A Dangerous Gift
I should have known better than to trust anything from Debbie. Looking back, the signs were all there—the too-sweet smile when she handed me the box, the glint in her eyes that wasn’t quite friendly. But, what could I do? They were just shoes, right? Beautiful, patent leather yellow shoes with a wide heel, exactly my style.
For once, my mother-in-law seemed to be making an effort.
“Oh, they’re lovely,” I said, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. Arthur stood beside me, grinning like a proud puppy. “Thank you, Debbie.”
She waved her hand dismissively, her lips curling up into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, I noticed you always wear such… practical shoes. I thought you might want something nice for once.”
The jab was wrapped in silk, just like always. But I smiled, nodding, playing my part. That’s what you do when you’re trying to keep the peace, right? When your husband loves his mother, and you’re trying to be the bigger person.
But it wasn’t the first time she’d taken little digs at me. I remembered the Christmas dinner where she’d asked Arthur if he remembered how his ex-girlfriend, Sarah, made “the most divine turkey.” Or when she’d shown up uninvited on our anniversary with old photo albums of Arthur as a child, staying for three long hours.
Every visit felt like a diplomatic mission, and I was the ambassador trying not to be overthrown.
“She’s just set in her ways,” Arthur would say after particularly tense moments. “Give her time.” But time didn’t seem to help. If anything, her behavior had only gotten worse since we’d gotten married.
I left the shoes sitting in their box for a week, unsure what to do with them. But when my business trip to Chicago came up, Arthur gave me a nudge.
“You should wear Mom’s shoes,” he said, lounging on our bed, phone in hand as I packed my suitcase. “Show her you appreciate them.”
I ran my fingers over the smooth leather. “Yeah, maybe I will.”
“I think she’s trying, you know,” he added, looking up from his screen. “This is her way of extending an olive branch.”
If only I’d listened to my gut.
The first sign something was off came as soon as I was at the airport. There was a strange sensation in my left shoe, like something was pressing against my foot. When I took it off to check, nothing seemed wrong. Just perfect leather and that new-shoe smell.
“Everything okay?” The businessman behind me in the security line asked impatiently, glancing at his watch.
“Fine,” I muttered, slipping the shoe back on. “Just breaking in new shoes.”
But it wasn’t fine. The feeling grew worse with every step, like there was something pushing against my foot. By the time I reached the security conveyor belt, I was limping.
“Please remove your shoes,” the TSA officer said.
I sighed in relief when he asked for my shoes, hoping to get this over with quickly. But his reaction when he saw the X-ray told me everything. He didn’t even say anything at first—just stared at his screen with wide eyes.
“Ma’am, step aside,” he said, his voice sharp.
My stomach dropped. “Is there a problem?”
He pointed to the X-ray. “We need to examine this more closely. Please remove the insole.”
I could feel the eyes of the businessman behind me on my back as he grabbed his laptop, and a mother hurried her child past us.
I sat down, my hands shaking as I tried to peel back the insole.
“Need some help?” A female officer appeared, snapping on blue latex gloves.
“I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. “These were a gift from my mother-in-law. I just wore them for the first time today.”
The insole finally came off with a soft tearing sound, revealing a small package wrapped in plastic hidden inside the shoe. The contents inside were greenish-brown, barely visible through the plastic.
The officer’s expression turned hard. “Can you explain this?”
“I… I don’t know what that is,” I said, my voice cracking. “I didn’t put anything there. These were a gift. I’m supposed to be giving a presentation in Chicago tomorrow morning. Please—”
“We’ll need to test the contents,” he interrupted, his tone final. “Please wait here.”
I sat in the hard plastic chair, my mind racing. The thought of being arrested flashed through my mind. “Marketing Executive Caught Smuggling Drugs.” It seemed so ridiculous, but so real at the same time.
I considered calling Arthur, but I didn’t know how to explain this. What would he think? What would he say about Debbie?
Twenty minutes passed before a senior officer arrived. His face was stern, but his eyes were kind. “The preliminary tests show no controlled substances in this package,” he said. “But you can understand this could have been a serious situation?”
I exhaled, the tension leaving my body. “Yes, sir. I’m so sorry.”
“Be more careful about what you carry through security,” he said, releasing me with a warning.
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. I tossed the package into one of the airport lockers and ran to catch my flight, barely making it.
I spent the entire flight to Chicago wondering why Debbie would do this. What was her goal? I couldn’t make sense of it, but I knew one thing: she’d tried to set me up. I needed answers.
When I returned home, I immediately took the package to a lab for testing. When the results came back, I felt like the ground had shifted beneath me.
Mugwort. Yarrow. St. John’s Wort. According to my frantic online searches, these herbs were used in folk magic. They were known for spells meant to drive people away, sever connections, or “protect” someone from unwanted influences.
Debbie had tried to use magic on me.
That evening, after dinner, I finally worked up the courage to tell Arthur. He was loading the dishwasher, humming under his breath, when I took a deep breath and said, “We need to talk about your mother.”
His hands paused in mid-air, dish soap bubbles clinging to his fingers. “What’s wrong?”
I told him everything—about the airport, the herbs, and what I’d learned about their magical properties. With each word, his face grew darker. His jaw clenched.
“She’s never wanted me in your life,” I said, my voice trembling. “This proves it. I almost got arrested because of her. All because she can’t accept that you chose me.”
Arthur dried his hands slowly, his eyes distant. “I knew she was struggling with our marriage, but this?” He shook his head. “This is something else. It’s unforgivable.”
“What do we do now?”
He looked at me, his eyes filled with pain, but also determination. “I’m calling her right now. And then I’m going to tell her that until she can admit what she did and apologize to you, she’s not welcome in our home.”
“Arthur, you don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” His grip on my hand tightened, strong and steady. “She crossed a line. She tried to hurt you. I love my mother, but I won’t let her destroy our marriage. You’re my family, too, and it’s time she understands that.”
I leaned into him, my heart steadying as I felt his warmth. The shoes sat in our closet, a constant reminder that sometimes, the prettiest gifts can hide the most dangerous surprises.
As Arthur reached for his phone, I knew that no matter what happened next, we’d face it together. And we’d come out stronger.
Maybe that’s what drives Debbie crazy: the more she tries to pull us apart, the closer we get. Maybe someday, she’ll realize there’s enough room in Arthur’s heart for both of us. Until then, we’ll keep our distance—and I’ll be more careful about accepting gifts.
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