Fairytale Come Alive (52 page)

He felt it when he moved his family into the house he’d designed and built for them.

He felt it when he read the ridiculous good-bye note Elle left after the first night they shared together, a note that included a PS that there was coffee made and Danish at the ready.

He felt it when Sally woke up from her coma and recognized him instantly.

He felt it when Elle forgave him for his betrayal.

And he felt it now.

And that feeling was blessed.

Careful not to disturb her, Prentice rolled and turned off the light.

And, within seconds of pulling Elle close, Prentice joined her in a deep, dreamless, peaceful, sated, blessed sleep.

* * * * *

Fiona

Fiona woke up in her tent wondering when she’d get to go wherever she was going.

Her work was done.

And she was pretty damned satisfied with it if she did say so herself.

Therefore, she was kind of surprised she went back to her tent.

This couldn’t be it.

If Fiona existed, both her Nans and her Granda’ were somewhere out there and Fiona couldn’t imagine why she’d be kept from them. She couldn’t imagine eternity was alone.

Then again, it could be that horrible black place, so she probably shouldn’t complain.

She wandered out of her tent and stopped dead.

A man stood at the stream. He was wearing a white suit, he had thick white hair, a white goatee and a white string tie.

He looked like a thinner, younger Colonel Sanders of chicken fame, except his string tie wasn’t black and he wasn’t wearing glasses.

“Are you God?” she whispered, thinking it was kind of funny that God looked like Colonel Sanders.

Then again, the Colonel’s chicken was nothing to sneeze at, it couldn’t be described as divine but it certainly tasted good.

The man smiled and shook his head.

“An angel?” she breathed as he walked to her.

“I’m not an angel, Fiona, I’m a messenger.”

“An angelic messenger?” Fiona asked.

“Um…” he hesitated, “something like that.”

“Are you here to take me to heaven?” she enquired, certain she knew the answer, certain that he was definitely there to take her to heaven but suddenly uncertain she wanted to go.

She hadn’t had a chance to say good-bye to Sally and Jason.

Or Prentice.

Or, even, Bella.

“No, Fiona, your work is not yet done.”

Fiona stared at him not getting a good feeling about this.

Then she asked, “My work?”

He nodded.

“What work?” Fiona went on.

“Before you…” he paused a moment then continued, “move on, you have to commit one selfless act.”

There it was.

She got it.

And she just
knew
it.

She had to give up Prentice and her family to Bella before she could
move on
.

“Tick that one off, Messenger Man,” Fiona state proudly, straightening her shoulders. “Last night –”

“You don’t think it would be that easy,” Messenger Man interrupted her and Fiona was back to staring.

Easy?

He thought that was
easy?

That wasn’t easy!

It was, at first, frustrating. Then annoying. Then heartbreaking (okay, so all of the time it was heartbreaking).

And a lot of other things besides.

What it wasn’t was easy.

“I don’t get it,” Fiona told him and she went statue-still when his hand came up and rested on her arm.

She stared at his hand.

No one had touched her in fifteen months.

She didn’t know this man but his touch felt good.

She swallowed and looked back at him.

“There isn’t much time and there isn’t much I can say. You’re learning your way but you have to be faster, Fiona. If you don’t, they’ll win,” he told her.

“Who’ll win what?” Fiona enquired, confused.

“
They’ll
win…” he hesitated again before he said, “
you
.”

Instantly, she understood.

And it frightened the life out of her (figuratively, of course).

“The black,” she whispered and he nodded sadly.

“We can hold it at bay for only so long,” he explained.

“I don’t want to go there again,” Fiona told him in a horror filled voice.

“And you don’t belong there but you have to succeed and you have to do it soon.”

“But, Bella –”

“Has experienced a lifetime of pain,” he interrupted her. “One night of understanding is not going to erase that, Fiona.”

What he said made sense.

And it was also irritating.

“I’ve been doing everything I can,” Fiona informed him. “And it hasn’t been easy.”

“It isn’t supposed to be.”

“Well, then, you gave me a good task because it’s not,” Fiona shot back.

“There are dangers,” he warned, his voice was dire and Fiona felt her stomach twist.

“Dangers?” she whispered.

“To Isabella. There are dangers lurking,” he replied.

Oh no.

“What dangers?” Fiona asked. “Her father?”

He shook his head, clearly not going to answer.

Fiona’s irritation grew. “You have to help especially if Bella’s in danger! I wouldn’t know what to do!”

“Use your magic,” he advised.

Fiona, again, stared. What was he on about?

“Magic?”

“Yes, your magic.” When she continued to stare, he explained, sounding impatient, “You
are
her fairy godmother.”

Fiona broke her stare to blink.

Then she asked, “Fairy godmother?”

His brows drew together. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” she snapped. “I didn’t know. I’m Prentice’s wife. Sally and Jason’s mother. I thought I was a ghost. A fairy godmother is fat and jolly and has a magic wand and didn’t used to be
in
love
with
and
married
to
the heroine’s handsome hero, for goodness sake!”

Messenger Man got closer and squeezed her arm. “There are those, not many, who slide straight to black. There are those, not many, who lived lives so filled with good deeds, they move directly on. But all the rest, Fiona, are put to one final test.
Especially
if they’ve lived lives, no matter how short, filled with bounty. You,” he squeezed her arm again, “had a life cut short but it was a life filled with bounty. You have to share your bounty before you move on. It might be difficult, my dear, but it is the way, the only way, for you to move on.”

Fiona sucked in the breath she did, indeed, breathe in this strange world.

“It’s hard,” she admitted quietly. “And it hurts.”

“Selfless acts normally do,” he replied, dropped his hand and, even though what he was saying was upsetting (and also kind of pissed her off), she missed his touch when it was gone. “But you want them to be happy, all of them, I know you do.”

Fiona nodded. “I do.”

“Then find your magic, Fiona, and do your deed so you can go home.”

“How do I find my magic?” she asked.

He shook his head but answered, “I misspoke, you don’t have to
find
it, you have to
recognize
it.”

She blinked and said, “What?”

But she asked nothing and no one.

Because he was gone.

Disappeared.

Vanished.

She stared at where his white-suited body used to be.

Then she looked to the blue sky with its fluffy white clouds and she shouted, “This moving on business better be worth it!”

She received no reply.

Carver

Prentice

The doorbell buzzed to Elle’s apartment and Prentice woke instantly.

This was unusual, Prentice was a deep sleeper.

But from the moment they arrived in Chicago, he’d been waiting for this.

And he was looking forward to it.

Therefore he rolled into Elle who had woken too and looked into her shadowed face.

“Don’t move,” he ordered.

“But –” she whispered, her voice sleepy but full of fear and Prentice felt his temper flare.

And he was glad for it. He wanted to be angry. He did not intend to keep a very tight hold on his control. If it snapped, he’d welcome it.

“Don’t move,” Prentice repeated.

“The children,” she said.

“It’ll be okay.”

“I don’t –”

His mouth found hers and he kissed her quiet before murmuring, “Elle, baby, trust me.”

He heard her pull in a soft breath and watched her shadowed head nod.

He threw the bedclothes aside and the bell buzzed again.

Jesus, the bastard was impatient.

Prentice wanted to make him wait. However Carver could wake the children, both also deep sleepers like their father, and Prentice courted this if he delayed.

So he didn’t delay.

He also didn’t put on a shirt but walked to the front door only in a pair of pajama bottoms.

He did this on purpose.

He wanted Carver Austin to be confronted with Prentice and Elle’s intimacy. He wanted that man’s imagination to run wild. He wanted him to know that he’d pulled Prentice from Elle’s arms, from her bed. He wanted him to wonder what they might be doing there.

It didn’t say much about him but he didn’t care.

After what that man did to Elle and took from the both of them, Prentice wanted Carver Austin to be tortured by every conceivable way Prentice could make Elle happy.

Prentice weaved his way around the many obstacles to the front door.

They’d been in Chicago three days and there were boxes everywhere. They spent the mornings packing or, Elle, Prentice and Jason did, Sally spent it mostly digging through stuff, showing treasures she found to Elle and asking, “What’s this?” and alternately chattering. They spent the afternoons seeing the city.

Sightseeing was strange, not unpleasant but not as pleasant as it could be and this was mainly because people recognized them everywhere they went. They gawked, they whispered behind their hands and more than once they opened their phones and took photos.

Sally seemed not to notice a thing.

Jason found it funny and once made a face at one of their impromptu photographers.

Prentice found it startlingly easy to ignore.

It would be easier to ignore if it didn’t make Elle visibly anxious.

All of this partly had to do with Elle already being famous, partly the photographers who’d already sold their pictures but mostly it had to do with fucking Hattie Fennick.

Hattie Fennick had sold Prentice and Elle’s story to a rag and it was printed the day before Prentice, Elle and the kids flew to Chicago.

Hattie had fortunately painted Prentice and Elle as star-crossed lovers, torn apart by a wicked, evil man and thrown back together by fate.

Knowing Hattie, who could be vicious but who wasn’t stupid, Prentice reckoned this wasn’t the picture she
wanted
to paint but the only one she could if she didn’t want to be stoned by the villagers.

At his office where Dougal had arrived unexpectedly to show him the spread in the magazine, Prentice had been surprised to see two photos of Elle and Prentice taken twenty years ago mingled with the others.

Which meant Hattie had also given them photos, photos Prentice didn’t know she had, intimate photos of Elle and Prentice that made Prentice feel unsettled that Hattie had at all.

One was at a party at the beach. He remembered that night though he couldn’t recall Hattie being there. The night was, as always with Elle, a good night. The photo was obviously shot without Prentice or Elle knowing it was being taken. They were standing by the bonfire, her arms were around his neck, his hands were resting at her waist. She was pressed against him, gazing lovingly up at his face. They were both smiling.

The other was on the pavement in the village. He remembered that day as a good one too but again couldn’t imagine why on earth Hattie had a photo of it. The photo was also shot without Prentice or Elle knowing it was being taken. Elle had been horsing around and had jumped on his back. She had her thighs tight to his hips, her arms were around his chest. He had his arms behind him, his hands on her ass. She was leaning into his back and his neck was twisted to look at her as she peered around his shoulder. They were both laughing.