Because of Baby

Her gaze dipped. “Sounds like you’re thinkin’ I have a plan. I have to admit, I don’t have one. It’s impossible to plan an adventure, you know.”

The warmth that had curled deep in his belly was completely forgotten. No plan? She was just going to step off the plane in New York and walk out into the unknown? He was hit with what felt like a dozen questions that needed asking. Did she have hotel reservations? Did she have enough money? Did she know it wasn’t safe for a woman traveling alone? Did she have an emergency contact? How would she—

“I’ll be fine. I always am.”

The concern that rushed at him must have shown itself on his face if she felt the need to assure him. But her sweet innocence ignited in him a powerful urge to protect.

Her blue-green eyes leveled on his face. “I think it’s time you told me a little something about you.”

So that ingenuous charm was balanced with a touch of brass. He liked that.

“All you’ve said was that you were eager to see everything in Ireland the first time you visited. So…have you? Seen everythin’, I mean?”

He couldn’t get over the way her brilliant eyes sparkled, seeming to draw him in, luring him to reveal all his secrets. He shook the ridiculous idea out of his head.

He pondered her question for only a moment before all the implications of it had him wincing slightly. “The circumstances between my first visits to your beautiful country and this one were…well, quite different, to say the least.”

She remained silent, evidently waiting for him to expound further.

“I honeymooned in Ireland during my first visit,” he told her. Memories of Maire threatened, but he held them at bay. Now wasn’t the time to be swallowed up by those shadows.

“How lovely. You must have had a grand time of it.”

“We did. And our second trip was just as wonderful. Maire and I had the pleasure of announcing to her parents that we were going to have a baby. Well, we didn’t really have to announce the fact, all they had to do was take one look at her.”

Memories loomed and threatened to swamp him. He took a head-clearing breath. Leaving the past in the past, he rushed ahead to the present. “But this trip, it was just me and Katy. You see, my wife, Maire, died giving birth to our daughter. She experienced some unexpected complications that the doctors hadn’t foreseen. That they hadn’t been prepared for. None of us were prepared.” He was vaguely aware of the far-off inflection his voice had taken on. He cleared his throat. “That was two years ago.”

But the void inside stubbornly remains, the words echoed silently.

With nothing short of brute force, he pulled himself back to the conversation at hand. “Anyway, with Katy being a baby and all, it had been impossible for me to take her back to Ireland until now.” Paul wondered why he was being so free with such personal information. This was so unlike him, yet it just felt right. “Her grandparents had come to visit her, of course, but I want Katy to be familiar with the place where her mother grew up—”

His gaze latched on to Fern’s face, the sight of her mournful gaze cutting his thought clean in two. Sadness seemed to pulse from her, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

Warmth permeated every nook and cranny in his being. She was a person of great compassion, a woman with an empathetic heart.

“Hey, now, stop that.” He reached over and smoothed his palm along her forearm. The instant his fingertips contacted her flesh, the intention of comforting the woe she was experiencing on his behalf left his mind as if it had never been there.

Her skin was smooth, the heat of her startling.

Paul pulled his hand away, the topic of the discussion and the delight shooting through him being so at odds that it set off a twinge of guilt that filled him with confusion.

Clearly, what he’d revealed had affected Fern. Careful not to touch her the way his subconscious was willing him to do, he murmured, “That all happened a long time ago. Katy and I are doing okay. Really. We are.”

She didn’t look convinced. But then, Paul didn’t see how his pronouncement should persuade her one way or the other when it hadn’t done much to influence him over these many long and lonely months.

Verbal affirmations were great, but how did you go about filling up the holes that were left after tragedy plundered your soul?

Since glancing into that mirror and seeing herself in real flesh-and-blood human form, Fern felt as if every sensation, every emotion, had been magnified a hundredfold.

She couldn’t say just how she’d transformed into a human. The experience was brand new to her. She was aware, however, that she was breaking a major pixie rule, and if she let herself dwell on that fact, she’d go into a panic for sure. So…Fern simply decided not to dwell on the hard truth. At least, not right now. Not when she was so focused on Paul.

She’d already admitted that Paul was as comely a creature as had ever had the fortune to live; however, when she’d walked the length of the aisle to where he sat and gazed down upon him, why, every inch of her skin had seemed to come alive with an awareness she’d never experienced before. And when he’d cast those mahogany eyes on her, she’d thought her knees would give way then and there.

What she might say to him had never entered her head until she was facing him. It was too late then to ponder in depth the follies of telling him the truth about herself. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was some crazy pixie—insane person, in his view—who had come to vex him. It had only taken a fraction of an instant to make her mind up that acting a stranger was for the best. Besides, she hadn’t formally made his acquaintance before that moment, now, had she?

Fern had had to practically bully her way into the seat beside him, which had been quite rude, she knew, even by pixie standards. But if she hadn’t sat down she’d have risked succumbing to the faintness that had been swimming in her head.

Her heart had nearly ripped in two with tenderness when she’d held Katy for the first time. Oh, the affection she’d felt for the bairn when they had laughed together in the nursery back in Ireland had been great. But something about holding the toddler in her arms filled her with overwhelming feelings that were both unimaginable and breathtaking.

But the most jarring commotion she’d had to endure had been the impact of learning that Maire had died. Grief had walloped her from all sides. Anguish had scalded her eye sockets and burned the back of her throat.

It wasn’t as if she had never felt sadness before. Bad things happened in Sidhe, certainly. But it was the fairy way to avoid misfortune and bad dealings. A pixie spent her days frolicking and flying and having fun.

The sorrow that swept through her now, though, couldn’t be avoided by merely winging away from the moment.

Although Paul’s touch had calmed her angst, it had churned up other—very peculiar—emotions. She’d flushed with an odd heat, and a strange feeling had knotted in her belly.

Fern had no idea what was happening to her in this new human body, all she knew was that she liked the warmth and smoothness of Paul’s skin against her own. When he’d withdrawn his hand from her arm, she’d suffered something similar to acute desolation.

Human emotions, she was quickly discovering, were awesome in their power.

“Let’s talk about something a little more pleasant,” Paul suggested.

His intent was to chase away the gloom that had settled around them, she suspected. Although her smile was quivery, she nodded in emphatic agreement.

“What can I tell you about myself? Hmm…”

The rumbling resonance that rose from his chest as he pondered allowed Fern to let go of her sorrow over Maire. By me heart. The silent oath echoed in her head, but the very sound of the man’s voice was enough to make her forget the rest of the whole wide world.

“Katy and I live just outside New York City in the house I was raised in. My father ran a horse farm.”

“I love horses. Where I come from they’re considered one of the noblest of beasts.”

“Well, the horses are gone now.” He absently ran his fingertips along the armrest. “Once Dad died, Mom couldn’t run the business by herself. Running the farm hadn’t ever interested me. I had no talent with horseflesh, anyway. Working and communicating with animals is a gift…a gift that I wasn’t blessed with. So the horses were sold to other breeders.”

Fern knew that work—or an occupation, as she’d heard it called—was very important to humans. She’d witnessed people in Ireland going out to toil in the fields or going off to factories or working in the shops. Labor seemed to be a defining aspect in their existence. Hadn’t that been one of Paul’s first questions to her? So she asked him about his job.

“I’m a writer,” he supplied. “A novelist.”

She knew of books, and was even known to fly through the small village library on a dare. Her friends would laugh in delight when she’d use her magic dust to knock a book to the floor and startle someone, or she’d flutter her wings ferociously in order to turn the pages of this book or that to the vexation of the librarian. The harmless pranks were all in fun, of course. A good pixie made it a habit to be helpful and kind, but even respectable pixies suffered with boredom every so often.

“So you’re a teller of tall tales?”

He grinned, and Fern’s insides twisted up.

He said, “Horror stories are my forte.”

“Ah—” she offered him a knowing nod “—you like to frighten small children.”

Paul laughed. “Actually, my work is geared to adults.”

Her eyes widened. “Your stuff must be good and gory, then.”

The sigh issuing from him conveyed a weariness that made her head cock to the side. He evidently sensed her curiosity.

“I haven’t written anything for quite some time.”

Ever since Maire’s passing. He didn’t have to say the words. Fern just somehow knew it as fact. Empathy rose like floodwaters. Had she not been holding the sleeping Katy in her arms, she’d have reached out to him. The urge to comfort him was intense. Again she realized that the magnitude of these human emotions pulsing through her was like nothing she’d ever endured.

“But that’s got to change,” he told her. “My publisher’s been after me. They want a book, and they want it soon.”

“They’ve got confidence in you, then.”

“What do you mean?” His question was asked in a feathery whisper.

“If this publisher—” she wasn’t certain what a publisher was, but she wasn’t so daft that she couldn’t figure out it had something to do with the book-making business “—thought you weren’t capable of the job, he’d have called someone else.”

Paul studied her face for a moment, and then Fern saw his deportment change right before her very eyes; his spine straightened, his shoulders leveled and his gaze brightened.

“Thank you, Fern. I guess I needed to have that pointed out.”

Again he sighed. But this time the sound of it was easier, less tense.

Pleasure caused her toes to curl inside her silk booties. The fact that she’d lifted his spirits filled her with a delight that was absolute. Total. Oh, she wouldn’t mind basking in this warmth for a good long time.

“Of course,” he murmured, “there are some problems that need to be worked out. Like Katy.”

It was almost as if his discussion turned inward, as if the chat had turned serious and he was the only one participating.

“I guess I could write while she’s sleeping. But I can’t always count on the muse to come when I call. There’s day care, of course. I’m sure I could find a reputable—”

His sentence stopped short. Then his gaze swung to her face. It was evident that he’d been struck with some amazing thought or other.

“Fern, you said you need to look for a job. You said you don’t have a place to stay. We could help each other, you and I.”

If she could continue to be of some service to him, that would make her very happy.

“After seeing you with Katy, this is probably a silly question,” he said. “But I have to ask. Do you have experience with children?”

“I love children! I spend most of me time entertaining the little tykes, I do.”

He smiled. “I could tell pretty quickly that you have a way with kids. Katy fell for your charms from the get-go.”

“She’s a sweet thing, Katy is.”

“So would you consider it?” he asked. “Would you come stay with me and Katy? Take care of her for a fair wage and a place to stay? I’d have to check your references, but—”

Dread forced Fern’s eyes closed. Please don’t check me references. There are no references to check. I’m good and kind, and I love sweet Katy.

“But I really don’t need to do that,” Paul said, his voice suddenly soft and fuzzy. “I can tell you’re good and kind, and it’s clear that Katy trusts you. I should, too.”

Fern’s eyes went wide. It was as if her very thoughts had the power of pixie magic. She didn’t know how it had happened, or if it would ever happen again. But she was grateful for the enchantment.

“Like I said, I live close to the city,” Paul said, his tone miraculously back to normal again. “I promise to show you the sights. When you return to Ireland, you can tell all your friends about the places you’ve seen.”

His dark eyes sparkled with excitement. Exhilaration gathered in Fern’s chest and made it hard for her to draw breath.

“Well, now, isn’t this turn of events far from what I was expecting?” she said, astonished by the winded feeling that had overtaken her. “You make the arrangement sound like an adventure. And, well, a good adventure is just what I’m after.”

Chapter Two

Excitement churned in Fern’s stomach until she was faint with it.

Oh, she’d experienced a few anxious moments since discovering her newfound ability to turn into human form. The first had been when she’d noticed how the flight attendant had begun casting suspicious looks her way as she sat rocking the sleeping Katy in the seat next to Paul.

Fern had never been a passenger on an airplane before, but common sense told her that some sort of list or count had to be taken of the travelers. Having someone like herself just appear out of the blue, someone who hadn’t boarded the plane when everyone else had, would probably cause quite a ruckus among the airline workers.

When the flight attendant had approached her, telling her the plane would be landing soon and that she should return to her assigned seat, Fern had gently handed Paul’s daughter over to him.

With the wary eyes of the flight attendant still on her, Fern’s heart had thrashed in her chest when Paul suggested that once they landed they meet up near Baggage Claim, or if they got separated, just outside of “Customs.” Fern hadn’t a clue what he was talking about or where she might find these places. However, she calmed right down when she decided the simplest solution—another pixie motto—would be to revert to her true pixie self, hide in the safety of Katy’s toy sack and have Paul carry her to their meeting spot.

However, she’d then found herself at the back of the cabin and smack-dab in the center of another tense moment when she discovered her power to convert didn’t seem to be working. That was the moment she was struck with the realization that the mystical ability of metamorphosis had rules of use. And one of them was that no human eye could witness her gift of transformation.

Fern had slipped into the restroom cubicle. With all the people coming and going, she hadn’t worried about propping open the door. Swiftly she found herself winging through the air, light as a feather and fancy-free. Being human, she’d learned, had taken its toll on a body. All that skin and bones and sinew came with a heaviness that had weighed Fern down to the point of exhaustion.

She slipped into the toy sack, snuggled up to Katy’s cuddly teddy bear and fell fast asleep. When she awakened, she yawned through a smile, thinking her dream of being human, of spending time holding the baby and chatting with Paul, had been just lovely. But then she became cognizant of the fleecy softness against her cheek, and she looked up to see the brown fuzzy bear staring at her with its button eyes. Fern’s gaze widened as she zipped out of the sack and into the air to see where she was and what was happening.

Seeing Paul standing in a wide area waiting with Katy, she searched frantically for a place that would lend her enough privacy to transfigure into a human. A nearby supply closet worked just fine; however, the moment she stepped out into the hallway among all the passersby, she was acutely aware that there was something very different about her attire compared to everyone else’s.

While she’d been seated on the plane, she hadn’t noticed, but here in the hustle and bustle of the crowd, it was obvious that there was not another soul that she could see who was wearing satin slippers. And not one person’s shoes had upturned toes as hers did. The footwear did come in a vast array of styles and colors, though, she saw.

One particular pair worn by a smartly dressed woman caught Fern’s eye, and she wished she had shoes like that. Suddenly her feet felt a wee bit cramped. Fern looked down and gasped when she saw an identical pair had taken the place of her booties.

What fun! It seemed her magical powers of changing extended beyond what she’d first imagined.

She waited until Paul was busy with Katy before she approached him, so he wouldn’t realize she hadn’t come from the direction from which he was expecting her to.

“There y’ are!” she greeted.

Katy squealed with glee and clapped her hands. Paul’s handsome face lifted, his frown easing.

“I was beginning to worry…” His sentence faded as he looked down at her empty hands. “Where’s your luggage?”

Instantly Fern grasped the idea of what the baggage claim area he spoke of was for. But she was caught now, and hadn’t a clue how she could go about explaining herself. No way would he believe the truth, not when she scarcely believed it herself.

“They lost your bags.” The irate retort had the crease in his brow deepening. “What a lousy thing to happen.” He shifted Katy to his other hip. “So that’s where you’ve been. Filing a report. And here I thought you’d changed your mind about coming to work as Katy’s nanny. When do they expect to contact you about your luggage?” He paused. “Fern, how will they know where to send your things?”

The man surely was full of questions. All she could do was lift her hands, palms up. “I’m staying with you, aren’t I?” The question was all she had for an answer. Beyond that, she was lost.

“Ah—” he nodded “—smart woman. You gave them my name and they looked me up in the computer. Good thinking.”

Clouds of uncertainty threatened to shadow his gaze again, but in the end he evidently let go of whatever thought was niggling at him.

“Well, no sense standing around here all evening,” he told her. “If you’ll take Katy, I’ll get our bags. Thank goodness those made it safely.” He handed the gleeful toddler to her. “We’re off to find a bus that will take us to long-term parking.”

This traveling experience put Fern’s senses on overload. She pointed out every interesting thing to Katy, and the child’s eyes just gleamed as if she, too, was encountering all these things for the first time.

“I just can’t get over how she’s taken to you,” Paul murmured as they got off the bus and started across the parking lot.

Fern watched as he loaded the suitcases into the boot of the car, the muscles of his back playing against the cotton fabric of his shirt when he bent over to arrange the bags. A tingling heat permeated her being, and she had to make a conscious effort to inhale and exhale slowly so she wouldn’t succumb to the peculiar turmoil racing in her head, in her body. What in the world was this warm and wonderful feeling that pulsed through her like golden, sun-heated nectar?

He buckled Katy into a special seat and they drove out of the garage. Once they were on the road, Fern couldn’t believe how the automobiles seemed to fly in all directions.

The city skyline had her sighing in awe.

“There must be a frightful number of people living here if they fill up all of those buildings.”

Paul chuckled. “There are an appalling number of people in the city,” he agreed. “It must be very different where you’re from. Where are you from, by the way?”

“Sidhe.” The name for her world tumbled from her lips before she could stop it.

“I’ve never heard of that town,” he said.

“Well, it’s…very small.”

He smiled. “I love those little Irish hamlets. I’m sure Sidhe is just magical.”

Fern gazed out at the urban horizon, surprised by his accurate description. She whispered, “Sidhe truly is a magical place.”

“Very different from New York, I’m sure.”

She only nodded, unable to find the words to describe just how different their worlds really were. Until today her only goal had been to laugh and enjoy life with her friends in Sidhe. But now she was discovering she had a…

She contemplated how to describe this revelation.

A purpose. That’s what it was. A reason for being and doing. Helping Paul with Katy so he could get back to writing. And she liked this brand-new sense of satisfaction filling her. Knowing she had already helped Paul—knowing that she was on her way to continue to do so—saturated her with a contentment of awesome proportion.

Soon the city faded into open spaces, meadows and fields, more reminiscent of what Fern was used to in her homeland. Paul turned onto a tree-lined gravel drive that wound its way to an end in front of a large, white clapboard farmhouse.

Getting out of the car, Fern gazed out at the barns and paddocks, at the wide-open spaces. “This looks like a wonderful place for a boy to grow up.”

The rope hanging from the ancient elm in the side yard made her smile. She liked the mental picture that popped into her head of Paul swinging high, the wind blowing through his sandy locks.

“It was.” He opened the back door, and after unlatching his daughter from her car seat, he pulled a sleeping Katy into his arms. “If you’ll grab her toy sack and the diaper bag, we’ll head on inside and put her to bed. She’s had an awfully long day. I’ll come back later for my bag.”

He went up the porch steps and only fumbled a little with his keys before pushing open the door. Fern followed him up the stairway, and when she entered Katy’s room, her smile widened.

The walls and ceiling were painted pale blue. Puffy clouds were gathered here and there. A weeping willow tree was sketched in one corner, its leafy branches bending to brush the flowers and mushrooms and tufts of brilliant green grass painted around the bottom of the wall. And magical fairies were everywhere she looked.

One pixie was perched on a cloud. A few more were winging through the sky. Several frolicked among the morning glory vines that twisted and reached upward. Every single one of them expressed an unmistakable joy.

There were elves, too, and gnomes wearing funny hats and expressive faces. One looked centuries old with too many wrinkles to count, yet even he was grinning with happiness.

Bliss exuberated from the fanciful mural.

Although it wasn’t the pixie way to worry, Fern had often wondered if Maire had grown up and forgotten the days when they had played and giggled together. When children were babes, it was easy enough for them to see—to believe—that fairies did exist. But the passing of years never failed to dim the memory.

So-called maturity had people accepting nothing but cold, hard fact as reality. When the real truth of the matter was that life contained much that could not be seen with the eye or heard with the ear. However, discernment of the magic in the world required a delighted heart. And clearly, Maire had never completely let go of the blessing that was her childlike enchantment. Fern could feel both the love and the pure and festive energy that had been left behind by Katy’s mother.