“I see.” Jourdian drank more brandy. “And how many wishes have you had Harmony grant for you, Emil?”
Emil’s frown turned into a sheepish expression. “None. Not that I haven’t asked, mind you, but she refuses to grant a single wish. She claims that wish granting would make her more like her benevolent sister, and although she’s made great strides in controlling her penchant for spreading gloom, granting wishes remains one fairy talent she declines to utilize.”
At that bit of news, Jourdian’s deep dislike of Harmony began to lessen. “Perhaps she is not as bad as I previously thought. It would seem that she possesses a wealth of sense, actually.”
Emil had no chance to form a retort.
The Christmas tree became consumed with wild blazes. The flames burned violently for a few moments before dying as quickly as they had ignited, leaving the tree as fresh and supple as it had been moments before.
No one in the room showed the least bit of surprise, for all knew that that fiery-tempered Harmony had arrived. She sat perched on one of the cranberry strands, Pillywiggin size and naked.
“Harmony,” Jourdian called from his chair, “I will consent to allow you to join us this night, but I must insist that you clothe yourself.”
“I must insist as well,” Emil said, determined that Jourdian not see Harmony’s naked glory, which he considered for his viewing only. Not that he had touched her in any ungentlemanly way. He had not. Respect was what she deserved, and respect was what he gave her.
Quick as a bee, Harmony zipped off the cranberries and flew to stand on the top of Emil’s head, her tiny feet disappearing into his unruly hair. “I do not need your permission to stay here,” she informed Jourdian, her voice as crisp as a piece of burned toast. “Nor must I follow your demand that I dress. And if you continue to order me about, you will soon find yourself in the hot sand of the Sahara desert in the guise of a cactus.”
“Harmony, please,” Splendor pleaded.
“Don’t forget who you threaten, Harmony,” Emil advised. “Jourdian is my cousin.” He reached up, gently curled his hand around her body, and took her off his head. “And if you don’t put something on, I shan’t give you the Christmas gift I’ve brought for you,” he said, holding her in front of his face.
Instantly, a black satin gown draped Harmony’s tiny form. And then, within a swirl of silver, she shifted her shape into human size and stood before Emil. “Give it to me! Give me my gift!”
“Black,” Jourdian mused aloud, looking at her somber gown. “Not quite in keeping with the season, but much better than nothing at all.”
“Harmony,” Splendor said, “I told you to bring gifts tonight. Did you nay bring any, sister?”
Harmony nodded. “I want mine first, though.”
Jourdian almost reprimanded her for acting so spoiled, but thought better of it. It was Christmas, after all, and he found it in himself to demonstrate the true spirit of the holy occasion.
He rose from his chair and crossed to the tree. “This is for you, Harmony,” he said, slipping a red and white package out from beneath the tree.
She fairly grabbed it out of his hands. Viciously, she tore off the paper, and saw that Jourdian had given her a book. “A book?” she whined. “I do not like to read! I should pitch you into the mouth of an erupting volcano for giving me such a useless Christmas gift!”
“Harmony,” Splendor admonished. “I am supremely ashamed of you!”
“As am I,” Emil said. “You are acting like a brat.”
Before Harmony could reply, Jourdian took the book from her and pointed to the title. “I think you’ll like this book.” She glanced at the title. “A History of the World's Worst Villains,” she read aloud. “Villains?”
Jourdian nodded. “The most nefarious criminals ever to walk the face of the earth.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Harmony cried, her entire face beaming with joy. “I will read this book from cover to cover and memorize every word!”
“I thought as much.” Jourdian couldn’t help but smile. He’d known full well that Harmony would seize the chance to delve deeper into the aspects of evil.
“I have this for you, Harmony,” Splendor said, handing her sister a red oblong box with a green bow tied around it.
When Harmony opened the box, its contents shone so brightly that Emil and Jourdian were forced to shield their eyes. Only after a long moment could they bear to look at the gift again.
Laughing with utter delight, Harmony held the shard of lightning as one would hold a spear.
“Lightning,” Jourdian murmured.
“Aye, that is what it is, husband,” Splendor said. “When we were small, Harmony used to have a lightning bolt as a toy. But Father took it away from her when she hurled it into the pond in yonder woods and nearly burned away all the water. Mother Nature sent a quick and violent rain to replenish the water before the fish and other pond life succumbed, but Father would nay give the lightning back to Harmony.”
Jourdian nodded as if the explanation were the most mundane he’d ever heard.
“’Tis a marvelous gift, sister,” Harmony said, twirling the lightning in her nimble fingers, fascinated by its deadliness. “And I promise not to dry up any more ponds. Your gift from me is there.” With the fiery bolt, she pointed to a tremendous wooden chest.
Within the chest, Splendor found masses and masses of acorns. “Oh, Harmony, you dear, sweet thing!”
“Acorns?” Emil asked.
“She collects them so she can plant them properly,” Harmony explained, slipping the rod of lightning into the bodice of her midnight gown. “’Tis an obnoxiously kind thing to do, but Splendor cannot help her goodness. She was born with the malady.”
“A joyful Christmas, Emil,” Splendor said, pressing a large yellow satin drawstring bag into Emil’s hands.
Emil found a tiny tree inside the bag. Planted in a sterling silver box, it bloomed tuppence. “A money tree!” he exclaimed.
“Aye, that is what it is, Emil,” Splendor said, then saw Jourdian frown. “But ’twill not grow a fortune for you,” she warned. “Only a few tuppence a week. That is all right, is it not, Jourdian?”
He supposed a few tuppence a week would do no harm. Emil set the tree down and presented Splendor with the gift he’d brought for her.
She gasped with delight when she saw the tiny music box. Its base was created with mother-of-pearl, and on its top a small golden fairy with a silver wand in her hand twirled in rhythm to the lively melody.
“I found it in a jewelry shop in Telford last month,” Emil said. “When I saw the fairy’s pretty smile, I thought of you.”
Upon hearing Emil compliment Splendor, Harmony’s eyes blazed with anger. “Do you think her smile prettier than mine?” she demanded.
“Both of you have pretty smiles,” Emil assured her. “And when you settle down, I shall give you your gift.”
Instantly, Harmony cooled off, the flames in her eyes dying to a mellow sparkle. Deep inside, she hoped fiercely that Emil’s gift to her was bigger and better than the one he’d given to Splendor.
Emil knew precisely what she was thinking, and because he knew the reasons for her jealousy, he’d chosen her gift with utmost care.
When Harmony opened the box he handed to her, she pulled out a heavy gold satin cape. Encrusted with rubies, diamonds, topaz, and sapphires, and with thousands of gleaming threads of red, yellow, and orange shooting through it, it resembled a solid sheet of wild flames. Indeed, the slightest movement caused the fabric and jewels to blaze with burning beauty.
Emil took the shimmering garment from her and placed it around her slim shoulders. “I know jewels mean little to a fairy,” he murmured near her ear, “but to humans this cloak is worthy of…a queen.”
“A queen?” Harmony smoothed her hands down the fire-like mantle. She might not ever be a queen, but Emil’s gift certainly made her feel like one. “I am very pleased with this gift, Emil. It has great meaning.”
“I hoped that it would.” Emil kissed her full on the mouth.
Watching Emil and Harmony, Jourdian realized just how much his cousin loved Splendor’s sister. It was not the kiss that proved Emil’s affection, but the gift. Jourdian’s experienced eye told him that Emil had spent a fortune on the cloak. Each of the countless jewels on the cape was of the finest quality, and there was no doubt in Jourdian’s mind that Emil had exhausted his savings on the creation of the incredibly expensive garment.
A fact that made Jourdian’s gift to his cousin all the more significant. “Emil,” he said, “this is for you. Merry Christmas.”
Emil took the cream-colored paper Jourdian handed to him. The paper was rolled into a tube and tied with a red ribbon. Completely unable to guess what the paper was, Emil opened it quickly.
His eyes widened; his heart nearly stopped.
The paper was the deed to the Egyptian emerald mine Jourdian had purchased months before. “Mine?” Emil asked. “The mine is mine?” The questions were naught but squeaks, for Emil could barely talk so great was his astonishment.
Jourdian laughed. “Yours. I thought it better for you to receive a fortune legitimately than to have it appear out of thin air, which is a wish I know you have not yet let go of.”
“Thank you,” was all Emil could say, but his voice overflowed with emotion. “I—I’m afraid my gift for you isn’t nearly as magnificent.”
Perhaps Emil’s gift was not as magnificent as an emerald mine, but Jourdian was deeply touched by the thought behind the present.
The gift was a leather-bound diary, its cover tattered and stained, its pages fragile and yellowed. It was Emil’s diary, one he had begun the day he’d met Jourdian so many years ago.
Jourdian scanned the pages, moved by the passages that related Emil’s affection for him. And as he turned more and more pages, he noted that Emil’s handwriting, spelling, and grammar improved steadily, solid testimonial of the long hours Jourdian has spent tutoring his cousin in academics.
“I didn’t want you to forget,” Emil said. “Those years. Those days. We had such fun then, Jourdian, and I—I didn’t want you to forget.”
When Jourdian held out his hand for a handshake, but then embraced his cousin instead, Harmony looked on in sheer wonder. What she was witnessing was love, she realized. The emotion was evident in the gifts Emil and Jourdian had exchanged, the way they’d spoken to each other, and the warm hug they shared now.
And Harmony finally understood her sister’s intense desire and determination to learn about and experience the profound feeling. Love was a magical emotion. A magic more powerful than anything she’d ever imagined.
Harmony wanted to know that magic. Wanted it to surge through her like a mighty whirlpool in the depths of the sea. And she wanted to feel that love before Splendor did. As usual, she wanted to be first.
“I have a gift for you, Emil,” she blurted out, hoping with all the strength she possessed that he would like what she’d selected for him. “’Tis there in the corner.”
Emil looked in the direction of the corner and saw a big green box around which swirled a myriad of silver stars.
And it was moving.
Filled with boyish curiosity and excitement, Emil rushed to open the box, but as soon as he touched it he discovered the box was naught but an illusion. It disappeared before his very eyes…
And there stood a pony. A snow white pony with a thick tail so long that it brushed the floor. The animal had big dark eyes, and a thin ribbon of black streaked down its face.
Only Emil understood the significance of the gift. The pony was a replica of the one he’d wanted as a child, the one his friend had owned in the village of Mallencroft.
Turning, he gazed at Harmony and gave her a smile so full of love that words could not get past it. He opened his arms, laughing when she flew into them. “I think perhaps we shall take our leave now, Jourdian and Splendor,” he said, anxious to be alone with Harmony.
“Wait!” Splendor looked all around the room. “Harmony, will you not give Jourdian a gift?”
Still in Emil’s arms, Harmony frowned. She’d brought Jourdian a gift, yes, but for some irritating reason, she no longer wished to give him the box of black widow spiders.
“Harmony?” Splendor pressed.
“All right!” Her mind spinning with gift ideas, long moments passed before Harmony realized what the perfect gift would be. “My present to you, Jourdian,” she began, unable to believe she was actually going to speak the next words on her tongue, “is a solemn promise to never use my magic on you again. No longer need you fear me, and I swear this oath upon Faerie itself.”
Her gift given, Harmony tossed a fistful of stardust into the air. In a flash, she, Emil, the white pony, and the box of black widow spiders vanished.
Splendor slipped her hand into Jourdian’s. “I hope you know how supremely difficult it was for Harmony to give you that gift, husband.”
“It was the best I’ve gotten tonight.”
“Oh, but you have not seen mine.” She gave him a soft package.
When Jourdian opened it, he found a pair of bright red woolen mittens with blue and green stripes running through them. One was big enough to fit a giant, the other small enough to fit an infant. The big one had four fingers and no thumb, and the tiny one had two thumbs and a gaping hole on the palm.
But Jourdian didn’t care. What mattered was that Splendor’s gift was not made of magic. She’d knitted the gloves with her own hands. And that meant more to him than any gift she ever could have given to him.
“I started making the mittens the day after our wedding,” Splendor informed him. “Emil told me that handmade gifts were very meaningful. Mrs. Frawley gave me the yam and a bit of instruction. The needles she tried to give me were of thin iron, so I was forced to make a replica of them out of silver. I do hope you like the gloves, Jourdian, for I worked very hard on them.”
His kiss told her exactly how much he liked her gift, and when he lifted his mouth from hers, she was a solid mass of gleaming joy. “Let’s go upstairs, shall we, Splendor?”
“But—but…”
“But what?” Jourdian asked, squelching the urge to laugh at the bereft look on her face, an expression of disappointment he knew stemmed from her belief that he had not gotten her a Christmas gift. “Is something the matter, sprite?”
“Nay,” she whispered, but diamonds dripped from her eyes and her glistening mist began to appear around her.
“Before you hide away in your haze,” Jourdian said, “would you like to see what I got you for Christmas?”
Her tears vanished immediately, as did her mist. “Aye, that is what I would like to see!”
From behind the tree, Jourdian retrieved a very large box, and placed it at Splendor’s bare feet.
Too excited to find the patience to open it with her hands, Splendor opened it with silver magic. And when the stars of enchantment faded away, she saw a beautiful saddle and bridle.
“There’s not a shred of iron anywhere on them,” Jourdian told her. “I had the saddle maker substitute another metal.”
Splendor touched the bright metal parts of the saddle and bridle. They were made of pure gold.
“There’s a new horse in the barns,” Jourdian said. “A lively chestnut mare whose coat reminded me so much of the color of your hair that I bought her on the spot. We can ride together now, sprite, and you can bid your dragonfly farewell.”
“Oh, Jourdian, may we go see the mare?”
“Can it wait until morning? That way you’ll have another Christmas gift when you wake up.”
She started to argue further, but quieted when she saw the naked desire in his eyes. “Aye, husband, the mare can wait. My passion for you cannot.”
He lifted her into his arms and frowned. “You weigh more than you used to.”
“I do?”
He bounced her in his arms a few times, testing her weight once more. “You do. Have yo
u been eating more?”
“Oh, Jourdian, do you know what I think is happening to me? I am becoming more like a human! Harmony said I was beginning to speak and think like a human, and when the servants thanked us for Christmas I did not mind their gratitude at all. And now you say I am heavier.”
Staring into her eyes, Jourdian recalled that earlier he had noticed she seemed less airy and more substantial. “Is it possible for a fairy to become human?”
“Nay, but it must be possible for a fairy to absorb a measure of human qualities. What other explanation is there?”
None that Jourdian could think of. “Does this mean you will gradually stop using your magic?"
His question gave Splendor pause. “Is that what you want?" she asked softly.
“I…”
Splendor without her magic. As he deliberated upon that thought, Jourdian realized that without her magic, Splendor wouldn’t be Splendor. Such a thing was akin to a rose without its scent.
“You are who you are, sprite,” he replied. Kissing the tip of her nose, he walked toward the door, although he knew he would never reach it. Sure enough, in the next second he saw a cascade of stars and then found himself in his bedchambers, Splendor still in his arms. A smattering of more fairy thrall swiftly divested them of their clothes.
“Patience is definitely not one of your virtues, Splendor,” Jourdian said, chuckling as he carried her to the bed.
“Wait.” Splendor looked all around the room. “Would you please make certain that horrible cat is not in here?”
“Pharaoh lives with Mrs. Frawley now, remember?”
“Aye, I remember, Jourdian, but that is nay a correct thing to remember. The cat does not stay where he should.”
Anxious though he was to make love to his wife, Jourdian knew the evening would go nowhere if Splendor wasn’t positive that Pharaoh was not in the room. Gently, he laid her on the bed, then began a thorough search for the blue-eyed feline that so terrified her.
After only a few minutes of looking, he found the cat asleep in the closet. Pharaoh hissed ominously as his owner deposited him in the hall and shut the door.
“You’re safe now, Splendor,” Jourdian said, and then joined her on the bed. “Safe from everyone but me.”
A Basket of Wishes Page 30