
Epilogue
The town of Bridal Veil is now home only to
the waterfall that once powered a lumber mill and gave the town its
name, a community church, a cemetery, and a post office. The number
of wedding invitations sent there for postmarking each year more
than pay the postmaster’s salary and support the post
office.
“CAN WE GET A DOG, MOM?” E.T.
asked. She bounded out of Gollum’s old van—the only vehicle between
us with enough room for two adults, three teens, and a baby in an
unwieldy car seat—without waiting for an answer. She carried
Gandalf, Gollum’s ancient long-haired, white cat, over her
shoulder.
Better a dog than that evil cat. I won’t share
digs with a cat! Scrap insisted from his perch on the
dashboard. He sneezed for emphasis, reminding me of his
allergies.
Since I’d inherited his lactose intolerance, I
too might become allergic to the white lump of fur Gollum held so
dear to his heart.
I ignored Scrap’s complaints, just sitting and
staring out the window at the house. Three stories and a basement,
interesting windows, protrusions and nooks at every turn, gables,
crosshatched brickwork, everything I wanted in a home.
And big. Six bedrooms, three baths, formal dining
room and parlor, family room upstairs and in the finished basement.
Plenty of room for three teens, a toddler, and however many
children Gollum and I wanted to have together.
Phonetia followed her sister out of the car and
headed right for the rose garden on the far side of the driveway.
She started deadheading the soggy and spent blossoms, piling the
debris neatly at the edge of the circular garden space. She swept
the stone bench clear of leaf litter, then leaned over the edge of
a small fountain, peering into the dirty water.
“At least we won’t have to hire a gardener to
tame two point eight seven acres,” Gollum muttered.
Doug piled out next, but he took the time to
release Sophia from her car seat and carry her along the brick
pathway toward the front door. When she fussed to get down, he let
her wrap her tiny fists around his fingers for support so she could
“walk.”
Scrap hovered nearby, anxious that the toddler
might fall and scrape her knees. Less likely in her pink corduroy
rompers than the frilly dresses Lucia had insisted upon.
At moments like this, I thought Scrap loved the
children as much as I did. But he hated Gollum’s cat.
“Have you noticed how much the kids enjoyed the
music at the con?” Gollum asked.
“How could I avoid noticing? They sang Holly’s
music all day yesterday, adding their own harmonies and bizarre
rhythms,” I groaned.
“Maybe we should help them form a garage band.
All five of them. It will give them focus, and a creative outlet
for the anger and frustration they are bound to feel over and above
normal teenage angst.”
“Good idea. Later. I’m too tired to deal with it
today.”
“You have the keys?” Gollum asked. He didn’t seem
in a hurry to leave the quiet car.
I held up the key ring shaped like a faery in
flight with four shiny new keys. I knew they’d all fit into the
pristine locks. A huge yawn escaped my mouth rather than
words.
After twelve hours of sleep Saturday night, I’d
shuffled through Sunday’s baptism ritual and the wind down of the
con, barely aware of what I was doing. Another twelve hours of
sleep last night and I thought I might begin functioning
again.
I could use another thermos of coffee.
“We’ve only got an hour to explore before we
leave to meet Steve and Allie at the title company. Their flight is
on time,” Gollum said consulting his
phone-that-did-everything.
“It’s just . . . just surreal, everything falling
into place like it did.”
“I know. My divorce papers got filed this morning
and my lawyer said that since there’s no contest, the house belongs
to the college, we each have our own money, nothing to split, it
should only take a couple of weeks to get an appointment with a
judge. Then you and I can get married and live here with our
children.”
“Valentine’s Day?” Three months away; plenty of
time for inevitable legal delays. Hope brightened my mind and
banished the last of the cobwebs. “April Fools Day might be more
appropriate considering how we live our lives.”
“Whatever you want. Put together the wedding
you’ve always dreamed of. Invite everyone you’ve ever met. I don’t
care. I just want to be with you. Forever.” He kissed me long and
lingering.
I didn’t want to let go of him long enough to
breathe. Sophia’s squeals of delight dragged my attention away from
how he nibbled my lower lip.
“Let’s go see what kind of kitchen I’m going to
have. MoonFeather and Lilly are coming for Thanksgiving. I want to
put on the biggest and best holiday feast for the whole west coast
clan.”
Holding hands we ambled up the path toward the
front door. Morning sunshine broke through the scattering clouds,
turning the last of the raindrops trapped on the grass and in the
cups of dying flowers to crystal prisms.
“Faery dust,” I gasped.
“Not quite,” a strangely accented male voice said
from the region of my elbow.
I whirled, ready to fight. I hadn’t done much
else for the last three months. “Mickey!” Tension and anxiety fell
away as I threw my arms around the crown prince of Faery.
The silver circlet around his brow had turned
into three gold strands twisted and knotted intricately.
“Mom, who’s he? I thought the con was over?” E.T.
asked, returning to my side. No cat on her shoulder. A lump of long
white hair on the flagstone porch must be the geriatric beast.
“People aren’t supposed to wear costumes out in public.”
I’d drilled that one into the girls yesterday
when they fell in love with space pirate uniforms.
“Costume?” Mickey’s eyes twinkled. He gazed in
mock puzzlement at his gold tights and white on gold brocade tunic.
Even his blue butterfly wings had shifted to gold with just a hint
of blue and white sparkles on the edges. “This is no costume. This
is what I wear to work,” he laughed.
“Huh?” Phonetia chimed in. She left her work with
the roses to join us.
Doug returned from the covered porch with Sophia
in his arms. “He wasn’t at the con. I’d remember those wings.
They’re cool. How do they attach? And those ears. Those aren’t
gelatin attachments.”
“No, they’re the real thing,” I told the
children. “Prince Mikhail of Faery, meet the children.”
Mickey bowed formally. The kids mimicked him.
Sort of.
Hey, Mickey, what’s with all the gold tarting
up your outfit? Scrap flitted from the top of my head to
Mickey’s shoulder and back again.
“I’m afraid I have been promoted to King of
Faery,” Mickey sighed as if shouldering a great burden. “After
rescuing the kidnapped dancers—with your help of course, Lady Tess
and Professor Gollum—my people decided I was better suited for the
job than my stepmother who allowed the kidnapping to take
place.”
“I think your people chose wisely,” I said.
“Thank you for telling us the news in person. But that is not why
you came, I think.” I nodded my head in respect.
“May we have a moment of privacy? You and
Professor Gollum, Lady Tess?” Mickey asked.
“Certainly. Phonetia, take the keys, you and the
others can go choose your own bedrooms. But wipe your feet on the
mat. There’s new carpet and tile so take your shoes off before you
go beyond the entrance.”
“Shoes should always be left outside,” E.T.
replied. She grabbed the keys out of my hand and ran to the door
with them.
Doug and Sophia followed.
“I’d rather finish grooming the roses,” Phonetia
said, looking back to her project.
“A fine idea, Miss Phonetia. I will walk with
Lady Tess and the Professor to the gazebo in the back. This should
not take long.” Mickey bowed again and gestured for Gollum and me
to lead the way around the house on a different brick path.
“We have a gazebo?” Would wonders never cease?
I’d always wanted a gazebo. With roses climbing the arched
entrance.
What’s the latest gossip out of Faery?
Scrap demanded to fill an awkward silence as we progressed past
French doors and a wide side patio to a scraggly herb garden and
then emerged into an expanse of overgrown lawn extending beyond
another flagstone patio, complete with gas grill and sagging and
saturated lawn furniture.
I could just see the roofline of the guest
cottage beyond a blackberry thicket.
Gollum’s eyes lit with excitement as he tried to
veer toward the grill.
But it was the gazebo that captured my attention.
It sat off to the side next to a deep goldfish pond. White paint
flaked from the slats, but it looked sound, cozy, and
inviting.
“Faery heals,” Mickey said at last. He seemed
weighed down with sadness. Worry added lines around his eyes and
dimmed their sparkle. “Slowly. But we heal. The loss of energy from
the previous crises caused much more damage than I thought
possible.”
“I’m sorry. Is there anything we can do to help?”
I touched his hand in sympathy.
“You have done more than could be expected of any
human, Lady Tess.” He mounted the three steps to the gazebo and
sank onto a bench to the left of the entrance. Two-person benches
circled a gas fueled fire pit made of more flagstones. I fell in
love with the place. Dreams of sitting out here with my laptop on
hot summer afternoons, or sharing a glass of scotch with Gollum on
brisk autumn evenings with the fire going, almost took me away from
dowdy reality.
“How long will the healing take?” I knew we
couldn’t replace the energy that had built a new dimension.
“Longer than I want to admit. I need to close
Faery,” Mickey said.
“I’m sorry,” Gollum added. “Faery has always
loaned brightness and joy to the other dimensions. Your loss is a
huge loss to the Universe.”
“The Powers That Be have removed the three demon
ghettos from my dimension and housed them elsewhere. I don’t know
where. That has stopped a huge drain on our resources. They have
healed the cracks in the imp diamond as well. But it isn’t
enough.”
“What more can you do?” I asked. “I can give a
few faeries space in my garden if they need it.”
“That is not the problem, Lady Tess,” Mickey
flashed me a grin, reminding me of the lighthearted taxi driver who
befriended me in Las Vegas. “I thank you for the offer but the
solution is the opposite. We need to keep all of the faeries in
Faery.”
“That might be hard, since they are used to
popping in and out at will,” Gollum mused.
“Yes. And so I have closed the portals into and
out of Faery. All except one.” He twisted a ring around his finger
idly, as if a long habit.
Everything in me stilled. He didn’t twist the
ring in agitation.
He can use the ring to open a portal!
Scrap chortled. I knew I smelled imp. The black imp is still
imprisoned in the diamond.
“An imp can go anywhere, anywhen,” I said.
“This ring is a great temptation to my people.
And to me,” Mickey removed his fingers from the diamond that
glittered more brightly than sunshine on raindrops. “I would enjoy
visiting with you more often and longer, but I owe the entire realm
of Faery my duty to remain there as long as it takes to heal the
damage.”
“What do you have in mind, King Mikhail?” Gollum
asked solemnly. “That ring is an artifact of power. It requires
protection. It also needs to be kept secret from the Universe at
large, or many who would not use it wisely will covet it.”
“I know. That is why I offer the ring to you,
Lady Tess and Professor Gollum. I know of no one else who could
protect it as it must be. You can hide it where no one will expect
to find it.”
Hey, with the ring we can whisk any bad guys
off to Donovan’s new dimension for a time out before they have a
chance to threaten the kids. You can almost retire and I can
baby-sit.
“And where would I hide this ring?” I asked
almost fearfully. Power pulsed from the intricate gold work and
large diamond like a huge magnetic field.
“In plain sight.”
“Huh? I was thinking along the lines of Scrap’s
mum and the freeze-dried garbage dump of the Universe. The cold and
the other powerful artifacts will mask it.”
Nope, nothing can mask that kind of power. And
a black imp in Imp Haven is just asking for trouble. He’ll get more
powerful in his home dimension. The ring needs subtle magic to make
it look like it belongs where it is, Scrap lectured. He sounded
like Gollum when he got wound up on a favorite topic.
“The most powerful of the subtle magics Scrap
speaks of is love.” Mickey looked from Gollum to me, the twinkle
back in his eyes. “I freely gift this ring to both of you as an
engagement token. Anyone looking for the ring will sense the power
and assume it is you, Lady Tess and the love you share with the
professor, not an artifact.”
Before I could object he ripped the ring from his
finger and placed it in Gollum’s hand, gently closing his fingers
around it.
“Now if Scrap will return me to my home, we will
give you two a moment alone.” Mickey rose to his majestic
height.
Scrap landed on his shoulder. Much as I’d like
to stick around and eavesdrop, I think Mickey has the right idea.
You ready, Mr. King?
“Yes, Mr. Imp.”
They disappeared in a showy blanket of
scintillating mist. I thought I caught a glimpse of Scrap’s face
lingering in the swirling lights.
“Tess.” Gollum got down on one knee in front of
me and took my left hand in both of his. “I promised to do this.
The time seems most appropriate. Tess, beloved, will you marry
me?”
I had to swallow twice to get rid of the lump in
my throat. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes!” I said louder. “Yes,” I
shouted loudly enough to draw children’s faces to the windows above
us and from around the corner to the rose garden.
“Yes!” I shouted with glee.
Then my Gollum gently slipped the ring on
my finger. It snuggled behind the knuckle as if made for me.