July rolled around. Lidda had finally worked up the nerve to invite Reddge and Casra to her home in Linfield for a holiday meal on the fourth. She doubted it would go well but couldn’t think of any more excuses to put it off. Reddge had been pestering her about meeting her parents for weeks. At least when she mentioned she was adopted, the Tollsuns didn’t immediately pelt her with the usual questions such as why her birth parents gave her away.

Lidda was nervous. She wasn’t ready to let her folks know how she felt about Reddge. But who was she kidding? They would figure it out the minute they saw him. It was her first really serious relationship, and she was never very good at hiding her feelings from her parents. Lidda doubted they were ready for a son-in-law, much less an alien one.

Dad was in his usual chair and Mom was cooking her famous fried chicken when Lidda and Reddge arrived. Lidda had phoned to let them know she was bringing company.

"Hello dear, in the kitchen," her mom answered as Lidda called out.

"Dad, these are my friends, Reddge and Casra Tollsun.

"So, these are your friends you met at Sencarle last year," her dad said as he stood up, holding out his hand in an unexpectedly warm gesture. Reddge had that effect on people.

"Pleased to meet you Mr. Kandell," Reddge answered, returning a firm handshake. He had chosen to wear a plain pair of trousers, loafers, and a casual shirt. Smart man.

Casra carried a basket of assorted baked goods from the Garden's kitchen. Even she had toned down her usual garb with a simple sundress that looked as though she had picked it off a local store rack.

"Hello,” Casra said. “Thanks for having us over."

"It's our pleasure. We've always wanted to meet Lidda's friends."

"If you will excuse me, I need to take these into the kitchen." Casra said moving past us.

Reddge seemed relaxed and in no time at all had engaged Charlie in conversation. Lidda joined her mom and Casra who were already hitting it off as well. Things were going much smoother than Lidda had predicted.

"Did you bake these dear?" Barbara asked of Casra.

"Just the bread. The desserts are from Mara, my mom."

"Oh Lidda, we should have invited her to come as well."

"Your mom?" The words were out of Lidda’s mouth before she could stop them. She had no idea that Mara was related to Reddge and Casra. It was a shock. Lidda couldn't believe Casra had never bothered to mention it before. It made it look as though she hardly knew the Tollsuns.

Lidda could feel Widhbo coming to her rescue, putting words in her head.

"I didn't know your mom made all those pastries herself." Lidda heard herself saying.

"Yes, she's a marvel in the kitchen." Casra replied casually. "Every holiday is just an excuse for baking goodies."

"Be sure to thank her for us." Barbara said.

That was a near disaster and Lidda didn't want to mess this up. She wanted her parents' approval now her foreseeable future was to be entwined with the Tollsuns. Lidda didn't want to upset them, but there was no going back. No matter what objections her parents might have, she would choose a future life with Reddge. It was reassuring to see everyone getting along and painfully obvious she really didn't know very much about her friends.

Things continued smoothly enough, at least until they sat down to eat. Lidda had been optimistic that the topic of religion wouldn't come up as this was a secular holiday but had forgotten the obvious.

"Someone can say the grace now if you like," Barbara said being the perfect hostess. Lidda looked awkwardly first at Reddge, then Casra. This hadn't come up before.

Casra reached out to hold the hands of those closest to her. Thankfully everyone followed suit, Reddge giving my hand a little squeeze of confidence. ""May we have a moment of silence to be thankful for our bountiful blessings," Casra said.

Reddge let go of hands and broke the lull in conversation after a few moments. "You set a beautiful table, Ms. Kandell."

"Oh please, call me Barbara."

Reddge smiled at her and nodded.

"Let's eat then," Lidda said relieved that one more hurdle was out of the way. It went well until her dad decided to complicate things halfway through the salad.

"So, just what do you folks in the Ring of Sora believe anyway?" Charlie asked.

His question came out of nowhere, and Lidda thought her heart would stop for a second.

"Our religion draws upon many cultures and traditions devoted to the sanctity of life and immortality of the soul. We trust in God to guide us and strive to lead a virtuous life, evidenced by how we treat our fellow man," Reddge answered so smoothly Lidda guessed he had anticipated the question. It was the simple and condensed version which could apply to many faiths. She hoped it was enough to satisfy her folks.

"Hmmph," was all her dad said.

"So, where are you from?" her mom asked after a brief silence. "Tell us a little about yourselves."

"We're local, from a little town on the coast called San Francisco." Casra said with a straight face. Charlie and Barbara both laughed out loud. Lidda didn't know if that was true or not, but she would ask Casra later. At least the ice was broken.

The rest of the day went by pleasantly enough. Reddge and Casra thanked her parents profusely for their hospitality before saying their goodbyes. Reddge placed his arm around Lidda’s shoulder possessively as they left. Not subtle.

On the way back that evening they stopped to watch a firework show on the river. As Lidda attended the festivities almost every year, she knew how to find the best seats at the front. It was near the grand finale at end of the show when the bigger fireworks were being launched that it happened. A rocket misfired and changed its trajectory from vertical to horizontal, heading in their direction, straight toward a woman holding a young child beside them.

Lidda heard Reddge shout telepathically "Widhbo!" and felt a sharp kick against her chest wall where the magiton resided in his pouch. The firework ignited in midair, then imploded and fizzled leaving only some dark smoke where the blast should have been. The residue felt to the ground in a harmless lump of charcoaled materials.

"Thank goodness it was a dud!" the woman said. "It would have hit us."

"Yes, that was too close for comfort," Casra added.

"Let’s go," Reddge led them away from the scene as the more curious in the crowd moved in. They got back in their vehicle to leave.

"Wait, where's Widhbo?" Lidda asked grasping a seemingly empty pouch. There was a barking sound and the crowd jumped back as a small dusting of black smoke filled the air in the vicinity where the rocket had fallen. She felt Widhbo's weight return to the pouch.

"Reddge, what's happening here?"

"It's a little complicated." Reddge said before driving away.

With yet another instance of how clueless she was, Lidda wondered how much more she didn't know. In the van, she pressed for answers. "I need to know, Reddge. What just happened?"

"Widhbo has a few properties you aren't aware of. You know he can use various forms of energy to power himself?" Reddge began.

"Yes, but I thought he just soaked up sunlight and such. Are you saying he absorbed that explosion?"

"He did."

"And how did he get out of his pouch and back again? And by the way, thanks Widhbo." She felt pride and contentment emanating from Widhbo.

"He teleported."

"He what? That's not possible!"

"It is with enough energy. I could only hope he had enough stored to get to the rocket in time."

"Then he should be swimming in energy right about now." She was struggling to process this information when she felt Widhbo leave the pouch again and saw a streak of light dashing in front of their vehicle, darting and making circles around them.

"Quit showing off, Widhbo!" Reddge said.

"Oh let him out to play a little." Casra admonished Reddge. "He possibly just saved a life and certainly spared us a few injuries."

"There's a lot more you two haven't told me isn't there?" The list seemed to be growing exponentially. Lidda was still trying to wrap her head around it. What sort of sentient creature could teleport, absorb the blast of a firework, and survive?

"There is. There's one secret I can't keep from you a minute longer." Reddge teased.

"And that would be..."

"I talked to your dad today," Reddge said. "In private."

"About what? Wait a minute. You didn't..." Lidda collapsed back against the seat as his words hit her full force.

"I did indeed! I asked him for the privilege of your hand in marriage."

Lidda was thrilled and terrified at the same time. "You could have warned me. What did he say?"

"He said if I could convince you, it was alright by him."

"And he agreed? Just like that?" Lidda asked. "Why didn't you tell me what you were up to?"

"That's sort of why we came here today wasn't it?"

"To meet my parents, not propose," Lidda replied.

"I've already proposed a betrothal. Now I've paved the way for you to say 'yes'."

"You didn't talk to Mom yet, did you?"

"No, but I did," Casra said. "She seemed happy about it too."

"It's a conspiracy! " Lidda yelped. Not even one of them had said a word to her. "I would appreciate being kept in the loop next time. Not to mention I haven't given you a firm answer yet. You said you were giving me time to think about it."

"I thought it would be a nice surprise," Reddge said. "And if I had told you in advance, you would have been worried sick about it."

Lidda couldn't argue the point. She had been nervous enough as it were, but this had to stop. "Quit protecting me. I'm not a child."

"Sorry," Reddge said. "I can't help it. It's in your ballpark now, Lidda."

"Barbara was not in the least surprised and had no objections under the condition that you have a long engagement," Casra said.

Widhbo had continued to circle the vehicle apparently having no problem keeping up at highway speed. He came back to his pouch with a soft plunk.

"What do you think, Widhbo?" Lidda asked.

"He can be hard to live with at times. Bossy. I wouldn't marry him."

Lidda laughed, though she couldn’t help but wonder if she should take Widhbo’s warning at least a little seriously. After all, Widhbo may have known Reddge for practically an eternity.