“What the—” He spun around, and his hate-filled eyes met mine.
The crowd applauded. Like I said, I should’ve been collecting tips.
Mr. Duncan stumbled back. “What was that—some kinda firework? Now that’s called assault with a deadly explosive. You’re just making my job easier, sweetie.” He leered at me before disappearing into the crowd.
Ruth, Mr. Duncan’s wife, walked forward, her eyes guarded as she looked from me to the mess on the ground. She wore her long, graying hair in a braid that wrapped around her head, and the flower wreath crown of white and yellow daises seemed to clash with her anxious expression. Looking at her broke my heart. She’d come here to have a good time, to lighten her spirits and feel human for a day, and now it had all been ruined.
“I’m so very sorry…” Her lip quivered. “He’s always had a temper, but usually he can keep it in check. I really don’t know what’s gotten into him.”
I nodded. Mrs. Duncan had been my client for many years. I’d resolved her issues relating to lost memories from Faythander, but she still suffered from panic attacks and depression. After meeting her husband, I was certain I knew why. She walked with a cane and complained of nerve troubles, so when she stooped to retrieve my figurines, I stopped her.
“Ruth, don’t worry about it. I’ll pick them up.”
She looked up at me, blinking to keep the tears out of her eyes. “But Olive, you’ve done so much for me. Three years ago, I was in a bad place—a dark hole that I felt I’d never escape. But you showed me the truth of my past, and since then I’ve been able to cope. I don’t know if I ever thanked you. You don’t even ask for anything in return. What Duane said—it’s not true. You’ve helped so many people. And most of the time, you don’t even get a thank-you, much less get paid. I—I’m so sorry…”
She left without saying another word, and I watched her go. The sun sank behind the rows of medieval-style shops. I wasn’t in Faythander, but coming to the Texas Ren Fest made me feel a little closer to home. I’d been short on clients lately, and the best place to pick up my type of patient was here. Fairy- and dragon-figurine hoarders loved this place, which meant they’d probably been to Faythander, which gave me ample business. So far, though, I’d made more money selling my homemade knit scarves and fairy figurines than I had counseling potential clients.
I heard a little girl begging to see the firework again, but she was quickly towed away as the crowd dispersed to find better entertainment.
Tears of anger burned in my eyes as I knelt to pick up my figurines. Mr. Duncan had no idea how much his words had hurt me. I tried to keep my inadequacy issues in check, but since I’d returned from Faythander ten months ago, I’d become a different person. I was angry all the time and flew off the handle without being provoked. What was worse—as a therapist, I knew exactly what was wrong with me, but I couldn’t face up to my own issues.
I knelt to gather my figurines, making cold mud squish under my knees and soak through my cotton tights. My dragon statue had landed with his head in the muck, and his elegant tail poked up in an undignified manner. I pulled him out, feeling the magic inside trying to calm me as I wiped the grime off his face.
I reached for the elf statue when a brown-skinned hand grabbed it before I could. I looked up, surprised to see Dr. Hill squatting beside me. He wore a Robin Hood costume complete with the red-feathered hat, boots, and neon green tights. I’d only ever seen him in a suit, and to see him now shocked me.
“Doc Billy? What are you doing here?”
“Please, it’s Dr. Hill, remember? And the reason I’m here is to check on you.”
“Check on me?”
“Yes.” He handed me the elf statue. I took it from him, then hastily grabbed my mirror and the rest of my figurines.
I could guess the real reason he was here, and I didn’t like it. I’d been avoiding him for a while now—ever since he’d suggested I had coping issues.
He followed me inside my rented space. It wasn’t much. Three walls with an open area in front where I’d put the table. I’d placed several chairs inside and had a few collectible figurines for sale—mostly to attract potential patients. I’d decorated it better than my apartment, though, with a rack selling my handmade knit scarves and a few posters with fantasy landscapes covering the walls. I’d even broken down and bought one of those plug-in fountains that I kept on an end table. It was cute, and I liked the sound of running water.
Dr. Hill took a seat in one of the chairs, and I sat across from him. I placed my muddy figurines and mirror on the table. Outside, the sunlight was fading, making the October air turn chill. It wouldn’t be long before the parade started, so, if I needed it, I would have a good excuse to end the conversation.
Dr. Hill smiled, but I could tell it was one those fatherly, I’m-here-to-help-you looks.
“Your costume is nice,” I said.
“I rented it. I wanted to fit in, but,” he said, smoothing the bright red feather in his hat, “I may stand out worse than I thought. However, your costume looks authentic. You seem to have no problem fitting in.”
I pushed my hair behind my ears. Because I was half-elven, my ears were tapered at the top, not a big deal most of the time, but occasionally I got
