My Unfair Godmother

by Janette Rallison

  “They match his tiny fingers.”

  “His pinky curves in a little,” I said, noticing it for the first time. “I’ve never seen that before.”

  “It’s not so uncommon.” Hudson lifted his own hand. “Mine are that way.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Hudson’s gaze shot to mine.

  I stared back at him, suddenly light-headed. The baby had brown, wavy hair and dark brown eyes like Hudson. I felt a blush creep into my cheeks.

  Instead of blushing, the coloring dropped from Hudson’s face. He clenched his jaw. This was not a good indication that he wanted to be more than friends.

  When he at last spoke, it was with marked frustration. “Chrissy said she went to the future and got your baby.”

  I nodded, still blushing.

  “But she’s your fairy godmother, so she probably didn’t want to risk your child. I’m just a nameless extra who’s messing up the story. She would have thought it was dramatic justice to take my baby instead.”

  I gulped, finally able to breathe. He hadn’t connected the details the same way I had. “You don’t think I’m the mother?”

  Hudson’s gaze swept over the baby. “He doesn’t look anything like you, and he loves it when I hold him—he probably recognizes me.” Hudson leaned back against his seat, folded his arms, and let out an exasperated breath. “He’s my kid, and his name is Stetson.”

  But I knew he was mine. He had calmed down at the sound of my voice. I wasn’t about to relinquish him. “The story is about the miller’s daughter. Rumpelstiltskin bought my child, not yours. Why would Chrissy have brought the guard’s son into the fairy tale?”

  Hudson waved a hand in my direction. “You’re not actually a miller’s daughter. Your father is a librarian. Chrissy is improvising and she doesn’t care whose baby she steals for the story. Fairies don’t follow rules.”

  “They must have some rules because they have a magical alliance.”

  Hudson shook his head. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. He looks just like my baby pictures. Trust me, he’s mine.”

  There was no point in arguing about it. “Fine,” I said, wrapping an arm around Junior possessively. “He’s ours.” I meant for the duration of the trip, but Hudson understood what I hadn’t meant to say. I could see the realization dawning on his face.

  “You think that … you and I?” The words hung in the air for a moment.

  I didn’t answer. I probably blushed again.

  Hudson tilted his head back and grinned. He looked like he might break out laughing.

  What did that reaction mean? Did he think the idea of us being a couple was funny, that it could never happen?

  I sent him a challenging look. “I suppose you’re too good to marry me?”

  He leaned against the carriage wall, settling in with satisfaction. “Not at all. You’re King John’s fiancée, the heroine of the story. One day Disney will make a movie about this and then you’ll have thousands of little girls toting around lunch boxes with your face on them. Me, I’m only a nameless extra.”

  “Then why do you look so smug?”

  “I’m contemplating telling our kids I met their mother at a police station after she was brought in for questioning.”

  “That’s probably grounds for not marrying you right there. And besides, I’m not positive you’re Junior’s father. I bet when I go back to New York I’ll meet lots of brunet guys with wavy hair and weird pinky fingers.”

  He leaned forward, checking on the baby. “How is Stetson doing?”

  “Junior is doing fine.”

  Hudson tucked the blanket back around him where it had come loose. “I’m never going to live in New York, so that means you must stick around Arizona. A city-girl-finds-her-country-roots sort of thing.”

  “Maybe you fall so desperately in love with me, you follow me to the city. Country-boy-sheds-his-boots sort of thing.”

  Hudson rubbed his jaw, considering. “No, you don’t want to raise Stetson in some apartment building in a city. A growing boy needs a yard. Trees to climb. Mud to play in—”

  “The Empire State Building. Museums and cultural events—”

  “A horse.”

  “Snow.”

  Hudson opened his mouth to speak and stopped suddenly. A new thought had occurred to him and whatever it was, he didn’t like it. “Maybe Chrissy didn’t take the baby from the twenty-first century.”

  “You think she stole some random baby from here that just happens to look like you?”

  “Not random. Ours. Maybe this means we never get home. We’ll marry each other here because we’re the only ones around who won’t think we’re crazy when we do modern things. If we made it back to our own century, what are the chances we would even live in the same place back home, let alone get married?”

  Judging by his facial expression, not great.

  That stung. It was like he was telling me he could only see himself marrying me if I were the last woman on earth—or at least the only woman on earth who knew what dental hygiene was.

  He let out a deep breath. “Forget I said that. We shouldn’t think about being stuck here. We’ll get home.”

  I couldn’t forget he said it. He had been trying to come up with a sensible reason why he would ever marry me.

  After that bit of discussion, Hudson changed the subject to contingency plans. He not only wanted to figure out a plan B, he also went over plan C and D and probably would have gone beyond plan Z if there were more letters in the alphabet. He went over what I should do if the carriage were stopped by King John’s men, if we were separated, attacked, lost, wounded, captured, or ran out of food. Hudson’s face was completely serious during these instructions, and I wondered which fate he was trying to change: being stuck in the Middle Ages, or marrying me because of it.

  Chapter 21

  We stopped at an inn to eat and hire fresh horses for the rest of the trip. By getting new horses now, Bartimaeus’s horses would be rested and waiting for him on the way home. After some deliberation, Bartimaeus decided it would look suspicious if Hudson and I didn’t go inside the inn to eat while the horses were being switched. He scoped out the place for king’s men, then came back and told us, “When the horses are ready, we’ll leave. No dawdling. I have to go oversee things in the stable. Innkeepers are all cheats and scoundrels.”

  This sort of speech was probably the reason why the wizard was known as Bartimaeus the Proud and not Bartimaeus the Friendly.

  After he left, Hudson climbed out of the carriage, then helped me down. He kept hold of my hand when I was on the ground, intertwining my fingers with his. When I looked at him questioningly, he said, “It’s part of our cover. You’re my wife.” I wasn’t sure who the cover was for, since no one else was on the street by the stable and no one could see us yet from the inn window. “And,” Hudson went on, “this is our son, Stetson.”

  I didn’t move toward the inn. “We should at least choose a name that works in the time period. Edward, or maybe Jacob …”

  “You are not naming our son after Twilight characters.”

  “They’re older names,” I pointed out. “I can’t help it if they’re also good-looking fictional guys.”

  Hudson shook his head. “Women.” To the baby, he said, “Don’t worry, I won’t let her name you after a vampire.” He bent and kissed the top of Junior’s head. As Hudson straightened, he hesitated, and looked at me questioningly. Seemingly on a whim, he put his hands on my shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed me too. The pressure of his lips on mine made my heart skid helplessly inside my chest. I shut my eyes and kissed him back, then was angry at myself for acting that way. We weren’t a couple. He had never even said he liked me. He thought he would only marry me if he were stuck in the Middle Ages.

  I stepped away from him, taking a deep breath to clear my mind. “Okay, just because I might at some point have your baby, it doesn’t mean you can kiss me whenever you want.”

&nbs
p; He smiled, self-satisfied. Whatever his question had been, he thought he knew the answer. Hudson took the baby from my arms and spoke in a hushed tone. “Here’s another thing you need to learn about women, Stets. They might pretend to like the bad-boy Robin Hood types, but they can’t resist hick-town boys.”

  “You’re so sure about that?” I asked.

  He smiled. “You’re into me, I can tell.”

  “I’m not into you,” I said hotly. Hotly, because as soon as the words left my lips, sparklers erupted on top of my head.

  Hudson looked at them, and a grin spread across his face. The baby cooed and reached out, trying to grab the flaring light. Hudson moved farther away. “Don’t touch. Just look at Mommy’s pretty liar hat.”

  He was enjoying this way too much. “Okay,” I said. “Maybe I like you a little.”

  The sparklers dimmed, but didn’t go out.

  Hudson raised an eyebrow.

  “All right,” I said, nervously eyeing the area to make sure no one saw us. “I’m into you.”

  The sparklers died, but I didn’t wait around for more commentary. I headed to the inn. Behind me I heard Hudson still talking to the baby. “Yes, we like Mommy’s flaming hairdo, don’t we?”

  Once we reached the inn, Hudson stopped trying to come up with ways to embarrass me. He gave the innkeeper some coins for our meals, and then we sat down on a bench at one of the tables. I held out my hands for the baby. “Do you want me to hold Junior?”

  “Junior,” Hudson repeated with distaste. He whispered conspiratorially into the baby’s ear. “I don’t think we should trust your mother where names are concerned. She put you in a dress.”

  “It’s what babies wear here,” I said.

  Hudson ignored me and kept whispering to the baby. “Don’t worry, when we get back to the right century, I’ll teach you to play football and drive a pickup truck.”

  We didn’t say more about the future because the innkeeper’s daughter came by with our food. She was about my age and cooed happily at the baby until her mother came over and told her to get back to work. But they both stayed for a few more minutes talking to the baby and risking their lips to his grasp.

  “You’ve a fine-looking lad,” the innkeeper’s wife told us, giving him a pat good-bye.

  “Thank you,” I said. “His name is Edward.” The hat didn’t go off. I hadn’t lied—at that moment I wanted to name him Edward just for spite.

  As soon as the innkeeper’s wife was out of earshot, Hudson took the baby from my hands and pointedly started calling him Stetson again.

  When we were nearly done eating, I saw two men on horseback ride past the inn. They wore the red surcoats of King John’s men.

  Hudson saw them too. He stiffened and handed me the baby. All the lightheartedness in his expression vanished. Before I knew he had done it, he took the pouch that held the Gilead and handed it to me too. “If they come in here, I’ll hold them off so you can get to the carriage. Don’t let Bartimaeus know you have the Gilead until you reach the others.”

  Fear swept through me. “No,” I whispered. “You can’t fight two trained swordsmen. I’ll go with them if I have to.”

  Hudson’s eyes connected with mine. “If they take you back to the castle, it won’t be for a wedding. King John will throw you into the dungeon and keep Stetson hostage to force you into making gold for the rest of your life. Do you think I’m going to let that happen?”

  I could see the men out front. They were nearly to the front door. I held the baby with shaking hands. “We’ll find another way. One that doesn’t end with you being killed.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Just do what I say.”

  I would have argued with that, but I saw the pain that flashed across his face—the same pain I’d seen at our campfire. He wasn’t thinking of the future. He was back in the past on the night he’d lost his mother. It hit me with a sickening thud that he didn’t want to escape from these men; he wanted redemption—to die heroically. He would act now because he couldn’t forgive himself for the way he had acted then.

  “Dying here will not bring her back,” I said.

  Hudson flinched. My words hit home, but he didn’t acknowledge them. He stood up. “Let’s walk to the door like we’ve finished our meal.”

  I stood up to follow, putting my hand on his arm. “Your mother wouldn’t want you to do this.”

  “How can I know what she’d want?” His voice had a bitter edge. “She’s dead.”

  We stared at each other for a moment, then the emotion on his face vanished and he was all practicality again. He took my elbow. “At the first sign of trouble, bolt away from me and run to the carriage.” He propelled me forward and we walked toward the door. The baby made happy gurgling sounds and looked at me with his big brown eyes. Hudson’s big brown eyes.

  “I don’t want you to do this,” I said.

  He sighed in frustration, but didn’t answer. The door to the inn opened and the knights entered. Hudson nodded to them, the way you might to any stranger you were passing.

  They didn’t move. In fact, they stopped directly in front of us, sizing me up.

  The first was a bear of a man, with a beard and mustache that covered most of his face. His eyes kept running over me. “Is this your wife?”

  Hudson put his arm around my waist. “Yes, and the little one is our son.”

  The man didn’t take his eyes off of me. “She’s tall and pretty. Is she blond?”

  “She’s taken,” Hudson said with forced humor. “If you’re looking for a pretty maid of your own, I can recommend a few in the village.” Hudson pulled me to the side, trying to walk around the knight, but the man stepped in front of us again.

  He pointed a finger at me. “Are you perchance a miller’s daughter?”

  I couldn’t lie, but I could tell a safer truth. “My father works with books.”

  “Books?” the man repeated with disbelief. “You mean he’s a monk?”

  The second man stepped toward Hudson’s side. I knew it was a strategic move; if Hudson drew his sword he would have two fronts to fight on. The move also opened up a space I could dart through to get out the door. Hudson nudged my back, and I knew he wanted me to run.

  I couldn’t. I didn’t like Hudson’s chances. If anyone was going to sacrifice themselves, it was going to be me. It had to be. This trip to the Middle Ages was my fault.

  One of the knights put his hand on the hilt of his sword. In another moment, Hudson would reach for his own. My breath seemed to lodge in my throat. Should I blurt out who I was? Would that stop them from hurting Hudson?

  I hadn’t heard the innkeeper’s wife approaching, but she stepped over to the guards. She addressed them in a cheery voice, as though their swords weren’t about to scrape free from their scabbards. “Welcome, gentlemen. Are you here to eat or do you have business with our cobbler?” She looked at their boots, appraisingly. “He does some fine work, this young man. I’ve known him and his wife since they were no bigger than their own sweet babe.” She patted the baby’s arm, lovingly. “You won’t go amiss with a pair of his boots.”

  Her speech did the trick. The guards muttered under their breaths about us wasting their time, then walked to the tables and spouted off their order to the innkeeper’s wife.

  Hudson didn’t need to nudge me forward again. I hurried out the door and down the street. I made it to the stables, ahead of Hudson, who kept looking over his shoulder to make sure we weren’t being followed.

  In front of the carriage, a teenage boy was hitching up the new horses. He hardly took note of us as we climbed inside. I was shaking as I sat down. I moved the curtain a sliver in order to peer out the window. No one had followed us, but I didn’t see any sign of the wizard. “Where’s Bartimaeus? Do you think he saw the men ride in?”

  “From now on,” Hudson said, “if I’m jabbing my thumb into your back, that’s your cue to run.”

  “It worked out better this way,” I said.

&
nbsp; “Only because the innkeeper’s wife saved us. You didn’t know she was going to do that.”

  “You’re right,” I said, giving Hudson the full force of my gaze, “but that’s how life is. You never know how it’s going to turn out, and you can’t plan for everything. You just have to do your best dealing with things as they come and hope people forgive you when you make a mistake.”

  He grunted and peered out of the window. “That makes a lovely moral. Why don’t you write it in the book and see if it sticks?”

  I did. I handed the baby to Hudson and got out the book. A new illustration showed Hudson and me traveling in a much nicer carriage, one with cushioned seats and backrests. I wrote the moral on the last page. I thought it would work this time—I had learned something important.

  It still didn’t stick.

  A tapping sounded from the door.

  Hudson and I looked at each other, but neither of us moved. Enemies weren’t supposed to be able to see the carriage, but Bartimaeus wouldn’t bother to knock on the door. He would just check to make sure Hudson was inside, then take off. Whether I was there or not was probably optional to the wizard.

  “Pardon me,” a girl’s voice whispered through the door, “but my ma sent me to give you this.”

  The innkeeper’s daughter. I opened the door, and the girl handed me a cloth napkin, folded into a bundle. I could tell by the smell that food was wrapped inside. “You had to leave some of your food on the table,” she said. “Ma didn’t want you to go hungry.”

  I took the napkin. “Tell her thank you for helping us.”

  “Knights,” she said in disgust. “They’re nothing more than thieves. A few days ago they came through and took half the village’s straw. Taxes, indeed.” She looked back over her shoulder, then continued. “Now they’re bothering our patrons, searching for some maiden who’s supposed to marry King John. They’ll take every blond woman who can’t prove she’s not the one.” The innkeeper’s daughter looked at the wimple covering my hair. Perhaps she guessed what color it was. “You best be careful.”

  She turned to leave, but I reached out for her. “Wait, I have something for you too. Let me put this food somewhere so I can return your napkin.”