by Zoe Tasia
“Sorry.”
“It happens all the time,” he reassured me, with a cheeky grin.
Once my feet hit the ground again, I turned around and looked. The top of the cavern opened to the sky. I imagined that it was quite beautiful when the sun shone in, but with the bad weather, rain poured down and obscured the sky.
“Are we in any danger of flooding?” I asked as Greg came down next with little help from Fingal.
“We never have before and our family has been living here for decades.”
One of my fears was of drowning. I didn’t like getting in the water. My husband used to tease me that I wasn’t in the shower long enough to get clean. I hoped Blanca appeared and whatever conversation her relatives wanted to have with her, quickly concluded. Once Davina and her dad joined us, we hugged the rim of the overhead opening to avoid the downpour. Where people from numerous tours had trod, the narrow path was smooth, but beyond, the way was rocky, so I watched my footing with care.
“This is where the tour ends. Then we have everyone go back up,” Davina said. “We’re going to continue.” At the far side of the open cave, we came upon a large rock. Between the rock and the wall, there was just enough room to slide in behind it. The shadows hid the entrance and, because of an odd shimmer, I thought Blanca must have magic that also shrouded it. Davina started to go through, but her dad stopped her.
“I’ll go first. You follow only when I call for you. You ken?”
“Oh, Da, we’ve been this way before and nothing ever happens.”
“Well, it’s different now. I don’t want my mother startled. A frightened creature will attack.”
“Da, you speak about her like she isn’t even a person.”
“Love, she isn’t.” And with that, Mr. Ogg disappeared.
We waited. A couple of minutes passed.
“Should I go?” Fingal asked.
“No, Da said not to,” Davina answered.
About the time that we were all nervously fidgeting, Mr. Ogg’s voice called out, “Come through one at a time, slow like. Fingal, you first, then Davina, then Mrs. Shaw and lastly Greg. Family first then the least intimidating to the most.”
“I’m coming in.”
Fingal vanished and, after waiting a tick or two. Davina turned to me. “We don’t normally do things like this. Usually, we always bracket our tourists. I don’t like leaving you, but—”
“But you’re going to do what your father says. It’s all good. We will be fine.”
Davina followed her brother. I waited while I took five slow breaths and went through. It was going to be a very tight squeeze for Greg, I thought, as I slithered between the wall and the rock. The siblings had their lights off. Only Mr. Ogg’s was lit.
“Please, douse your light, Mrs. Shaw,” Mr. Ogg directed.
When I did, I couldn’t see past the Oggs.
“Ouch,” Greg muttered under his breath. He practically popped out of the opening like a cork. “I thought for a minute that I wasna going to make it.”
“Shhh,” Mr. Ogg admonished. “I saw a flit and I’m sure it was her. We’ll travel down. There will be water, but it’s very shallow. At that point, it shouldn’t even go over the tops of your shoes. The cave opens up to a water fall and small pond. It’s one of my favorite places to come when I’m feeling—not right.”
We walked one by one. When I came out, I couldn’t help but gasp. To the left and slightly behind me, a waterfall splashed. I could feel droplets on my face. The low waterfall gurgled quietly, so we could still hear each other, despite the proximity. Mr. Ogg motioned us to the right. The ground sloped ever so slightly up, and very soon we were on a dry surface again. The rocks, tan with white streaks in places, seemed to shimmer and reflect the light back to us. The pond was about the size of a swimming pool, with water a beautiful shade of jade. I could see some small, eel-like fish darting about. Davina opened her mouth, but her father stared at her, frowning. Then across the pond, where I could have sworn there were only rock formations and stalactites, the creature we saw at the observation point slowly emerged from behind a towering stalactite.
“Uisdean? You came and brought one of the two that saw and the Gillie,” she said, and while her voice was strange, it wasn’t unattractive. The lisped words seemed to glide about me.
She defied gravity as she sinuously crawled to us. I watched her and, though her movements seemed slow, in seconds she was—not near enough to touch, but close enough to see clearly. One tufted ear swiveled in our direction. She crept to a particularly thick stalagmite then clamored up about five feet, spitting a stream of green, glowing liquid. An amazingly straight, horizontal line appeared on the rock. She waited a moment then shoved the top. Sheared off, it fell and crashed to the ground. She crawled atop the now-flat surface and looked down at us.
“Something happens,” Blanca said. “The fae are restless. I have seen those who should not be here. So far, only little creatures have slipped through the net. I have sent them back where they belong, but others will follow. I feel it too. A stirring. The air smells strange. You can taste it in the water.”
She stared at the waterfall. Her ears twitched and rotated toward Greg, her head and eyes followed. “You are ever stalwart, Gillie. But one of my kin sent a message that the geas weakens and, with it, your ties and powers over the fae doth too. What can you tell me?” The goblin tilted her head with interest.
Greg stepped closer. “Those with fae blood, the blood exerts itself. There are wolves when there should be none. Weather that has never been. You, who have been out of sight for so long, appear. Puck ventured out of the forest.”
“Ah, Puck. That trickster!” Her laughter harmonized with the falls. “On what errands was he? What mischief did he wreak, Greg Gillie?”
I cleared my throat. “Actually, he visited me—twice. At least the cottage I’m staying in.”
Her attention turned to me. “Tell me of it.”
“Well, the first time, he came and took my daughter to the forest at night. Thankfully, Greg brought her back to me.”
“How was it you found the child, Gillie?” Blanca asked.
Greg’s forehead wrinkled as he thought. “Something woke me. I went to investigate. It was odd, now that I think harder on it. Puck led the girl by the hand. Then he called out, ‘Make haste, Greg Gillie—I have found something for you.’ He danced away and I went to the girl. She sat beneath a tree. When Puck left her side, she had swooned. I heard Rebecca calling. I picked the child up and took her to her mother.”
“The second time?”
“Well, I found him inside the gardening shed.” My eyes focused on the goblin, and I shuffled, unwilling to share the conversation, but continued anyway. “He asked me if I liked Greg. He said some other strange things. Wait a minute! Could he be the one who left the seeds I planted?”
“Ah.” She looked from me to Greg. “So, the time has come.”
“Okay, I’m confused as usual. What time has come?” I wanted to stomp my feet like a child. Why can’t these islanders speak plainly? When she looked at Greg, I did too. “It has something to do with you,” I continued. “The whole of the island is strange and hiding secrets.”
“A moment, child,” she said to me. The goblin skittered down the stalactites. She went to four others, that were almost in a circle between her and us, and touched them. As soon as her hands left each, the rocks began to glow green. “You’ve seen the magic and you think it is separate from you. You are wrong, child,” she said.
“My name is Rebecca Shaw. You can call me Becca.”
“Rebecca, you have magic, and we have need for it. You have need for us.”
“No offense, but no, I don’t need—” I tried to rethink a way to phrase what I wanted to say without sounding rude. “I’m fine on my own. I don’t need any help—thank you,” I added lamely.
“Well, there lies part of it. A problem cannot be solved if one cannot accept the problem exists in the first place. Puck
has set things in motion, and now washes his hands of it. You two will need to work together.” She turned and leapt to the wall of the cave.
“Wait! Work together to do what?” I called up.
“Be selfless, and you shall be rewarded. It is time. I sense I am needed.”
“Aye, Mother, take care.”
“And you, my son.”
The light from the rocks began to fade as soon as she left. We quickly turned on the helmet lights, and Mr. Ogg led us to the slit. This time, when Greg eased between the rock and wall, his poncho snagged on the rough surface and ripped. “When we get back, remind me, and I’ll stitch it up for you,” I told Greg as he fingered the hole.
When we reached the opening, I discovered the Oggs were correct. It was much easier to climb up then it had been to slide down. I’d had my fill of caves and longed to be outside. We said nothing, each of us deep in thought. As we exited, I realized I hadn’t heard my phone beep. The girls should have called or messaged. When I pulled out my phone, I saw why. I didn’t have a signal. “Oh, no!”
“What is wrong?” Greg asked.
“My phone’s out of commission—again.”
“It happens often, but won’t last too long,” Davina said to comfort me. “Soon enough you’ll have it beeping away as you get all your messages and texts.”
When we reached the house, the Oggs told Mrs. Ogg what had occurred.
Squeezing her husband’s arm, Mrs. Ogg said, “I believe that’s progress. At least one good thing has happened from all this craziness. From what you say, your mother seems more herself than certainly anytime since I’ve been here.”
Chapter 25
ON THE DRIVE BACK TO the cottage, Fingal thanked us over and over again for speaking to his gran. “Da will be comforted much. He doesn’t like to let on to Mum, but he worries about his mother.”
“Well, glad we could help. I still don’t understand what I’m supposed to do or why. Do you have any clue what Blanca was talking about, Greg?”
“Nae, perhaps something will come to me later.”
The car pulled up in the drive. Before I could reach the handle, Greg was out the door on his side and rushing to open mine.
I paused to say, “Thanks for the lift, Fingal.”
Greg dipped down and nodded. “Aye, ta.”
While we waved to Fingal, I noticed the day had cleared up quite a bit and, sure enough, my phone cheerfully beeped at the change. Both Jessie and Mrs. Murphy texted, confirming the girls had arrived. Jessie promised to send photos once they were all made up.
So caught up in reading, I hadn’t realized Greg stood waiting.
“I’m sorry. The girls are at friends’, and I was reading their texts. I know it’s silly, but I always worry when they stay with someone new and...” I petered off.
“You canna foretell what may happen outside your presence,” Greg finished.
“Exactly.”
“Do you still want to see my home?” Greg asked, I think, to change the topic.
Once I fired off a quick text in response and tucked my cell back in my pocket, I answered, “Yes, I would, if you don’t mind.”
He took my arm. Despite the two layers of clothing I wore, his fingers warmed my skin. “We can walk,” he said. “It willna take but a moment.”
I tugged free and stepped back. “Just a moment? Then why didn’t I see your cottage when I was in the forest earlier?”
“You need to look in the right place. My home is at one with nature and hard to find.”
We walked to the back of my cottage. I didn’t know why I referred to it as mine. Soon enough, I’d be back in Aberdeen, but this place felt...homey. Like no other place I’d ever lived, including my house in Houston.
“May I take your hand?” Greg asked.
I gazed at him through lowered lashes and nodded. Having been married for so long, I didn’t know how to act now that I was single. Things had probably changed. The good thing with Greg was that he was so isolated that he probably didn’t have a clue either. His large palm swallowed up my hand. He held it, as if cradling a bird. He drew me inside the forest. I stared eagerly, determine to remember the way, but the trees seemed to shift as soon as my eyes alit upon them. I grew dizzy as he led me through the forest, step by step. The undergrowth thickened. That shouldn’t be. In older forests, the large trees shaded the ground. Usually, there was less growth, not more. As he still grasped my hand, he used the other to hold back bushes and low tree limbs so we could continue. My head spun. The leaves changed from green to gold and red, then back again.
Greg stopped so suddenly that I staggered.
“Are you well?” he asked.
“I’m kind of dizzy.”
“Sorry, I wanted to reach my home quickly so you would have time to visit and get back home before it gets dark.”
It felt as though I’d taken but two dozen steps—slow ones. I opened my mouth to speak, but then he pulled back a leafy branch, and stopped. At first, I saw nothing but a tree that rivaled a sequoia with symmetrically-placed knots. I squinted hard and the knots became windows. I’d never seen anything like it. The house seemed to be built inside a hollowed-out tree, but that couldn’t be right because the tree would be dead. This one had leaves and the healthy bark color of living branches. It could be that the tree grew around the house, but if so, the home’s walls matched that of the tree bark perfectly. The ground seemed to smooth under our feet.
I no longer tripped over rocks or errant bushes and when I looked down, we stood on a hard, packed-dirt path which led to Greg’s home. We approached it. At first glance, there didn’t seem to be a door, but when Greg reached out, seams appeared delineating a person-sized rectangle and a knot protruded. Greg grasped it and pushed. The door swung open. I hesitated at the threshold. What if I can’t get back out?
“Please, enter, Rebecca. As long as you are with me, you shall be safe.” A faded, rag rug in a rainbow of shades beckoned me to step on it. So, I did.
The home had no other doors and appeared to consist of one large room like a pastoral efficiency, but perhaps all the doors only appeared when needed. A rudimentary camp bed set against the back wall and, to the right of the door, near a window, was a single table with two rustic chairs.
I saw nothing resembling a stove or grill. “How do you cook?”
“Different ways. Often, I heat stones and bury what I want to cook with them. When I come home, my dinner is ready to eat. I also eat dried meat that I cure myself. With all the trees, I dinna like to make fires as often.”
“Do you eat dried or raw food all the time?”
“Nae, not all the time, but probably more than most folk.”
“Why do you live here?” I ran my hand over the back of a chair. The wood warmed and my palm sank into it as if it were clay. Startled, I jerked my hand away.
“Dinna fash yourself,” Greg reassured me. “Please, sit.”
I hesitantly perched on the edge of the chair’s seat but it curved around my hips and tilted. I whooped as I slid back.
When I looked up at Greg, he shrugged. “It has a sense of humor.”
The chair undulated beneath me for a moment then stopped. I wiggled and sighed. “Oh, my goodness. This may be the most comfortable chair I’ve ever sat in. Does it do this every time you have a visitor?”
“I never have visitors,” he said shortly. For a moment a somber expression crossed his face, then he brightened. “Would you like a cuppa?”
I wasn’t really in the mood. I’d drank a lot of tea that day, but I could tell Greg needed something to do, and I was curious to see how he made it with no way to heat the water. “Sure,” I said, trying for an enthusiastic tone.
He waited in front of a kettle sitting on a shelf and a few seconds later, it whistled. He then put tea in it to brew.
“Okay, how—”
“You know of the fae’s presence here. Staying in this forest does allow certain—”
I smiled. “Perks?”<
br />
“Aye.”
A wave of dizziness hit me when the furniture in the room subtly shifted and the room expanded like a balloon filling with air. “What’s going on?” As I watched, a sink popped out of a wall.
“The tree adapts to meet the needs and tastes of the individual there.” He quirked his eyebrow at me. “I gather mine was lacking.”
“Well, it is kinda sparse,” I said. The rug morphed into a tapestry of royal blue, sage, and gold. The walls smoothed and changed to a sunny yellow. The cot disappeared.
“Oh no! Your bed’s gone!”
“I think not.” Greg gestured to the door that appeared. The chair propelled me upright. I guess it wanted me to see the addition. When Greg and I reached the door, he opened it revealing a four poster, king-sized bed heaped with pillows. The walls were a restful shade of gray.
“I’m sorry. I’m messing up your home.” I tried to think of Spartan rooms and utilitarian surroundings but the tree continued to alter the room adding a picture of daisies on the wall across from the bed.
“Dinna fash yourself. It will revert when you leave.” He paused and slowly turned, taking in not only the new bedroom, but the changes in the living area. I said a silent prayer that the result wasn’t too girly.
“What do you think of our cottage?” He placed his hands on my shoulders and guided me.
He said our. Did he see a future with me in his life? Could I ever live in a tree? I took my time to examine the room. An industrial style coffee table with wrought iron legs stood in front of a navy Chesterfield couch. I wandered over and sat down. Supportive, yet soft, just the way I liked my sofas. Yes, I could live here. Greg joined me.
When he sat, he heaved a sigh. “Perfect.”
“Yes, it is.” My heart swelled when his eyes met mine. “How long have you lived here?”
Greg stood abruptly and strode to a window. “I’ve lived here ever since I lost my family.”
Way to ruin a moment, Becca! “I’m sorry.”
“I thank you. ’Tis a sad tale but saddest for me. We took the wagon to the village. I left my wife and wee one at the midwife’s while I visited the mercantile. There was a fire. All perished. My grief was so great that I couldna speak or even think. I hied to the forest—to solitude.”