by B. J. Smash
Squirming in my seat, I uncrossed one leg and crossed the other. My hands held firm to the arms of the chair. “To—to your mother's what?” I knew what she said, but I had to clarify.
“Grave,” both Drumm and Izadora said simultaneously.
“Grave,” I whispered under my breath. Now she expected me to dig up and rob a grave. “A grave robber,” I said bluntly.
Izadora smiled her enchanting smile once again.
“I can go with you, but you must dig up the grave yourself,” Drumm said.
Feeling some relief that he would be able to come along, I wagered in my mind what I would gain if I did this. “My father will then be rescued?”
“Once this spell is removed, there is nothing stopping me,” she said.
Thoughts of my father flooded my mind. Our family vacations. Our life back in New Hampshire, and how he used to cook my sister and I crepes and fill them with ice cream. Tons of thoughts filled my mind. I only needed to retrieve a yellow ribbon from an old woman's grave.
“Are you sure this will be the last thing I have to do?” I asked.
“Absolutely,” she said, raising her chin in the air.
“I think I’ll do it, but I do have one question though, about my sister,” I said.
“Ask it,” Izadora said with a nod of her head. Her gorgeous auburn hair shone in the sunlight from the opening in the roof.
“I think I just witnessed her wedding to someone or some…Fae. Is there any hope in getting her back as well?”
“Explain to me what you saw.”
I explained the dancing group of fantastic beings and the man cutting into the apple, my sister and the young man biting the apple, and then the tossing of the apple into the bonfire.
“Certainly sounds like a ceremony. If, in fact, you saw her getting married…I must inform you that the Fae do not marry. She may be bound to that Fae being for a time, by the right of a ritual, but she is not married to him. While normally one cannot interfere with their ways, there may be something that I, myself, can do. But first, the ribbon. I must have the ribbon.”
I could accept that. I had no doubt she could pull some strings with the Fae beings.
Izadora stared at me, waiting for an answer. I looked to Drumm, who gave me a half smile. His eyes sparkled in the sunlight from the window; they were so turquoise that they dazzled me for a moment.
“Of course I will do it,” I said.
“Excellent,” Izadora said. She stood and went about cutting herbs from different plants with what looked like a bone knife. “I will make you a charm to take with you.”
“Nice,” I said sarcastically. I had it in my mind that this wasn't going to be an easy task.
“Oh, don't pout. All you must do is go to the McCallister graveyard, by the old church. She won't be buried in that graveyard though. You must step out beyond the fence to the unconsecrated land. There, she will be buried. Underneath a white hawthorn tree.”
I sank in my chair, wiping the sweat from my palms onto my pants. I never had liked the word unconsecrated. It was one of the key ingredients for a good horror movie. I couldn't believe what I'd just agreed to do. Also, Gran had warned me to stay out of the graveyard, but it couldn't be helped. I had to finish what I started.
“Why is she in unconsecrated ground?” I felt stupid for asking. Hadn't GG Edmund explained that Izadora's mother Augusta, aka Aggie, was some sort of a witch? But her answer shocked me.
“Oh, Mother…well, it's Izaill's fault. He's the one who buried her. He can't step onto consecrated ground. That would be an abomination to those buried on consecrated ground,” she said as she scurried around, cutting fresh herbs.
Drumm smirked. He then got up to get a drink of water.
My palms would not stop sweating, and I continually wiped them on my pants. I would have to do what I would have to do. There was no way around it.
“Just a question. You're cutting fresh herbs for a charm…I thought that, um, people that made charms used dried herbs, not fresh ones.” I hadn't dared to call her a witch.
She laughed. “Why use dried ones, when you can use fresh? The essence is most vibrant when they are fresh.”
I suppose that did make more sense.
Drumm gulped down a whole glass of water. He then offered me a glass, to which I accepted. “I'll be back in a short time. I must check on something,” he said, and excused himself.
As Izadora scurried about, my eyes grew heavy, and I must have fallen asleep in the chair. When I awoke, the glass I had been holding sat upon an end table. A tray of scones, celery, and tea sat in front of me.
“It's good you slept. You needed the rest,” a raspy old voice said.
I glanced over to the table to see an older woman, maybe in her early sixties. Her hair was now gray with a few strands of red. I gasped, which made her chuckle.
“The day has already taken its toll. I grow older, just as I do every day,” Izadora said.
“What time is it?”
“Oh, I don't go by the time, but you humans must use the watch, so I am guessing it is around two thirty.”
“Two thirty! I slept that long?”
“Yes, you have. The boy has come and gone a few times. I insisted you get your rest. He shall be back shortly to escort you out of the woods,” she said.
Wrinkles had formed above her brow, and lines had started to form around her mouth. Her once silky smooth, glowing skin was now a dull, pallid color, and brown spots appeared under her eyes.
“Eat up. You shall need some sort of sustenance,” she said.
Picking up a cherry scone, I dipped it in my tea and took a bite. They surely were scrumptious, and I had to believe the aunts would like to have this recipe. Before Drumm arrived back, I had eaten three different kinds of scones and drank two cups of tea. Even the tea tasted better here—the bloodless tea, anyway.
We left with instructions to come back before sunset to pick up Izadora's shovel. Apparently I would need a special shovel for the quest (as I liked to think of it) that I would be engaging in.
Drumm and I went on a long run before he brought me to Ian's gate. And to my surprise, there sat Ian, his head nodding to the side with the newspaper lying in his lap.
“Ian,” I said, “open the gate.”
He bolted upright. “I didn't do it.” He had been dreaming, and apparently had a guilty conscience. Then his eyes focused on me. “Oh, Ivy! I fell asleep. I had the weirdest dreams.”
The gate creaked as he opened it. Then he sat rubbing his eyes, yawning.
“What were you dreaming of? Did your hand get stuck in the cookie jar?” I asked.
“Ha! Not at all. But this beautiful woman had me tied to a chair…and, well, she tried to tape my mouth shut,” he said.
“Never mind. I don't want to know,” I replied.
“Hello, Drumm,” Ian said as he waved.
Drumm nodded and said to me, “I'll see you here at the gate around six, okay?”
I said yes, and he took off like a fox after a jackrabbit.
“So, did you have a good time in the forest?” Ian asked sarcastically.
“No,” I said.
“I didn't think as much. Tell me.”
“My sister married some Fae guy, and I danced with them for most of the night to the sound of this exalting music that I could never explain or replicate. I couldn't stop myself, and my feet moved on their own accord, in complete unison with them. I would have stayed with them forever, had they not flown me back over the bridge and dumped me on the ground. No. Not a good time in the forest.”
“Typical stuff. Well, you mustn’t grieve. A similar occurrence happened to my sister once. Izardora assisted in her return, but things didn't turn out so well for her.” He wheeled on through the sweet-smelling gardens; everything was in full bloom, and the sun was shining, with not a cloud to be seen. Then he said a bit softer, “Now she's dead.”
Barely catching the latter part of his sentence, I said, “What hap
pened to Silvie, anyway?” It stunned me to hear that his sister had once experienced something similar.
“Ah, well, she ran off with someone from that group of Fae beings, and I rode my horse down to find her. Saw the wedding, heard the music. Been there, done that. But I never danced with them, and it was right before the accident—right before I lost the use of my legs. Afterward, I lost some of my hearing, too—probably a punishment for listening to their wonderful music. I agree, it was the most beautiful tune I'd ever heard. I came away unscathed mentally, I suppose. But my sister—she was never the same for the fact that nothing will ever replace the feelings she had when she was in their company. It's almost as if she went to heaven and back. The longer you are there, the less you want to return home. And if you do return, you long to be back…with them.”
“How did she die?”
“Well, long story short, she went back for him. She found him, but they were both shot in the back with poisoned arrows. Apparently, the Unseelie Fae were out and about that day. They can't stand to see anyone happy. It makes them jealous because they are pathetic,” he said bitterly.
I didn't think I wanted to be messing around with the Unseelie.
“I'm sorry to hear all that.” It was hard to hear that his sister had been through a similar experience, only to pine for the land of the Fae and returning, only to die. I felt a deep sorrow for them both.
“No matter. What else happened out there? Did you see Izadora?”
“I did. And I found out that Izadora is under a curse where she is a young woman and grows older throughout the day. And I have to retrieve a yellow ribbon from a grave.”
“I don't pity you there,” he said. “And the curse, I knew about. That's why I knew I could trust you to help. She is of no use to the forest when she is…dead.”
He said it with less tact than he should have, but I could tell Izadora meant something to him. Whether she was just protector of the forest or a good friend, it didn’t matter; I think he still cared.
“Izadora doesn't deserve the treatment those two knuckleheads put upon her. They should be smote from the earth,” he grumbled.
I agreed that Izaill and Magella seemed wicked to the core.
We continued on for a time; he was deep in thought.
“Then we have the merpeople that live out on the bay—”
“Merpeople?” We traveled around a bend in the road, and past a rather large pond.
Whether it be from stress or maybe I was actually having some sort of mental breakdown, I began to giggle, which turned into a laugh that then turned into roaring laughter.
It seemed to be contagious, and Ian joined me. After a few moments we both stopped, and he said, “What are we laughing at?”
“Merpeople…” I said.
“It's not funny, really. The merpeople can be a real sharp pain in the buttocks.”
“I don't know. It's just merpeople. I mean, come on! Merpeople? They can't really be real?” I tee-heed once more and then stopped, accepting the fact of what I was dealing with. It occurred to me…by his solemn expression that Ian wasn't lying. He wasn't lying about the Fae, he wasn't lying about the merpeople, and he was not lying about his sister.
I knew this to be true. Straight across the pond, she danced under the green cascading branches of the willow. She was looking up to the sky, her arms raised; an eerie smile upon her face. He had brought me this way on purpose to show me the pond and the willow tree that his sister “slept” under.
She danced familiar steps—ones that I had recently seen and experienced myself— to a tune inside her own head.
“This garden is the closest she'll ever get to the paradise she experienced with them,” he said. “The willow is sacred. Like I told you once, it can bring one closer to the land of the Fae…if only in their dreams.” He looked thoughtful. “How old do you think she is?
“I don't know. She looked maybe nineteen or twenty?”
“She is actually my older sister. Having lived in fairyland for a time, she appears young.”
And with this piece of news, I realized that the Fae were to be respected—even if it was out of fear.
Chapter Seventeen
I arrived home at precisely three o'clock. My aunts were present, jabbering about the problems of the café.
“We need to change up the recipes a bit. I'll spend the week thinking of some new recipes,” said Aunt Cora.
“We can't change the whole menu. People come to the café just for certain things,” said Aunt Clover.
“I'll just be changing a few dishes,” complained Aunt Cora.
When my aunts saw me, Aunt Cora said, “There you are. We still have time to make it to a book signing. My favorite author is in Bangor, so you must come with me.”
“I can't, I have to—”
“I'm not going alone. You have to come.”
I had to think of an excuse and fast.
“I have to work for Ian this evening. He, um, wants me to help him sort through some old…papers,” I lied. “Can't Aunt Clover go?” I didn't want word to get around that I'd be going by the graveyard. I feared that even though Gran knew the predicament I was in, she would draw the line at entering the premises of the graveyard—even if it was outside the graveyard itself.
“Oh no. I have a date tonight. I've already canceled once, and I'm not going to do it again,” said Aunt Clover.
“You and your poker. I’ll never understand it,” said Aunt Cora. “Let me call Ian. I can’t go alone…what if something happens to me!”
She wandered out of the room with the phone. I sat there contemplating what would happen if I didn't dig Izadora's mother's grave up tonight. I had a yellow ribbon to find! How could I explain this to my aunt?
She returned and hung up the phone. “You're right, he does need you to help sort through things tonight. But that's not for another three hours. We have plenty of time to get in and back out. So come on, let's go. And get some shoes on. Look at your feet! They are terribly dirty!” Her hand went up to her chest, and her face grimaced. You’d think I just swore at her or something; but I knew in her mind she was going over the many types of germs that might be lingering between my toes.
My other aunt just laughed. Oh, how different these two were.
I had to admit, I didn’t mind my dirty feet at all. Running through the forest without shoes had been a good idea, if you asked me. All the same, I quickly washed my feet and put on some flip-flops.
We arrived at the book signing. The line was long, but we got the autograph. The author didn’t even mind that Aunt Cora wore plastic gloves. I saw him eye-balling them, but he just smiled.
We were back on the road in well enough time to get back home by 5:45. Unfortunately, Aunt Cora was fiddling with her recorder, trying to record a minor head pain, when she ran over a board in the road. The board had a nail in it, and the nail got stuck in the tire.
In my opinion, it’s not just cell phones that should be banned from drivers; recording devices should be banned as well.
I sat there with my head in my hands, just hoping that someone would stop and help us.
Aunt Cora didn't have the first clue about how to change a tire, and, well, I didn't either. And even if I did, there was no spare tire in the back.
“Clover used it! She never replaced it! Isn’t that just lovely,” Aunt Cora griped.
Long story short, we waited for forty minutes to have a towing service bring us a tire and change it. We were on the road by 6:10. I was late; Drumm would kill me. If he didn't, then Izadora would.
Finally we arrived back home at 6:45, and I shot out of the vehicle. “Tell Gran I'll be back sometime tonight.”
“Will do. Sorry about the flat tire!” my aunt said. “But wait, aren't you going to eat something? You might get sick if you don't eat.”
“Just put it in the recorder,” I said under my breath. I pictured her whipping out the recorder, documenting my misfortune of missing dinner: “Ivy missed suppe
r at 6:47. If she gets sickly, that will be the reason.”
I ran up the hill to the McCallister house.
“You are late. You better get to Izadora's before sundown,” he said.
Sundown. A part of me wished I knew what happened at sundown, and a good part of me said that I should avoid knowing at all costs.
I met Drumm at the gate. He was pacing back and forth. He didn't look mad, but he was frustrated. His hair was a mess where he'd been running his hands through it. A tree had recently carved markings in it; he must have been bored. The dogs which lay on the path jumped up when they saw me arrive.
“Come. We have little time,” he said.
The sun was still up, but it wouldn't be for long. Birds still chirped; that was a good sign. I tossed my flip-flops aside, and we ran all the way to Izadora's.
Izadora stood on the balcony, and when she saw us, she went inside. Patting the dogs on the head, I followed Drumm up the stairs and over the many planks to Izadora's tree house.
She waited for us with the door open. “Come in.” She was a little old woman, with no teeth. Apparently she lost them all as she aged throughout the day. Her eyes had sunken into her wrinkled face, her hands were wrinkled, and the veins popped out as she closed the squeaking door behind us.
The shovel was a broad steel blade fixed to a piece of medium-length wood. It appeared to be more of a hand shovel, something made in the 1800’s.
“Take this shovel. You can use your hands too, but it's not advised. The shovel will do,” she said as she leaned upon her cane. “When you find Mother and you find the yellow ribbon, you must say these words: 'Izadora sends me, a spell she must reverse. A yellow ribbon is needed, to avoid this blasted curse.' And you must say it exactly so.”
“Okay, maybe I should write it down. I might fumble the words.”
She pursed her old lips together and retrieved a pen and paper, mumbling something about me being a poor apprentice under her breath.
I had never thought of myself as her apprentice; certainly after this was over and I had Father back, I would never see her again. But even as I thought it, I knew it wasn't true. I had a feeling our paths had crossed for a reason.