Hidden: A Pregnant Fairy Godmother's Journey...

by Joynell Schultz

  And you thought you didn’t belong in the fairy realm? Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself! Sitting on a bench won’t get you what you need.

  She hadn’t earned the title of The Best Fairy Godmother in Erde by staying in the comfort of her tree home. No. She went out and earned it. After taking a deep breath, she stood, straightened her dress, squeezed the rain from her hair, and began walking, sticking to the lighted streets.

  After some time, the beautiful moon was directly overhead and nobody remained on the sidewalks. She came to a giant glass window with a light on inside. She moved closer and shaded her eyes to see inside. The light came from a lantern that cast long shadows into the darkness. Odd trinkets lined some shelving, reminding her of a gypsy’s traveling home.

  Ciera rubbed her goosebumps, brushing the water from her arms, and pulled the soaked hair off her cheeks. Her tiny dress, heavy with rainwater, grew uncomfortable as it rubbed her skin. She crawled up to the window and peered inside.

  Inside, the light flashed around, perhaps a man held it.

  I need to get out of this freezing rain.

  A soft, warm, and fuzzy blanket lay across a rocking chair just behind the glass. If Ciera could just get inside and dry off, she could come up with a plan and perhaps the rain would stop. Once daylight came, she’d resume her search for the baby’s father.

  She pulled on the door, but it didn’t budge. Locked. Perhaps the man would let her in? Would he be evil like the other humans she’d met on this quest? Like what she saw in the movies? She thought of the man with the robotic arm. He didn’t seem evil, and this man inside—maybe he knew this robotic arm John. Somebody had to.

  Ciera placed her fingertips against the window and laid her forehead against the glass. With a deep breath, she gave the surface a little tap. The light inside spun around and blinded her. Blinking, she forced herself to stare straight ahead and attempted a smile, though her teeth chattered. Through her eyes, she tried to convey her need to the man inside.

  Chapter 4

  Dane

  Dane jumped and his heart leapt into his throat when his flashlight reflected off eyes outside the antique shop window.

  I’m caught!

  He stopped breathing as he rushed to escape out the side door.

  Three steps toward the exit, he halted. The eyes reflected a bright, vivid shade of violet, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. It couldn’t be a human. He turned his flashlight back toward the window, going through a list of animals that made their homes on the streets of Chicago. The eyes were too big for a rat, cats reflected green or yellow, and a raccoon’s were not violet.

  You’re tired. Hurry up and get home.

  One more pass of his flashlight, and he caught the violet shimmer again. When a human face illuminated, he jolted back. His palms sweated against the flashlight. He needed to get out of there before the police caught him, but the sad excuse for a woman outside captured his attention.

  Her drenched hair was plastered to her face, and her jaw quivered. After flicking his flashlight away, the helpless look of those beautiful eyes haunted him. He turned back toward her again, hoping she was gone, but wanting her to still be there.

  Bad timing. Don’t do this now.

  Sad, puppy dog eyes stared at him. He took a deep breath.

  What are you doing? You need to find the jewelry box and leave.

  But Dane couldn’t tear his gaze away.

  She’s shivering and only looking for some place dry. She doesn’t know you’re robbing the place. You could be the owner.

  Turn away. Let her be.

  He couldn’t let her in. Rule number one of being a thief is you don’t get caught. To Dane, that meant getting in and out as quickly as possible.

  Ignoring the woman, he flashed his light around the junk in the shop. He had seen the antique silver jewelry box earlier today in the glass display case, but it was gone. What were the chances someone bought it? He moved his light around on the other shelves He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. Did they put the valuables away at night?

  A heaviness pulled upon Dane as if the woman were still watching him. He maneuvered his flashlight toward the window again, but instead of the violet reflection, he saw a wet, tiny dress that clung to a huge abdomen.

  Crap! She’s pregnant.

  Ignore her.

  But he couldn’t.

  The rain ran down her face, and she squinted.

  Dane, what the heck are you doing?

  He pointed to the side door where he had come in. Earlier that day, he had slipped a thin plastic guard over the latching mechanism.

  The woman disappeared around the corner of the building, and Dane cursed himself as he went to open the door.

  Don’t let this be a trap. You’re a fool!

  The woman’s voice was beautifully exotic—a bold brogue that conflicted with her daintiness. “Thank you for being nice. I’ve been out in that nasty weather for way too long. Does it ever lighten up here? This is the longest rain I’ve ever seen. And cold. Brrr.” She rubbed her arms, heading toward a blanket draped over a rocking chair near the front window.

  “It’s spring in Chicago. It’s always like this.”

  “Well, it’s absolutely dreadful. I don’t like it one bit.” Water dripped from the ends of her hair onto the linoleum floor as she dried herself off. Dane needed to look away from her wet clothing. The way the fabric clung to her was too distracting—even with her rounded stomach.

  “Go ahead. Dry yourself off. Have a seat. I need to find something.” Dane retreated to the backroom, searching for the box.

  “What are you looking for?” Her voice was right behind him.

  Dane’s heart galloped.

  She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I mean, you’re not in trouble. I’m not going to dissect you or anything.”

  Dissect him? He laughed, then began to rummage again. “Just a silver jewelry box with an elephant engraved on the lid.”

  He could feel her warm breath. “Well, I’m looking for a man.”

  Dane choked, then his reasoning kicked in. She was a prostitute. That was why she wore barely any clothes and was on the street at night. Of course, the wrong type of woman always attracted him. He refocused on the shelves, coming to a large beige safe. Was his box inside? “I’m not interested. Why don’t you head back outside? Take the blanket with you.”

  She had it bundled around her body. “You’re not like the others.”

  “Because I’m not interested?”

  She leaned forward. “Because you’re nice.”

  She thought this was nice? Dane stopped. “I don’t know what you want, lady, but I can’t help you. I need to find that jewelry box and get out of here.” …before the police come.

  “You seem like you could use my help,” the woman said. As her hair dried, it appeared to soften and lighten, showing a hue as gorgeous as her eyes. What kind of contact lenses reflected light? Somehow, the purple hair and purple eyes made her appear elegant and beautiful, delicate perhaps. Not gaudy and obnoxious like Dane usually thought of the non-natural colors women sometimes dyed their hair.

  Dane worked his way to a back office, pulling out desk drawers and opening boxes, searching for the safe keys, or, if he was lucky, the jewelry box.

  The woman disappeared into the aisles of the store and then returned with a silver jewelry box. “How about this one?”

  A growl rumbled from deep in his chest. “Where’d you get that one?”

  The woman stepped from the room and called back. “It was inside that display case right there.”

  Dane rushed from the office. “No, no, no! You didn’t.” The woman had opened the back of the case, triggering the alarm. Dane rushed toward the side entrance. “We gotta get out of here! The police are probably on their way.”

  “Police?” Her eyebrows arched.

  “You set off the alarm.” Dane ran his hands through his hair. “This isn’t my st
ore. I’m here to steal the silver box.”

  The woman folded her arms over her chest. “You’re a thief?”

  “Never mind, we gotta go.” Dane opened the door and stepped into the ally. The woman followed, clasping the blanket around her shoulders with one hand and supporting her stomach as she ran with the other. The odd pitter patter of her feet hitting puddles had him looking down. She was barefoot. What was he doing?

  She panted, “What will happen if the police catch us?”

  “We’ll go to jail.” He slowed to a jog as she followed.

  Why didn’t you leave her in the store? Your soft side always gets you in trouble!

  His mind told him to ditch her. To run fast, where she couldn’t follow, but that soft side he cursed said he couldn’t abandon her.

  Block after block, the woman’s heavy breathing told him to slow down, but he pushed forward. He had too much to lose.

  Finally, the woman panted out, “I can’t keep going. My stomach’s growling. I haven’t eaten in over a day. My vision’s turning black.”

  Dane stopped. What had he done? “Up a block is a little diner. They’re open around the clock. We can get something to eat, dry off, and then you can get back to finding your man.”

  The woman attempted a smile through ragged breaths. It was stunning—literally.

  That has to be how she gets her men.

  But her smile wasn’t seductive or naughty. It was sweet and innocent. Her eyelashes batted under the streetlight and a drop of rain fell from them onto her cheek. His hand ached, wanting to wipe it away.

  Chapter 5

  Ciera

  Ciera tightened the blanket around herself as she followed the thief into a little eating place a long enough walk away. The man led her to a booth tucked away in the corner, and she struggled to wedge her belly between the bench and the table.

  She closed her eyes and filled her lungs with an aroma better than anything she had ever smelled before. Her stomach growled. “What’s that? It smells so delicious that my mouth is watering.” She opened her eyes to the man’s intense stare. His black eyebrows and vivid blue irises were a combination she could only describe as beautiful. A masterpiece, but looks didn’t mean anything. He was a thief.

  He broke her examination by nodding towards plates of food lined up on a high counter beneath a bright, red-tinted light. “It looks like meatloaf and mashed potatoes.”

  “Meatloaf?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never had meatloaf.”

  “I won’t say anything then.”

  A woman in a dull yellow dress with a stained apron stopped at the end of the table. Out of her mouth jetted a pink bubble that popped. She sucked it in and chewed obnoxiously. “What can I get you?”

  Ciera didn’t hesitate. She wanted to experience everything she could in the short amount of time she’d be in the human world. “I’ll take that delightful smelling meatloaf.”

  The waitress laughed. “I’ve never heard delightful and meatloaf in the same sentence.”

  The man finished. “I guess I’ll take the same. And two hot chocolates.” He looked at Ciera. “Unless you want coffee? Something hot to warm you up.”

  Ciera smiled and leaned forward on the table, whispering to the man, “Is hot chocolate as delightful as meatloaf?” If it was, how could she pass that up?

  The corner of the man’s lip turned up. “It’s better.” He seemed to force himself to look away. “Okay. We’ll both take the meatloaf and a hot chocolate.”

  As soon as the woman left, Ciera got right to business. She was on a mission, and it didn’t matter if this man was a thief or not, he might know where to find John. “I tried asking earlier, but I’m looking for a man.”

  “I already told you, I’m the wrong guy.”

  “But you don’t even know who I’m going to describe.”

  “Who? It’s not me you’re looking for?” He almost looked disappointed.

  Ciera laughed and waved a dismissive hand. “No, of course not, you’re a thief.”

  “Shhh!” the man hushed, glancing around the room.

  Leaning forward on the table, Ciera whispered, “I’m searching for a man with a robot arm. He lives in this miserable city and is named John.”

  “A robot arm? Like a Halloween costume?”

  “Costume?”

  The man shook his head and rubbed the dark scruff on his cheek. “You know, dressing up like Robot Man. Mister Roboto.” The thief began making all sorts of weird, jerky gestures with his arms. Then he waved a hand at Ciera. “Oh, never mind. Where did you come from, anyway?”

  Ciera knew she couldn’t tell him. It would be one step closer to the dissection table. “Not Chicago. Far away from Chicago, actually.”

  “That’s obvious with your accent and what you’re wearing. I guess it’s somewhere a little warmer and exotic.”

  “It is warmer, but I don’t know about exotic. Don’t worry about it. I don’t really fit in anywhere.” Ciera wrapped her arms around her stomach and the baby’s kick was stronger than she experienced before. Oh, this child was developing much faster than she knew what to do with it. Maybe it would be a giant baby. Weighing as much as a baby dragon in the seventeen months it took to grow. How would she get this out of her, especially without magic?

  “What’s wrong?” The thief pulled her attention back to the table.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all. I’m fine. Everything’s good.” Ciera futzed with the silver utensil-like things laying on top of a folded, white piece of soft paper.

  “You had this expression on your face. Like when you stared into the antique shop window.”

  “What expression?” Did she appear different? Like a fairy?

  “Oh, I don’t know. Big eyes, ruffled eyebrows, and a sad twist on your lips. Like a little lost puppy dog.”

  “Dog?” She remembered the documentary Cujo. “Like that beast that licked my face while I tried to sleep? It was horrifying. I thought it was going to eat me.” She wiped her face where the dog had licked. “Now I wonder what else do they lick with that tongue? If it’s anything like a drag—” Ciera stopped cold, waiting for his face to change.

  The thief only smiled. “Lots of things. Their butts for one.”

  “Ewww,” Ciera said, rubbing her face with the blanket.

  The man’s laugh was full and deep, almost like music. “When did this happen?”

  “Right before I met you. I was so tired, but couldn’t sleep. The bench was terribly uncomfortable anyway, and the rain kept waking me up.”

  The waitress placed a plate of something brown drenched in sauce and something white and mashed peeking out in front of them both. Ciera pried her eyes from the mess and looked up at the thief. “This is meatloaf? It smells so good, but looks like mud.”

  The waitress pulled out a few napkins from the pouch around her waist and gave that pink stuff in her mouth a few smacks before speaking. “You’re not from around here, are you? Everyone knows about Sally’s famous meatloaf. I assure you it tastes a lot better than it appears.”

  “I’ll take your word for that,” Ciera said.

  The man picked up the silver utensils and began to scoop his meatloaf. Ciera did the same. In Erde, they had spoons and knives, but this utensil was different. It had four pointy things.

  After throwing a bite of food in his mouth, the man spoke. “So, what’s your story? Don’t you have a home? Where’s the baby’s father?” The thief motioned toward her stomach.

  “Which one of those questions would you like me to answer first?” She followed the man’s lead and threw a bite of the brown goop in her mouth. It hit her tongue with a flavor explosion. Meaty, spiced, and comforting. These humans were right—it was delicious.

  “Where’s your home?”

  She swallowed the delicious goodness and threw another bite in her mouth before she answered. “I already told you. Far away from here.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “I
’ve told you that too.” She shoved more food into her mouth. “I’m looking for John. The man with a robot arm who lives in Chicago.”

  “And where’s the father of your baby?”

  “Aren’t you listening to me? His name is John. He lives here, and I must find him so I can return home. I thought thieves—”

  “Shhh,” the man said again, a finger over his lips and more forceful this time.

  Ciera dropped her voice. “I thought people in your…profession were smart and cunning. It seems you’re missing everything I say.”

  “Well, not too smart and cunning, obviously. I let you into the antique shop, and you ruined everything.”

  “Serves you right for stealing, anyway.” She shoveled another scoop of the meatloaf into her mouth.

  The man bit his lip. He ran his utensil through the whited mashed stuff on his plate before his words came out. “You’re probably right. We’re talking about you right now though. What I want to know is who are you hiding from? Are you in trouble?”

  Ciera filled her mouth with more food to keep from speaking. “I’ll be in trouble unless I can get rid of this baby.”

  “Get rid of the baby? Have you ever had a child before?”

  Ciera shook her head, feeling the crispiness of her dried hair. She ran her fingers through it, softening it from the rain. “No. Where I come from, mothers don’t raise children. They have important work to do and a child only gets in the way.”

  The man laughed and shifted in his seat. “Well, here, I’m told fathers don’t raise children.”

  “That can’t be. John needs to take his child.”

  By now, Ciera had cleaned her plate while the man’s was still half-full. “Are you going to eat that?” Ciera eyed the delicious, warm, savory concoction and then focused on the thief’s face, salivating while she waited for a response.

  “You want mine?” He laughed again, then pushed his plate across the table. “Here.”

  In a few minutes, she had one plate licked clean—literally—and was finishing up the other one. The thief stared at her, mouth agape.