"Now see? That's something new I just learned about you. Must have been a lot of leisure time to have a hobby like that." Brick watched her from the side of his eyes as he wandered down the aisle, leading the shopping cart with one hand.
"Too much leisure time, if you ask me. This is an adventure, doing something worthwhile for other people. So, when we get all the items on this humongous list of yours, what do we do with it all?" she continued, stopping him when he opened his mouth to ask yet another question. Or more likely, make another cryptic comment about how little they knew about each other. Lori didn't want to be reminded of how little they knew each other. Only seven more days until Christmas Eve, and then what would happen, where would she go? Were Will and Phill going to take her somewhere else to hide from the matchmaking aunties, or was she on her own?
If she hooked up with Brick, she wouldn't be on her own, would she?
Spend the rest of her life in Neighborlee, helping Brick with his charitable deeds all year long? He would grow very tired of her Human-skills ineptitude very quickly.
"Tired of what?" Brick asked, laughing. He turned around to face her, his hands full of fancy glass containers to hold all the candles he had just put in the cart.
Lori felt her face burn. The scents of a dozen different candles grew stronger as the warmth she radiated softened the contents of the shelves next to her.
Had she spoken aloud?
"Okay, I'm used to weird things happening in this town, and usually it's fun, but this ..." Brick's eyes narrowed. "How do you do that?" He stepped closer and held his open palm maybe two inches away from her face. "That's a fever, for sure. But you look just fine. Other than a head-to-toe blush."
"I do not blush down to my toes. It only goes..." Lori sighed, closed her eyes, willed the pinkish-purplish haze away, and lowered her radiant temperature. She slapped a cooling wave at the candles and decided not to look too closely, to see if she had done any damage to them. They were wrapped in plastic, after all, so it wasn't like they would have been disfigured and melted across the shelf, right?
All the same, she wasn't going to look.
"The thing is, if this happened to someone who grew up here, I'd understand. But you're not from around here," Brick said.
"No...but maybe I could belong here?" She tried to smile, even though her face felt sunburned down to the bone, stiff and swollen and sensitive to the slightest touch of his gaze.
"Yeah...maybe you could." He looked around and his quizzical look hardened into a frown. Lori looked past him and saw two women at the far end of the aisle, whispering to each other. She didn't like their sly smiles. "How about we finish this and then go sit somewhere and talk?"
All she could do was nod.
By the time they had the list taken care of, it was mid-afternoon. Brick made a call while they were on their way to Eden II, and a pizza waited for them at their next-to-last stop. Lori appreciated his foresight and planning skills almost as much as she appreciated pizza. Of all the amazing, unusual and ultra-gourmet treats available in the Fae realms, why hadn't anyone ever come up with pizza before?
They delivered all their shopping bags to the room where the assembling of the Christmas baskets was to take place. No one was there, but long rows of tables were set up with large, sturdy baskets sitting on big sheets of red and green and gold cellophane, with coordinated ribbons and bows waiting to tie everything together. She was impressed. Especially by the fleet of wheeled carts sitting by the door.
"Let me guess--you put the goodies on the carts and go up and down the rows, putting things in the baskets, saving people's backs from having to haul things all over the place."
"Gotta love a girl who figures things out. Unless mind-reading is among your hidden talents?" His grin said he was joking, but that spark of something wary in his eyes made her think he was worried about her answer.
"It doesn't run in my family," she replied honestly, "but you never know what might pop up to meet a need."
"Uh huh. You sound a lot like Lanie."
"Oh--is that Angela's friend?"
"She always says weird things. Part of it could be brain damage from being a high school teacher. Part of it could be from landing on her head when she broke her back." Amusement lit his eyes, so she knew he really was joking this time.
"Blows to the head have been known to awaken telepathic powers. Or at least prophetic gifts. Something about removing barriers to the ether beyond the space-time continuum."
"Are you a Trekker?" He stopped, turning to block her way down the hall.
"A what?"
"Star Trek fan. See, sometimes I go to the club meetings, and the really hard core ones talk that way."
"No. Sorry. But if they're having a meeting, maybe we could go." If there were people in this town who understood trans-dimensional travel and the rules of ether-related physics and could explain magic to Brick better than she could, Lori was all for making friends with them.
She nearly stumbled as they continued down the hall, at the realization that she wanted Brick to understand. She wanted to be open with him about her big secrets: she was a Fae and the family story about his great-grandmother being gifted by a Fae was hard fact. She wanted Brick to stop giving her those wary looks. The problem was that even if he didn't label her as insane and run away, he could still run away in fear and loathing because he believed her.
She pushed her worries away as Brick settled them in a small meeting room, currently unoccupied, and set out their lunch. She had eaten spaghetti and had spent a few years investigating the various world-famous restaurants in Italy, sampling the cuisine that each region was noted for. Why hadn't she discovered pizza while she was there?
"So, you're a world traveler, then?" Brick said, when she posed her question to him.
"Not as much as I would like. There's always something keeping me tied up at home. Until I need to run away." She contemplated taking a third piece. Brick had ordered a large deluxe with double toppings and triple cheese, and garlic dipping sauce on the side. There was plenty, even if she ate herself into a semi-coma, so she indulged.
"So who was that I saw you with before, out in the park?"
Lori barely stopped herself from choking. She finished her bite of pizza, and considered taking another, just to buy herself more time for answering. Then she decided it was time to stop being a wimp. She wanted to be honest with him? Maybe she should start with some smaller, easily digested bits of truth. If Brick accepted those, she could work her way up to the big, prickly, reality-bending ones.
"So you saw Epsi. That's interesting. She's usually so good about being...stealthy. Unseen. She's kind of paranoid. Agoraphobic--no, not agoraphobic." Stupid, she scolded herself. How do you explain her meeting you outside in the woods, the great outdoors, if she's scared of the outdoors? "Xenophobic. That's it. She's really shy, scared of strangers and strange places. Except when she has a really good reason for venturing away from home. And warning me, that's a very good reason."
So Brick had seen Epsi. That meant either her illusion shield, her don't-see-me spell was slipping, or he had enough magic in his blood to penetrate the basic shielding spell all Fae were required to activate the moment they emerged the Human realms. The question now was determining how much magic Brick had in his blood.
"So a really good friend, then." He nodded and reached for his fourth slice of pizza.
"The best." She concentrated on her slice, consciously fighting not to inhale it. New experiences were meant to be savored, after all.
For a few minutes they ate in silence, while she ran through her options and what she wanted, what she could and couldn't risk. If there was some Fae blood in Brick, not just Fae influence because of the spell cast on his ancestress, he could become a Changeling. If he could believe in the Fae as a reality. If he wanted to be bound to her for the rest of his life. Which would be centuries. And it wasn't like he would have to move away. Not with the general, half-blind acceptance of magical
events and general weirdness, here in Neighborlee.
If he wanted to be with her for the rest of his life. If he accepted that she was Fae.
She didn't know him well enough to risk it.
What had happened to her? A few weeks ago, she had been frustrated with her aunties' matchmaking to the point of being allergic to the whole concept of marriage. Besides, wasn't she the throwback, the uncivilized one, holding out for Need to strike?
But couldn't Need strike when two people were drawn together? It happened often enough. Why couldn't it happen to her?
How could she guarantee it would happen to Brick? And how could she make him acceptable to the matchmakers back home, so they wouldn't torment him and her for decades after the deed was done?
"Deep thoughts?" Brick asked.
Lori physically and mentally shrugged off the gloom and thoughts that had wrapped around her. She had been sitting and staring at the crust in her hand for who knew how long.
"Epsi came to warn me," she said, following through on her earlier resolution. "I'm basically hiding out from matchmakers, back home. Dynastic marriages. Power and social standing, that sort of thing. Will and Phill helped me get away. Well, Epsi came to warn me that the Aunties are on the verge of leg-shackling me to someone I've never even met. He's acceptable to them, and that's more important than me being happy."
"Ouch." Brick sat back in the cushioned chair and shook his head.
Lori wondered if she was just imagining it when some of that creeping tension that had grown over the last few days faded a few notches.
"So power and money and the movers and shakers trying to keep it all in a few select families." He picked up his can of ginger ale and gestured with it as he talked. "I know the story too well. Fortunately, my close relatives in town won't push me, but it's the other social grand dames and the out-of-town relatives who want to finagle me into their plans for their own family lines. You'd think with a nice, small town like Neighborlee, you wouldn't have the whole royal family mentality, but... So, you're pretty rich, I'm guessing."
"Where I'm from, we don't really care about money. It's all power and social standing. Politics." She had said something that relieved Brick's wariness. She could almost feel and hear the loosening of those taut cords inside his mind and heart. "There are different kinds of power beyond military and economic. Money hasn't been a consideration among us for...forever. If I could find and stay in a place where things are simple and open and honest, where people care about others...maybe even where people have needs, so others can help fill them, I'd like that more than anything."
She choked for a moment as a new thought instantly corrected her. "Well, almost anything." Her face warmed, but she fought down the blush before it radiated and threw off different colors of light. "I like all this giving and doing for others and charity things. Will and Phill told me how they like to come here and help out, and that's what convinced me to let them bring me to Neighborlee."
"You like doing charity work, huh?" Brick rubbed his chin, only partially concealing the big grin that lit up his eyes. "Well, you're in luck. I've got a deal for you. I can keep you so busy for the next week, you'll get your charity quota in for the rest of the year."
"I'd like to see that."
* * * *
Brick watched Lori when they took the first load of completed baskets and dropped them off at the various homes on this year's list of struggling families. The lists were carefully researched to make sure that families that truly needed help got the goodies and the gift certificates to stores and restaurants in town. Those certificates were geared toward their needs, such as toy stores and children's apparel for families with children; auto shops and hardware stores for older families that needed help keeping a car going to hold onto a job, or house repairs that they could do themselves. Families known for wasting their resources, or who refused to correct problems, received smaller baskets, tokens to bolster their spirits. They also received visits from counselors or city officials, to give them firmer nudges back onto the road of rehabilitation.
"Great-granny wouldn't have stood for calling drinking and gambling diseases," Brick explained to Lori. They had already visited a dozen homes where he knew no one would be at home to actually see the delivery of the gifts baskets. "In her book, someone who knew he had a problem and didn't do anything about fixing it was just a lazy bum. Someone who tried to use his drinking habit as an excuse for not trying was worse than a lazy bum, and she usually ran such people out of her town. She didn't see any justice in making hard-working folks who took care of their own dig into their pockets to foot the bill for those who wouldn't even try to take care of themselves. Women who kept popping out babies and then held out their hands, expecting help, didn't deserve any sympathy, in her book. If you couldn't afford to feed and clothe your kids, you had no right to keep making more." He snorted laughter. "She was all for gelding the husbands of such women and putting the responsibility squarely on them."
"Brick." Lori's soft, warm hand on his wrist startled him into realizing he had been preaching. "You don't have to defend yourself or your granny. She sounds like a sensible woman. I'm sure it was a little easier back then to identify those who needed help and those who just wanted to live off other people's hard work. Nowadays... Well, it's easier to fake, to fool people and pretend to be something you aren't."
"Everybody wears a mask, of one kind or another."
"But not you." Her lips twitched like she tried to smile.
"Everybody." He looked down at her hand, still lightly grasping his wrist, then reluctantly tugged free so he could put his truck into reverse and get out of the Wilberforces' driveway before the children came home from school. That would ruin the surprise.
Not that it was that much of a surprise--nearly everybody living in Neighborlee knew about the basket program, carried out at all major holidays. As long as the delivery people did the job unseen, and the recipients didn't meet up with them, didn't see anybody leaving the scene of the crime, there was still an element of mystery. The sense of freedom from admitting they had sunk low enough to need that kind of help was just as valuable as the gifts they received.
Besides, it was more fun imagining the Wilberforce kids digging through the basket before their widowed father got home from work than actually seeing them do it. Brick thought about the model car and airplane kits for the twins, and the deluxe makeup kit for their sister, who was a sophomore this year. He thought about the dinner she would probably make for her family tonight, all the goodies that would be waiting for Gary when he dragged himself through the door. Brick was especially proud of the discrete little business card tucked into the box with the new tie, directing Gary to talk to Harcourt Bammerschol, who had confided to him just last week that four men were retiring after the New Year, and he didn't know where to find someone with their years of experience to replace them.
"You're much better at this than Santa Claus," Lori offered, when they had driven in silence for a few minutes.
"Oh yeah? And you know this from experience?" He glanced sideways as they reached a stop sign, to find her watching him, her expression somber.
"Just common sense. You do it over the course of a week or two, in daylight, when nobody is home. Far more sensible than trying to take care of half the planet in the space of a single night, employing magic to stretch and fold time and fit down chimneys and...well, all those logistical problems." She turned to face forward again. Her lips twitched, fighting a smile.
"I'm really tempted to keep you here year 'round. I don't want to miss a minute of your incredible brain at work."
"Is that a good thing?" She blushed, and Brick swore there were overtones of violet to the blush, shading out from the rosy haze encircling her entire head.
"A very good thing."
"I could live here all the time. It's not like I expected at all. There's so much darkness, but that makes all the brightness and color so much more wonderful. When you're surrounded by b
eauty and color and light all the time, you get used to it. You take it for granted. You think the entire world is that way."
"And it's not?" He wanted to pull over to the side of the road and just watch the emotions playing over her face, the changing lights in her eyes. It was as if she were having an epiphany right there, seeing the world in a whole new way she had never considered before.
"Where I'm from, we don't have this. Poverty and struggling, hopelessness and illness. Yes, there are classes and power struggles, but maybe they're more prevalent because the basic needs are met. We don't think about people needing anything because nobody really needs the important things. And maybe we don't appreciate the non-tangible things that matter so much. That's why nobody wants to let you wait until you've found the one, the perfect match, the one you need, who needs you. It's all politics and plotting and warfare and..." She flung her hands up in the air, as far as the confines of the cab of the truck would allow, and let out a half-groaned snarl of frustration.
"So you're like the faerie tale princess who ran away from the castle and an arranged marriage with the idiot prince in the next kingdom. Is that basically where you're at?" He grinned as they headed down the street again.
"Close enough." Her smile looked tired.
"We need to find you a poor but honorable swineherd."
"No, thank you!"
"What have you got against poor but honorable swineherds?"
"I could tell you a thing or two about them. There's a reason why they land in jobs like that. The faerie tales you're referring to left out a lot of details." She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering so violently, Brick knew she was joking.
Have Yourself a Faerie Little Christmas Page 16