Chris couldn't make a decision.

He had said good-bye to his father. It was now only a few hours away from being Wednesday. Traveling in and out of the fairy world and the time difference would chip away at the days he had left. If he waited much longer, arriving in time for the wedding would no longer be an option. 

"C'mon," Chris said to Morgan and Ryan suddenly, two minutes after he had told them to get ready for bed. He tossed a bag for their clothes on the floor.

"Are we going with you?" Morgan trilled, never happier.

"No . . . to Simona's," he replied flatly. Her glee was impossible to match. 

He wanted them to be there for the night in case he decided to go to Pyxis at some odd hour. That way, he wouldn't have to drag them out of bed. If he decided not to go to Pyxis, he would at least have the night to himself to do what he must. He could curse himself, scream at the top of his lungs, drink to excess, any or all of the above, and he wouldn't have to worry about being responsible for anyone.

"Are you going to Pyxis?" Ryan asked.

"I haven't decided yet."

"Until you decide, I wanna stay here."

Chris ignored the challenge and finished the chore of packing while his head was all over the place. He swung his arm toward the door when the bag resembled something close to done. "Let's go."

Chris held the lantern and led the way to Ilima at his pace. It was about a ten-minute walk. The path wasn't flat, straight, or easy. But it was one they were all familiar with. The twins didn't even need to set a foot down if they didn't feel like it. Still, his pace was apparently unmatchable, and the twins struggled to keep up. Even their wings had limits. 

Soon, Morgan started lagging behind by a greater margin, and it appeared to be intentionally. 

"Dad!" Ryan shouted to catch Chris's attention. "Morgan's crying."

Chris turned around and walked back in their direction. All little feet were firmly on the ground. He squatted down in front of them and lifted the lantern beside Morgan's face. "Why is she crying?" With his other hand, he lifted her chin.

Ryan spoke for her. "She doesn't want to talk about it."

"And why not? How can I help, then?"

Morgan shrugged between sobs.

"Why don't you wanna go to your brother's wedding?" she blurted out just as Chris was about to stand. "Aren't weddings supposed to be happy?"

Chris sighed. "It's hard to explain, kiddo." He patted her head and scooped her long hair out of her one eye and the corner of her mouth.

"He doesn't want to go, but he has to," Ryan added. He looked to see if Chris would confirm whether or not his guess was right.

Chris's head bobbed side to side as he considered Ryan's answer. "Something like that."

"I wouldn't want to go to that place either." Morgan was only four the last time she was in Pyxis, but it was clear she remembered it all too well. She had that in common with her father. "Maybe that's why you're not happy."

Chris stood up and grabbed Morgan's hand. "I know you're worried. Will you trust me when I say this trip shouldn't be as long or as dangerous as some of my other trips?"

She nodded wearily. "Okay."

"If I do go, I'll be back in about a week. And then," Chris added brightly, "your grandfather might come and live with us. Won't that be nice? And I promise I won't leave as much." 

Chris entered Ilima alongside Morgan at her walking pace while holding her hand. Ryan was flying backwards in front of them, keeping a close eye on his sister.

It had been a while since Chris had been to Ilima in the evening. Every time Chris did wander through, it surprised him how many Hawaiian-style huts lined the well-worn path and how many fairies—mostly warriors and their extended families—were roaming around what was now a "village." Recruitment was going well and many of the "children" were now of age—sixteen by Kāne criteria—or would be soon enough. Ilima was developing fast. There were no formal businesses, but within another year, there probably would be.

One popular place was across the way from Simona's house. It was the closest thing Ilima had to a tavern. The parents of Noa Kendri, one of the warriors Chris knew from a couple of missions, cooked, distilled their own fruity-sweet liquor, and enjoyed entertaining their visitors. They earned plenty of manako notes in the process. Because of a natural crook in the path where it was located, the name of the place had been dubbed "The Corner," or "Ke Huina" in Hawaiian.

On this particular night, it was loud and packed to capacity. But as Chris approached with his children, the group quieted down to watch. Chris made a nod of acknowledgement and mumbled a greeting to Noa and his best friend, Mano. Chris knew or recognized most of the other warriors as well. He had even trained most of them.

Chris wasn't necessarily the mightiest or the fiercest. He certainly didn't have the strongest stomach for war and all that that entailed, but he was undeniably the best with a blade of any size. He did what he could for those he was assigned and for anyone looking to improve their technique. 

A few of them said hello to Chris and greeted Ryan as "Little Kale" because of his resemblance to his uncle.

Although they were generally polite to him, Chris never felt at ease socializing outside of the training grounds. It was a mutual understanding. Chris was older than most of them and the only "single dad" living in the area. As the son of the legendary Scott MacRae, he wasn't a Hawaiian native or that well versed in their culture. Or their personal lives for that matter either. But everyone seemed to know everything about him.

When Chris was around, the climate of the conversation always changed to the dry and mundane. Out of respect or caution, Chris wasn't sure, but they avoided the topics young fairy-males often discuss. Until they believed he was no longer listening. Then they rambled on about anything and everything, obviously overcompensating for the fact that single fem-fairies were hard to come by in the jungle's war zones. 

There were many reasons why Chris kept his distance and he made no effort to improve the situation on this particular evening. He turned onto the pathway leading to Simona's hut and tuned out their whispers.

Simona answered the door with a smile. "I was expecting either you or your father to stop by with the kids today."

"Oh, good," Chris replied with forced pleasantness. "My father must have told you."

"Yeah, the wedding. Make sure you wish Joe and Cassie my congratulations!"

"He's not sure he's even going," Ryan chimed in before Chris could give an apathetic, obligatory I will.

Ryan's defiance met Chris's why don't you be quiet look.

Simona pulled her head back and narrowed her eyes. "Why aren't you going?"

"I'm going," Chris assured her. "I should be back in about a week."

"Oh . . . all right. . ." Her tone suggested she was still confused. "C'mon in!" she then said to Morgan and Ryan, propping the door open a little further. "We're about to start the pajama party!"

The kids said good-bye to their father and buzzed inside to join their cousins and the visible and audible chaos already in full swing. Nevertheless, when Chris handed Simona their bag of clothes, she must have heard him sniffle. "Is everything all right, Chris?"

"Fine," Chris replied succinctly without looking her in the eye. 

"Well, have a good time, then."

"Yep, thanks," he said, backing away. "Thanks for everything." 

When he heard Simona's front door close, he mumbled, "I'm going to have the time of my fucking life."

Chris barely acknowledged the crowd when he passed by the second time. He couldn't wait to get back to his hut. He needed to be alone.

When he arrived, he crashed on his bed and used his arms to block all light from his eyes. And there wasn't much there to begin with. The shutters were closed. The sky was overcast. The sun had set a couple of hours ago. There were only the embers in the fireplace. If he had bothered to close the door, he wouldn't have to worry about those either.

Hope was conquered by despair, indecision replaced decision, and answers created more questions. He wasn't sure he was capable of making any rational choices in such a limited timeframe.

His self-induced madness broke when he heard a knock on his front door. "What now?" he mumbled to himself.

With an explosive sigh, Chris got out of bed and approached the door. He considered not opening it, but the visitor may have heard his footsteps. He paused to see if there was some mistake.

It could be Simona. Did they forget something? Was someone hurt already?

The second knock was louder and more deliberate than the first one. He clicked on the flashlight he had carried in from the human world. He had even made a stand for it. It stood like a floor-lamp beside the door.

Chris didn't often get visitors this late in the evening. So, he couldn't mask his bewilderment when he opened the door and saw only a slightly familiar face.

"Hi . . . um. . ."

"Lily," she stated with the hint of irritation in her voice. "Kale's sister-in-law."

"Yeah, I knew that," he said with a grimace. In reality, though, he didn't immediately connect her name to her face. "I'm just . . . surprised. I wasn't expecting. . ." He started fumbling with the overgrown hair at the back of his neck.

"Mind if I come in? I have a couple of things for you." She lifted her little-red-riding-hoodish basket. It even had a red-checkered cloth to cover the "goodies" inside.

Before he could answer, she marched straight through his door. She didn't have wings, but even so, he had to move out of the way or he would have gotten steamrolled.

"Um . . . Lily . . . this isn't really the best time. I'm heading out of town and I need to pack," he claimed, although it was only partially true.

He never finalized his decision and he didn't need to pack. He already had a human-sized duffle bag stashed in the jungle on the other side of his father's tunnel for emergency purposes. The bag contained everything he could ever need—weapons and clothing for his fairy and human states, medical supplies, packaged food, maps, GPS technology, currency—American, Canadian, Kāne, and Pyxian.

Lily didn't seem to hear him and made herself comfortable in a chair at his kitchen table. She began unloading items from her basket. "So late in the evening? Couldn't it wait until morning?"

There was suggestion laced through the word morning and he wished he hadn't noticed. "I want to be at the airport by dawn."             

"I understand. I won't stay long."

Chris expected her to get up. But she remained planted there. She lit the lantern on the table. It gave the room a romantic glow. To add to Chris's level of distress, she seemed pleased with that. "I have a letter for you. That's the main reason I'm here. Kale said it was confidential and urgent. He made me promise I wouldn't read it."

She pulled the letter from her basket and handed it to him.

"All right. Thanks for bringing it to me." Chris turned his back and walked closer to the faintly glowing embers in the fireplace. He prodded it back into a fire so he could see the letter well enough to read it. He flipped it over and slipped his finger beneath the waxed seal of the envelope. 

I heard you didn't take the news about your brother's wedding very well. I sent over a present to take your mind off it. You can thank me later. -KJ

Every curse word Chris knew whirled through his psyche. He crumpled up the letter and threw it into the fireplace. The note slowly ignited, too slowly in his opinion.

He turned back around and stood there with what must have been a shell-shocked expression. He remained indecisively motionless.

"What does it say?" Lily asked with exaggerated eagerness. "Army business? Don't worry, I won't tell." 

"Sorry. I can't say a word. It's for your own safety," he lied, but the words sounded unconvincing even in his ears.  

"I thought maybe you'd tell me since I came all this way. But since you can't. . ." She began pulling a cork out of a bottle and positioned two chalices next to each other. "Would you like some wine, Chris?"

"No!" he said sharply. "No thanks, I mean," he corrected, slightly more situationally appropriate. "I'm not much of a drinker." 

"Are you sure? Do you mind if I have some?"

"It's your wine," he regretfully answered. 

Lily poured herself a serving to the rim and took an unfeminine gulp. And she continued to sip as she rambled on about nothing, really, or nothing that held his interest.

He couldn't help but think of Alana while he pretended to listen. Alana was a talker, too, but everything she said was amusing or had substance. She also knew when to tone it down like when he was watching sports or after a bad day on a job. And on this night of all nights, Chris was absolutely, without a doubt, in no mood for company or conversation.

"You were raised in the human world, too, weren't you?"

Chris came back to the present and shifted his weight to his other foot. "Oh . . . yeah . . . I grew up in Massachusetts."

"What were you like before you knew?"

"Just your typical meat-and-potatoes Red Sox fan," he replied as he flipped open his pocket watch, gasping at the sight of its face.

It was too late for comfort.   

She didn't take the hint and continued her life story where she had left off. "That's so funny. My brother, Matai, loved baseball, too. Eva, Matai, and I were raised human until my human father died. Our mother moved us to Nohea to be closer to her family. On the night of the Kanaloan raid—the one where you and Bane were captured—my mother and brother were both killed!" 

"Oh. Sorry to hear that."

"We were absolutely devastated. But in the end, Eva met Kale because of it. And the rest is history, as they say. . . ."

She smiled with the wine glass pressed to her lower lip. She finished the last of her cup and Chris watched her pour herself another one with his heartbeat audible in his temple. He wasn't even remotely attracted to her. Everything about her was overly round—face, eyes, cheeks, body. Her broad shoulders were the only insult to the theme.

My God! She couldn't even hold a candle to. . .

Either the prospect of losing Cassie permanently or his repulsion for the available fem-fairy in front of him propelled his imagination into overdrive. Whatever the reason, his daydream became so distracting that he nearly forgot where he was.

All aglow in a sheer, barely there white nightgown, Cassie pranced forward, incredibly light on her bare feet. Her eyes were hypnotic—brown with flecks of purple. Her skin appeared as smooth and soft as a white flower petal. It begged to be touched.

The beach, the lagoon, a shady nook of the jungle—the venue didn't matter. Heaven would be the only accurate description. He inhaled her subtle but enchanting scent of something edible, like warm spun sugar. He was imediately wired. Intoxicated. It was like a high that went straight to his head, heart, and groin in full force. How was he ever able to deny her?

Certain the taste of her would be even more enticing, Chris leaned in for a kiss. He needed to find out.

She looked up, willing. She set her little hands on his chest. And he went in for a dose of sustenance, and he went deep. Her lips were even more addictively sweet than he expected—and remembered—and had an airy softness to them. With his feet, he moved in. With his hands, he pulled her closer to him. She felt feather light as her body brushed against his. . .

Uncontrollable urge to have her. . .

Just as his fantasy was gaining some much-desired momentum, Lily's whinny-like laugh whisked him out of his happy place.

He looked down the front of himself. And swore, audibly.

His longing collapsed like it had been shot and killed. But how long had it been there?

That's when it hit him—the panic attack that manifested into dizziness and hyperventilation. 

The girl I'm in love with is marrying my brother!

Chris refused to stand there, enduring this torture, for another second. He had to go to Pyxis and see Cassie, even if it was to say good-bye. He wanted to make sure she was happy with her choice. She deserved to be happy. If Joe was the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with, then he would stay out of their way. Forever.

"Lily!" Chris interrupted harshly. "I have to go. Right now! Sorry!"

She packed everything back in her basket, not nearly fast enough by his standards for get the hell out. She mumbled something indecipherable as she plodded toward the door. The door slammed when she left.

Chris felt a touch of remorse for being so inhospitable. . .

And fucking crazy. . .

But his sense of relief was much stronger. He had many dilemmas to sort through before he arrived in Pyxis. At least Lily was no longer one of them. 

Within minutes, there was some distance between Chris and the hut. His decision to go to Pyxis was final. What fate had in store for him there, he was soon to find out.

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Greg Laswell. Days go on.

~

"I beg your pardon, love

But you've interrupted me

And the sad song that's played

Like a drum inside of me"

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