Wood Sprites

“So they paid you to have our sister?” Jillian asked while Louise tried to get the tea sweet enough to drink.

“Yes.” April sighed. “It sounds so horrible, doesn’t it? It felt good and right until it was time to walk away.” She opened the fridge, took out a carton of milk, and poured a generous tablespoon into her mug. Her cup read “I New York.”

“My family moved to Neville Island, thinking it would be safer. Mr. Bell lived down the street. He was a sweet, little old man. He could fix anything and he was always willing to help out. He saved my life once when I was little; I’d gotten too close to some strangle vine, and he cut me free. I felt like I owed him. And it wasn’t like he was going to have sex with me — it would all be neat and medical.”

“Mr. Bell?” The name on the records had been Leonardo Dufae, the famous inventor. “He was our real father?”

“No, no, it was his son. Um. Gosh, I’ve forgotten his name. I never met him. He’d been killed on Earth. He had donated some. .” She paused, blushing slightly. Apparently she’d just remembered that they were just kids.

“Sperm.” Louise provided the proper word.

“Yes.” The blush deepened. “Genetic material. It was all that Mr. Bell had left of his son. He just wanted a grandchild. The baby, though, had to be born in Pittsburgh if it was going to grow up on Elfhome with Mr. Bell. The elves limited immigration to a handful of people a year. The EIA — the Earth Interdimensional Agency — preapproves the applicants. They want scientists and researchers, not babies. There weren’t any fertility clinics in Pittsburgh, not after the first Startup, and he couldn’t have gotten any surrogate mother from Earth into Pittsburgh for more than a month. Since in vitro babies are often premature, it would have been hit or miss whether his granddaughter would be born on Earth or Elfhome. He didn’t want to risk having the EIA declare she didn’t qualify for the family immigration rule.”

“So the surrogate had to be a Pittsburgher,” Louise said.

April nodded. “I could come to New York City, have the. . the procedure, and go back to Pittsburgh until it was time for her to be born. I would get money to move to Earth. Go to college. We would all live happily ever after. It seemed so simple.”

“So Alexander is still in Pittsburgh?” Jillian asked.

“Oh, yes.” April got down a leather book from the bookcase. “Mr. Bell sends me a photo every year or so. At least he used to; last time he did, he wrote that the lack of technology on Elfhome frustrates her. I think he’s afraid that if she finds out about me, she’ll use me as an excuse to come to Earth. This is Alexander.”

The first few pictures looked like their own baby pictures where their parents squinted and said “Is this Jillian or Louise?” and their mother would mutter how she should have tagged their photos. At three, though, their sister became wholly herself. Her hair was boy-short. She sported a bandage in nearly every photo. In one she had a black eye, looking extremely pleased. Alexander wore bright T-shirts and blue jeans and often was barefoot. There wasn’t a doll or stuffed animal in any of the pictures, but wheeled vehicles that grew larger and larger as she did. When she was nine, she had a go-kart. Louise felt a stab of jealousy.

The last photo held another big surprise; it showed Orville and Alexander together, looking like brother and sister instead of cousins. Orville seemed only a year or two older than the photo taken of him after his mother’s murder. In this photo, he beamed with joy, arms wrapped around Alexander as she leaned comfortably back on him.

“Is that Orville?” Jillian asked.

April seemed surprised by the question and then laughed. “Of course you know about him. Yes, it is Orville. He’s living with his grandfather. He and Alexander bonded; they’re inseparable. Last time Mr. Bell wrote me, they were building go-karts and racing them all over Neville Island.”

So it was possible for family to be close as twins even if they were years apart, raised on separate worlds. Louise touched fingers reverently to the photo — proof that they were right in believing that saving their baby brother and sisters would be a wonderful thing.

“Is it really that bad? Living in Pittsburgh?” Jillian asked. “It seems so. . fantastical. With magic. Dinosaurs. Elves. Dragons.”

April laughed. “We didn’t have any dragons in Pittsburgh, thank God. The elves are gorgeous. But magic? It was really just an annoyance. It made machines not work right. Most humans were clueless how to deal with it. Mr. Bell was an exception. He picked it up somehow.”

Obviously the Dufaes were all clever, including their sister.

“How did Esme get involved in all this?” They found that most puzzling since Leo had died when Esme was still in middle school.