An Ordinary Fairy (12 page)

“The Big House became a showcase for the family’s affluence. They entertained quite often. The house was built for that purpose: to show off, and to intimidate. Even the Jones’s enemies sought invitations.

“Building the house was quite a project. Clarence and James did most of the work themselves, including the interior carpentry. The job proved too much for old Clarence. He fell ill and was bedridden until his death.

“About the same time the house was completed, Armstrong Jones was born, Chester’s grandfather.”

“Let me see if I have this right: the lineage is Clarence, James, Armstrong … who was next?”

“Anthony, Chester’s father.”

“Okay, so it was Clarence, James, Armstrong, Anthony, and Chester.”

“You’ve got it,” Willow said. “Unlike his father, Armstrong had no use for nature and loathed the woods, but he became infatuated with the Big House. He wanted to change the name to ‘Jones Castle.’ Armstrong lorded over the workers, who for some reason stayed. The family had power over them that was never understood. They added to the group over the years, but unable to attract blacks, they recruited Roma.” Willow’s voice changed on this last word, to a rich, far eastern accent. She stopped at Noah’s questioning expression. “Sorry. Most people today call them gypsies, but their proper name is Roma or Romani. That in itself proves the Joneses had some power or threat over their workers, for the Roma didn’t take on work that caused them to stay in one place for long.” Willow paused and smiled.

“Contrary to popular opinion, the Roma are wonderful people. Unusual, yes, but kind and thoughtful. Did you know they originated in northern India?”

“No. I always assumed they were from eastern Europe.”

“That’s where they migrated after leaving India. The Roma are Guardians of the Mystery. They have always known about fairies and they honor and respect us. For centuries, any fairy in trouble has been able to count on help from the Roma. They will do anything to aid us, at risk of life and limb, and our secret is safe with them. Likewise, we come to their aid when we can. It is so sad they’ve been persecuted and driven away in this country and many others.” Willow stopped. Her eyes became misty.

“Do you stay in touch with any Roma?” he asked.

Willow nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s a smart thing to do in case of need. Much of the Jones history Father learned from them, except for one important piece. Something happened on the Jones farm that made the workers leave one night, something awful enough to overcome their fear. Father believed the Roma hid all the events to protect the workers when they fled. Later, the facts faded from memory.

“When the workers left, the Joneses were almost ruined. They were forced to hire locals to do the work, people who demanded higher pay, and were immune to whatever held the Roma. It was a bad time for them until the Depression struck. The stock market crash affected them little, since they had everything in the farm, and cheap labor became plentiful again. The farm prospered from the many government food programs. Armstrong proved to be a shrewd businessman and traveled far to secure contracts while James remained in Hoopeston to run the farm. For the next twenty-five years, business was good as the Depression gave way to World War II and even greater need for farm products.

“Armstrong’s son, Anthony, was born just before the Depression. He grew up during the farm’s heyday, but he didn’t care about the business side. His father and grandfather were too occupied with making money to spend time with him, so their commercial zeal wasn’t passed on to him.

“Nineteen fifty was a pivotal year for the Jones family. It was the year Chester Jones was born, Anthony’s son, and a few weeks after his birth, James passed away. The lucrative Depression and war contracts had vanished, and Armstrong pressed Anthony into service to help him save the farm. Over the next twenty-five years, the family sold off several parcels to raise cash. The Big House became expensive to maintain, but Armstrong would not discuss parting with the old place. He and his wife, Clarisse, and Anthony and his wife, Janet, as well as Chester, lived in the old place, with no want of room.

“My parents moved to the area around 1950 also. They bought the home south of the Jones property and Father opened his business in Hoopeston. Within a few years, he developed many contacts in the local financial community and so became aware of the Joneses’ strained finances. In the early seventies, Father approached Armstrong about buying the woods property, including the Big House. My father’s contacts told him this was the only way the farm could survive. One last large cash infusion would save it, as well as relieve the burden of taxes and maintenance on the Big House. My parents had decided years before that they wanted the property.” Willow paused and took a long drink of water.

“How did Armstrong react?” Noah asked.

“My father would never tell Mother and I what was said. Father was a gentle man who didn’t swear or show anger, but anytime he talked about the conversation, his face grew red. I presume Armstrong told my father where to put his offer. Armstrong went so far as to accuse Father of turning the banks against him so he would have to sell.

“One surprising thing about the meeting was that Chester Jones attended, but not his father Anthony. Chester and his grandfather were very close. Chester became involved in running the business end of the farm when he was in his early twenties. Anthony was different from his father and son and stuck with farming itself. You could often see him out working in the fields, which was beneath Armstrong and Chester. Many people who didn’t know better thought Chester was Armstrong’s son, not his grandson, they were so much alike. They hunted together, gambled together and drank together. Rumor was they womanized together, but who knows?

“After my parents’ offer to buy, things became strained between our families. We found Chester and Armstrong on our property hunting more than once. Armstrong spread rumors about my dad, that he cheated his customers.

“The situation remained unchanged until 1975. The Joneses were about to go under. As a last ditch effort, Armstrong and Chester went off on a three-week overseas trip to find new business for the farm. They had some crazy idea about a South American crop that would save them from ruin.

“The day after Armstrong and Chester left, Clarisse Jones, Armstrong’s wife, appeared at our front door. My mother was quite surprised but invited Clarisse in when she asked to talk.

“Mother was astounded by what Clarisse said. She wanted to sell the woods property. She called Armstrong an old fool who should be in a retirement home, and she told Mother he had signed the deed over to her years before to protect it from foreclosure if the farm failed. Clarisse was sole owner with full legal authority to dispose of it. Mother took her to Father’s office, and they struck a deal. Clarisse called her attorney and paperwork was started that day.

“Mother asked Clarisse what would happen when Armstrong returned. I remember her peculiar answer clearly. She said ‘I suppose he’ll put a hex on me or something.’ She laughed, but the look in her eyes was scary.

“Clarisse was anxious to deal. The papers were signed within ten days and she moved everyone out and turned over the keys three days before Armstrong returned. Father moved us in the next day.”

“What did Anthony and his wife think of all this?” Noah asked.

“They didn’t seem to care. We had the feeling they never liked the old house anyway. The family history was dark and they wanted no part of it. Father thought the only reason they kept living there was because Armstrong insisted on having Chester nearby.

“When Armstrong and Chester returned to find the property sold and themselves moved into a house on the north side of Hoopeston, things were tense. Armstrong barged into my father’s business and nearly assaulted him. Father told us he had never seen anyone as livid with hatred. The office help restrained Armstrong until the police came. My parents swore out a restraining order, but it didn’t mean much to Armstrong. We caught him on the property several times, trying to break into the house or the shed. What he wanted we could never figure out, but something dear to him was in the house. Father offered to let him come in and see for himself that there was nothing of the Joneses’ left, but Armstrong would clam up and stalk off.

Willow stopped and grinned. “He could never figure out how we caught him every time. It’s easy when you have a built-in burglar alarm, and we seldom left the house unattended.

“Eventually things settled down, and we didn’t see Armstrong for a long time. That summer, early July 1975, I left for Kentucky to visit Rowan.” Willow’s expression turned somber. Sadness crept into the room like a vapor slipping under the door.

“I had been at Rowan’s just a few days when a sheriff’s deputy came to her door. She lived in the country without a phone and no one at Father’s business remembered her last name, so it took days to find me.” Willow paused and sighed. “You said you read the newspaper articles so you know what I know. It was the worst time of my life.”

“Did you really think they might have disappeared?”

“No. I knew they were dead as soon as the deputy came. Three days before, late in the night, I had awakened with a start. I had a clear image, call it a vision if you will, of climbing stairs and searching about in a dark room for something I desperately needed but couldn’t find. Not a dream; I was awake.” Torment clouded her face and darkened Noah’s heart. Tears welled up. Her voice was slow, halting.

“Everything went black for a few moments, and then … I felt the most terrifying pain in my chest … like a knife,” she ended in a whisper. Tears rolled down her face and her hand clutched at her chest.

Grief and terror staggered Noah. He moved to Willow, knelt before her chair, took her hand away from her chest, and touched her cheek.

“Willow, look at me.”

Come back to me.

He gently lifted her chin until their eyes met. Her breathing slowed, and she reached for a tissue. Noah returned to his chair.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’ve not thought about that night for a long time.”

“It’s okay.”

“When the deputy came and said they’d gone missing, I knew they were dead. I hoped for a long time we would find their bodies and maybe discover what had happened or who killed them. Of course, I wanted to find them first, before the sheriff’s men, so I could deal with Mother’s wings. I would have preferred to have done all the searching myself, but the sheriff was already involved when I returned. I’m sure they were murdered, Noah. I know it in my heart.” She paused. “I hope you don’t think I’m some nut case woman, but I believe they are still here. I mean at the property. You can call it their spirits, their ghosts, whatever, but I can
feel
them, especially around the Big House.”

“I believe you. I don’t think you’re crazy at all. Too much evidence supports the stuff you’re talking about for me
not
to believe it. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been able to sense energies and, I think, spirits. When I was twelve, I visited an aunt in New Mexico. I stood before a five hundred year old Indian ruin, overwhelmed by the presence of spirits. Since I’ve become ‘enlightened’ I’ve seen some strange stuff.” He paused and grinned. “I once saw a fairy flying in the woods.”

Willow laughed. “Who would believe such a thing?”

“Go on with your story,” Noah said.

“For about the first three weeks after their disappearance, I cruised on autopilot, doing the stuff you have to do. Rowan came and stayed for a few days. The deputies came and went. After a while, the search ended, Rowan went home, and I was alone. It was awful. What should I do with that huge house and all the land?

“Our attorney, Bill Anders, came to my rescue. He and my father were good friends, and steered business each other’s way on many occasions. One day he came to see me and advised me to take my time deciding what to do. All my parents’ money was in joint ownership with me, so finances weren’t a problem. He urged me not to be hasty. It was Bill who suggested I renovate the cottage and move out of the house right away, and I agreed. The best thing he did for me, though, was recommending Louie Miller for a handyman.

“Louie stepped right in and took over when I was in a daze. He helped me get the cottage livable first, then he said we needed to secure the Big House and the worker’s quarters. We turned the latter into a storage shed for tools and a small tractor. He and I built all the shutters you see on the house ourselves and installed them. It was difficult getting him to let me help him sometimes, and hard not revealing my strength. The gate on the cottage was his idea, and he’s the one who brought me the first Shadow when he was just a pup. We’re on our fourth Shadow now.” She paused and smiled. “Louie’s a special guy. He’s never said a word, but it has to make him wonder when I haven’t changed in thirty years while he’s grown to be an old man.”

Aha! An opening for question number thirty-nine.

“Since we’re on the subject,” Noah interjected, “how old are you? You never answered yesterday.” He sensed a quick succession of emotions from Willow, but then she blocked them, this time only causing a strong tingle in his arms and shoulders. Magic wasn’t needed to read the irritation in her face, however.

“I told you yesterday, it’s no concern of yours.”

Little snot.

“Calm down, Princess,” Noah answered. “I’m just curious, trying to understand this fairy thing.” She didn’t respond other than to frown more. “Go on. You were talking about Louie.”