The Great Big Fairy (The Fairies Saga Book 4)

by Dani Haviland

  “They’re yours?” Jane asked. She shook her head in embarrassment. Of course, they were—they were just introduced as such.

  “What, can’t you tell,” teased Wee Michael. He picked up Chandra and held her face close to his. “See, she has my blue eyes,” he bragged.

  Jane could see that the girls were of mixed heritage. They both had light brown skin and very curly hair; not kinky like hers. But, Chandra had blue eyes like her white father. Evie had told her that although Benji had blue eyes, they probably wouldn’t have blue-eyed children because she didn’t have blue-eyed ancestors. The girls’ mother, Alisha, had light brown skin, so probably had a white parent, or grandparent at least, who had blue eyes.

  “Her eyes are beautiful, just like the rest of her, and so is her sister.” Jane resisted the urge to touch the girl’s hair, but did bring her hand up near Chandra’s. “Their hair; I wish mine was like that.”

  Alisha reached up and patted her own coif, partially covered with a scarf. “We can make yours just like theirs. Michael did mine, but the girls’ hair is naturally that way. Chemicals can take over for genetics nowadays. He’s concocted his own formula that won’t burn or stink. I only need a touch up every four months or so, to keep mine like this. Would you like him to fix yours?”

  Jane didn’t know what to answer, so said nothing, hoping that Alisha wouldn’t think she was being rude, but only trying to make a decision. She glanced down at the girls, stretched out on the floor on their bellies, looking at a book filled with colorful pictures. Jane had never seen paper so bright and exotic. She looked back up at Michael, unsure if she should let a man who wasn’t her husband touch her hair.

  Wee Michael saw the indecision in her face. He tried not to stare at the length of calico tied around her head, bulging with the hair wrapped underneath. He really wanted to help her have the hair she obviously wanted, but could tell that she was reluctant to have him, or anyone, work on it.

  “You know, Benji used to let me brush his hair,” he said. “He had the longest, most beautiful, red hair I had ever seen, or seen since. He said he wouldn’t cut it until he was free. You see, he had been a prisoner, captive, hostage, whatever you want to call it, since he was about twelve. He said that as long as he was a slave, he wouldn’t cut it or let anyone else cut it either. He left it long for a few weeks after he broke us out of that prison compound, too—just in case we were found. We happened upon a camp of homeless folks and lived with them for a while. Unfortunately, the bedding they let us share was full of lice. Well, rather than fight the little fiends, he let me cut the hair. I told him I wanted to save it because it was so pretty, but he said he wanted to burn it. Man, did it stink! But, all burnt hair stinks, not just the lice-ridden kind. He said it was the stink of bondage flying away.”

  Wee Michael finished his story with a smile. “I haven’t seen Benji in about five years. Is his hair long or short?” he asked, hoping that relating some of his personal history of Benji and his hair would warm up the relationship with the timid giantess.

  “He keeps it short,” she answered. “He said its cooler and besides, he didn’t have a comb.” Jane looked at Alisha’s hair, then at the soft, lighter brown curls of the little girls. She knew what they had said, but decided to ask anyway. “You make pretty curls out of wiry hair all the time?”

  “Here, touch mine,” Alisha offered, “then touch theirs. You can’t tell the difference. And the chemicals didn’t make my hair fall out. See,” she said as she took off her turban, “still thick enough that I have to bind it to keep it from flying all over the place. I keep it covered when I’m working, but let it down when we’re at home. Michael loves my hair,” she said with a smirk, and a wink at her husband.

  Jane took Alisha up on her offer and touched her coif, then asked the girls, “May I touch your hair?” Her envy was overriding her shyness; their soft curls were so beautiful.

  The two girls looked at each other and smiled in agreement. They both liked this tall, gentle woman. She wasn’t loud and pushy like some of the other people who came into their parent’s salon. They both got up from the floor and their book reading. Beatrice turned away from Jane and presented her hair for examination “Don’t you want to touch it?” she asked.

  “I did; it’s very nice,” Jane replied as she moved her hand back from the butterfly light stroke.

  “Can I feel yours?” Beatrice asked, looking up at the tall lady.

  Jane squatted down next to her, then reached up and untied the knot in her cotton cloth head covering. She was in a different time and different place. The old rules she had lived by that pertained to her and her mother didn’t apply to her here and now. She was not a slave; these were friends and almost family, and this little girl was just asking to be treated the same as Jane had treated her.

  “You got a lot of hair,” Beatrice remarked as she peered at the thick braid. “Is it all yours, or do you have a weave?”

  Jane didn’t know what a weave was, but did know that it was all her own hair. “It’s all mine,” she answered with self-assurance. “I’ve never cut it. When I was a little girl, my mother braided it, wrapped it close around my head, and covered it with this cloth. It was from Africa, like she was.” Jane gulped as she realized that she might have just told the little girl too much.

  “Your mother was from Africa?” Beatrice asked, as she tapped the individual colors in the frayed rag, as if counting the hues. “My great-great-great-great-great grandma was from Africa, too. Maybe we’re cousins.”

  “Maybe,” Jane answered with a relaxed smile, “maybe.”

  “So, are you sure you want Michael to fix your hair like mine? I mean, you have so much hair, he could do braids or dreadlocks or just about anything with it. Even if he relaxes the hair, he can still braid it later. But, I don’t think he can make it tighter again. At least, no one’s ever asked to go back the other way, but he could probably figure it out. He’s pretty sharp that way.”

  “No, I don’t think I’d want to go back to this,” Jane said, “if I had this,” and gently touched Beatrice’s hair again.

  “Well, I’m just glad I brought extra product,” Wee Michael said. He reached up and began untwisting the wrapped and tucked braids. “You really do have a lot of hair here. If you’re ready Janie, just sit here. I’ll get started on the hair, and my wife can start with the pedicure.”

  Alisha saw the blank look on Jane’s face and remembered the warning Billy had given Michael: she was new to this way of life and was unfamiliar with many words. “We want to pretty you up from head to foot for your wedding. Not that you’re not already pretty, it’s just that you should have others attend to you on your day. I’ve got some herbs and salts that will make your feet feel like they’re brand new. I’ll give them a great massage, too, with some sweet smelling oils and creams. Then I can do the same to your hands.” Alisha picked up Jane’s hand and marveled at it. “You have the longest fingers I have ever seen on a woman. I’ll bet you could span an octave and a half on a piano, maybe two.”

  Jane tried to smile to cover her ignorance about what octaves were and how she could cross them, but the look was more of a grimace. Alisha saw the embarrassment she had inadvertently caused. “Maybe you’d like basketball better?” she asked.

  “Benji said I’d be great at it, but we haven’t had a chance for him to teach me yet. Do you need me to do anything?” she asked.

  “Well, first, sit up so I can wrap this towel and cape around you, then you can lean back and let your neck rest on the edge of the sink. After that, all you need to do is relax. I’ve had ladies, and gentlemen, too, fall asleep while they’re getting the full treatment. You might as well get a nap. I’m sure you’ll want to be well rested for your wedding,” Michael said.

  “And your wedding night, too,” Alisha whispered coyly. “Michael said Benji’s been waiting for someone special for a long time, and you’re obviously the one.”

  “You’re sure getting a good man as a hu
sband,” Michael added. “He’s the greatest man I know, and I don’t mean just in size. He was a leader and protector for many of us when we were in that slave camp. Did he ever tell you any of the stories?”

  Jane’s neck and shoulder’s tensed at the word slave. Her head was laid back over the rim of the sink, but she still managed to shake it slightly to let her hairdresser know that he hadn’t.

  Michael felt her tense at the subject of Benji’s past life. “I’m sorry, I’ll let him tell you about it. I just want you to take it easy and let us treat you like a queen. Do you think you can handle that?” he asked, stroking her temples the same way he did for his wife when she had a headache or had just had a rough day.

  “I’ll try,” she said, then remembered what both Sarah and Benji had told her to do when she was tense: find your happy thought. She thought of her fiancé and his family, both in the past, and those she had met only a couple of hours ago. She sighed deeply, letting her tension flow out with her exhale. The man she was letting touch her hair was a longtime friend of Benji and had a wife with Negro heritage. Even if Alisha was lighter skinned than she was, she had married a white man and had children with him. They seemed very happy, and their daughters were beautiful and well behaved. Benji had told her the truth when he said that skin color didn’t matter in this time. She sighed again and settled into an even deeper level of relaxation. “You said it was okay to fall asleep?” she asked, suddenly very tired now that she was snuggled in the warmth of her own little cocoon of contentment.

  “It’ll make the time until your wedding go faster if you do. I’ll just tap you on the shoulder when I need you to sit up or move. You don’t even have to wake up all the way.”

  Michael sighed at his own peace. He was glad Benji had a good woman in his life and had given up on his crazy scheme about going back in time to see his grandfather. He loved the man, even if he was a little cuckoo.

  43 Amy

  T he Callahan clan’s royal treatment was completed. Jane looked like a new person with her softly curled tresses cascading over her shoulders, down her back, nearly to her knees. She was a sparkling beauty in her yellow floral print sundress. Her freshly buffed fingernails pushed the hair behind her ears, but the bride-to-be was still the quiet and timid former slave on the inside.

  Bibb decided the insecure woman needed distraction before going back inside the house. Billy’s energy level was so high that she could swear it was contagious, spilling over to everyone within twenty feet of him, whether walls were involved or not. She didn’t want to go into town again; the shopping trip earlier had shown that it would be best to ease Jane slowly—very slowly—into modern civilization. Instead, she took her new kin on a tour of the grounds, showing her the small orchard and vegetable gardens.

  “This is where the old out buildings were that we used for storage. Before that, they were, um, slave quarters. Benji helped knock them down so we could build our new house and clear an area for the garden.” Bibb chuckled and said, “You know, he knew what those run down shacks used to be. It was doubtful that they were in much better shape two hundred years ago. He’s not a violent man by any means, but the grin that he was sporting—that means wearing—when he drove that tractor over them, smashing down the old walls that still had the iron loops for chains, well, he really enjoyed it. He told me that he had a personal grudge against slavery and would tell me about it ‘one of these days.’ We had a bonfire that night to get rid of the wood. You should have seen him glow.”

  “Yes,” Jane said, “he told me how proud he was of you, that you had sold your business to your employees so you could start a new, um, treasure?”

  “I think you mean venture, dear,” Bibb said.

  “Oh, yes, a new venture where you could help women in trouble. He said you were like a mother to him.”

  Jane didn’t know if she should speak freely, then remembered she wasn’t who she used to be. She reached up and touched her new hairdo. She wasn’t a slave who bound her hair anymore. And, she had clothes that were given to her as a gift, not for doing nasty deeds. Yes, she could speak her mind now.

  “I’m not sure, but I think his mother and father are dead. He never talks about them, and I don’t bring it up. I’m sure he’ll tell me about them when he feels like it. They must have been wonderful people, though, to have such a great son.”

  Bibb cleared her throat and forcibly swallowed the words that tried to come forth, the words she knew were not hers to share with Jane.

  “Excuse me,” Bibb said as she coughed, stalling for time, trying to find the words she should use rather than revealing that Benji’s family was alive and well in Scotland. She took a deep breath and said, “Well, one thing for sure about his parents, at least one of them was tall.”

  Just then, a short, very pregnant blond woman with Down syndrome walked up to them, saving Bibb from hunting for further honest, but non-revealing comments about the MacKays. “Janie, I’d like to introduce you to one of my girls. Janie, this is Amy. Amy, this is Janie. Janie’s getting married here this afternoon,” Bibb said as she affectionately placed her arm around the petite young woman’s shoulders.

  “You sure are tall,” said Amy as she gazed up, her head tipped back, jaw relaxed in uninhibited amazement. “I’ll bet you can get the apples right off the top of the trees without a ladder, huh?” Amy realized that she had just been introduced to a new person, and should use her manners. “Pleased to meet you, Janie,” she said in a halting, determined speech, then quickly looked to Bibb to make sure she had said the right words.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, too, Amy.” Jane smiled at the young woman, then gave a quick double nod to Bibb to let her know that she really was happy to become acquainted with this very straightforward and honest person. “Can you come to my wedding?” she asked, then gulped. She looked at Bibb, eyes half-closed, ashamed that she had asked Amy before making sure that it was okay with her and Billy.

  Amy blushed slightly, then looked to her surrogate mother to see if it was all right with her. Bibb nodded that it was okay, then Amy replied to Jane, “Yes, thank you; I’d like that.”

  “Janie, if it’s okay with you, can all of my girls come to the wedding? We don’t have much to do around here except light housework, schooling, and doctor’s appointments. I know Billy’s planning a big to do and I’m sure all the girls would like to come. Right now, there are only four sisters here. I guess I should have asked you sooner.”

  “And can I be the flower girl?” Amy asked excitedly, then looked embarrassed at interrupting. “Sorry,” she apologized with head bowed down. “It was your turn to speak.”

  “I don’t know what a flower girl is,” Jane said gently, “but if that means you would be in the, um, ceremony with me, I’d like that very much.”

  Amy looked up at her with a smile that brightened the whole outdoors. “That means my baby can come, too. I’m having a baby girl, and Billy and Peter’s friends, they live just down there,” she said, and pointed to a cluster of large homes down the road, “are going to be the mommies. I’ll be living almost right next door and can come over and see the baby girl whenever I want. I’m going to be her aunt. And nobody’s going to take me away from here, huh?” Amy asked, and turned to Bibb for confirmation, evidently not for the first time.

  “That’s right.” Bibb said, and gave her young charge a quick, one-armed hug. “Jane, I’m adopting Amy, and she’ll be my helper forever and ever, or until she decides she wants to live somewhere else. But right now, Amy, we have to go inside. Janie is Mac’s new nanny and she needs to spend some time with him. We’ll see you later this afternoon. Are you in charge of watering the garden today?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and I made sure the scarecrow’s hat stayed on. The crows took it off, so I got some tape from Billy to make sure it didn’t come off again.” She pointed with pride at her resourcefulness. “Billy said the corn is almost ready, and that’s why the crows are here. But, I’ll go back and make sure the ha
t is still on. Bye, bye, Mom and Janie,” she said. She excitedly waved farewell to the two women, then turned and walked away, a definite purpose in her stride, eager to shoo the crows away from the small garden area.

  Bibb chuckled when she looked in the direction of the cornfield. “Quite a resourceful young woman. That’s what we call electrical tape, and it’s for a totally different purpose. But, she made it work.”

  Jane didn’t know the words electrical or tape, but did know what a scarecrow was. She smiled when she saw the straw-stuffed clothes and burlap bag on a pole with black ribbon wound all around the head and hat. It was even spookier than a plain scarecrow and was certain to frighten the crows away.

  “Is she okay?” Jane asked, watching Amy waddle away. There was something odd about the her, but she didn’t know what it was. She could see Amy was both very small and very pregnant, maybe too small to carry a baby.

  “Amy’s different,” Bibb explained as the two of them walked back to the house. “She has what’s called Down syndrome. She is, um, for lack of a better way to say it, special.” Bibb knew that Jane didn’t know about chromosomes or genetic anomalies. “She has limited intelligence. She’ll never be what most people refer to as smart. She’s also shorter, has a weaker heart, but has an overabundance of love, if that’s even possible. Her parents didn’t want her because she was different, and put her in a group home when she was ten. That’s like an orphanage. Do you know what that is?” Jane nodded, so she continued. “There was a man who worked at the home. He, um, took her away and um,” Bibb stalled. She didn’t know how to explain what happened.

  Jane said, “He had his way with her without her permission?” she asked.

  Bibb shook her head no and shuddered at the thought of someone raping her little Amy. “No, the man wasn’t, um, smart, either. I think he fell in love with her. He was caught kissing Amy and was fired.” Bibb saw Jane gasp in shock at the word. “I mean he lost his job; they told him he couldn’t work at the home anymore because he had kissed her.