to some Fae physicians and philosophers. The first two or three decades after Need bonded a couple together were the most dangerous, because if something deadly hit one partner, the other could die just from the snapping of the bond.

  Please, no. I can't lose him now, just when I'm getting up the courage to do something about how I feel. I don't care if we're not bonded, he's mine!

  "Not me," Will said slowly, shaking his head, his eyes big and dark with sorrow. The light around them actually dimmed, and it had nothing to do with the dimensional shield. "I'm scared it's you."

  "Me? I'm perfectly healthy." She would have laughed, even accused him of making a very bad joke to distract her, but the sorrow clear in his eyes was too real. "Will, I'm fine. I promise. I even went to visit Great-Uncle Throckmorton before we came here--What? Don't give me that terrified, the-sky-is-falling look."

  "You're worried about it too, aren't you?" he whispered, sounding like he choked.

  "About what?"

  "About not--" His face got red.

  On second thought, if he wasn't choking, she might just do it for him.

  "Not what?" She took a step toward him, then realized her hands were going up, aiming for his throat. She tucked them behind her back and strategically stepped backwards, out of the danger zone. "I'm not what?"

  "No, you are. You're dying. You're sick, at the very least. Because you aren't... You know."

  "No, I don't!" To her shock and amusement, her voice was loud enough to penetrate the dimensional shield and make three icicles fall from Angela's porch. "Spit it out!"

  "Need," Will whispered, and turned even brighter red.

  "What about it?"

  "You aren't--you haven't--you won't--you know." Now he went pale and stood up tall, straightening his shoulders like he braced himself for bad news.

  "Idiot!" Fury made an entire asteroid belt of sparks burst out of her and swirl in crazy orbit around her head, penetrating the side of the house, going through the door and coming back out on the other side.

  At the same time, Phill wanted to burst out laughing. Was that what people were saying about her? That she was dying and that's why she hadn't hit Need, even though she was due for it maybe thirty years ago? Privately, she thought all the time she spent in the Human realms had knocked her cycles out of whack, but she couldn't get Throckmorton or the half-dozen other Fae physicians to listen to her theory, let alone consider it. They alw
ays brought up handfuls of cases of other Fae women who went into Need right on time, despite spending their entire lives among Humans. That just proved Phill's point, as far as she was concerned--her life was unstable, so why shouldn't her body clock be as well?

  "Aren't you worried about it?" Will braced himself against the porch support post, as if the volume of her voice threatened to knock him off his feet.

  "Yes, I'm worried. Any sane woman would be. But honestly..." All her roiling emotions suddenly fled, gone, as if a trap door had opened up and they just plummeted out of her. She felt empty, exhausted. "Maybe it's all for the better."

  "That's crazy." He shook his head as if a swarm of bees had decided to pester him. Which was ridiculous. Since it was winter, bees were hibernating, and even if some kamikaze bee braved the cold, it couldn't get through the dimensional shield anyway.

  "The last thing I want is for Need to kick in and shackle me to someone who won't be any fun, who will come between us--or worse, someone who wants to take over. And still come between us, instead of making me stay home in the Fae realms all the time. I'd rather go the rest of my life like this than break up the team."

  "Yeah?" Incredibly, the big goofball grinned.

  And that got her angry again.

  "You blithering coward!" Phill wished she had a pair of wings, even something as frilly and glittery and stupid as Maurice's. She wanted to rise up in the air, beating them furious, battering Will with the hurricane-force winds she felt generating inside her. "That'd be just fine and dandy for you, wouldn't it? No risk. No fear of getting ambushed. That's been your problem all the time, hasn't it? That's what's been killing our fun. You're keeping us busy because you're afraid Need is going to hit me at any minute. You think if you run me ragged, I won't feel it, won't let it take over--and won't trap you."

  "Trap?" he squeaked, and slid off the railing, stumbling away from her.

  "I don't know what made me think I was in love with you, when--" Phill inhaled so hard and fast, she nearly swallowed her tongue. She slapped her hands over her mouth and wished she knew a time reversal spell, so she could take back those words.

  Especially when Will stared at her, so pale he made the sparkling, white, diamond blanket of snow look dirty by comparison.

  The only four-letter word capable of striking more terror into a Fae male than Need was Love.

  "You're hopeless. We're both hopeless." Phill let out a shriek and propelled herself up, through the roof of the porch, into the chilly morning sunshine. She popped the bubble of the dimensional shield, raining snow down on Will as he stumbled down the steps and looked around, searching the sky for her.

  Who needed wings when she had embarrassment and fury to propel her?

  She needed to get away. Far away. Somewhere quiet and calm and isolated, so she could think things through.

  "Phill, listen, you've got it all wrong." Will propelled himself up into the sky.

  "Stay away from me, you big, sniveling coward!" she shrieked, and tore open a slit into whatever available dimension she could find. She hung around on the other side just long enough to seal it closed and keep Will from following her, then she took off.

  Friday, December 14

  "It's the Mr. Spock effect, Daddy."

  Bethany sat perfectly still, staring at her father across the kitchen table, unable to believe what had spilled out of her mouth. Sure, Harry's ears fascinated her, but had she subconsciously been comparing him to Spock? Was she turning into the Bimbo of the Week, who fell in love with the alien and then either got amnesia or died or had to give him up for the good of her planet?

  Mr. Miller sat down at the little bistro table next to the door and laughed hard enough to make his comb-over slip down over his eyebrows. "Honey, all I said was that you two seemed pretty friendly after such a short time together, and you're more relaxed with him than I've ever seen you with anybody. And then you got defensive." He fought the grin by narrowing his eyes and pursing his mouth into his deep-thinking expression.

  "Yeah, defensive. And there's no reason to be. Harry is a great guy. I liked him from the minute we met." She sank down into the little chair opposite him and rested her elbows on the table, her chin in her fists. "Weird, huh?"

  "'Some enchanted evening,'" he half-sang under his breath.

  "Daddy!"

  "That's how I felt about your mother, first time I saw her--in kindergarten, I might add. Why shouldn't it happen to you?"

  Bethany forgot how to breathe. Was her father, her best pal and defender, the man who taught her to never settle for second best, actually giving his stamp of approval to Harry? After only a two-hour ride in the car from the airport to the hotel? What had they talked about, besides sightseeing and last minute Christmas shopping?

  "Men. You're an entirely different species," she sighed. "What went on between you two that I missed?"

  "It's not what happened between us, honey, but what I see between the two of you. You're the focus for him. And it's not a job to him, either."

  "Oh." She pressed her hands to her face. Her cheeks were definitely as hot as she imagined.

  "Don't push it, Bethie. Let whatever happens, happen. But don't let any worries about what I'll think get in the way, okay?"

  A new thought cut through the swirling images and sensations and giddiness that tried to take her breath away. She tipped her head to one side and studied him, her eyes narrowing as her insides calmed. "It isn't the Spock factor with you, is it, Daddy?" She laughed when Mr. Miller sat back, eyes widening, just a touch of confusion in the way his mouth opened and shut a few times. "The alienness. I bet you can't wait to put him through the inquisition and learn everything you can about the Fae."

  "Well--yes--I suppose--"

  "Everybody set?" Harry walked into the kitchenette. "Alexi and Megan are meeting us for dinner between their third and fourth shows. I warned them you'd be full of questions, so don't worry, ask away."

  Bethany burst out laughing, with her father not far behind. Harry's confused little frown, as he looked back and forth between them, only made them laugh harder.

  * * * *

  Holly sighed as she attached the last bundle of silk daisies to the overhead lights in the small gym at Eden II. Relief, the pain in her arms from holding them up for what felt like days, or jealousy? She couldn't decide which was the stronger root to her sigh. Rubbing the back of her neck, she held onto the ladder with the other hand and leaned back a little, to get a better view of her handiwork.

  Streamers of variegated blue and white swooped from the tops of the walls to the lights and between the lights, creating an illusion of puffy clouds in a bright blue sky. Blue gels had been borrowed from the theater department at WB, to cover the lights, which were surrounded by bundles of daisies.

  "If you can't wait until summer to get married," Holly muttered as she climbed down the ladder, "this is the next best thing."

  "Perfect." Diane paused in the doorway of the little gym and gazed up at the ceiling.

  "Not quite, but getting there." Holly decided her aching muscles were well paid for by her friend's delight. Then she laughed when a flicker of guilt rippled through the delight on Diane's face. "You thought it'd be a disaster, didn't you?"

  "I didn't know how you were going to pull it off, and I couldn't visualize it," she said, and stepped farther into the gym. "This is a thousand times better than I imagined. Tomorrow is going to be..." She nodded for punctuation. "Perfect."

  "That is incredible," Troy said, as he stepped into the gym at the end of Diane's words. "Holly, forget about the library. You should go into decorating and become a wedding planner or something like that. You're a genius."

  "Inspired." Holly bit her tongue to keep from confessing that she had dreamed several times of turning the small gym into a sunny meadow under a blue sky, when she agreed to be in charge of decorating for Diane and Troy's wedding. Somehow, she had written notes to herself of how to pull off the decorations while she was half-asleep,
or maybe even fully asleep. Was there such a thing as sleep-writing? All she knew was that she had awakened one morning with a notepad clutched in her fingers and pages of scribbled notes in handwriting so bad she couldn't recognize it as her own, and the answer to her dilemma clearly spelled out. Only after she read her notes did she remember her dreams.

  At least she remembered some of her dreams. How many months had it been since she became unable to remember a single detail of her dreams when she woke up? It used to be a single dream could carry her through an entire otherwise unbearable day. Now she had nothing when she woke, except a sense that she had thoroughly enjoyed herself. Sometimes she woke up with the strangest sensation of a kiss on her lips, and phantom warmth on her arms, as if she had embraced someone.

  Holly mentally gave herself a shake and sternly, silently scolded herself to get back to the matters at hand. She was in charge of decorating for Diane and Troy's wedding, which was scheduled to start at ten tomorrow morning. The hard part was done, filling sky with clouds and daisies and sunshine. Now to bring in the tables and cover the walls with blue and green plastic tablecloths to simulate more sky and a meadow. It was nearly 8:00 p.m., and she wanted to have a good night's sleep--and maybe a long soak in her tub before bed--so she would look her best as a bridesmaid tomorrow. Thank goodness she wasn't maid of honor and didn't have all those chores that Troy had saddled his sister Meggie with. Decorating was much easier than all the social obligations and coordinating the groomsmen and picking up Diane's many relatives at the airport all afternoon.

  "Dang." Holly stopped short, two steps out into the hall, just as she was about to open her mouth and call for the second wave to start hauling in the next cartloads of supplies.

  "What's wrong?" Diane grasped Holly's arm.

  "I forgot all about the rehearsal dinner. Why'd you have to schedule it so late, anyway?"