by Allison Tebo
“Yes,” she whispered.
Burndee took a long breath and slowly, cautiously, reached out and captured her hands. “What I’m going to say now . . . is not as a fairy godfather trying to make his ward happy . . . but as a man trying to make the woman he loves happy. I do love you, Ella.”
The smile that spread across her face was no less beautiful because she was clenching her teeth in pain due to Burndee’s magic. Her expression was glorious. It terrified Burndee even as it delighted him.
He found himself searching his pockets aimlessly. “I feel as if I ought to give you something.”
Ella reached out and touched his elbows, flinching a little, though her voice was unwavering. “All I want from you is your heart, Burndee. Don’t you realize that by now?”
“You do? No . . . no, I didn’t.” He kept fumbling desperately in his pockets. It vaguely occurred to him that he could magically create a ring for her, but every bit of spell knowledge seemed to have fled his scattered brain—he could not remember a single spell. He spotted the box, still lying by the door and he went swiftly to retrieve it. He opened it and carefully pulled the glass slipper out of its velvet cradle.
“My slipper!” Ella exclaimed. “That really was beautiful, Burndee—as pretty as your cakes. But I don’t understand . . . everything else went back to the way it was before—including my other slipper. Why is this one still glass?”
Burndee cleared his throat. “I suspect that . . . Fey might have thrown some magic my way to help me along.”
“Who’s Fey?”
“My fairy mentor . . . I’ll tell you all about her some other time.” He was getting off track and losing his nerve. He took a deep breath. “I don’t have a ring . . . but . . .”
She drew in her breath as he gently removed her left shoe and replaced it with the slipper. He looked up and found that Ella had tears streaming down her cheeks again. He wanted to get up and brush them away, but he hadn’t really finished his business on the floor. He hadn’t actually asked her yet in so many words, and he felt he ought to remain kneeling for it.
He took her hands and experienced such a flood of emotion that he could barely speak. “I can guarantee you that I will love you as I have loved no one else. Because . . . I’ve really never loved anyone else. Not at all, as a matter of fact.” Burndee coughed, feeling as if he were adding a disclaimer to one of his magic spells. It was hard to tell whether she was receptive to his suit or not when she looked so pained at the spell dust sparking through her hands. He blundered on anxiously. “So, of course, I’m not very good at loving anyone, and I might not always—”
“Burndee.” Ella cupped his face in her hands and bent towards him, cutting off his flow of words as effectively as if she had thrown a bucket of cold water into his face.
“Y-yes?”
“Do you like me, Burndee?” she asked, her brow furrowed with a mixture of strain from Burndee’s stinging magic and vulnerability.
He gawked at her. So much for the kiss he had thought was coming. “Like you?”
“Yes. Do you actually like me?”
He finally understood, at least a little. He was the man with the reputation for disliking everything and everyone. It wasn’t enough for her to know that she had taken the tower; she wanted to know if she had actually broken down the walls that had held her out all this time.
Burndee took a breath and felt something heavy lifting from him. He felt as light as a cloud and completely open before her as he slipped up his hands to take hers. “Yes, I like you Ella. I think you’re really . . . neat.”
8
B urndee?”
Burndee remained silent as he crouched behind a bush with a foolish grin on his face, waiting for Ella to come into view.
“Where are you?” Ella rounded a stone wall. She was dressed for an outing, wearing her mother’s pink party dress. As a surprise wedding present, Burndee had magically repaired it and had tweaked the design a little to make it more up-to-date. Today, she had crammed a wide-brimmed straw hat onto her head, and the combination was humorously incongruous. It wasn’t unusual to see Ella covering her finery with a serviceable apron or a hat. It was one of her many quirks that he was beginning to appreciate more and more.
Ever since their marriage a month ago, Ella and Burndee had been busily engaged in repairing Rose Hall. Even though Colin had returned his sister-in-law’s title and lands to her, Ella still didn’t act very much like a noblewoman. She was always cleaning a room or weeding the recently enlarged garden. Burndee had been distraught at first and proposed hiring servants, but Ella had assured him that hard work had never bothered her—as long as she was working in a place that was her real home, for people whom she loved and who loved her.
Since there was no question of that, Burndee was obliged to pitch in, though he would have much preferred spending his free mornings chasing Ella around the grounds rather than weeding, especially on a day like today when the premises were blessedly free of stonemasons, who had a tendency to interrupt the couple at inconvenient moments.
“Burndee!” Ella shouted again. “I’ve got a letter from Colin and Cynthia! They’re having a lovely time at the seaside!”
She was right in front of him now. Burndee exploded from the bushes with a war whoop, gaining a satisfactory shriek of surprise from Ella. He grabbed her and spun her around wildly in a circle.
“Burndee!” Ella spluttered. “You made me crumple the letter!”
Burndee stooped to give her a kiss. It was a good thing he had given her some of his magic for a wedding present, or he might have accidentally killed her with affection in the past month. As it was, he merely knocked her hat off into the duck pond.
He fished the hat out of the water and hung it on a tree branch to dry, while Ella eyed him expectantly. “What?” Burndee asked and grinned. “Do you want me to kiss you again?”
“You could apologize.” Ella glanced at her hat. “That was one of my favorites.”
Burndee still struggled over the concept of apologizing for trifles. Ella was determined to teach him good manners, but he saw no point in apologizing for something so trivial, especially when it was the result of his enthusiastic devotion.
“You want me to apologize for hugging you?” He shook his head. “You’re a very strange little creature.” He gave her a sly look. “You ought to be asking me very nicely to do it again. I’ll knock your glass slippers off this time.”
Ella was unable to restrain a giggle as she pulled his arm through hers. “Walk with me instead.”
“Oh, all right,” Burndee said affably. “But we haven’t got long. The bakery opens in half an hour.”
“It’s only a fifteen-minute walk from the Hall.” Ella smiled at him, and Burndee smiled back as his thoughts drifted to the Magic Pumpkin Bakery. The little shop in Andvar that had sold him a cinnamon bun several weeks ago—the night he had first noticed it was for sale—was now his. Business was already flourishing as people flocked to the shop to taste Ella’s bread and Burndee’s pastries.
Ella brandished the crumpled letter. “Cynthia is just full of news! She said that the king came to visit Colin and her, and—you’ll never guess—he’s courting a duchess who’s staying at a nearby villa! Colin said that the king is so wrapped up in his own courtship that it keeps him “off his back.” I guess he meant that was a good thing? Oh, and Cynthia said to send you all her love.”
“Hmm.” Burndee clicked his tongue. Cynthia’s “love” could be a little bombastic, as she delighted in telling her brother-in-law how to conduct himself. Secretly, Burndee was beginning to enjoy it, as he could torment a sister in ways he would never dream of teasing Ella. He had never known having siblings could be such fun. “I suppose I was wrong about her. She wasn’t a gold digger . . . she and Colin seem quite happy.”
“Of course you were wrong about her,” Ella said dismissively. “I wish you two wouldn’t fight so much.”
“We don’t fight . . .” Burndee prot
ested. “We just tease each other.”
“Hmph. Thank goodness I have Colin to help me keep the peace.” Ella and Colin had quite a lively time trying to keep Burndee and Cynthia from killing each other with their pranks and teasing. Cynthia and Burndee had privately agreed that they added excitement to Ella’s and Colin’s lives and that their spouses would have been bored without them.
“And there’s even more news. They christened a ship yesterday—and do you know what? They named it after you!”
“I’m so glad I got to read the letter,” Burndee said dryly, trying not to show how touched he was.
Ella smiled sweetly at him and kept talking, too excited to stop. “Imagine, Burndee! A ship with your name going to every port in the world! Tossing up and down on the high seas, repelling pirates . . .”
“I’m glad I’m not on it,” Burndee said peaceably.
“I’m sure you could handle a few pirates,” Ella said with utter conviction.
“I know I could.” He slipped an arm around her shoulders. “But I’m too busy at the moment.”
She giggled again, and they walked on in silence for a moment.
“Cynthia mentioned Stepmother and Portia, too,” said Ella, suddenly sober.
It took a great deal of effort for Burndee to even make a polite inquiry about their welfare, but he knew it was important to Ella. “And?”
“They’re struggling,” Ella said, turning her face away. “They’re not used to working.”
Burndee couldn’t help verbalizing his indignation. “It’s too good for them. They should be in prison. Instead, you set them up in a nice house by the sea.”
“It’s a fishing village, and it’s a cottage, and they do have to work for their living—I didn’t make it that easy for them,” Ella said guiltily.
“Don’t give me that look.” Burndee shook his head. “If it had been me, I would have put them there because I wanted revenge. But you were the one that chose the punishment—and you chose it because you were trying to give them a chance to learn how to be normal, decent human beings. You even ensured that someone taught them a useful trade, for goodness’ sake!”
“Cynthia says they’re not taking too well to their new life.”
“Maybe they never will,” Burndee said more gently. “You can’t fix everything for people—I learned that lesson.”
Ella relaxed and tilted her head back to beam at him. “The Fairy Council seems to think you’ve learned your lesson—five new godchildren!”
Burndee reached across her for her free hand and gave it a squeeze. “They know their latest fairy-godmother-in-training and my new assistant will keep me on the straight and narrow.”
Ella sighed happily. “There’s so much to do! Fixing up Rose Hall, running the bakery, learning how to be a fairy godmother—looking after you.”
“That’s the best part,” Burndee said complacently.
Ella gave him an indulgent pat and waved her letter. “And there will be even more to keep us busy! Cynthia said she thinks she’s going to have a baby!”
Burndee blinked in surprise. “Well, that will make King Alfred happy, as well as keep Colin out of trouble. Not to mention Cynthia.”
Ella squeezed his arm. “And when we have children, the babies can play together!”
“Hmm.” Burndee pretended to think it over, just to tease Ella. “Perhaps when we are finished fixing up Rose Hall. We would have to prepare a room.” Warming to the idea, he looked at Ella mischievously. “How about a boy named Pumpkin?”
Ella wrinkled her nose.
“Or a girl named Slipper?”
She laughed and flapped the letter again. “Cynthia and Colin are thinking about purchasing a little villa by the seaside and maybe making it a private family retreat for all of us. They want us to come and visit next week and see what we think—though I don’t know how we’ll manage it with the bakery.”
“We could always cast a spell to make the bakery run on magic while we’re gone.”
“Our spell could be so successful people wouldn’t want us to come back,” Ella laughed.
“Never!” Burndee said, offended. “My natural-made pastries are better than my magic ones.”
“Of course.” Ella’s eyes sparkled. “Your magic pastries could never imitate the crustiness of the ones you make yourself.”
“Are you saying I’m crusty?”
“Yes!”
Burndee stopped walking and turned her towards him. “I’m as soft as an angel food cake since I married you.”
“Oh really?” Ella asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not a crust,” Burndee murmured, tilting her chin up.
“And you never lose your temper anymore?” Ella whispered. “Never, ever?”
“Never!” Burndee said, bending towards her.
Ella suddenly planted her hands on his shoulders and gave him a shove. Years of labor had made her exceptionally strong, and she caught him off guard. He tumbled into a prickle bush, his boots flying up towards the sky as if they were trying to kick holes in it as Ella took off in a flurry of skirts.
“I’ll wager you can’t catch me!”
Since he had committed to spending the rest of his life chasing Ella, he had been studying and practicing this now-pleasant pastime for several weeks. She was still faster than him, especially now that she possessed the bit of magic that he had given her. Nevertheless, Burndee had a greater incentive than he had ever had in running after Ella, and he soon closed the distance. And since he was no longer angry at Ella, he had no difficulty at all in summoning a little bit of magic to catch her.
I Would Like To Thank . . .
My Heavenly Father for opening a door for me.
Dad: For always believing in me and sharing your wisdom.
Mom: For teaching me to read and reading aloud to me. I wouldn’t be a writer if it weren’t for you!
The Second Inklings Club (my siblings): You have unlocked so many secrets for me. You are my first set of eyes, my technical assistants, my cheerleading squad, my loving critics, and my enthusiastic fans.
Sarah Grace, my friend and sister in the Lord: You were one of the first people outside of my immediate family that has read my stories. Thank you for making this closet writer feel safe and special with your enthusiastic feedback!
Victoria, my friend and sister in the Lord: Thank you so much for your gorgeous cover design and formatting and for lending your amazing talents to my book! Your work has made my story so much more special.
Mary, my friend and sister in the Lord: Thank you so much for your amazing proofreading skills! You have taught me a great deal and have meticulously gone over every word of my story to make it sparkle! Thank you for your incredible feedback, for fighting to preserve my style, for loving The Reluctant Godfather so much.
My social media buddies: The list is too long to name here, but I would like to thank all of you for encouraging me, for showing interest in my work, and for sharing good books. Without great readers, there are no great writers.
My fellow self-published authors, especially Nicole Sager: Thank you for inspiring me to pursue the dreams that God has given me.
And thank you to every one of you who has read The Reluctant Godfather! I am so grateful for you.
If you enjoyed this novella, I would love it if you would leave a quick and honest review on Amazon, Goodreads, or your favorite online retailer.
About the Author
Allison Tebo is a Christian author in her mid-twenties. A sales associate for a major transportation company, she writes books in her spare time. A graduate of London Art College, Allison also pursues children’s illustration and cartooning. When she is not creating art with words or paint, she enjoys narration, singing, quilting, and, naturally, baking.
You can visit Allison at her website, www.allisonteboauthor.com, or her blog, www.allisonswell.com. You can also follow her on Facebook, Twitter, or Goodreads.
ison Tebo, The Reluctant Godfather