The Hidden Deep (12 page)

Prissie and Koji made the quick trip from Harken’s to the bakery without incident, and as soon as they were through the door, Auntie Lou put them to work pulling tables together for their traditional pre-festival dinner. The Pomeroys were joined this year by Auntie and Uncle Lou, Derrick and Pearl Matthews, Ransom, and Koji, so it would be crowded.

Once the tables were ready, Prissie noticed that Koji had moved to a spot before the front window. Instead of looking at all the busyness on the street out front, he was staring fixedly into the sky.

His seriousness made Prissie nervous. “What do you see?” she whispered.

“Colors,” he replied, glancing at her with a smile. She followed his gaze, and indeed, the clouds above were painted pink by the setting sun. “There are so many colors, it is like a stained glass window, and I was looking for a certain piece.”

“Do you see Tamaes?” she gasped, searching the sky. “Is he very far away?”

“No, he is on the roof,” Koji replied. “But I can see Taweel.”

“Really?” Prissie asked in awe. “Is Omri with him? Isn’t it too dangerous for the little guy to be up there when there might be a battle?”

“I do not think there is anywhere else Omri would want to be.”

“Why are he and Taweel always together?”

“That is not my story to tell.”

“Oh. Isn’t it strange, though?” she ventured. “Do any of the other angels have their own little manna-maker hanging out with them?”

“Not that I have seen,” Koji admitted. “However, I have not seen all there is to see.”

Auntie Lou called them to ferry all the food from the kitchen. There was a lot of hustling back and forth, followed by jostling to fit everyone around the tables. Grandma Nell was stationed at one end, ladling bowls of steaming chowder, and Jayce stood at the other, wielding a long knife as he sliced thick chunks of warm bread. Midway through the serving, Auntie Lou exclaimed, “Oh, the pitchers! Prissie, be a dear and fill the water pitchers for us?” “Yes, ma’am,” she replied, scooting back her chair.

Compared to the din in the front, the bakery’s empty kitchen was hushed. Prissie crossed to the shelves where several pitchers were lined up and carried four of them to the sink to fill. Before she had the first one half-full, there was a knock on the back door.

Now, it was too early for the trick-or-treaters to be coming around. She knew for a fact that the back alley was blocked off from both ends to keep kids from stealing a sneak peek while the crew got into place. Front doors opened at six, and back doors waited until seven, when it was good and dark.

Jayce generally left the back door to Derrick Matthews, who enjoyed finding something spooky about Momma’s fairy tale themes. More than once, Prissie had been surprised to
learn that an innocent-seeming story had something dark and dangerous lurking within. When they’d done a pretty gingerbread house like the one in Hansel and Gretel, the back door had led to the witch and her oven. When Momma chose Little Red Riding Hood, Derrick had created a wolf’s den. This year, the back door led to the castle’s dungeon, complete with ominous chains and cages. Neil and Ransom made a fine pair of creepy guards who would try to lure the unwary aside for Derrick to lock away in the cage he’d built.

The knock came again, and Prissie turned off the tap and walked to the door. Neil had told her that his football coach would be inhabiting the dumpster just behind the bakery, so she thought it might be him. “Is that you, Coach Hobbes?”

A voice called back, “Prissie? That’s good. You’re the one I wanted to talk to.”

“Who’s there?” she asked curiously, trying to place the voice.

“Adin.”

“Oh!” With a quick twist of the lock and turn of the knob, she opened the back door.

Twilight was deepening, but even in the shadows, she could make out Adin’s handsome face. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking in the sights. Having a little fun. Calling upon a lady fair,” he replied with a courtly bow.

Prissie smiled, for his gentle flattery pleased her. The angel was dressed in princely attire, right down to the tights her brothers had flatly refused to wear. She curtsied and said, “Good evening, sir.”

“Can her ladyship join me for a turn around the square?” he inquired.

“I can’t,” she said regretfully. “We’re just sitting down to dinner.”

“It wouldn’t be for long,” he coaxed.

Again, she shook her head. “I’d have to ask my dad, and I
really
don’t think he’d let me go off alone with someone he doesn’t know.”

“Understandable,” Adin promptly agreed. “He has every right to be overprotective when his daughter is so lovely.”

“Prissie blushed and murmured, “I don’t know about
that
.”

“Are you
sure
you couldn’t just step out for a minute?”

It was tempting. So tempting, but her conscience pricked her fiercely. “I
really
shouldn’t. I promised to stay inside tonight. You know?”

“Ah, I see,” Adin replied with obvious disappointment. Then with a flourish, he produced a single, red rose and held it out to her. “Another time, perhaps?”

“I’d like that,” she admitted.

He proffered the flower, and it was almost like a scene from a real fairy tale. Prissie knew they must look just like a prince and a princess, and her heart gave a flutter. Almost without thinking, she reached out, but the rose was too far away. Leaning forward, her fingertips just brushed one dewy petal when Ransom pushed through the kitchen door behind her, calling, “What’s
taking
so long, Miss Priss? Your dad wants to pray or something so we can eat already!”

Prissie glanced over her shoulder to glare at her classmate. Ransom was already in costume, a dingy gray smock, disheveled hair, and dirty smudges on his face. He was frowning deeply at her, but the brown eyes searched her face with a mixture of surprise and concern. When she turned back to the alley, Adin was gone. Her beautiful moment had been stolen, and she was furious.

“Did someone come around already?” Ransom asked, stepping past her to gaze up and down the alley.

Koji hurried into the kitchen, his eyes wide. “Prissie, are you safe?”

“Obviously,” she grumbled. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I am not certain,” he admitted, glancing between the two. “May I help with the water?”

“Sure,” she muttered, turning her back on Ransom and stalking back to the sink.

Dinner was a hasty affair, for everyone was in a hurry to finish. Zeke was understandably eager for the sun to set, and Jude hardly touched his food. Their mother would take them around as soon as the clock struck six. At thirteen, Beau was now considered too old to join the kids who trick-or-treated up and down Main Street, so he was helping out inside the bakery for a while. Once the back alley opened up in an hour, he was meeting up with some classmates to run through it together. After he got back, Tad would take Zeke through. Neil planned to wander out later, but he’d helped Derrick so much with the setup that he already knew too much behind-the-scenes information for anything to be scary.

While the clearing away, sweeping up, and washing were underway, Prissie pointedly avoided Ransom, but eventually he cornered her by the glass-fronted bakery case, which had special, limited edition cookies shaped like knights’ shields, castles, dragons, and crowns.

“Hey, Miss Priss,” Ransom said in a low voice. “What gives?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she retorted breezily.

“What’s got you all worked up?” he tried again. “Normally, I’d say your hair was wound too tight, but that can’t be it.”

She scowled. “If you must know, you interrupted me.”

“There
was
someone at the back door?”

“Yes. A friend came by to say hello.”

“Who?”

“No one
you’d
know.”

“
Not
someone from school, then?” he pressed.

Prissie stuck her nose in the air. “It’s none of your business!”

“Look, you’re acting all weird, like you’re
hiding
something,” Ransom said reasonably. “You did the same thing when we were at the park, right before disappearing into a cave. I just want to make sure you’re not about to do something stupid.”

Her blue eyes sparked. “I’m
not
doing anything wrong!”

“Neither am I,” he replied stubbornly. “You’re the boss’s daughter. It’s really obvious that he thinks the world of you. I’d hate to see you mess that up!”

“Stop butting in!” she snapped. “Don’t talk about me and my dad like you know anything!”

Ransom lifted his hands and backed down. “All right, already,” he said. “Never mind. Sorry to intrude.”

From the front window, Prissie could see people gathering in the square. The band started up, and people wandered around with hot dogs sold by the Lions Club or plates of barbeque that the fire department had been smoking since before sunup.

Jayce had changed into his kingly attire right after dinner, so he looked rather regal when he pulled Prissie aside. “Is there a problem between you and Ransom?”

“Of
course
,” she replied huffily. “He’s impossible.”

Her father shook his head and said, “Enough, Princess. You’re dressed like a lady, and I want you to
behave
like one. A little grace would go a long way.”

She didn’t appreciate the warning. It proved that Ransom was coming between her and her dad. The only bright side to the whole evening was that her nemesis was working the back door, so she wouldn’t have to deal with him for the rest of the night.

As soon as six o’clock rolled around, the bakery doors were flung wide, and their busy evening began. Somehow, Auntie Lou had convinced Uncle Lou to be fitted for a suit of armor, and he stood on the front step, eyes twinkling and moustache bristling. He made the perfect greeter. “Good evening, my dear damsel, are you by any chance in distress?”

Trick-or-treating tapered off by eight thirty, but plenty of adults still drifted in and out of the Main Street stores, checking out the décor. Prissie carried the goodie bowl into the kitchen in order to refill it and caught the sound of high-pitched screams coming from out back. Just then, Ransom strolled to the table as well, twirling a ring of keys on his finger and whistling. “How’s it going up front?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Well, the back door is awesome. That Derrick guy is some kind of genius, rigging things up like he did,” he said with a grin that showed several blacked out teeth.

“What are the keys for?” she asked, curious in spite of herself.

“Oh, I have a couple girls from our class in the cage,” he replied smugly. “The one dressed as a black cat kept trying to rub up against Neil, and it was freaking him out. Funniest thing ever.”

“Elise?”

“Yeah. Her and Margery, who asked if I would bring her a cookie. I told her sure. Which kind should I get?”

“She’d want a crown,” Prissie replied faintly. “One with blue jewels.”

While Ransom looked over the trays of frosted cookies, he set down his keys, and for the first time, Prissie noticed that they were real keys, not props. “What are those for?” she asked sharply.

“Huh? Oh. It looked silly for the jailers to only have two keys on their key ring, so your dad let me have the main set.”

“He gave you
all
the keys?” she asked, astonished.

“What’s the big deal?”

“The lock box and everything?” Prissie demanded fiercely.

“Of course,” he replied nonchalantly. “You know, I
do
help open the store every morning. Your dad trusts me.”

She couldn’t believe it. “But that’s
terrible
!”

Ransom located Margery’s cookie. “I’m not a thief, Miss Priss. I have no idea where you got the idea that I’m a gang member or some kind of delinquent. I’ve never stolen anything in my life.”

“You are
too
a thief. You’re trying to steal Dad!” she cried. “It’s a mistake to trust someone like you!”

Ransom’s head reared back, and his face registered hurt … or anger. Prissie wasn’t sure which, but either way, she knew she’d crossed a line. He turned his back and walked out without a word. When she turned
her
back, she realized Koji had joined her, and she looked to him for support. The young angel’s sorrowful expression hit her like a blow. “Prissie, that was not true,” he quietly asserted.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Then why did you speak it?”

“I was angry!”

“That is no justification,” he replied seriously.

“I didn’t mean to,” she muttered miserably.

“You did.” Koji’s soft assertion startled her into looking at the Observer, and he quietly repeated, “You wished to hurt him, and you succeeded. Did you consider the consequences?”

Prissie felt nauseous. She’d been spiteful, hateful, mean, and now that she’d lashed out at her classmate, she really wished she hadn’t. Her petty triumph left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she didn’t know how to make it go away. “What do I do?” she whispered, afraid she already knew the answer.

“Ask for forgiveness,” Koji calmly directed. “From Ransom …”

“And me,” interrupted a low voice.

Prissie whirled. “Dad!”

“Koji, you may wait in the front,” Jayce calmly directed. “My daughter and I need to have a little talk.”

“Yes, sir,” he replied, leaving without a backward glance.

Jayce rubbed his chin as he gathered his thoughts, then folded his hands together and sought his daughter’s gaze. “Prissie, what has Ransom done to deserve your treatment of him?”

Her jaw clenched. “He’s annoying.”

“He must have done
something
?” he prodded. “You can tell me.”

“I told you. He’s annoying,” she repeated.

“That’s all?” Jayce pressed. “He’s never bullied you. Or given you trouble here or at school?”

She hunched her shoulders in a defensive shrug. Though she didn’t like Ransom, her conscience wouldn’t let her accuse him of something he’d never done. “No,” she admitted.

“So you think he’s
annoying,
and that justifies the way you’ve been treating him?” She stared sullenly at her father,
who considered for a moment. “You know, I’ve always tried to make Ransom feel welcome. I’ve invited him to church, but he’s under the impression that all Christians act like … well, like I’ve seen you behaving tonight.”