Aprilynne Pike - Illusions

Laurel’s mom was working on a big vegetable tray while Laurel put the final touches on her fruit tray. She looked over at her mom to ask if she should slice the strawberries, but her mom was staring out the back window. “Mom?” Laurel said, touching her arm.

Her mom startled and looked over at Laurel. “Should we invite them in?” she asked.

“Who?”

“The sentries.”

Man, that was a disaster waiting to happen. “No. Seriously, Mom. They’re fine. When we’re done I’ll take the fruit and veggie trays out and see if they want some, but I don’t think they’ll come in.”

“You sure?” she asked, gazing out at the trees, maternal concern in her eyes.

“Totally.” Laurel could see it now, a whole bunch of grave, green-clad men standing in their kitchen, alert for danger, jumping at every sound. Very festive.

The doorbell rang and Laurel hopped up from her stool. “I’ll get it.”

“I bet you will,” she barely heard her mom say under her breath.

“Mother!” she scolded just before rounding the corner.

She opened the door to Tamani, standing with the sunlight at his back, giving him an ethereal glow. She felt her knees start to wobble and wondered briefly if inviting him had really been the best idea.

He smiled and brought his face close to hers; Laurel took a sharp breath, but he just whispered, “I really don’t know what I’m doing. I hope I wasn’t supposed to bring something special or anything.”

“Oh, no,” Laurel said, smiling; it was nice to know that, beneath his cool exterior, he did worry about things sometimes. “I just wanted you to bring yourself.” Stupid, stupid! Like he could leave himself home . She hated that he still made her tongue-tied.

Her mom was bent over the oven, checking the hens, when Laurel led Tamani into the kitchen. Laurel suspected they didn’t really need checking, but it was nice to walk in and not feel like her mom was waiting expectantly. It was a little odd how supportive her parents were where Tamani was involved — her mom in particular was really making an effort. Laurel couldn’t help but wonder why.

“Hey, Mom,” Laurel said, “Tamani’s here.”

Her mom looked up and smiled, closing the oven. She wiped her hands on her apron and extended one toward Tamani. “We’re so glad you could join us.”

“My pleasure completely,” Tamani said, sounding like a perfect English gentleman. “And…” he added, hesitating, “I wanted to apologize for the last time we met. The circumstances were… less than ideal.”

But her mom waved his words away. “Oh, please.” She put an arm around Laurel and smiled down at her. “When you have a daughter who’s a faerie, you learn to deal with these things.”

Tamani visibly relaxed. “Can I help?” he asked.

“No, no. Thanksgiving is football day. You can go sit with Mark in the rec room,” she said, pointing. “And dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”

“If you’re sure,” Tamani said. “I’m a great fruit slicer.”

Laurel’s mom laughed. “I’m sure you are. No, we’ve got this covered. You go.”

Laurel wanted to protest, but Tamani was already smiling and heading toward the rec room. She followed him and lingered in the doorway, peeking in at the two men. Not that there was much to see; they shook hands, muttered some greetings, and then Laurel’s dad tried to explain football to Tamani. Still, Laurel’s mom had to call twice before she pulled herself away to finish the fruit tray.

When the meal was ready, they gathered around the kitchen table. After everyone was served, Tamani looked up and complimented Laurel’s mother on her preparation of the game hens. “It all looks fabulous, Mrs. Sewell. Meat obviously isn’t my thing, but it smells fantastic. Rosemary, right?”

Laurel’s mom beamed. “Thank you. I’m impressed you recognized the spice. And please, Sarah and Mark. None of this mister-and-missus nonsense.” She reached over and squeezed her husband’s hand. “Makes us feel old.”

“You are old,” Laurel said, snickering.

Her mom raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite enough out of you, missy.”

“So, Tamani, tell me about being a sentry.”

“Well—”

“Oh, Mark, don’t pester him about work on a holiday.”

“I don’t mind, really,” Tamani said. “I love my job. And it’s basically my life at the moment, holiday or not.”

Laurel’s dad peppered Tamani with questions, mostly about Tamani’s position as a sentry, then moving on to growing up in Avalon, what sorts of foods they ate, and several questions about faerie economics that Tamani couldn’t answer. By the time her mom finally pulled out the pie, Laurel was feeling more than a little awkward and Tamani had only managed to clear about half his plate — which had not been dished high to begin with. Laurel longed for an opportunity to smuggle him away before her dad asked too many more weird questions about Avalon’s gross domestic product or political hierarchy.

“Let the boy eat,” Laurel’s mom scolded, shutting her husband up with a huge piece of pumpkin pie, smothered in whipped cream. For Laurel and Tamani she had small sorbet dishes filled with a sweet frozen fruit concoction.

“We usually watch a movie after dessert,” Laurel’s dad said to Tamani. “Care to join us?”

“I’m actually going to take Tamani on a walk,” Laurel said, snatching up her opportunity before Tamani could respond. “But we should be back in time to catch the end.”

“Personally,” her dad said, rubbing his belly, “I would have to go on a waddle.”

Laurel rolled her eyes and groaned. Parents. She grabbed Tamani’s arm and practically dragged him toward the front door, wanting to escape before anyone else said anything.

“Anxious to have me all to yourself?” Tamani murmured with a grin as the door closed.

“I may have underestimated how awkward that was going to be.”

“Awkward?” Tamani said, looking sincere. “I didn’t think it was awkward. Well, at first,” he admitted. “But meeting new people is always like that. Personally, I found the whole thing to be much less awkward than I expected. They’re nice.”

They wandered aimlessly for a while before Laurel realized her feet were heading down the familiar route to school. Instead of turning a different way, Laurel headed for the football field and climbed the bleachers. When she reached the top, she faced away from the field and held on to the railing, letting the wind caress her face and tangle her hair. Tamani hesitated, then came to stand beside her.

“I’m sorry you have to go through all this,” he said, not looking at her. “You know, when I started as a sentry, I had pretty mild expectations. Some sentries go their entire lives never seeing a troll. You were always supposed to live a pretty normal life out at the cabin, come back to Avalon once you’d inherited the land, and… after that, my job would be pretty easy.”

“Jamison said the same thing,” Laurel said, looking over her shoulder at Tamani. “About me just living a normal human life until it was time to come back to Avalon. I guess nothing’s ever as easy as we hope.” She wasn’t just talking about the trolls, either. Had they really expected her to walk away from her human life without so much as a backward glance?

“No,” Tamani agreed, “but I keep right on hoping.” He shifted, snugging in close behind her. He placed his right hand on the railing beside her, and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed his left hand over hers, his chest cradling her back.

She knew she should shrug his arms off, walk away, break contact, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to. And for once, she didn’t make herself. She stood, unmoving, feeling him so close, and just drank it in — his presence as invigorating as the breeze across her face.