by C. E. Wilson
“I don’t want to hear one peep about this,” Uncle Jeremy finally said. “Not a whisper or even a rumor from our customer base. The girl stays out of sight. I don’t care how you do it. Keep an eye on her and keep her out of sight.”
Carter’s head shot up, and his hazel eyes widened. “Really? You’re serious?’’
“I’ll be a lot more serious if I ever hear anything about her from a customer,” Jeremy said, allowing his attention to drift towards the door leading to the front of the shop. “Ugh, but you’re right. Elf or not, it’s too cold for anyone to be out there at all hours. I don’t even know how old the poor girl is.”
Carter frowned. He didn’t either. “So does that mean I can bring her in now?”
Jeremy shook his head. Carter had pushed too hard.
“I’m sorry. Now’s not a good time. Marvin should be here shortly. I can’t risk it, Carter. Marvin’s family does not approve of the elves at all.”
Carter blinked, remembering how Marvin had almost gone after her with a broom. “I get it,” he said. “Tomorrow then?”
“Tomorrow’s Friday,” Jeremy said. “I’m sure you have better things to do than hang out here.”
“You’re closed this Saturday,” Carter said helplessly.
“You’re right about that. Big catering job for that holiday festival upstate.”
“That means I can’t even bring her here till Monday,” Carter said. “That’s the 19th.”
“I’m sorry, boyo,” Jeremy said. “Those are my rules.”
“Can’t I bring her here on Saturday? When you’re closed?”
“While the shop isn’t even open?” Jeremy couldn’t hide his surprise. “How well do you know this elf girl?”
“Not that well,” Carter admitted, “but I’d like to get to know her. Can I bring her to the shop Saturday while you’re out? Please? Maybe Sunday?”
He held up his hands. “Let’s start with Saturday.” He couldn’t help shaking his head as Carter’s face lit up. “If you’ll be here, you’ll be cleaning. The stock room needs cleared out—”
“I’ll do anything you want!” Carter said, beaming widely. “I’ll clean the place top to bottom! Whatever! Uncle Jeremy, seriously! Thank you. I can’t wait to tell her!” He began to run towards the front of the store, so blinded with excitement that he nearly knocked over Marvin.
“Hey, what gives, Holly berry?” he grunted, staggering around him.
“Sorry!” Carter exclaimed, pushing past. “Sorry, Marvin! I’ll be back!” He fled towards the door without bothering to throw on his coat and scarf.
“What’s wrong with him?” Marvin asked, arching a brow with a frown.
“No idea,” Jeremy said as the doorbell rang. “Pound some of this for me, will you? I need a little breather.”
“Oh, er sure,” Marvin said with a bit of surprise. He watched the large man saunter out to the main floor of Sweet Mix. “No problem boss.”
Chapter Seven
“Four dollars,” an expressionless voice announced, looking slowly at the people huddled around him.
Brynne and her family stood with bated breath, barely nibbling at their small pieces of the leftover croissant. The family was awaiting Tomas’ approval as he rolled out the big dollar bills and took inventory.
“Not bad.” Her father broke into a burly smile under his mustache and ruffled her choppy auburn hair.
Brynne smiled weakly, then slowly stepped out of her father’s reach.
“That human brat give you any more problems?” Her father continued, pointing for her to take a seat. Brynne obediently sat down at the end of the rickety table, taking her portion of the slightly stale bread in two icy hands.
“Oh! N-no. No problems,” she answered hastily.
“Heh,” Tomas said. “At least that’s something. I’m very happy that you finally thought of your poor father for once. I need a night off from your neediness, and a relaxing evening at the pub is just what the doctor ordered.” He folded the dollars into a thick wad and tucked them into the back of his pants, smiling widely.
“The pub?” Neora asked, her voice cracking. “But we just got the money! We should use some of it to get some meat for Christmas—”
“I haven’t had a night out in weeks,” Tomas grumbled. “It’s not up for argument. I’m dying for a calming drink or two and this’ll cover me for the night and then some. Don’t worry, Neora. We’ll get some turkey scraps for the Christmas meal so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” He looked around at each of them, and they all lowered their wyes. When he finally got to Brynne, he stopped.
“What are you smiling about?” he asked Brynne in a suspicious voice.
“I wasn’t aware that I was smiling,” Brynne said, blushing hard as she became the center of her family’s attention. “If it’s bothering anyone I can stop.”
“Don’t stop smiling, honey,” Neora said. “I understand you had a good sale day, but you’re practically glowing.” Her eyes grew worried. “This human boy, does he have anything to do with that?”
“Of course not,” Brynne quickly denied. “He’s a human. With big old feet and a big mouth.”
“And a big ugly nose!” Henri jeered.
“Oh! And I bet he has big teeth!” Abigail added with a giggle.
“And big, scary voices,” Brynne said softly as her younger siblings poked each other and pretended to be giants. When their laughter finally died down, Brynne cleared her throat. “I know better than to think a human is anything less than disgusted with me,” Brynne finished quietly.
“You better know better,” Tomas grunted, looking down his nose at her. “Human boys, we don’t want another incident like the one who tried to buy you, Brynne.”
“It’s not like that,” she spoke nervously under his gaze. It was going to be a very long night if he went to the pub. Last time, he’d stumbled back in after midnight and demanded that everyone wake up and thank him and show him some respect, then slapped them around for looking tired. She’d have to remember to lock the door of their room this time. She should have hidden some of the money and given it to her mother for food, but she had been too excited, and now all her father could think about was going to the bar.
“What time are you going to set up the cart tomorrow?” he asked. “Since business seems to be booming and all.”
“They’re calling for more snow,” Neora said. “Maybe she could stay home tomorrow.”
“If the girl earned four dollars today, then I expect she’ll earn at least two tomorrow,” Tomas said with a challenging sneer. “I expect it. That is, unless you don’t think you can do the work?”
Neither his words nor his face were warm as he leaned over the table to leer at his daughter.
“Two dollars,” he said gruffly.
Brynne bowed her head submissively, staring at the rough wood of the table.
“Or don’t even bother coming home.”
“Yes, Daddy.”
***
Hours later behind a locked bedroom door, Brynne sat on the lumpy mattress with her little sister. Henri was already sleeping beside them under the handmade patchwork quilt.
“Were you scared when the big human boy talked to you, Brynne?” Abigail asked. Being only eleven years old, she was excruciatingly curious about the world around her. Her grey eyes stared up at her sister, still believing that she was the most wonderful person in the world – even more so than their mother.
“Not as much as you’d think.” Brynne replied. Her nimble fingers braided an intricate weave through her sister’s thick, dark hair. “He was kind. And gentle.”
“Do you like him?” Abigail asked.
Brynne blushed. “I can hardly hate him after he bought four matchbooks, can I?”
She giggled and Henri shifted under the quilt before loud snoring started up again.
Abigail dropped her voice to a whisper. “He really bought four matchbooks from you?”
It did sound pr
etty impressive. “I guess he did. Though I don’t know why.”
“It’s cause’ he likes you,” Abigail whispered excitedly.
“Oh, uh. I don’t know about that,” Brynne said. She could hardly picture it. “I think he’s a nice boy and you know what?” She lowered her voice.
“What?”
“He smells like freshly baked bread and peppermint.”
“Really?” Abigail’s toothy grin grew even bigger. “Are you going to see him again?”
Brynne nodded. “I am,” she said. “He asked me to come back on Saturday.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “To talk, I guess.”
“Like a date?” Abby whispered back.
Brynne paused in midst of finishing off the braid, somehow losing her rhythm amidst her distracting thoughts.
“I think he feels bad for me,” Brynne admitted with a sigh. She held the bottom of the braid with one pale hand and tied it off in a tight bow with the cerulean ribbon in her other hand. Abigail fingered the long braid, scooting around on the bed so she could face her older sister.
“It’s gonna be you and him, right?”
“I think so.”
“So then it’s a date.”
Brynne smiled sadly and shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t think so. He’s a good looking guy. There are hundreds of human girls out there to catch his eye.”
Abigail didn’t look convinced. “Maybe he doesn’t like human girls.”
“I don’t think that’s it either, Abi. That’s not the way humans are.”
“Just because we’re elves doesn’t mean humans can’t like us,” Abby said, pinching her eyes shut as she recalled a recent memory. “One time I was at the park and a boy threw a ball at me, but his friend dove in front of it. He didn’t say anything to me, but he picked up the ball and started yelling at his friend that he was mean. I was so surprised that I ran back home.”
“You never told me about that.”
“You were at work,” Abi said. “It was sweet, you know? He didn’t even do much, but he reminded me that not all humans are mean just because we’re elves.”
“Yes, well,” Brynne patted her on the arm. “I’m sure he doesn’t feel anything for me other than pity.”
“So then what happened?” Abigail asked as she sat up straighter. “How did he ask you to see him on Saturday?”
“It’s nothing exciting.”
“I still want to know!”
“He asked if I would like to help him watch the store because it’s supposed to be very cold. He was just being polite, I think.”
“It’s a date,” Abigail proclaimed with a smug expression.
Brynne’s cheeks colored again. “It’s not a date.”
“It is! Oh man, he’s got it bad.”
“He hasn’t got anything,” Brynne said shyly. “He’s a good person. Maybe he’s lonely and doesn’t want to invite any of his real friends to a bakery.”
“Yes,” the young girl continued, rolling her eyes. “He happens to be at the shop all day. He happens to know he’ll be bored. He happened to invite you personally and it happens to be so cold that you need to spend the day with him. Shall I keep going, sis?”
“He said he’s going to pay me. That’s hardly what I’d call a date.”
“Maybe he’ll pay you by taking you out for lunch,” Abigail offered with a tinkling laugh.
Brynne stiffened. “That wouldn’t be bad, I guess.”
“So long as you bring back leftovers.”
“That’s a pleasant idea, but it’s not like he and I could go out to lunch like a normal couple—er, I mean, pair,” Brynne said. Her sister continued to smirk. “Shut up, Abi,” she grumbled, lightly tugging on her sister’s braid. “It’s not a date. It can’t be—”
“Helloooooo! Where is everybody?” a familiar voice outside the door barked loudly and both girl’s eyes widened. “Daddy’s home! Where’s my hellos? Where’s my hugs?”
“Quick,” Brynne hissed, pulling the quilt over Abigail. “Pretend you’re asleep.” She snuggled down next to her, burying her face into the pillow and assuming a pattern of relaxed, but audible breathing. Her father’s stumbling steps clomped up outside their door. He tried for the doorknob, growling in frustration when it was locked.
“Abigail! No locked doors in my house!” he barked.
Abi whimpered and Brynne clasped a hand over her mouth, pulling her close. They held deathly still as their father leaned up against the door, listening.
“Sleeping already, little brats,” he muttered. His footsteps trudged away in search of his wife, and while Brynne felt bad that her mother had to deal with him, she was grateful her younger siblings were safe.
At least for tonight.
After thirty minutes of silence, Brynne pulled away from her little sister. Henri was still sound asleep in bed, having passed out hours ago. Abi stirred as she moved away from her, but Brynne wanted to get to her own bed. Her father must have passed out somewhere. Crawling away from her sleeping siblings, she opened the door slowly and poked her head down the hall.
The eerie silence did little to comfort her as she stumbled away from the door to go to her own room.
“Who’s awake?” a voice barked from the living room.
Brynne stiffened.
Her father. Not asleep.
She tried to ignore the voice and continued her way to the room.
“Come in here, Brynne-Pin,” he said. “I want to talk to you.”
Brynne swallowed hard. How did he know? She looked over her shoulder towards Abigail and Henri’s room. If she tried to ignore him again, he might wake up fully and go to her siblings. He may bother her mother. She turned slowly and followed the yellow glow of the candle to the living room and found her father sloppily sitting in his favorite blue chair.
“Happy early morning,” he said with a glassy expression. “How are you my little, Brynne-Pin?”
“I’m fine, Dad,” she said in return. “Just going to take a short nap before I head out for the day.”
“You remember what I told you last night, don’t you?” He rose unsteadily from his chair and pointed a meaty finger at her, still holding a half-filled tumbler glass in his hand. “Two dollars or don’t even bother coming back home. You’re old enough to take care of yourself. I got two other brats to feed, and if you can’t carry your weight—”
“I’ll get your money.” She shrunk against the wall as her father wobbled over. She could smell the whiskey on his breath from across the room, and it practically took her breath away as he leaned close. “I’ll have it,” she whispered.
“You will,” her father said, beaming with confidence. “Otherwise you’ll be sleeping on the street tomorrow night. Is that clear?”
“C-crystal,” Brynne stammered. “I’ll do it. I’ll find a way.”
“Good, now get to bed,” he grunted, waving his hand towards the hallway.
Brynne didn’t need to be asked twice. The bruise on her cheek throbbed violently as she fled to her room, slammed the door shut and locked it before a hiccupped sob escaped. The questions burning her mind were even more painful than the slap.
How? How was she going to sell two matchbooks tomorrow if Carter wasn’t even going to be around? She was lucky to sell two or three matchbooks a week, how could she sell that many in a day?
Sleep was a long time coming as she clutched herself and worried for the days that lay ahead without the kind boy watching after her.
Chapter Eight
“Hark the herald angels sing, Glory to the newborn king!”
Carter couldn’t keep the skip out of his step as he traveled towards the bakery in the gray light of dawn. He would get to see Brynne today. They could get to know each other and she would be safe and warm and well-fed for an entire day. It was cold already, and supposed to get colder as the day went on, though he didn’t feel the cold as he sang his way through the empty streets.
His singing paused for only
a moment as he turned the last corner and saw the familiar cart parked against the wall opposite Sweet Mix. Was she usually here this early? No matter, they could spend even more time together. He started back up with his carol and continued down the street. As he approached, he was surprised to see the cart standing empty with some snow drifted against the side. He stopped singing and a weight settled into the pit of his stomach. Had it been out here all night? Where was Brynne?
“Brynne, are you here?” he asked the eerily empty street. There was no reply but his suddenly short, shallow breathing. When he came closer, he noticed a bundled patchwork blanket pushed up against the far side of the cart. What was going on here? Had she been kidnapped? Why else would she have abandoned her cart here like this? Had a child taken her and left their blanket behind? He reached for the blanket and pulled at it to look at it. There was something wrapped in it, and he pulled at one edge to free it. As the blanket lifted, his breathing stopped and he stared in shock at the sight.
Brynne. She was deathly pale, huddled in a tiny ball under the light blanket. He couldn’t move or speak and just stared dumbly at the tiny girl. Had she been here all night? Was she dead? Suddenly a violent convulsion wracked her body and a tiny puff of frosty breath escaped from her chapped, blue lips. This broke the spell.
“Oh my God, Brynne!” She was alive, but she needed to get warm. Fast. He picked up the blanket and tucked it carefully, snow and all, inside of his warm coat. He had to get her into the bakery and get the heat on. He practically ran to the door and dropped the key twice as his shaky hand tried to find the keyhole. Finally, he undid the lock and opened the door. He barely noticed the blast of sweetness and bread as he ran behind the counter and dropped to the floor in front of the heater. Turning it on high, he opened his coat a crack as the element began to glow.
“Hold on, Brynne,” he said, almost trying to remind himself that this was happening. Brynne. Little Brynne was in his arms like a limp rag doll. And she was so cold.