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I consider it for a moment before returning my gaze to meet Bec’s. “Why don’t we make something interchangeable instead? You can wear it as an anklet or bracelet, depending on the clothes you choose that day.”
I don’t have to say it’s so she can hide it because Bec seems to understand, and her smile is my answer.
“I would love that.”
“Okay, first, we need a new stone or crystal. Come here. I’ll let you pick.”
She watches me curiously as I move to my altar, pulling my jewelry box from beneath it. When I open it, I choose a few pieces that will all work equally well for protection, laying them out for her to choose from.
“How do I decide?” she asks.
“Try feeling them,” I suggest. “Whichever one speaks to you. You’ll know when you feel it.”
Her eyes brighten as she takes her time, examining each offering before returning to a piece of black tourmaline several times. I can tell that’s the one, but I give her time to reach that conclusion on her own.
It takes her several minutes to work up the courage, a sure sign that she’s not used to making decisions of her own accord.
“I think I like this one.”
“Perfect,” I tell her. “Do you want to see how it’s made?”
She nods, sitting beside me on the floor as I get to work, cutting wire and carefully wrapping the stone. This time, I use a length of rope to secure it, pausing to measure her wrist and ankle, which are equally tiny. It concerns me, and I know Bec can see it when she hastily covers them back up. There’s so much I want to ask her about her condition, but I know I need to build a relationship with her first. Trust has to be established before she’ll tell me the truth about what’s going on here, which I suspect is far more than she’s divulged.
“I think this will do.” I extend the bracelet when I finish. “Do you want to try it on?”
She slips it onto her wrist, her face lighting up as if it’s one of her most cherished possessions, and for some reason, that only breaks my heart more.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I love it.”
“Of course.” I smile. “If you have any more trouble with it, don’t hesitate to come back. There’s always a way to fix these things.”
She nods, her eyes moving over the other jewelry in my case with interest. She doesn’t ask, so I push the box in front of her in offer.
“Do you want to look through it? I have a lot of pieces in there.”
“They’re so pretty,” she remarks, her dainty fingers picking up a few pendants and rings to examine them. “What do you do with all of them?”
“I sell them,” I tell her. “Mostly. I also make some for friends and family.”
“Where do you sell them?”
“There’s an apothecary shop in New Orleans. Solana, the owner, has a space for my jewelry and some of my candles and the elixirs I make.”
“That’s so cool,” Bec says. “I wish I could do something like that.”
“You can help me anytime you want to.”
“I would love that.” Her words are genuine, but I can’t help noting the sadness in her voice. I’m not sure if it’s because she doesn’t think Salomé will ever allow it or if there’s another reason.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I tell her.
“What?” She blinks up at me.
“Are you tired?”
She shakes her head.
“Good.” I get up and walk to my closet, searching the hangers for something I think will fit her. “My sisters used to do this when we couldn’t sleep. We’d get all dressed up with nowhere to go. It passes the time.”
Bec seems to like the idea, and when I notice her eyeing one of my black Wednesday Addams-style dresses, I pluck that one from the hanger.
“Here, try that one.” I rummage around for accessories, choosing a red headband and heart-shaped glasses to accompany my robe.
While Bec puts on the dress, I grab some makeup, too, picking out a few items that will work well with her skin tone. She laughs when I turn around, and she notices the glasses on my face. It’s such an innocent thing, but it makes me happy because I think it’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh.
“How does it look?” she asks, peering down at herself.
“Perfect,” I tell her. “I think it suits you. Have a look in the mirror.”
She does, and I can see the moment she falls in love with the dress. I wonder if she’s ever been able to choose any of her own clothes and make another mental note to ask Azrael about it later. I doubt he’d let me take her shopping, but it’s worth a shot to ask.
“I look like an actual teenager,” she says.
