by John Osborne
“Now the wicked photographer must pay for taunting the poor little fairy!” Noah leaned left, then right in a futile attempt to get past her, but she moved with him. With an impossibly fast motion, she darted close and grabbed his head in an iron grip, the air wash from her wings brushing his face. Her features softened, she smiled and leaned in close as if to kiss him. Instead, she gave his nose a slobbery lick then let him go and darted away backward, cackling so hard she couldn’t stay upright.
“Gag! Fairy spit!” Noah said, making a big show of wiping his nose on his sleeve. Willow floated into the atrium and doubled over with laughter, spinning out of control. Noah laughed at the sight of a fairy in blue jeans and tennis shoes turning upside down holding her belly.
“Carry your own coat!” he yelled and flung the coat and hat out into the atrium. She swooped and caught both before they reached the floor. Noah laughed and walked down the stairs to the atrium. Willow waited for him with a satisfied smirk, her face all mischief. She wore her silly fisherman’s hat again.
I’ve never just … played … with a woman like this before.
“You know what my motto is?” Noah said. “Don’t get mad, get even.” Willow giggled. “So watch your step—Supergirl.”
They walked to the door and Noah went out. Willow locked the door and put the bar in place. A minute later, she floated down to join him at the foot of the porch stairs.
Nine
Noah helped Willow put on her jacket. He picked up the box he had left on the porch.
“What’s in the box?” Willow asked.
“My dowsing rods. I thought I would dowse around the house and see if I find anything interesting.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. That’s why a person dowses. This place has strong energies. If I dowse maybe I’ll … find a source.”
Or some clues to your parent’s death.
“Okay,” Willow said. “I still don’t understand this dowsing and energies thing you do. How does it work?”
“Well,” Noah said with a thoughtful look, “it’s sort of a combination of physics and magic.”
“Guess I deserved that.”
“Yes, you did. You use a sensitive object, a pendulum or rods, to indicate changes in the energy fields where you’re walking. The actual detection is all in your head, so to speak, and your sub-conscious creates tiny movements in the object to indicate the changes in the energy fields.”
“Okay,” Willow said, frowning. “I guess. What kind of energy is it? Magnetic or something and that’s why you use metal rods?”
“It’s not magnetic energy. It’s not any energy modern science can measure. Shoot, scientists won’t even admit it exists. The rods don’t need to be metal. It’s just easier to make them from metal. The important tool is here.” He tapped his head.
Willow shook her head. “You’re going to have to show me.”
Noah laid the box on the ground and extracted two l-shaped rods. “You hold them like this,” he said and held them before him, holding the shorter legs in each hand while the longer legs pointed straight ahead.
Willow grinned. “Now you look like a cowboy!”
“Thanks. You let the rods stabilize and walk over the area you’re exploring. It’s best to walk a regular grid of evenly spaced lines in one direction, and then walk another grid perpendicular to the first. As you walk you can record how the rods swing and plot the energies.” Noah looked around at the woods close to the house. “The brush isn’t too bad around the house. I’ll start two hundred feet north of the house and walk east-west lines two hundred feet either way. Then I’ll walk north-south lines. That way I’m sure to catch everything. It’s possible to walk along an energy line and never know it because the rods stay straight with it.”
“This will take some time, won’t it?” Willow asked, who already looked bored.
“It’s more exciting for an analytical type like me. Also, it would be better if you didn’t watch.”
“Why?” Disappointment filled her features.
“I can’t have anything prejudice my searching. We seem to have a tight psychic connection, so if I came close to any energetic hot spots you were aware of, I might pick up on your thoughts and make the rods move. It’s better if I find stuff on my own.”
Willow started to pout. “Okay. Should I go back to the cottage?”
“No, I won’t be that long. Why don’t you fly up to the widow’s walk? You said you like it and if I need you I can holler.”
This satisfied her. She removed her jacket again and zoomed away.
Noah paced off eighty steps due north from the house, turned west and paced off forty more steps. This spot would be the starting point for the grid. He eyeballed a beech tree to the east that seemed about four hundred feet away, which would be his stopping point. When he reached the tree, he would turn south for ten paces, turn west again, and walk back to the original north-south starting line. In this fashion, he would zigzag through the east-west grid.
Noah calmed his mind, took three deep breaths and started pacing. He adjusted when the house was in his path, doing some shorter paths on both sides. On the north, east and west sides of the house he detected nothing of consequence, just the usual warm spots where the rods might swing some. He had one exciting moment, until he discovered he had found the well.
On his first pass south of the house, a few feet east of the porch, the rods swung apart and pointed at right angles to their starting position. Noah slowed his pace. After about ten feet, the rods swung back. He completed that path and turned back, but moved ten feet south. Close to the same spot, the rods swung out again.
Noah continued in this fashion until he had a good sense that he’d found not a spot but a line that began at the center of the back wall of the house and continued south-southeast into the woods. It was an eight-foot wide swath of … something. It could be a spring, or maybe the septic tank. He almost called Willow, but decided to walk the perpendicular grid first.
He returned to the original starting point and walked north-south paths. He found the septic tank a hundred feet east of the house. When he reached the south side of the house he got faint readings each time he passed over the line he’d found before, confirming he was walking at a slight angle to whatever he had found. The lawn was not as wide on this side of the house, and small brush and trees began to disturb Noah’s path.
At a point about two hundred feet south of the house, the rods swung sharply out. Noah stopped, perplexed. If there were another strong east-west line, he would have read it on his last pass twenty feet to the west. He continued about eight feet and the rods returned to normal.
Noah finished walking the grid without further readings. He stopped dowsing, shifted the rods to one hand, and returned to the hot spot. Nothing pressed on his mind, no energies or sensations. A faint path angled over from the pond path. The undergrowth was shorter as if someone walked here on occasion. He wandered in a rough hundred-foot circle, searching the ground, and found tiny footprints in the soft earth.
Willow walks here sometimes.
Noah turned toward the house and called Willow. She popped up from behind the roof and scanned the woods looking for him. When she saw him, he waved for her to come. She whizzed down, buzzing loudly.
“Find something?” she asked. When she saw where they stood, her eyes grew wide.
“Judging by your look I did.”
“I happened across this place many years ago. Besides the master suite, this is where my parent’s presence is strongest.”
“Show me where.”
Willow shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve not thought of it as a specific ‘X marks the spot’ thing. I was wandering one day and felt something on this little path.” She pointed at the faded trail beneath their feet.
“Stay here,” Noah said. He walked to a spot about fifty feet away, put the rods into position, performed the calming, and paced south through the brush until they swung out again.
He stopped and waved Willow over. When she was about ten feet away, her eyes went wide and she stopped.
“Come on, it’s okay,” he urged.
Willow walked slowly forward. When she reached the spot where he stood, she gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
“Oh, Noah,” she whispered. “They’re here.” She gazed at the ground at her feet, dropped to her knees and leaned back on her heels. Reaching out, she touched the earth and stroked it.
Noah dropped the rods to his sides. A swelling of grief swallowed the momentary joy she had transmitted. She looked up at him, questioning, her face stricken. He stepped forward and touched her cheek.
“Cry for them, Willow.”
And she did, as she never had, he supposed. She threw herself on the ground and sobbed.
You should be alone.
Noah moved away and leaned against a tree, far enough to be discrete but close enough to be there when she called.
Did I find water? Not likely. No spring is evident around the house and Willow didn’t mention one. A mineral deposit?
He scanned the nearby terrain.
No. The ground doesn’t look right.
I felt nothing, but something here rocked Willow’s soul. Whatever I found, I know one thing— the spirits of Harold and Rose Brown are near.
Noah closed his eyes and mused on the past few days events while he waited for Willow.
“Noah?” Willow called. He stepped out from behind the tree and walked to her. Her face was red and wet with tears. Noah put his arms out to her and without hesitation she clasped herself to him, laid her head on his chest. He encircled her gently in his arms and stroked her hair. She cried no more, nor did she speak. Noah felt her ache in his own heart.
“I’m glad I found them,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry I found them.”
They stood clasped together for several minutes until by unspoken agreement they parted. Without speaking, he offered her his handkerchief and she wiped her eyes and nose.
Willow spoke with wonder in her voice. “Noah, you did what no one else could do. You found them.”
Noah shrugged and offered her his hand. They retrieved her jacket and he helped her put it on. He put his arm around her shoulders and urged her down the path. She slipped her arm around his waist and walked beside him.
They walked in silence past the shed and continued south. Noah tried to lighten the mood. He thought about the Supergirl escapade, and nearly laughed aloud when he visualized her cartwheeling through the air.
“You know, fairy spit has healing properties,” Willow said. She looked sideways at him.
“Oh, it does?”
“Yep. You won’t get a cold this winter.”
Noah laughed. “I never quite know when to believe you.”
“That’s part of the mystery.”
“The mystery of fairies?”
“No. The mystery of woman.” She smiled slyly. “I am a woman as well as a fairy, you know.”
“Yes. I noticed. Did you just read my mind?”
“Sort of,” she answered with the same smile. “I could feel you getting amused and I guessed you would think about the last thing that made you laugh.” She paused and her expression grew serious. “You were trying to make me feel better.”
Noah pulled her closer.
My goodness, I love fairy fragrance.
They walked arm in arm for a few hundred feet, albeit awkwardly given the disparity in leg length. Willow raised her head and peered down the path as if she heard something. She scanned the woods for a moment and pointed. Three deer were grazing a hundred feet to the east of the trail.
“There’s Daisy,” she said. “And Buttercup and Tulip.” Willow raised her hand toward the animals. Two of them continued to graze, but Daisy walked forward. As she came close, she lowered her head and eyed Noah with suspicion. Willow walked up to Daisy and stroked her flank, speaking in a low voice. Noah stood still lest he spook the animal.
“Are you talking to her?” he asked.
“Not so she understands. They know tone of voice, though.” She walked back to Noah, and Daisy, who now appeared curious, followed. She approached Noah and sniffed his outstretched hand.
“How old is she?” Noah asked. He examined the flower-shaped white mark on Daisy’s forehead.
“She’s almost eight years old now, and been a mama twice already. She’s my most special deer, though I can’t call her mine.”
“It’s good she has a safe place like this to live.”
“Yes, though it’s not perfect. I’ve never built a fence because I don’t want to shut out any animals. The other side of the coin is wildlife killed by hunters who come on my land. Louie and I spend every day during deer season patrolling the property, watching for trespassers. He found kid-sized orange overalls and an orange stocking cap that he insists I wear. I feel silly in it but he’s right, it’s a good idea. He’s always trying to protect me. The tree across the lane was his idea. He pulled it down with his truck to make getting to the house and cottage difficult, and he didn’t ask me about it first.” She shook her head. “Louie’s a great guy but we can sure get into some arguments about that sort of thing. When we’re out here patrolling, we split up so we can cover more ground, but any time I catch someone on the property and go after them, he appears about fifteen seconds later, like I can’t handle it.”
Odd that Louie could be that close and you not sense it.
Noah shrugged. “Well, I think you tend to bring out the protectiveness in men.”
Willow frowned. “No, I don’t,” she said.
“Yes you do, whether you want to admit it or not.”
“There’s nothing to admit.”
“Willow, look at yourself in the mirror.”
She faced him with hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean? I’m too small to take care of myself?”
You’re starting to piss me off.
Daisy’s tail flipped with alarm. Buttercup and Tulip stopped grazing and looked up.
“No, I’m saying … look, men tend to want to protect women. It’s in our genes, and it’s a stronger tendency when the woman seems … vulnerable.”
“So now I’m small and vulnerable?”
“Yes. No. I mean you look vulnerable.” Willow turned her back and stalked off, arms crossed over her chest. Noah followed her. “And if the woman is beautiful, the desire is even stronger.”
That didn’t come out right.
“Willow, did it ever occur to you Louie cares about you? That’s a good reason to want to protect you.”
Willow faced him again. “Why does everyone always want to save me?” she shouted. “And why are you defending Louie?”
“Because I care about you, too!” Noah yelled.
“I can take care of myself,” she bellowed. “I can disappear.” And she did. Her sweatshirt appeared out of nowhere, flew through the air, and smacked Noah in the face. The zipper hit his mouth.
With a buzz, Willow appeared about ten feet off the ground in front of him. “I can fly!” she shouted and proceeded to execute rapid dragonfly maneuvers in and out of the trees. She swooped low, grabbed a heavy branch and broke it into two pieces with ease. “And I’m strong!” She hovered fifty feet away glaring at him, challenging him to respond.
Noah’s lip stung and he was in no mood to argue with a flippant fairy. “If you weren’t so arrogant maybe you could accept a little help.”
The brunt of fairy rage hit him as Daisy flipped her tail up and ran for safety, followed by the other deer. Willow’s face turned dark red. She screamed at him, not words, but pure emotion. A deafening buzz filled the air and she zoomed straight toward him, dropping to chest level. She stopped before striking him, but the psychological impact and the air blast were enough to knock Noah on his back. He lay in the brush with a furious fairy floating above him, and though surprised, he wasn’t happy about it.
“Gee. Was that fairy fury?”
Willow’s face went cold.
“I don’t need your help,” she said, and then blasted away to the south.
Noah sat up to watch where she went. As soon as she left, his anger subsided.
That went well. We’ve got to use that blocking thing or we’re going to kill each other.
He stood and brushed himself off, picked up Willow’s jacket, and walked south.
It took a few minutes to locate Willow. She had veered off the path and sat hunched over on a fallen tree, her wings still twitching slightly. He walked up behind her, making sure he made plenty of noise. She pretended not to hear.
“Little fair-ee?” Noah sang. “Where are you?” He stepped in front of her where she couldn’t ignore him. “Now I know why fairies live alone.” Willow glared at him. The feelings she projected were confused, but not hostile now. Maybe he could fix the mess he had made. No, they had made. “I also understand why you’re called a dragon. I was sure you were going to breathe fire for a second there.”
Willow offered a begrudging smile.
“I’m sorry I made you angry,” Noah said.
Willow waited before speaking. “You never make excuses when you apologize, do you?” she asked.
“No, I don’t. An apology with a but is insincere.”
“I thought you liked butts, the way you’re always looking at mine.”
Noah felt his ears turn red. “Everyone likes a good fairy tail,” he said.
Willow grinned. “Cute. Hate to burst your bubble but that’s a very old fairy joke. I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have blown up. Did I hurt you?”
“Just my pride. First time I was ever strafed by a ninety-five pound fairy. You could stop a pro football player in his tracks. Willow, what happened? One minute we were discussing protecting the deer and the next I was flat on my back.”
Willow shrugged but said nothing.
“That’s it?” he asked. “A shrug?”
“What do you want me to say?” Willow snapped. “I thought we didn’t make excuses. Besides, I don’t need an excuse. You kept poking and prodding, of course I got angry.”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Yes, you did. Every time I told you how I felt you picked it apart.”