Before I could build on that sentiment, a frenzy of sparklers went off in the middle of the room. Chrissy stepped out of them, smiling happily. She wore a tight floral dress, a Hawaiian lei, and a pair of green sunglasses. “I’ve been celebrating our success by throwing a luau.” She moved her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I see you’ve been celebrating by … sitting on the carpet. How nice.” She bent down, picked up Stetson, then dropped a kiss on his forehead that sent a swirl of glitter flowing around him. Her voice softened into a lullaby tone. “I need to get you back to your own time period before your mommy notices you’re gone.” She snapped her fingers and the baby blanket rose from the floor and floated to her hand.
She tucked it around him and looked at me. “You don’t need to worry, by the way. After you have him, you can just remember he was fine through the whole adventure. There’s no need to put all those anti-magical charms around his crib like you’re going to do in a few years.” Chrissy was right. Even though my trip through the Middle Ages had turned out fine, I knew that in the future, I would still try to stop her from taking him. I would be every bit the overprotective mother.
Hudson and I both stood up. Chrissy turned the baby so he faced me. “Say good-bye for now. You’ll meet him again later.” I hadn’t imagined saying good-bye was going to be so hard. After all, it was only temporary, and I was sending him to myself, an older me who loved him and could take care of him better. I stroked his hand and memorized his features: the dark lashes, the smooth skin, 350/356
the full cheeks, and tiny parted lips. I kissed his head and felt a lump well in my throat. “Make sure you tell the future me that the baby went and came back, so I can stop worrying about him being taken.”
“I will,” she said reluctantly. “Although I can imagine what a fun conversation that’s going to be. You’ve got an entire bookshelf in your house devoted to magical creatures and how to overcome each one.
That’s a little paranoid, don’t you think, considering how well everything turned out?” Chrissy tucked the blanket around Stetson. “I bet you won’t even let him put teeth under his pillow for the tooth fairy.”
She was probably right about that too. I wouldn’t want to risk him being turned into a squid. I didn’t say this though.
Chrissy turned to Hudson. “For someone who wasn’t even supposed to be in Rumpelstiltskin’s story, you did quite a bit. Do you want to say good-bye too?”
Hudson brushed his fingertips against the baby’s dark hair. “Take care, Stets. No more time-traveling around.” He leaned over and kissed the top of the baby’s head, then returned his attention to Chrissy. “Am I in the story later on?” Chrissy smiled, an enigmatic expression that reminded me of Mona Lisa’s famous one. “You’ll have to find out for yourself. I’m not one to ruin endings.” She let out a satisfied sigh, and held the baby to her shoulder. “If this doesn’t get me into Fairy Godmother University, I don’t know what will. I mean, how many other applicants have rid the Middle Ages of Rumpelstiltskin during their projects? Not Belladonna Spritzpetal. Let’s see her brag about being at the top of the class now.” Chrissy slipped her sunglasses over her eyes. Lights flickered around her like a convention of lightning bugs circling for a landing. “It’s been a pleasure doing magic with you,” she chimed out, and then she and the baby vanished.
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In the place where she’d stood, a thin book lay on the carpet. It was, I saw at once, a picture book retelling of Rumpelstiltskin.
Like I would ever want to read that story again. I ignored it, opening the card that sat on top of it instead. But Hudson picked up the book and flipped through the pages.
Meanwhile, I read the card out loud.
To Tansy, I thought you’d enjoy a copy of the real story to read to your children. Remember, heroines are always beautiful!
I turned the card over, but there wasn’t anything on the other side. “I’m not sure if that last bit was a compliment or instructions.” Hudson was only half paying attention to me. He had turned to the end of the story and was reading. I peered over his shoulder to see what he was looking at and blushed. The moral was there on the last page in my own handwriting. “Give me the book.” I reached for it, but Hudson effortlessly held it away from me.
“Hudson,” I said, making another grab for the book. “That’s private.”
“Morals are meant to be shared.” He held me away for another moment, reading, then grinned and handed me the book. “I like this one.”