Christmas Fairy Magic

by Margaret McNamara

  “It’s the shawl I wanted, from the Cobweb sisters! Oh, Rosy, how did you do that? It cost far more than three polished stones.”

  “The Cobwebs were kind,” said Rosy. “They gave me the pattern, and I crocheted it myself. Don’t look too closely!” She did not say that she had been up hours every night since the Christmas Fair finishing the shawl for Clara. Her reward was the happiness on Clara’s face.

  Clara wrapped the shawl around her slender shoulders. Its warm turquoises and corals set off her dark skin and dark eyes. “You should wear that at the next Valentine’s Games!” said Sylva. “Rowan won’t be able to take his eyes off you!”

  “He already has trouble doing that,” said Goldie.

  Clara’s cheeks flushed. “How about you, Rosy? Here’s one for you! I was your Secret Christmas Fairy.”

  Rosy looked at the tiny package in front of her.

  “Three stones is not a whole lot to work with,” said Clara.

  “Oh, I love tiny packages, you know that, Clara,” said Rosy. “I just like to take my time.” She gave her big sister a hug, then unwrapped the little box to find sweet shell earrings inside.

  “This was just what I’d hoped for,” she said. “How did you know?”

  “I wanted to get you coral, but the mermaids wouldn’t cooperate,” said Clara. “I had to make these myself, so if they’re a little clumsy, you’ll know why.”

  “I think they’re lovely,” said Rosy, slipping the earrings on. “I wouldn’t have wanted coral, anyway.” That was only a little bit of a fib. “These suit me perfectly.” She gave Clara another hug. Her big sister loved her so much.

  “I know I said I’d go last, but can I go next?” asked Sylva. “I can’t wait anymore!”

  “Of course you can go next,” said Clara. A tree branch rattled against the windowpane. “Just listen to that wind.”

  “I know. It’s really howling,” said Rosy. “It almost sounds like a cat or a bird or—”

  “No one would be out on a night like this, Rosy,” said Clara.

  Goldie handed Sylva her present. “It’s not much,” said Goldie. “But I hope you like it.”

  “This paper is amazing!” said Sylva. “It’s practically a present itself.”

  “I designed it myself,” said Goldie. “It’s part of my line.”

  “Let’s see what’s inside,” said Sylva. She peeked into the package. “Oh! It’s laces for my fairy running shoes!” she said. “I love these, I love these,” she sang. “They are perfect colors and just what I wanted. I’m going to put them on right now!” She flew over to the mudroom and fetched her running shoes. The new laces were tied up in no time. “These look great!” said Sylva, admiring them on her feet. “Thank you, Goldie. Merry Christmas!”

  Goldie began to feel a little bit better about the presents her sisters were getting for Christmas. Maybe Sylva, too, had picked out the perfect present at the Christmas Fair. There were so many things that could have been perfect for me, she thought.

  “Open yours, Goldie!” said Sylva. “Open yours!”

  Goldie tore through the wrapping paper, which had been haphazardly put on by Sylva. “It’s just what you wanted, isn’t it? You said, you said!”

  Goldie’s face fell. It was the secondhand green-and-orange bandanna. The one she had been making fun of with Avery at the Stitch sisters’ stand.

  “You really thought I’d like this?” said Goldie. She was close to tears.

  “At first I didn’t really believe that you and Avery would even notice such a thing, but then you talked about it so much I knew you really meant it,” Sylva said. She was so happy with her gift that she didn’t notice Goldie’s eyes were glistening. “You’re so good at accessorizing, Goldie. I know you’ll make this look fabulous somehow.” She gave Goldie a big hug. “I’m so happy I could get you exactly what you wanted for Christmas!”

  Goldie gave Sylva a hug back. “Merry Christmas, Sylva,” said Goldie softly.

  Clara saw Goldie brush away a tear, and her heart melted. She whispered something to Sylva, who whispered to Rosy, who nodded.

  “What is it?” asked Goldie.

  “Wait there just one minute . . . ,” said Sylva. She flew over to the stack of Christmas ornaments laid out for Tinker Bell and pulled something out from the bottom. “It’s the second part of your present,” said Sylva, her face shining. “We’re giving you the Christmas tree skirt, Goldie!”

  “But that belongs to everyone,” said Goldie.

  “Not now!” said Clara.

  “Try it on, Goldie,” said Rosy.

  “Really?” asked Goldie.

  “Yes, please!” said her sisters.

  Goldie whipped the elegant Christmas tree skirt around her waist. She tied a bow in the back. The golden fabric glowed in the firelight and caught the light in Goldie’s long hair.

  The sisters had seen that tree skirt around the Christmas tree for years, but on Goldie it took on new life.

  “You’re gorgeous!” said Clara simply.

  “Oh, thank you!” cried Goldie. “Thank you, all!”

  The four Fairy Bell sisters sat in the glow of the dying fire. There was no tree, just a few gifts, no Christmas feast, and Tink had not come. And yet, this was the best Christmas they had ever had.

  “Shall we get ready for bed now?” asked Clara. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Day. We’ll visit everyone in the fairy village—”

  “And we’ll feast at Queen Mab’s palace,” said Sylva.

  “And we’ll help Squeakie open all her presents when she wakes up bright and early. Won’t we, Squeak?”

  The sisters got up to look into Squeak’s fairy crib. “She must have been awfully tired. I haven’t heard a peep from her for ages,” said Clara.

  “Are you asleep, Squeak?” asked Rosy softly as she leaned over the crib. “Or are you—”

  Rosy let out a gasp.

  “Oh no! Oh no!” she cried. “Squeak’s gone!”

  fourteen

  Clara, Rosy, Goldie, and Sylva looked all over their fairy house for baby Squeak. They did not find her. Anywhere.

  “She must be hiding somewhere to play a trick on us. Squeak, come on now. It’s not funny anymore. Where are you?”

  “She’s not here, Clara,” said Rosy. “I can feel it. She’s gone. I don’t know how or what has happened, but she has gone.”

  “If she’s gone, she can’t have gone far. She’s too tiny. She must have crawled under one of the beds. Sylva, go check again.”

  Sylva flew upstairs to the bedrooms, but Rosy felt in her fairy wingtips that something was not right. Squeak had been acting so strangely for the past few weeks. “I should have known something was the matter with her. What did she want me to know?” Rosy’s wings kept quivering. “She was trying to tell me something. But what?”

  Some instinct made Rosy go to the back door of the fairy house. “Clara, look. It’s open a crack. She went outside for some reason. Oh, it’s freezing out there.” Clara took one step out the door and knew Rosy was right. It was freezing outside. In fact, the temperature had been dropping all evening. “We have to find her!” said Clara. She, Rosy, Goldie, and Sylva gathered what hats and coats they could find and rushed out the back door, Goldie with a lantern in hand.

  “Follow her tracks in the snow!” said Sylva. “Look! I see them! We’ll find her in no time now!”

  None of the sisters wanted to say what they were all thinking. It was bitterly cold out on Sheepskerry Island, with the wind whipping and the snow swirling. A little baby fairy could not get far.

  “Here are more of her little footprints!” said Sylva. “They’re heading straight out our front garden to—”

  Sylva stopped short. The tracks disappeared. “There’s nothing else here,” she said. “It’s as if . . . she disappeared.”

  Goldie, Clara, and Rosy rushed over to where Sylva stood. “Those are her footprints,” said Goldie. “But where did she go from here?”

  “Did someone com
e fetch her?” asked Clara.

  “No, they would have brought her back home,” said Rosy.

  “Did she fall and hurt herself?” Sylva asked.

  “There’s no sign of that,” said Clara.

  “Then where oh where can she be?” Rosy cried.

  Sylva leaned down and looked carefully at the footprints in the snow. “Look, everybody,” she said. “They get closer together right here.”

  “And then . . . nothing,” said Rosy. She was on the verge of panicky tears. “It’s almost like someone snatched her away.”

  “Or . . . ,” said Clara, “as if she flew.”

  fifteen

  Once the Fairy Bell sisters realized that baby Squeak might be able to fly, they were filled with wonder and relief—and even more panic. Where could she have gone? And why?

  “Let’s calm down and use our heads,” said Clara.

  “We can look for flying tracks,” said Sylva. “She can’t be completely sure of herself yet. She must have left tracks in the trees.”

  Sure enough, Sylva was right. The sisters looked up at the trees above Squeak’s last footprints. “Look!” Goldie said. “Heading toward the east shore! The branches are broken.”

  “Goldie’s right,” said Clara. “She must have started this way. And, oh look, some more footprints!”

  Bit by bit, the Fairy Bell sisters followed Squeakie’s clumsy trail through the Fairy Village, around Sunrise Hill, in the direction of the Fairy Library.

  “I can’t believe how far she flew,” said Rosy. “Where could she be going?”

  “I think she must be looking for Tink,” said Clara.

  “I don’t think that’s it,” said Rosy. “She was trying to tell me something, but I didn’t listen. Oh, Squeakie—I am so sorry!”

  “We all could have listened better,” said Goldie. She hated to see Rosy upset. “But we can’t dwell on that. We need to find her. Oh, look!” Her eyes lit up. “She landed here. You can tell by the snow!”

  Indeed, there was a big dent in the snow, just beyond the Fairy Library near the east shore. “Squeakie! Are you here? Where did you go?”

  Then they heard something. “What was that?” said Clara. “A loon?”

  “There won’t be any loons out on such a cold night,” said Sylva. She drew her jacket around her.

  The strange cry came again. “A cat?” asked Goldie.

  “Ginger is safe at home,” said Sylva. “And Poppy wouldn’t let Lucky out on a night like this.”

  The sisters listened again. “That’s not Squeak’s voice, I know that much,” said Rosy. “It’s that cry I heard before—when we were opening our presents. It sounds more like—”

  “Look—over there on Heart Island! Can you see something?”

  Clara, Rosy, Goldie, and Sylva strained their eyes as they looked over onto the little island off Sheepskerry’s east shore. “I think I see her!” cried Rosy. “I think she’s there on Heart Island.”

  “What is she doing there?” said Goldie. “Did she run away from home?”

  “Squeak would never run away from home,” said Clara. “Something must be up. Come on, sisters, we have no time to lose.” Clara could feel her wings starting to freeze. And if her wings were freezing, Squeak’s must be freezing too.

  sixteen

  Rosy knew they were lucky—the wind was out of the west and blew them over to Heart Island with no wear and tear on their wings, which were stiff from the cold. How we’ll get back is anyone’s guess, Rosy thought. “Oh, why didn’t we stop to ask for Queen Mab’s help?”

  “We didn’t have time,” Clara replied. “We did the right thing.” Clara didn’t even want to think about what might have happened if they hadn’t acted as quickly as they had.

  “She’s right in the middle of the island,” said Sylva. “I guess it must be a loon—”

  “It’s a cat, I think,” said Goldie.

  “—whatever it is, the sound is coming from the middle of the island. Not much farther now.”

  In the very middle of Heart Island, there’s a rock that looks like a heart itself. At the top of the rock, there’s a little cleft, which makes a shelter. That’s where the noise was coming from. And that’s where the Fairy Bell sisters found Squeakie Bell.

  “Oh, Squeak! You’re all right!” cried Clara. “You’re all right!”

  All the Fairy Bell sisters rushed over to give her a hug. And I don’t mind telling you: Many tears were shed.

  “Why did you leave us?”

  “How did you fly so far?”

  Then the little cry came again. “What’s making that noise, Squeak?” They looked carefully. Squeak was sitting in the shelter of the rock, and nestled in her lap was something even smaller than she was.

  “What have you got there, Squeak?” asked Clara.

  Rosy was the first to realize. “Oh my!” she said. “The question is not what have you got there. It’s who have you got there.”

  And Squeak said, “Baby.”

  seventeen

  “Squeak! You said a word!” said Goldie. “You said ‘baby’!”

  “A real word,” said Clara. “Oh, Squeakie, we are so proud of you!”

  “Not to mention you rescued a new baby fairy!” said Sylva.

  It didn’t take long for the Fairy Bell sisters to figure out what had happened. (Nor you, I’m sure!) Squeak had been out of sorts because her wings ached from learning to fly. Her sisters hadn’t thought it possible that she’d be flying so early—most fairies don’t learn till they’re five fairy years old, and Squeakie was barely two. Little fairies have a knack for understanding or hearing one another, so it was no wonder that Squeak heard this little fairy’s cries despite the wind and the distance.

  Most fairy babies are not born in the winter, because it’s so cold that human children often are busier keeping themselves warm than laughing. (Fairies are born when a human child laughs for the first time, as some of you already know.) And most fairy babies land in a safe place with their sisters gathered around them . . . but this one did not.

  “Thank goodness she wasn’t harmed!” said Clara.

  “You saved her life, Squeak,” said Rosy.

  Now the question was, what to do next?

  “Baby,” said Squeak again.

  “We see, Squeak!” said Sylva. “We see it’s a new baby.” She turned to her sisters. “Shouldn’t we get her home?”

  The five Fairy Bell sisters looked into the night. The temperature had continued to drop. And the wind was against them. “We flew out here, but we may not be able to fly back!” said Goldie. “With this cold, our wings might snap right off.”

  “We can walk back to the island if it’s low tide,” said Sylva. But one glance at the rocks showed them that the tide had flooded in while the fairies were looking for Squeak. “We can’t walk. And we can’t fly. And if this baby does not get in out of the snow before long, she might—”

  “Don’t even say it!” said Rosy. “We have got to get her back to our fairy house. And Squeakie, too. She’s freezing!”

  The Fairy Bell sisters looked over at Squeakie and the tiny fairy baby. The temperature was way below freezing. The wind was bitter. But since there was no proper shelter on Heart Island, the only way to safety was to fly home. Fast.

  “Squeak’s teeth are chattering. Oh, Squeakie, what possessed you to come out in this tiny little fairy dress? And no coat or hat?”

  “Baby,” said Squeak.

  “I know!” said Rosy. “You wanted to take care of the baby. And that was just the right thing to do. But now how will we take care of you?”

  Clara pulled off the shawl Rosy had just given her for Christmas. “Let’s wrap you up, Squeak, and the baby too.” Clara tried to wrap the two little fairies in her new shawl, but the baby was too squirmy to keep it on, so it kept falling off Squeakie, too.

  “Tear it in half, Clara,” said Rosy. “It’s the only way to keep them both warm!”

  “But you worked so hard on
it!” said Clara.

  “It doesn’t matter now,” said Rosy. “Those little ones need it more than any of us. I’ll make you another, Clara, but not in time for Christmas!”

  Without wasting another moment, Clara tore Rosy’s carefully crocheted stitches on a rock. Then she ripped the beautiful shawl in two. “I’m sorry, Rosy!” she said. But Rosy was busy wrapping up the baby in one half of the shawl as Clara wrapped Squeak in the other.

  “Their teeth aren’t chattering anymore,” said Sylva. “Hold them close! I think they’re going to be okay!”

  “But how will we get off Heart Island and back to Sheepskerry?” said Clara. She tentatively stretched out a wing. The wind had died down, and the temperature seemed to be holding steady. “I think we have a few minutes to get across without snapping our wings off,” she called. “But I don’t know how we’ll be able to fly into the wind and hold these little ones at the same time!”

  Sylva thought of it first. “If we can make some kind of baby carriers, you could keep the baby safe, Rosy. And Clara can hold Squeakie the same way. But we have to do it fast.” She squinted at the horizon. “It looks like there might be a snowstorm on the way.”

  “Here!” said Goldie. “Use my skirt!”

  “We can’t do that to you, Goldie!” cried Clara.

  “These babies need it. We all need it. So let’s use it, please!”

  “I know!” said Sylva. And she whipped the green-and-silver shoelaces out of her new shoes. “We can use these to tie up the baby carriers. It’s got to work somehow.”

  “But your feet will freeze without your sneakers!”

  “I’ll hang on to these sneakers, don’t worry about that.”

  In a moment, Goldie had torn her skirt into strips and swaddled the baby on Rosy’s chest. “Oh, this won’t stay!” cried Goldie. “The laces are too slippery to hold a knot like this!”

  Without a word, Rosy took off one of her treasured earrings, unbent the wire, and twisted them onto her baby carrier. “There,” said Rosy. “Not as good as a safety pin, but it will hold.” She did the same for Clara and Squeakie.