An Ordinary Fairy (8 page)

Everything in the cottage suited a small person. The furniture was low. Noah found the couch uncomfortable, with nothing to do with his legs. Low and narrow doors, the narrow stairway, and the tiny kitchen all said “little.” Earthy and natural decorations brought the forest indoors. Pictures on the walls displayed animals or forest scenes, but no people. Plants sat on many scattered shelves.

“This place is wonderful,” Noah said, turning to Willow where she stood at the counter. “A perfect little … hobbit hole.”

Jeez, I almost said fairy house.

She walked from the kitchen carrying two mugs. “Well, I’m afraid I’m not a hobbit,” she said. “They’re really short, you know.” She grinned that mischievous way he liked.

Noah stood and accepted his hot chocolate. “Oh. I guess I missed that detail,” Noah said. “About you
not
being really short, I mean.”

That wonderful fragrance is from you.

“I’m not as tall as some people,” she said. “Four-foot-nine isn’t
that
short.”

“It looks pretty short from up here.”

Willow stuck out her tongue, and then laughed merrily. “I should apologize about the couch. Your knees almost hit your chin.”

“That’s alright.” He sipped the hot chocolate. “What’s behind the kitchen? Looks like all windows.”

“Oh, that’s the poolroom. Come on, I’ll show you.” She waved for him to follow and walked toward the door in the back wall. As he walked by, Noah could see a door under the stairs led to a bathroom. He stepped through the door to the poolroom and then understood the name.

The floor and walls were all stone. The wood ceiling continued the roofline from the main room. Above him, a wood railing ran along the loft’s backside, where a small black cat hunkered, eyeing Noah with suspicion. The south wall was all glass. Rain and moisture on the windows restricted his view, but he could make out a small garden surrounded by a tall dark green hedge. A large stone pool built into the floor filled most of the room, an oval about twelve feet long and eight feet wide. Water flowed from a short U-shaped trough in the east wall and cascaded down troughs set into the wall and then into the pool. On the west end, the room’s floor sloped to facilitate water overflowing from the pool into a trough, and then outside through a small opening in the wall. The west wall contained a small wooden door.

“Wow,” Noah said. “I like this.”

At least I would if there was some heat. It can’t be fifty degrees in here.

Scattered reed mats covered the floor. Two small wood benches supported plants and partly burned candles, whose scent hung in the air. A low table held towels, soap and shampoo. He walked over to the cascade and verified the water was icy cold. “Does this come from a spring?”

“Yes, the same one that feeds the pond,” Willow said. “There’s a control lever to shut off the flow. I left it on this morning after my bath to bring in some fresh water.”

Noah crouched and swished his hand in the water. It was as cold as the incoming flow. “Judging by this water, you took a cold bath this morning,” he said, looking up to gauge her reaction. “And at the pond Monday, I was chilly, but you seemed comfortable without a coat.”

Willow’s features colored. “I guess I’m hardier than most people.”

“Hypothermia resistant is more like it,” Noah said. He stood up.

“Let’s go sit down,” Willow said, “and we’ll get on with your questions.”

We just did.

Willow led him through the kitchen to the couch where they took seats at opposite ends. She grinned at his posture on the couch, but said nothing. Shadow took up station at Noah’s feet.

Noah pulled his notebook and pen from his shirt pocket and flipped to a blank page. “So what can you tell me about the property here? Has it always been timber?”

“As far as I know,” she said. Her smile faded. “The property has only been in my family for thirty years. I inherited it from my parents. It belonged to the Jones family for a hundred years before my parents bought it. The Jones’s farmed all around this area and they still have large farm holdings on the east and north sides of the woods, but as far as I know, the woods have always been here.”

“This must have been a busy place in their day. I bet there wasn’t as much wildlife as today.”

“No, I would say not. The Big House—that’s what the mansion is called—was a hectic place, with many visitors, and all the field workers lived on the property. You saw part of their old quarters yesterday, and you can still see the old road from there to the eastern fields. I suspect wildlife wasn’t made welcome.”

“You seem to have changed that since you came here,” Noah said, segueing into another question on his
I-think-you’re-a-fairy
list. “You have a special affinity for wildlife, and the not so wild life.” He rubbed Shadow’s ears. “Tell me how you sent those ducks back to the pond. And why the deer left when you told her.”

“I didn’t tell her, I asked her.” Willow’s face flushed, as if she’d been caught saying the wrong thing. “I mean, anyone can coax an animal into doing something, especially if it knows you.”

Yeah, right.

“I suppose.” Noah was embarrassed, he knew not why, and stalled by scribbling notes. “I did some research on the property history on the Internet and at the library yesterday, to see what I could find without bothering you.”

“Any luck?”

“No. Nothing specific, about the property anyway, except the tax records. I did run across some newspaper articles about your parents’ disappearance. That must have been a difficult time for you.”

“Yes,” she said quietly. A shadow hung over this woman, a haunting that dominated her presence.

Now on to the good stuff.

“One article included a picture,” he said. “Of your mother, I thought, but then I read the caption and found it was you.” Willow’s gaze had wandered away. “You haven’t aged a day in thirty years.”

Her head snapped up. “Oh, I … you know how newspaper photos are, they aren’t very good.”

Gotcha!

“Yes, I do know how newspaper photographs are, and I know this one was microfilmed from a fresh copy of the paper and was well preserved. I also know if I put you in a seventies suit and stood you on the courthouse steps, I could recreate the same photo today.”

Willow’s face reddened and her breathing quickened.

“The years don’t add up either,” he said. “I’d say you can’t be forty yet, but that would have made you too young in 1975 to inherit the property and do the things the paper describes. The woman in the newspaper photo is at least twenty-five. That still makes you fifty-five.”

Willow grew a deeper shade of red and balled her hands into fists.

Why are you so angry?

“I was puzzled, so I did some other searches and discovered I can’t find any record of birth, school, graduation … nothing, except for property tax records. I know it’s not polite to ask a lady, but how old are you?”

“You’re right, it’s not polite!” she snapped. “And it’s none of your business!”

“It’s a simple question,” Noah shot back. “Just answer it.”

“Why are you so … wait, you work for Chester Jones, don’t you? That’s it! That’s why you’re nosing around. I bet there isn’t any
Outdoor Midwest
magazine.”

“What? I wouldn’t work for a jerk like Chester Jones.”

“That’s what you say! The Jones family has wanted this property back ever since his grandmother sold it to my parents. Why else would you be here?” She sat on the edge of the couch, hands still clenched.

“No, no, no! I’ve never met the man. I’m just a photographer. There really is a magazine, and I really do have an editor who wants photos of beautiful ponds. Call him on my cell phone. Look it up on the Internet if you don’t believe me.”

You have fairy paranoia, little one.

“Please try to calm down,” Noah soothed.

Willow looked away for a moment and closed her eyes. She took several deep breaths and seemed to relax somewhat. Noah followed her example.

“I have one more question,” Noah said. Willow opened her eyes, which fired lightning bolts. He flipped his notebook closed, tucked his pen into his shirt pocket. “I’m curious about how strong you are.”

Willow seemed confused by the change of subject. “Strong? I … I guess I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean you carried my big camera case for a quarter mile with one hand and never grunted. I’ve seen guys bigger than me whine about moving that thing across a room.”

The blood drained from Willow’s face. At the same time, the hair on the back of Noah’s neck stood up.

Fear.

“The reason I asked was … well, I wondered if it had anything to do with the flying. Is that why you’re strong, so you can fly?”

Willow swayed in her seat and fell back against the couch then covered her face with her hands. “Oh, no,” she whispered. She shook her head for a few moments, and then dropped her hands. Dread filled her features, her eyes wide and glistening. “How…” she began, but stopped.

I thought you’d slug me.

“The photos I took Monday stunk. The light was all wrong. My editor is pressuring me for results, so I went to the pond yesterday evening when the sky cleared to take some more shots. I guess you thought it was beautiful out, too. I was in the woods when you came to swim. And fly.”

Willow lowered her head for a moment. When she raised it, tears ran down her cheeks. “You were there the entire time?”

Yes, and I couldn’t believe what I saw. Couldn’t believe how beautiful you were. Still can’t.

Noah nodded. His face was hot. He had expected her to be defensive or to deny everything. “I took a path from the fields. I had just finished setting up when you and Shadow showed up.”

“So you have pictures.”

“No, I didn’t take any. I was too shocked to think.”

“How can I be sure you’re telling the truth?”

“You’ll have to trust me.”

“How can I do that? I don’t know you.” Willow stood, walked to the desk, pulled a tissue from a box, and blew her nose loudly. When she faced Noah again, she was somewhat composed.

“What exactly are you?” Noah asked. “If that’s the right question.”

Willow stood silent.

“I figure you’re either some strange mutation, or a top secret Department of Defense project. Or maybe I saw swamp gas. Or perhaps you’re the victim of an alien abduction. Or maybe the Wicked Witch of the West cast a spell on you.”

Willow laughed, which brought on a fresh stream of tears.

Please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.

Noah stood, hesitated for a moment, and then crossed the room to Willow. She looked up at him, pensive. He spoke in a gentle voice.

“I’m sorry. I can be a real smartass sometimes. It’s my way of dealing with uncomfortable situations. It’s easier to make fun than admit the truth that you’re a … fairy. That is the truth, isn’t it?”

She looked down at the floor for a moment, then at him, biting her lip. “Yes,” she said, her voice so soft he almost couldn’t hear. “I am a fairy. They do exist and I am one. And now I’m exposed.” Her voice faltered and the tears came again. “I hope I haven’t done harm to my entire kind.”

May I take you in my arms? Maybe if I held you…

Willow blew her nose again and wiped her eyes. “Why did you come here today?” she asked.

Noah wasn’t sure how to answer. To get the truth, yes, but he already knew the truth. “I guess I came here to get confirmation. To hear you say what I saw with my own eyes but still couldn’t accept. You realize this changes what a person believes in, don’t you? Fairies are the stuff of … well, fairy tales. They’re whimsical little creatures that vanish and reappear with a poof. They have pots of gold. They fly.” He paused for a moment. “I didn’t come here to upset you.”

“You seem to be a good person,” Willow said. She sniffled. “And maybe I should trust you. I can’t take the chance. I … I’ll have to leave.”

“Why? I’m not going to tell anyone. No one would believe me.”

“Someone might. I have more than myself to think about.”

“So there are other … fairies?” Noah asked.

Willow ignored his question. “Well, there are the animals here in the woods. I take care of them.” Her gaze swept around the cottage. “I built this place with my own hands. The basics were here, but I put the peak in the roof, added the loft, and built the poolroom.” She looked at Noah, her face growing angry. “That’s not why I’m strong, though. The strength is a fairy thing. Do you want to see my biceps?” She slid her sleeve up and flexed her arm before he could wave her off. “Put that in your little notebook.” She glared fiercely. “Fairies have big biceps. That’s b-i-c-e-p-s.”

Now you’re going to slug me.

Noah didn’t move or speak.

She let her sleeve fall, turned her back to him, and began to cry again. “This is my parents’ home. They died here. They
are
here; I feel their presence. And now I have to leave.” She faced him again, tears streaming down her face. “I think you should leave now, too, Noah.”