I chuckle as I dart around to pick them up. “I’m kidding. Even if I won the lottery, I’d work here for you guys. Once I finish my degree, I’ll need to apply for full-time employment. I’ll miss seeing you and Shane, but I’ll still be a customer.”
“I hope so.” He hangs his coat on a hook. “About Monday…”
“I’m sorry I read through her special book. It was with her references, but I should have asked first. I hope Ashley isn’t mad.”
“No,” he replies, averting his eyes. “She’s just sensitive about the fairy folklore collection.” He motions toward the back. “I better go talk to Shane and ask if he needs help.”
Jeff darts off to the back as a young woman enters the store with a baby in a stroller. He’s acting weird. Did Aidan mention my use of invisible hands?
When I glance back at the customer, I’m surprised to find Jenny Hansen shopping in the holiday corner. Her baby, Daniel, was the first Bearsden child the Baby Nabbers snatched. He sleeps soundly in the stroller, but not for long. An ear-splitting cry from her little one breaks the comfort of the silence. She bends over to assuage her infant son, eventually picking him up and bouncing him in her arms.
“Come on, Daniel. You were sleeping so well. What’s bothering you this time?” She peers in my direction. “I’m so sorry.”
“Never apologize for a baby’s behavior. Their cries are the way they communicate.”
“Thank you for understanding.” Her head bends to the right. “I remember you. You were in the Celestial Gardens the night…”
“Yes. It’s so wonderful to see you reunited.”
“My husband and I were elated. But since Daniel came home, he’s not been the same. He was such a calm bundle of joy—always smiling. Now?” She cuddles him close to her, and tears well up in her eyes. “It’s as if someone replaced him with a different baby. We even had testing to be sure he’s ours. It matched perfectly. I can’t explain it, but…” Her voice lowers to a near whisper. “I don’t think he’s my Daniel.”
My gut pinches, and an aura spreads up my torso. “He experienced a great trauma of being separated from you. Give him time to adjust.”
“Doctors and psychologists have told all of us parents that our children are healthy and weren’t abused in any way—to give the children time to recover. I’ve met with the other parents. They have similar feelings. Their young ones are exhibiting behavior problems in daycare or preschool, and they still haven’t spoken yet. We are at our wit’s end.”
Daniel elicits a more intense scream, and she places a pacifier in his mouth. He spits it out. How I ache for this woman and the other parents. To have their children home but face yet another struggle with their behaviors.
“Would you like me to try?” I ask, holding my hands out. “Give you a break?”
“Sure. Thank you. Maybe you can cajole him into taking his pacifier.”
She places Daniel in my arms, and I rock him back and forth. I sense the tension in his body. It’s as if he’s sending me a message, telling me he’s in the wrong place. My intuition flares up, prompting my cheeks to flush. What are my witchy instincts trying to tell me?
“There’s something terribly wrong.” She takes Daniel from me and places him in the stroller, a tear rolling down her cheek. “I’ll have to come back later. Thank you for rocking him.”
“I hope your situation improves. Take care, Jenny.”
She nods and pushes the stroller onto the paver sidewalk, stopping briefly to cover Daniel with a blanket. The townies probably think everything is copacetic with the children’s’ return. How wrong they are.
I spend the last hour of work tidying up. Fold Yule T-shirts. Straighten up the board games. Dust the shelves. I ring up customers in-between. I love the holidays, but shoppers make a mess of the store. When a lull in shoppers blesses me with a break, I prepare to leave and send Ronnie a text to check on her.
Me: How are you doing, Mama?
Ronnie: Derek and I took a hike yesterday in North Basin, and I lost a glove.
Me: I’m sorry, but it’s great you took a hike. Get that baby moving.
Ronnie: You know it! Unfortunately, the only movement I’m feeling today is from Braxton-Hicks contractions.
Me: Where do you think you dropped it?
Ronnie: Couldn’t be too far down the trail. Took them off close to the parking lot.
Me: I’m leaving work. I could stop and look.
Ronnie: It would be soaked by now. Don’t worry about it.
Me: I have my car today. I’ll drive there. Not a big deal.
Ronnie: You’re such a good friend!
Me: Get some rest!
Ronnie: Thanks, Gwyn!
Jeff carries boxes in and begins restocking the shelves. He’s careful to avoid my gaze as he crouches in front of the herbs. The silence is palpable. When I put on my jacket, he stands.
“Is it four already?” he asks as he walks behind the counter.
“Yeah. I logged out of the register. Will you tell Shane I said goodbye? The Fellowship is having a short meeting this week since we volunteered at the Bearsden Shelter for Thanksgiving. We’re making last-minute plans for the Yule Celebration.”
“Will do.” He logs in to the cash register. “Enjoy the rest of your evening, Gwyn.”
“You, too, Jeff. Tell Ashley I have Monday in my calendar.”
He smiles awkwardly, and I exit the store. I snap open my umbrella, but the rain has slowed to a drizzle. With twenty minutes left until sunset, the park is gray and gloomy. I hope I don’t have to walk too far down the trail to find Ronnie’s glove.
I click on my phone’s flashlight app and aim it toward the gravel on the park’s trail. Her gloves are black. This is like finding an obsidian crystal in a rock bed. I wave my phone from left to right, crunching on the path as I go. Footsteps kick up stones in the distance. I look up.
