The Great Big Fairy (The Fairies Saga Book 4)

by Dani Haviland

  Jane grinned. She liked this lady. She was just as open and comfortable as Benji. “I didn’t let Benji know that I understood English when we, we first met. He talked a lot about his life and family and I listened. Then I slipped and forgot to play ignorant. He found out that I could understand him without his silly hand language.” Jane smiled as she moved her left hand in rapid, nonsense gestures, mimicking the made-up sign language Benji had employed. “I think he was a little scarrit when he realized that he had been telling me all about,” Jane eyes squinted as she tried to recall the right words, “planes, trains, and automobiles.”

  I nodded and grinned in acknowledgment that I knew what she was speaking of. “Did he tell you how he got here?” I asked, looking at her for illumination.

  “Yes. He said he was born here,” Jane replied simply and smiled courteously.

  I guess my face showed the discomfort and frustration that I was feeling because Jane added softly, “But he did tell me that he left here and then came back. He said he followed you here from, well, you know when. You do know when you’re from, don’t you?”

  Jane didn’t want to give anything away and was being cautious which I appreciated. Evidently, Benji hadn’t planned on telling her his time traveler status. I bet there was a very interesting story about how those two met, but that wasn’t important now. What we needed was to bring in the cheese and cold ale for the men.

  “Yep, I’m a fairy,” I boasted with a smirk of pride. Jane laughed at the remark, or at least how I had said it, and brought her left hand up to cover her chuckling mouth. “What, am I too big to be a fairy?” I asked lightly, grinning at my enchanting new acquaintance.

  “No, I don’t think so. I mean, I don’t know. It’s just that I didn’t know there were women fairies. I thought Benji was the only one.”

  “Uh, no,” I said somberly. “Although, I suggest you never ask anyone if he or she is a fairy. It’s pretty much a secret. There are a few of us here, but not everyone in the family knows about the other ones. My daughter Jenny’s too young to know about it. I mean, I could probably tell her and she would accept it and would be fine knowing about it, but I’m afraid she wouldn’t keep her mouth shut. Loose lips sink ships and all of that stuff.” I saw the confused look and reworded my concern. “I’m afraid she’d tell the wrong person and then someone might think we, I, was a witch or from the devil.” I shook my head, recalling both Sarah’s close call with witch hunters in Scotland and James and Leah’s close call with Dick Short.

  “You’re too pretty to be a witch,” Jane said, then gasped in embarrassment at her familiarity.

  “Thank you,” I said. “But, I’ll bet you’re a smart woman and know that looks are deceiving. Pretty is as pretty does, right?”

  Jane nodded in answer. Her head felt odd with the movement. Her eyes felt like they were trying to fall out. She brought the back of her hand up to her lips. Yes, she had a fever.

  I saw Jane check her temperature by pressing her lips to the back of her hand. I could tell by the momentary shock in her eyes that she had detected a fever. Her wound was probably infected.

  “Come on. I’ll carry this.” I quickly threw a big cheese and as many bottles of ale as I thought I could manage into the basket. “Let’s get back to the house. You need rest and water. I want Sarah to look at your owie.”

  I looked up at her to make sure she had heard me and grinned at the dumbfounded look on her face. “Owie is what I call a wound. You have a fever, don’t you?” Jane nodded. “Smart woman, you know to check up on yourself. Hold on to my shoulder. I don’t want you to fall down.”

  Benji looked away from the glowing faces of his grandparents to see Jane and Evie walking toward the house from what must be the springhouse, a small building on the backside of the barn. Evie was carrying a basket, and Jane was a step behind, her hand on Evie’s shoulder for support. “Excuse me,” he said, “I…I…oh, Lord,” he whispered in self-admonishment. How could he have forgotten about Jane?

  “Looks like the lad forgot about his lady friend,” Jody said to Sarah as he put one arm around her shoulder, guiding her to the house.

  “By the look of shame on his face, she’s more than just a friend.” Sarah looked up to Jody to make sure he knew what she was implying.

  Jody’s eyes widened in surprise as he realized what she was insinuating. “A slave?” he whispered in disbelief.

  Sarah shrugged her shoulders. “Love is colorblind, and he was reared in the 20th and,” she inhaled deeply as she said the exotic words, “21st centuries. Skin color isn’t really much of a consideration in modern times.”

  “Aye, it may not be then, but now is where the two of them are today.” Jody said dejectedly, “I’m glad to have him here, but if what he feels for her is one tenth of what I feel fer ye, they’re gonna have a rough go of it in 1782 North Carolina.”

  “I’m sure they’ll be okay. Just look at what we went through and we turned out fine.”

  “Ach, finer that fine.” Jody swiftly raised Wee Julian in the air, the gesture that always elicited a giggle from him. He smiled and said, “Although, I wouldna choose to do any of the bad parts over again. If I had a choice, I woulda passed on jest about everythin’.”

  “Passing up helping those in need is not your style, Jody Pomeroy. You’d do it all over again, I’m sure you would.”

  “Weel, ye would be right if my motivation was to have and keep ye and our family and friends safe. Aye, I’d do it all over again, but,” Jody looked up to heaven, “I’m not volunteerin’ fer any new tasks, Lord.”

  “And, our little family keeps getting bigger and bigger, too.” Sarah looked over at the tall couple plus Evie, now on the porch. “Benji has himself a woman. Whether she is his mate already or not, I could tell by the look on his face when he looked at her, he wants her to be.”

  “Aye, I think it’s not though. I dinna think he’d have relations with a woman who wasna his wife. By the looks of the scars on her back, she’s a slave and dinna come back here with him. Aye, I’ll wager she’s from this time.”

  “Good Lord, Jody!” Sarah exclaimed. “Of course she’s from ‘now.’ Why in the hell would he bring a black woman back here to this time?”

  Jody shrugged his non-baby laden shoulder at Sarah, then shifted Wee Julian, turning him around to face Mommy. “Here, ye take him back to the house, and I’ll catch a couple of chickens fer supper. Or maybe three—Jenny was right. Benji really is huge, and his lady friend isna much smaller.”

  Ж

  Benji bounded up the steps behind Jane and me. “Oh, Janie, I am so sorry I forgot to introduce ye to everyone. They’ll all be here in a minute. Can ye forgive me?”

  Jane nodded ‘yes’ then added a weak, “Of course.” Her head kept nodding, as if she was falling asleep, but her words were finished. Her neck snapped taut as she came to with a start.

  “Benji, go get your Grannie,” I said. “I want her to check Jane’s wound. She has a fever and probably an infection.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Benji said. He rushed out the door, and nearly knocked down his baby-laden grandmother as she came up the steps. “Whoa, there,” he said as he steadied her. “Evie says she needs ye to look after Jane.”

  “Sarah, this is Jane,” I said in introduction. “She has an owie, and I think it’s infected. Do you want her in the surgery?”

  “Yes. Here, Benji, take your uncles. Evie, help her get settled on the examination table, please. Glad to meet you, Jane. Come on in here and tell me where your owie is.” Sarah smiled at the word owie. She noticed the big woman had grinned when I said it, so repeated it. Jane smiled for her when she said it, too.

  “What do I do with them?” Benji asked as he lifted one then the other baby-bearing arm.

  “Take them for a walk,” Sarah said flatly. “Let them show you around the place. We’ve only been here a few years, and it’s not as nice as our place on The Point, but it has potential.”

  “Will ye be okay, Jani
e?” Benji asked as he walked over to her, now seated on the long, tall table.

  “She’ll be fine,” Sarah said, and shooed him then me out the door. The doctor was in and we were out.

  Benji did what his Grannie told him: took his uncles for a walk. They were very small—he didn’t know how to estimate babies’ ages since he hadn’t been around too many—but they were old enough to hold up their heads. “Uncles,” he said in amazement. He thought his Grannie was too old to have babies, but evidently not. “I guess I’ll have to wait to find out yer names. Until then, yer Uncle One and yer Uncle Two.” He continued his stroll toward the barn, chatting with the little red headed boys who were enthralled with his voice and face.

  And then he saw her: the little blond girl who had announced their arrival. "What are ye doing there: looking for gold?" asked Benji, although it was pretty obvious: she was drawing with a pointed stick in the fine, silty dirt.

  "I'm making pictures," she said with pride. "See, that's you and her and that's me. Who are you? I know you’re kin, but am I allowed to know how? Grandpa and Grannie and Mommy and Daddy don’t tell me everything because they say I talk too much. But, I just want to know who you two are. Is that okay?”

  “I’m Benji. Your Grandpa is my Grandpa, too. My mother—Mona or Ramona—is his daughter.” Benji wanted to ask her relationship to Grandpa, but figured that she’d probably tell him in a minute or two. She seemed to bubble over with enthusiasm with whatever she said or did.

  “My Daddy is Grandpa’s son, and so are Raymond,” she pointed to the child in Benji’s right arm, “and Wee Julian,” and pointed to the left. “Raymond is named after Grandpa’s father Raymond, and so is your Mommy. Wee Julian is named after my other Grandpa, Grandpa Julian, but I call him Poppi. The other babies, that’s my brothers Judah and Leo, and my little sister Wren—her real name is Danielle—but my, my other kin,” she blushed, unsure if she should say more about Scout, her other kin, “gave her that name. Anyway,” she said as she took a deep breath to continue the family genealogy, “Those babies call him Poppi, so now I do, too. And Evie is my Mommy and she’s Grannie’s sister, sort of, not by blood, but they say sister’s close enough. They get along real good even if Grannie’s her mother-in-law, too. And Leah is my sister, and she and James—that’s her husband—live a little ways down that road,” she turned to indicate the dusty path that led to an odd shaped abode, “and they have a little girl, Bibb Elizabeth Melbourne,” she crowed the name with pride. “She’s my niece, and she’s exactly the same age as my uncles ‘cause they were all born on the same day. So, who’s the lady who came with you?” she asked, suddenly changing the theme and tone of voice, obviously suspicious of the tall, dark woman.

  “She’s Jane, my fiancée. That means we’re going to get married. Soon, I hope,” he added softly, although he knew she could hear him.

  “Oh,” was her short reply, as if his answer was enough; now let’s talk about something else. She picked up a wide, narrow slat of split firewood and wiped through the dirt, erasing her first picture, preparing her earthen slate for a new one. He watched silently as she drew another, very much like the first one, this time adding in what looked like a baby.

  “Who’s that?” he asked, as he sat down next to her, using his outstretched uncle-toting arms as leverage to sit down on his bottom with a grace that didn’t see possible for such a large man burdened with babies.

  “That’s your baby,” she announced with pride, then added. “You don’t know about him yet, but I still drew him. If I had real paper and coloring sticks—Mommy calls them crayons—then I could draw you better. I could make Jane black, and make your hair and the baby’s hair red, and mine yellow, and, and my dress green, and Jane’s blue… Hey, are you my uncle or my cousin?” she asked, quickly changing topics again.

  “Weel, since yer father and my mother are brother and sister that makes us cousins. But, if yer mother is my great aunt then I guess,” Benji counted on his fingers, looked up as he tried to account for the lineage, then huffed in defeat and declared, “that’s why it’s easier to jest say we’re all kin, aye?”

  “Aye!” Jenny announced proudly in agreement, then bent back to her drawing, adding a cloud to the imagery’s background. “It's kinda hard to tell who everyone is because this stick isn't as good as a pen, and I don't have any paper. Mommy said that paper costs a lot, and that we can't make it, but that her sister-in-law, that's your mother, knew how to make paper. She made some before she left, and we still have a few pieces of it, but they're special. Mommy lets me hold onto one of them sometimes. But, I have to wash my hands real good because she doesn't want them to get dirty. They smell good, too, because your mother put flower petals in the mast. I think that's what she called it."

  Benji interrupted, "That's mash, not mast. I think I remember how she made it. Do ye want to make some paper?"

  "Uh, huh," she chimed, her head bobbing rapidly. “Yes, yes, yes!" Jenny screamed as she sprang up like a jack-in-the-box, continuing to jump up and down. "Can we do it today? Huh, please, please, puh-leeze..."

  Benji looked around and didn’t see any tasks that needed to be done. Being a guest at Grandpa's was nice, and he hoped he would be allowed to help, but everything appeared to be caught up right now. "I canna see why not. First, I'll have to talk to yer Grannie and see if she has some of the chemicals we need. Then, we have to get some old rags and sawdust, and maybe we can throw in some flower petals, too. But, we dinna do that part until we're almost finished."

  "What's chemicals?" Jenny asked, as she picked up a rotted piece of wood, examining its potential as sawdust.

  "Well, that's like askin’ ‘what’s food?’ Both can be a wide variety of stuff. Chemicals can be what ye use to wash clothes, or to spray for bugs, or etch glass. Usually, they're in a solution, but they can be solid, too."

  Jenny's eyes widened. "I know how to wash clothes, but I don't know what etch glass is, and why do you want to spray bugs?"

  "Poison; ye can spray a poison on bugs so they die, but we dinna want to do that. The bairns might get a hold of it and it would hurt them. Etchin’ glass is done with an acid, somethin’ that burns even though it's a liquid, like water, but ye canna, or shouldna, drink it. Gee, Jenny, I guess I shoulda paid more attention in school. Science wasna my favorite class, ye ken.”

  Jenny dusted off her hands on the back of her skirt and reached for her uncle. “Here, I’ll take Raymond.” Benji handed her the dozing child and stood up, letting her lead the way.

  “Now dinna be botherin’ Grannie right now. She’s busy doctorin’ Janie. We have to keep these guys busy. We canna do the paper makin’ until later, maybe tomorrow. Fer now, why dinna ye show me where ye keep yer animals.”

  Benji was glad to have her around for a distraction. With her cheerful chattering, he wasn’t dwelling on what would happen with him and Janie now that they were here. It wouldn’t be an easy life being married to a black woman in this time—if it was even possible. He’d waited too long to get here to his grandfather to give up right away and go back; that is if he could even find a way to go back to the future. But, he’d waited just as long to find a woman to love and care about. Hopefully, he’d be able to have his wife and life here, too.

  Jenny led the way to the little goat shed, holding her Uncle Raymond with finesse, almost as if he were a part of her body. “Shush,” she admonished when he started to get fussy. “We have to let your Mommy work. She’ll feed you when she’s done working on Cousin Jane.” She turned her attention back to Benji. “These are my goats. Leah named them Sarah P and Todd. She calls them that because they do whatever they want to do. You can’t make them mind you. But, they’re nice and follow me wherever I go because I love them, and feed them, and really, they’re smarter than a horse and prettier, too. They’re still babies, but they’ll get lots bigger. Poppi, that’s my Grandpa Julian, and José, that’s his partner, gave them to me. I’m supposed to take care of them, but they said it’s oka
y if Daddy or Grandpa, that’s Grandpa Jody, help me. They’re Angora goats, and when they’re older—like maybe next spring—Poppi will help me cut off their hair. José knows how to spin the hair; I mean the wool, into yarn. Mommy knows how to crochet real good, and she showed me how, too. I even made a hat, but it’s too hot to wear it now. Hey, are you gonna live here?” Jenny asked, suddenly distracted from her dissertation on the evolution of the cap she had made.

  “Aye, I’d like to,” Benji said over the squalls of wee Uncle Raymond. “Are ye sure he’ll be okay? He looks like he’s ready to eat his fist right off his wrist!” He knew the baby was probably fine, but he didn’t want to talk about his future housing arrangements with the young lady. His cousin was charming, but the two of them wouldn’t be able to solve the dilemma of whether he and Jane would be able to stay here and be married. He’d rather save the emotional investment to spend with his grandparents or the other adults in the family. He was beginning to feel like Wee Raymond: ready to scream in frustration. “I’m gonna take him to Grannie. Ye mind Wee Julian fer me, aye?”

  “Okay,” Jenny replied brightly, then turned her attention to the quiet twin. “Do you want me to draw a picture of you?” She sat down and prepared a lap for the boy next to her dusty drawing area. “I’ll draw you when you’re all growed up and a doctor like Grannie.”

  Benji took long strides to the house, singing a medley of Beatles tunes to Wee Raymond on the way. “They’re gonna put me in the movies,” he began, then shuddered. “Oops, wrong song, lad. Ye dinna want to be in any movies, at least the kind I was in,” he groaned. “Okay, ‘Help, I need somebody; help, not just anybody. Help, I need a milky booby to feed my empty belly…help!” Benji improvised as he climbed the steps to the house.

  “My uncle,” he said again. “Weel, at least I ken where I get my urges from. It seems that age dinna make a difference to either of them. I sure do look like yer Da—too much like him,” Benji said to his young uncle. As soon as he stopped talking, though, the little boy started fussing again. “So, how does a man sixty-years-old look so young, and his wife have a baby when she’s even older than he is? Weel, Raymond, did he tell ye? Do ye think he’ll tell me? Do ye think it matters? Weel, neither do I,” he said in resignation. It was a mystery that didn’t make a difference to anyone.