by John Osborne
“Wow,” she said. “I’m out of shape when it comes to crowds.”
“I noticed.”
“Thanks for your help.”
“My pleasure.”
They returned to the truck and settled in for the trip to Hoopeston. Noah found his way onto Vermilion Street and turned north to Route 1.
“Where did you learn that thing you do?” Willow asked. “I mean the ‘Look at me’ thing. Is that a Wicca thing or a Noah thing?”
“My dad used to do it when I was little and was frightened by a storm or bullied by a bigger kid. It made me feel better, so I guess it stuck.”
“It sure works for me, the touch part as much as the words. You calm me every time you do it, with your eyes and your hands. It seems so familiar. When you do it, the deja knew feeling gets strong, but I don’t remember anyone ever doing it before.” She paused. “Every so often you’ll make some gesture or show an expression that seems familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen it.”
“I’ve noticed the same thing about you. Maybe it’s something else unique about our fairy friend connection. Or maybe we knew each other in a past life. You know Wiccans believe in reincarnation, don’t you?”
“Yes, I read that,” Willow said. She fell silent, her features thoughtful.
At the tree across the lane, Noah jockeyed the truck around so it pointed out toward the road before killing the engine. As they climbed out, Willow spoke.
“Why do you always turn the truck around when you get here? Wouldn’t it be as easy to do when you leave?”
“It’s easier to do in the light. Plus if you’re going to get stuck in the mud it’s better to know when you arrive than when you’re ready to leave.”
Willow nodded solemnly, but her eyes twinkled. “I guess that makes sense … in a photojournalistic kind of way.”
Noah scowled, but said nothing. He opened the topper hatch and lifted out the two camera cases, put them on the ground and closed and locked the truck. He shouldered the small case and leaned over to pick up the big one.
“May I get that for you?” Willow said. She lifted the big case with ease, her face all concern. “There’s too much weight here for a mere human.”
Noah gestured toward the path. “Lead on, smartass.”
“I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
Noah laughed and followed.
When they reached the cottage, Willow put the big case on the ground. “You don’t need me at the pond, do you?” she asked.
Need you, no. Want you, definitely.
“No. And I don’t need the distraction, either.”
Willow considered this for a moment with an amused look. Noah hoped she was trying to work out if it was a compliment. Finally, she made a face and stuck out her tongue. “How long will you be?” she asked. “I’ll have some lunch ready.”
Noah checked his watch. “About two hours. Let’s say noon to be sure.”
“See ya then,” Willow said. She unlocked the door and went inside.
Noah grunted when he picked up the big case.
If I worked in a city, I could put this thing on wheels.
The pond was perfect. A cloudless blue sky provided the perfect backdrop for the bright sun. Mild breezes kissed the water into gentle motion and wafted the aroma of freshly turned soil from the nearby fields. Wonderful quiet prevailed. Noah took a few minutes to sit on the rock ledge and breathe, and relieve the pain in his arm. He could have sat all day.
Soon he stood up, turned his cap backward and busied himself opening the cases and setting up equipment. He planned to repeat the circuit of the pond, slower this time, with no pesky fairy watching him. He immersed himself in what he most loved to do. To the uninformed observer it appeared to be quite mundane, all the looking through lenses and meters, twirling knobs, pushing levers, turning cranks, but this was Noah’s art: his canvas the film and his brush the camera. His color palette was supplied; so were the images he recorded. The famous photographer Ansel Adams said God provided his photographs; his task was only to capture them. Noah couldn’t agree more.
Working alone was so comfortable. He could maintain his running commentary of what he was doing, giving precise verbal instructions to the cameras, the tripod, the breeze. He entered the world of fervent work, where time ceased and nothing but the task existed. All else faded to insignificance as his mind powered through the project. Hunger, thirst, fatigue, even pain were inconsequential in these intense times. When he finished circling the pond and checked the time, he was surprised to see the allotted two hours had passed.
Willow entered his mind. A smile came unbidden to his face and his heart warmed. Until the last two hours, she had not been out of his thoughts once for two days. Now, she came rushing back. He packed and began the short trek to the cottage.
Noah reached Willow’s little home and set the big case down by the door.
She’s expecting me, but I had still better knock.
As he lifted his hand, Willow swung the door open. She wore a triumphant smile.
“I knew you were here,” she said. Noah walked in to a second warm greeting from Shadow.
“I didn’t think you could sense a fairy friend,” Noah said. He sat down to pull off his boots.
“We’re not supposed to be able to, but you and I aren’t supposed to emulate each other’s emotions, either.”
“True, but how did you know I was here? Maybe you picked up on my emotion when I came close.”
“I don’t think so.” Willow frowned. “This was different. It wasn’t the same as when we detect a human nearby. What were you feeling when you walked up?”
“Besides hungry?” He looked down for a moment in thought. “I guess I was glad to be finished working. I was happy to be seeing you.” He looked up at Willow, felt his ears grow warm. Her “thinking” frown relaxed into a smile.
“Maybe that’s what I felt at a distance. Or maybe you picked up on me feeling happy. Who knows? Hang up your coat and let’s eat.” She walked toward the miniature kitchen. She had changed into jeans and a long maroon zippered sweatshirt that hung below her hips. As she moved, a wingtip peeked out beneath the hem.
That has to be more comfortable than having your wings tucked into those tight jeans.
“Sure smells good,” Noah said. “What’s on the menu?” For once, he couldn’t smell “Just Me” amidst all the wonderful cooking aromas.
“We’re having Willow’s famous turnip soup, baked acorn squash with brown sugar, and fresh baked barley bread.”
“You baked bread? When?”
“I was up early this morning to start the dough so it could rise while we went to Danville.”
Two place settings waited on the small table, part of a built-in booth arrangement between the main room and the kitchen. Noah slid into one side while Willow dished up the soup and set the squash and bread on the table. She offered him water or milk to drink. Noah opted for milk, of course. Willow slid in across from him.
“Looks good,” Noah said.
“Dig in.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Noah found the soup delicious and the bread perfect, still warm from the oven. Willow’s appetite was voracious. She finished her soup and squash when he was only half done. She leaned her chin on one hand and watched him.
Noah spoke between bites. “You know what you did just now, don’t you?”
“Uh, I ate soup?”
“I mean when I came back to the cottage. You were analyzing.”
“I was?”
“Yep. I guess I’ve been a good influence.” She rolled her eyes. Noah went back to his soup.
“Would you like more?” Willow asked.
“No, thank you, it’s great but I’ve had enough.”
“Good. I think I’ll have a refill.” She emptied the remainder of the soup into her bowl, filling it to the top. She grabbed more bread and wolfed down the food.
“You must have been hungry,” Noah said. “Didn’t you
eat breakfast?”
Willow looked sheepish. “Yes, I did. Fairies have a high metabolic rate. We burn tons of energy when we fly and our body temperature is several degrees higher, which takes more food to maintain, too. Plus the glowing and the disappearing burns calories.”
That’s why you’re always so warm.
Now Noah watched Willow eat. She paused and emptied her mouth long enough to speak.
“Most of our conversation has been about me. Tell me about yourself.”
“Not much to tell. I’m a fourth generation farm boy from Wisconsin, around Madison. My dad has worked on the farm all his life. It’s a dairy farm, so you tie in with natural cycles. I enjoyed it when I was younger. Even the twice a day milking, which is no fun at four in the morning during a Wisconsin winter. I only have one sibling, a younger sister, who wasn’t much help. My cousin Tim used to work on the farm every day, too, and that was part of the appeal, I suppose, since we were fast friends.”
“I guess I’ll just have to call you Cowboy,” interrupted Willow.
“Laugh if you want,” Noah said, “but I bet I know more about teats than any man you’ve ever known.”
Willow giggled.
Noah went on. “I was restless on the farm as I grew older. I wanted to see the world, but you can’t see much when you have to be home by six to do the milking. When it came time to leave for college, my parents and I had a long talk. They were disappointed I decided not to study agriculture, but they were stunned when I announced I was going to study fine arts and become a photographer. They never questioned my choices, though. ‘It’s your life,’ Dad said. ‘You’re going to have to live it, so you’ve got to make the choices.’” Noah stopped and smiled. “I love my dad. He’s a special kind of guy, special kind of person.”
“Are you named for him?”
“No, Dad’s name is Tom. Noah is a biblical name.”
“Yea, the flood guy, right?”
“Right. Mom and Dad are dedicated Lutherans, but I’m named for a famous ancestor, my four times great grandfather, Noah Phelps of Connecticut. He was a hero of the Revolutionary War.”
“Really? That was an interesting time. What did he do in the war?”
“He spied out the British garrison at Fort Ticonderoga and passed information along that led to the British defeat by Ethan Allen. The British were fooled, and the commander escorted him on a tour of the defenses. He posed as a merchant who came to the fort to get a shave, of all things.”
Willow’s eyes widened and locked on Noah’s. Confusion and bewilderment flowed from her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Are you okay?”
Noah jumped as a curtain crashed down on her emotions.
Willow looked away. “I’m fine. Something you said reminded me of my father.”
Not true, little fairy.
Willow reached for the dishes to clear the table. “If we’re going to check out the Big House and the property we should get moving. We’ll visit the house first.”
Noah helped as they washed the plates and bowls and wiped the kitchen down. Willow remained unusually quiet, he thought, but then he didn’t know her well. By the time they finished she had brightened somewhat.
They pulled on footwear, Willow opting for her high top tennis shoes, and Noah donned his hat and coat. Willow chose a hat from her collection on the pegs by the door, a khaki green fisherman’s hat with a loose brim that framed her round face.
Shadow bounded out when Willow opened the door. She pulled the door shut and locked it while Noah rummaged in the big camera case and extracted a large flat box.
“What’s that?” Willow asked, pointing at the box.
“Some tools. You’ll see.”
“Okay. Let’s go, Cowboy.”
Eight
Ever-present Shadow led the way to the Big House. As the mansion appeared ahead of them, Noah began to sense the energies as before. Welcome, they whispered.
Willow took the path to the front porch, but stopped before climbing the steps.
“The only way to unlock the door is from the inside,” she said. “The front and rear doors are barred. One shutter has concealed screws, which is how Louie and I get in, but it takes tools and a few minutes to open. I leave the door on the widow’s walk unlocked so I can get in faster.” She removed her sweatshirt and handed it to Noah. Underneath she wore a red halter style one-piece swimsuit that afforded some modesty but gave her wings complete freedom of movement. She brought her wings up to flight position and gave them a quick stretch and shake, then grinned at Noah.
“This is my pre-flight warm-up. Like my flight suit?”
Of course I do. Why did you have to ask me that? Men like beautiful women in swimsuits.
Willow’s suit fit tight, he supposed for comfort at flight speed, and a keyhole cutout bared the skin between her breasts. And it was thin.
“It looks perfect for the job.”
She tossed him her hat, too. “I’ll be right back.” Her wings began to move in a rapid fashion, too fast for Noah to follow. It appeared they moved up to form a shallow V behind her, then bent forward and swept down with a whooshing sound to form an inverted V, where they flattened and returned to the upper position. They moved faster and faster until they blurred and their swooshing sound became a low-pitched buzz. Willow lifted off the ground and rose until her waist was at Noah’s eye level.
Noah stood with his mouth open and watched.
How cool is that?
He closed his mouth and grinned, then laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Willow demanded.
Noah laughed harder.
She dropped to the ground in front of him, stood with her hands on her hips and glared. Her wings twitched.
“What’s—so—funny?” she asked through clenched teeth.
Noah stifled his laughter enough to speak. “You don’t fit my image of a fairy. I’m not sure if it’s the jeans or the high tops.” He dissolved into laughter at the image of this tiny person bristling at him, her neck craned back to look at his face.
Willow’s face twitched, and then a smile formed. “You bum!”
“The other night at the pond, now that was my image of a fairy.”
“So you think I should undress to fly?”
“No. Unless you want to.”
“I’ll pass,” she said with a provocative smile. “This time.”
Noah had a feeling it wouldn’t bother her a bit to strip. At that thought, she blocked him, jolting his arms.
“Ouch!”
Willow giggled. “Gotcha!”
I’ve got to learn how to do that!
Noah’s stomach lurched as Willow leaped into flight and zoomed over the roof and out of sight. Her flight speed shocked him. In a matter of seconds, he heard the bar move on the front door and it swung open. Willow stepped out onto the porch.
“Coming, Cowboy?”
My peaceful life is in jeopardy. I like it when you call me Cowboy.
“How fast can you fly?” he asked as he climbed the stairs.
“For short distances I can do over sixty miles per hour.”
“Really? That’s incredible. How far is a short distance?”
“Well, I once flew the length of the woods from road to road, which is exactly one mile, in fifty-four seconds. Rowan and I were racing. I won.”
Noah laid the box on the porch and they entered the house. Shadow remained on the ground with a Do I have to go in there? look. Before closing the door, Willow raised her hand toward him for a moment. He barked once and took off, nose to the ground and tail wagging.
Noah found himself in a dark foyer about fifteen feet wide and maybe twenty feet deep. Daylight came from straight ahead, for no wall separated the foyer from the next room. They walked forward and entered a central atrium that extended upwards to the widow’s walk roof fifty feet above. Bright sunlight streamed in through the high windows and lit the space, though the rest of the house was lost in gloom. The open first
floor doors revealed the rooms were in complete darkness. Straight across the atrium, a narrow hallway ran to the back wall of the house. His footsteps echoed on polished wood floors.
“Wow,” was all Noah could think to say. He turned in a complete circle examining the house. At each of the three upper levels, a balcony encircled the atrium. Stairs attached to the west wall climbed between the levels. The walls displayed elegant print wallpaper, and seemed in good condition. Aromas of wood polish and cleaning fluids filled the air. Everything gleamed.
Dust is not allowed here, it seems.
Yet, the amenities were absent. No furniture graced the shining floors, no pictures hung on the walls, and no planters stood about. All was beautiful, but barren.
On the second level above where they entered, Noah could see a huge room that extended across the entire breadth of the structure.
“What’s that?” he asked, pointing.
“The ballroom. We’ll get to that. I’ll give you the complete tour.” She waved for him to follow and walked toward a door leading to the northeast room. She passed through the door and flipped on a light. “This is the formal sitting room.”
The L-shaped room had the same beautiful floors and woodwork as the foyer and atrium, and was also devoid of furniture. An ornate chandelier furnished light, which gleamed off the oak woodwork. The corner toward the atrium contained a stone fireplace. Willow walked into the next room through double doors. She snapped off the light in the sitting room and turned on the light in the next.
In this fashion they walked in a circle around the first floor, through the gallery, dining room, kitchen, pantry, game room (with a great bar area, Noah noted), study and the library. Each room repeated the decor of the first. Each corner room contained an identical stone fireplace. They completed the circuit and ended at the stairs in the atrium.