Nick of Time

by Julianne Q Johnson

  The small cemetery is as otherworldly as it had been the day before. I hadn't thought about pictures during our first visit, but I wanted to take some of the family plots for my Gran. Her mother and father are buried in the States, but her grandparents are here, as well as a handful of aunts and uncles.

  On the way back to the house, we hear a racket ahead of us. Something seems to be crying, or bleating, or…I really don't know how to describe this particular noise. Around the next bend in the lane, we discover the owner of the mysterious noise. It's not mooing, though it is a calf. Bawling, that's what it's doing.

  I suppose if I had my head caught in the metal bars of a gate, I might do some bawling as well.

  It's one of the Oreo cows we passed before and it is good and stuck. I look around, but I don't see a farmhouse or a barn anywhere near.

  "The poor thing. Do you think we can get it loose?" Daphne is petting the calf's head and it's licking her hands like a dog.

  "We can try. If we can't, I imagine my cousins will know whose farm this is."

  It takes longer than I thought to release the calf, and he immediately goes trotting off to where the rest of the herd is placidly munching grass.

  "I'm saving damned cows now." I don't know why, but the idea really depresses me. Not that I mind saving the little guy.

  "Hopefully the lady will be able to help us."

  "I hope so."

  Back at the house, it's sandwiches for lunch, and then we climb into Hugh's pickup to drive to Teagan's house. It's damned strange driving on the wrong side of the road, but sitting in the wrong side of the car is much worse. Everything is in the wrong place and it takes me a while to manage to shift properly with my left hand. Luckily for both of us, Teagan O'Meara lives only a few miles away.

  The tiniest woman I've ever seen in my life opens the door. Teagan has long gray hair she wears in a braid wrapped several times around her head. Bright green eyes shine out of a heavily wrinkled face. The old girl looks thin and frail, but she ushers us into the kitchen and sets about making a pot of tea with a lively enthusiasm which belies her one hundred and twelve years.

  "Now then, Young Hugh said you were after tales of the fair folk around Tullaroan. I must say I'm not surprised."

  "Why is that, ma'am?" I accept a strong cup of tea and spoon a bit of sugar into it.

  Teagan fetches a plate of cookies before she sits back down at the table and studies me for a moment. "You've been touched by the fairy folk, that you have. I can see it plain as day. If you're wanting to hear of them, I'm guessing they've caused you a wee spot of trouble."

  "Yes, they have." Daphne wastes no time asking how Teagan knows this, she jumps right into the conversation. "Nick's grandmother said Ronan Brennon owed a debt to the fair folk, and Nick has to pay it. It's made his life very hard."

  "They are a hard people, the fair folk." Teagan dunked a cookie in her tea and chewed thoughtfully. "They are named after their appearance, for they are lovely to behold, but they are capricious and taciturn by nature. They be not fair-minded folk at all. Now then, how are you to know when the debt is paid? If they laid a debt on you, there should be some sort of sign when it's been settled."

  "I'm to go and ask them to calculate it. It's why Daphne and I have come to Ireland."

  "And have you now?"

  "We tried," Daphne says. "But we're not sure what to do. We went to the hill near where Ronan saw them, and Nick said out loud why he was there, but nothing happened."

  "And did you bring the gifts?" When Daphne and I share a confused look, Teagan continues. "Now, don't be telling me you went to speak to the fair folk and you weren't after bringing them the proper gifts?"

  "I'm afraid not," I admit. "We really don't know what we're doing."

  "That's clear and certain. You've the luck of the Irish the fair folk were after ignoring you instead of causing you more troubles. Now then, over on the sideboard, there's a pen and paper. Will you be fetching it for me, lass?"

  Daphne got the pad and pen and took it upon herself to take a few notes while Teagan spoke.

  "Now then, one never asks the fair folk for anything a'tall without bringing the proper gifts, that's the main thing. You should take them things made locally if it's at all possible. Typical gifts are bread, wine or ale, sweets--oh, they love sweets, that they do."

  "And we take these things with us?" I ask.

  "You do, and lay them out pretty, like it's for a nice picnic. Was there a hill where this happened? The fair folk, they are right fond of hills."

  "Yes," Daphne answers.

  "You make sure you get yourselves right up on the hill then. The fair folk, they expect you to come to them, not the other way 'round. Be careful you don't have anything iron in sight. They can't abide iron. And if you do see them, make certain you keep a right civil tongue in your head, even if they do not. They can get up to all sorts of mischief if they think you are being rude."

  "Anything else we need to know?" I snatch the last cookie before Daphne does and don't feel bad about it in the least. She'd already had four. In her defense, they were very good cookies.

  "Well now, even if they judge the debt paid, they might be after asking you for some sort of boon."

  "A boon? What kind of boon?"

  "Could be anything, it could. A gift, a task, a game…they love chess."

  "What if I lose? I'm not very good at chess. Daphne, do you play?"

  "I'm afraid not."

  "The boon would be the playing. The fair folk won't be minding if you lose, in fact, they expect you to. So it might be for the best if you don't play well."

  I am struck by the pure ridiculousness of worrying about playing chess with fairies. Or elves, or whatever the fair folk are.

  We stay and chat with Teagan for another half hour. She seems so happy to have company Daphne and I linger longer than we planned. Eventually, we take our leave.

  I'd like to drive straight to the hill and be done with this, but our visit with Teagan has used up the afternoon and we are expected back at my cousin's house for dinner. Besides, we don't have the proper gifts to take to the hill. If these beings exist, I don't want to piss them off any more than I already have by stumbling around without knowing what I am doing.

  Dinner with my cousins is delicious as usual. Robert made steaks on the grill and Molly made the side dishes. Bubble and squeak is a treat I haven't had in years, and Molly makes the fried patties out of the vegetables left over from our roast of the other night. As always, there are loaves of fresh soda bread, and I eat more than my fair share. I'm seriously considering getting myself a bread machine when I get back home.

  "We were thinking of taking a picnic out to the old farmstead tomorrow," Daphne says conversationally.

  "Oh, that's a fine idea." Molly gestures toward the kitchen with her fork. "I'll help you pack a hamper in the morning. We've got plenty of bread and cheese, and there are some cold cuts left. It should be a right fine day for an outing."

  I am a bit in awe of Daphne. We need an offering for the fair folk, and here she is arranging in a way which doesn't make us seem like crazy people.

  "That would be lovely. Thank you, Molly."

  "No trouble at all. Happy to do it."

  "If you're after borrowing my truck again," Hugh breaks in, "you're welcome to it. I haven't any need of it tomorrow."

  "Thank you, Hugh," I say. "If I get a little more practice, I might get used to shifting gears with my left hand."

  For some reason, this strikes my young cousins as hilarious and their laughter echoes in my mind as Daphne and I go to sleep. Big day tomorrow. I don't know which I want most, something to happen, or all of this fair folk crap to end up being nonsense. If this crazy life of mine is due to a debt, I'd love to have it done and over with. However, everything I've heard about the fair folk makes me think they are closer kin to horror movie monsters than to cute little Tinker Bell.

  Twenty-Three

  Molly was absolutely correct. Ou
r fair weather continued and the day was bright and clear. The new workweek had begun and Robert left early in the morning to make the commute to Kilkenny. The kids remained on spring break from school, though Molly reminded them to make the best of it as school would start again soon. Taking her advice to heart, they had all run off into the sunshine long before Daphne and I were ready to head to the old farmstead.

  Since our cover was a picnic, we didn't think it smart to leave too early. At ten o'clock, we stuck our heads into the room Molly used for an office and took our leave. Hamper in hand, and the keys to Hugh's truck in my pocket, we headed out. Hugh waved to us from where he sat on a short wooden stool in the vegetable garden. He was picking green beans for dinner. I was looking forward to it. I don't know I've ever eaten a vegetable so fresh it had still been attached to the plant earlier in the day.

  If I live through the day, I'm certain the beans will be delicious.

  We've got a stop to make before we head to meet the fae. While we have a hamper full of enough tasty tidbits to feed an army, neither Daphne nor I feel comfortable asking my cousins for alcohol for a weekday picnic. I don't know, maybe it wouldn't have seemed weird if we'd asked, but I felt more comfortable buying it ourselves. Besides, there was something else I wanted to buy as a gift to the fair folk. Something that was a tradition from my own country.

  There's a small grocery in the tiny main drag which constitutes Tullaroan proper. I have no idea what sort of liquor laws they have in Ireland. I don't know if they'll have anything here or if I'll have to go to Ireland's equivalent of a state liquor store.

  Daphne stays in the truck with the hamper while I head inside. The first thing I see in the small but neat shop is a sign near the checkout counter informing me no one under the age of 18 is allowed to buy alcohol. Good. That must mean they have some. Near the back of the store, I see shelves full of bottles and I head down an aisle in that direction.

  Something is wrong. There's a young man walking toward me but he seems to me moving in slow motion. Around me, the sounds of the world take on the telltale hollow quality. Something bad is about to happen, and I have no idea what.

  A small flash of light near the ceiling draws my attention up. An old light fixture, small bulbs in what looks like a ring made of heavy metal, and it's hanging from two of the three chains meant to hold it to the ceiling. As I watch, a second chain snaps in slow motion and the fixture begins to swing on its remaining chain. The young man is about to step directly underneath it.

  Springing forward, I grab the front of the man's plaid shirt and tug him roughly forward until we are both out of harm's way. The man doesn't look happy about this course of action and tries to back away from me, but I refuse to loosen my grip.

  The timing of the world returns to normal and just as my unhappy Irishman seems ready to shove me good and proper, a crash of sound causes him to spin on his heel instead. The sight of the lighting fixture crumpled on the ground changes his outlook immediately.

  "Hey, sorry mate. Thought you were acting the maggot. Fair play to you though."

  With this short and nearly incomprehensible speech, the young man shakes my hand warmly and then takes his leave. One of the two shopkeepers came to study the fallen fixture as I detoured around it to get to the rear of the shop. I grabbed the first four-pack of ale I found and reversed course to the checkout counter.

  In the glass case which doubled as a counter, I saw exactly what I wanted to complete my gift for the fair folk. The shopkeeper rung me up while thanking me for helping the young man avoid the falling light fixture, and I was back outside.

  The drive to the farmstead was both too short and too long. I wished it would never end equally as much as I wished it was already over. The idyllic green pastures with their sheep and their stone or hedge fences did nothing to calm me. I could find none of the joy I had when I first came to this beautiful countryside. Our first day here, the Sidhe felt like a fairy tale, silly and unreal. Now, even though I have yet to see neither hide nor hair of one of the fair folk, it seems far too real.

  I park Hugh's truck on the same bit of rutted driveway Hugh used the day before. For a long moment, Daphne and I stand side-by-side, staring at an old tree with a forgotten swing swaying slightly in the gentle breeze.

  "Let's do this." Daphne sounds much more confident than I feel.

  She's right, though. I might feel trepidatious, but I want this over every bit as much as she does. I grab the hamper and she carries the paper bag from the store as we climb the stiles and make our way to the hill.

  This time, we climb up the hill until we near the top before we set up the picnic. On a spread linen napkin, we set out bread, cheese, and some cookies Molly baked this morning. Opening the bag, I add the four bottles of Harp and my secret purchase.

  "Cigars?" Daphne looks at me like I've lost my mind.

  "Yeah, cigars. Hey, my family may have come from Ireland, but I'm one hundred percent American. Tobacco is a common gift to gods and spirits for most Native American tribes. It seemed fitting, so I picked a couple up at the shop."

  "I guess it is fitting, I just never would have thought of it."

  "What now? I say why I'm here again?"

  "I think you should."

  I take a moment to gather my thoughts. "Fair folk, I ask for your attention. My great-grandfather Ronan Brennon owed you a debt and I have been paying it. I am here to have my work evaluated and to find out if the debt has been paid."

  I give Daphne a questioning look.

  "I think that covers it," she whispers.

  I stand there for a while but when nothing happens, I sit on the grass near the picnic and Daphne sits down beside me. Nothing. I've come all this way and gone to all of this trouble for nothing. I'll be saving people and dogs and cows every single day of my life for the rest of my life. This curse or debt or whatever it is will wear me out and wear me down until I end up dead or in a psych ward somewhere. Who am I kidding? Even if I'm stuck in a psych ward, I expect the powers that be will find some way to make me keep on working until the day I die.

  The very thought of doing this crap for the rest of my life is exhausting. I lay back in the grass with an arm behind my head and stare at the blue sky. Daphne cuddles up next to me with her head on my shoulder and I close my eyes. The sun is warm, the birds are singing, and in the distance, I hear sheep bleating. Before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

  The ground has gone hard and cool and I no longer see the warmth of the sun from behind my eyelids or feel the weight of Daphne's head on my shoulder. How long was I asleep? I sit up and open my eyes at the same time. For a moment, I think I'm still asleep and dreaming. Maybe I am.

  I sit in a large room with a high and domed ceiling. The room's walls flicker in the light of uncountable glowing balls looking a bit like Chinese lanterns. There are many tapestries on the walls depicting a variety of fantastical beasts. I recognize some of them, like the unicorn and the griffin, but others are dark and strange. One has a group of little men with red hats and sharp teeth. Blood drips from their long knives and axes. Another has the creepiest horse I've ever seen rising up out of a small lake.

  My eyes drift downward and I see I am surrounded by tall figures with long red hair and glowing blue eyes. I'm not certain how to describe what these beings were wearing. I can see sleeves, but their torsos and upper legs are covered in drapes of fabric woven so fine it drifts about them slightly, as if they were standing underwater. They are human in shape, though they are roughly eight feet tall and willowy thin; no one would mistake these people for human beings.

  They do not look particularly angry but they are also obviously not pleased to see me.

  "Why do we entertain this mortal?" A Sidhe with a fine gold chain wound many times over his pointed ears and around his neck looks at me with an expression of fierce disdain. "It has the manners of a pig."

  I realize belatedly that while these tall folk are standing around me, I remain sprawled on the floor. Hasti
ly, I scramble to my feet and give the Sidhe a nod and an awkward wave.

  "How do you do?" I manage, sounding more like my grandmother greeting people at church than myself.

  Gold Chain snorts and turns his back on me.

  "I say hear him out." A female Sidhe with heather tattooed across one side of her face gestures towards me with one long-fingered hand. "He brought us proper gifts this time, though I do not understand why he brought us shinante."

  I see her other hand holds one of the cigars I bought at the shop.

  "If it pleases you, my lady," I say, doing my best to at least have better manners than a pig, "I live in America and the native peoples there believe it extremely important to give gods and spirits a gift of tobacco. Tobacco is a sacred plant to the native peoples of my land."

  "You see? Its manners are improving. Perhaps the poor thing is frightened." Heather Faced Lady says, which make the Sidhe around her laugh.

  The laughter frightens me more than anything I've experienced so far. There's music there, like bells, but darker somehow. Imagine bells being rung by hitting them with bloody daggers or sharp fangs and it might explain what I was hearing when these fair folk laughed.

  With a wave of her hand, Heather Faced Lady lit the cigar and took several huge puffs. The smoke rose and circled her head like a fat gray wreath. Another puff and she began blowing smoke rings. Each came out a different color and drifted up to hover over her head. She now wore a rainbow of smoke rings like a tall and poofy hat.

  "It's a quite nice shinante," she decides and then passes it to a Sidhe wearing a bright blue vest sort of thing.

  He puffs on it thoughtfully while he stares at me with narrowed eyes. It's then I notice most of the Sidhe around me have long curved blades hanging from sashes they wear around their waists.

  I decide it is perhaps best to wait until I'm spoken to before I talk again. I understand why Teagan and my grandmother both cautioned me to stay away from the fair folk. I feel as if I am some sort of bug and the beings around me are trying to decide if I should be left alone or stepped on.