We hadn’t found out much and I tried to keep a positive attitude but with each dead end my heart got heavier. Just as we were calling it a day we caught a break. I wanted the kiss the couple who told us about the woman who lived on the edge of town. I’d begged Mom to go to the woman’s house but she insisted that we wait. It was too late in the day.
We went to the hotel restaurant, where I tried to ask my mom more about our families but she didn’t want to discuss it out in the open. She promised to pick up the story when we were back in our room. After that we didn’t speak much after being seated while we looked over the menu or after we ordered. I would have wondered what she was thinking about but I knew it was probably the same thing I was thinking about. Family… hers and mine.
I’d gone to bed last night thinking of the little girls. I’d actually tried to have a dream or vision about them, my sisters. I tried to conjure up a different image of the six little girls so that I could see their faces more clearly. I’d also tried to picture my mother, but a face to the voice I’d heard singing. Nothing.
I watched the waiter as he placed our plates in front of us and the extra long look he gave my mother as he straightened and offered us freshly ground pepper for our food. My mother offered a polite enough smile but conveyed loud and clear she was not interested. My mother never dated and the reason why lay in the pit of my stomach and I focused on my food to stop the saltiness in the back of my throat from becoming tears.
My food could have been dirt for all the enjoyment I got out of it, what little I did eat. Mostly I pushed the mushroom ravioli around on my plate and rearranged the lettuce of my salad. My stomach was doing dangerous things as I looked forward to meeting the woman the couple back in the diner suggested we visit. I don’t know what kind of information I thought she’d have but I was ready to get any I could that would point us in the right direction to find my sisters or parents. I wondered what they were doing. Did they know about me? Were they wondering what I was doing? Did they know about our place in the world? When my mom asked for the check I just barely held in the sigh of relief.
“You said that my mother kept you strong all these years?” I asked.
We had just walked in the room. The door wasn’t even shut, before I turned to my mom and started in with the questions. She locked the door, threw her purse on the desk and sat down on her bed. I sat on the opposite bed folding my legs under me after kicking off my shoes.
“Yes, she was very brave to have done what she did.”
“Tell me exactly what happened. I want to know everything,” I drilled her.
“Okay,” she said, pulling off her shoes and getting comfortable as well. “There was a time when I was the official keeper of our people’s history. Our stories say we are the oldest in existence. My mother had me late in life and she and my father feared there would be no boy born to them. It was custom for the histories to be passed from father to son. I was fifteen when my brother was born.”
I looked at my mother with wide eyes. It was the first time I had heard this brother. My whole life it had only been the two of us. Us against the world, that’s how I saw us.
“It was on my nineteenth birthday that your mother came to us asking for help. My parents agreed without hesitation. By the end of the night there was a new guardian for each set of twins but none for you. So it was decided that my mother would take you.”
“What?” My mom held out her hand to stop me.
“My brother, Thomas, was not taking the news of our mother leaving very well. He was, after all, still a child, and wanted and needed his mother. My parents knew how important it was to keep you safe and my mother was fully prepared to leave her children, even with her youngest heartbroken and distraught.
“It was not until the other children had been given to their new guardian that your mother turned to me. With the sound of my brother’s cries and the quiet comforting of the women trying to calm him and the tense uneasiness of the men weighing down the room she asked me. You were the youngest and would have no memories of her. You would never know her face if she couldn’t get back to you. We stood there facing each other, the eyes of the room on us. I was not a full day into my nineteenth year, being asked by the mother of our Queen to take and keep you safe.”
I closed my eyes in an attempt keep the tears at bay. I found comfort in the memory of the night my mother spoke of. The house was dark, some of it was because it was dark outside although it was daytime the rest was the dark interior of the house and its furnishing; deep brown leather sofas and chairs, dark hardwood floors, bronze colored lamps with burgundy and emerald shades.
A storm had turned the day dark grey and the sound of rain competes with the cries of a boy saddened by the news of his departing mother. I stand in a corner, away from the action of the room, next to a fireplace. There is a large group of people in the center of the room. I see two double strollers and a set of twins that are standing with an old couple. My birth mother and father’s backs face me in the middle of a circle formed by the new guardians. To the right of the circle are Thomas and his parents. His mother holds him in her arms, his head is on her shoulder and his father runs a comforting hand up and down his back. He is loved and he loves his mother. My breath catches in my throat as the first tear frees itself and runs down my cheek.
I see my nineteen year old mother; standing alone in the doorway of the room. If she’s concerned about what is going on with her brother she doesn’t show it. She is the regal presence that I have known and loved my entire life. The picture is fine but there’s no sound. I see the circle part and my birth mother walk forward.
“I had no children of my own, but I loved my mother fiercely. I could only imagine what your mother was going through. Your mother kissed you and then your sisters and walked away from her children.”
“I’m so sorry,” I said. Each word catching as the tears gathered strength.
I heard my mother get up from her bed and seconds later I was pulled into a tight hug. “There’s no reason for sorrow. It has been my great honor to watch over you.” She wiped the tears from my cheeks and kissed them both. “Now is not the time for tears. It’s a time for bravery. You are the Queen. You are stronger than these tears you cry now. Do you understand?”
I straightened. The words seemed harsh but were true. I had been raised by a strong woman, to be a strong woman. My mother was not being unkind or uncaring; she was simply preparing me for what was yet to come.
We made it to our first and hopefully last stop of the day. The house had been white but now was a sun bleached grey. The paint was peeling badly and the yard needed mowing. The roof and porch sagged and both looked more than a little dangerous. The screen door hung from its hinges and the screen was torn in several places. There were green or black shutters closed on the second floor windows. The ones of the first floor were as shabby as the rest of the house; some were missing slats, while others hung at angles. One or two even lay in the grass beneath the windows they’d fallen from. The house appeared empty or abandoned. Either way, it was ready to be demolished. As impossible as it seemed, if the information given to us yesterday was accurate, someone lived here.
I got out the car first and look over at my mother, who was staring down the street. I turned, looking in the same direction but only noticed a few parked cars. One had a young man in it that was looking down; probably adjusting the radio before pulling into traffic. The feeling that I’d had since meeting the two guys at the gas station was stronger momentarily, but I figured it’s because the guy in the car was the same age. Or I guessed that he was from what I could see of him; which was the top of his head. The car looked strangely familiar, it was a Honda. I dismissed the feeling. Wasn’t it like a billion of those around?
Mom walked around the car, headed up the sidewalk that had weeds coming from ever crack. I followed behind, doubting anyone would live in the condemned looking house. The house became ominous the closer I got to it. By the time
I was half way up the walk I was fully prepared for a hand to shoot out of the knee length grass and grab my ankle. I was glad I had on jeans but cursed the bright yellow flip flops I’d worn, they didn’t offer enough protection for my feet; from the feel of decayed flesh on said pretend arm shooting out of the grass or if I should have to run. I looked at my mother’s back to stop the images of raising zombies. Mom waited for me to catch up before knocking on the door. I had to skip the first step because the board was missing. To our surprise the door was opened.
The woman who answered the door back was slighter bowed with age but she still managed to look graceful. Her white hair was in an intricate updo that I couldn’t see the bent fingers of her arthritic hands having the dexterity of doing. The bright yellow dress she wore, was fifties house-wife retro that stopped just past her knees. She wore a pair of white ballerina flats and topped off her outfit with simple gold jewelry. She so did not match her house.
“Oh, hello, I’m Ruth Freeland and this is my daughter Wila.”
The old woman looked at my mom with a pleasant enough expression. Her polite smile was one that I was sure she reserved for just the occasion; two strangers knocking on her door first thing in the morning, selling magazine subscriptions or the latest greatest vacuum cleaner.
“How can I help you?”
“Well my daughter and I are looking for our family. We lived here about sixteen years ago. I left unexpectedly and lost touch and now we’re trying to reconnect. A nice couple told us you might remember them or someone that would.”
The woman opened the door wider to let us in her home. The inside of the house was nothing like the outside. Neat and immaculately furnished, I tried not to be offensive in my gawking as we stood in the large foyer waiting for the woman to lead the way. The wallpaper was fabric, probably original to the house and silk. The floors were blond hardwood and waxed to shiny perfection. There was a staircase to the right of the door that started just past a set of closed. In the middle of the foyer was a large round table that had a huge fresh flower arrangement on it. The woman went through a set of opened pocket doors on the right and pointed to a small overstuffed beige couch.
“Would you like something to drink, coffee or tea?” The woman offered.
“Yes please,” my mom answered for the both of us.
I’m not sure if I could have said a word. I was still trying to figure out why she would let the outside of her house fall into such disrepair while the inside looked like a palace. Maybe she was widowed and didn’t want anyone to know what nice things she had. Maybe she was the town’s proverbial crazy lady. I immediately start looking for a bunch of cats.
“Well, which is it dear, coffee or tea?” She said, ignoring my continued impolite inventory of her home.
“Coffee,” I said.
“Tea,” my mom said at the same time.
“Coffee and tea.” She left the room through a pair of saloon type doors in the back of the room.
I walked around the room eventually finding myself at a pair of matching chairs on either side of a window that looked out into the front yard. I was dumbfounded when my eyes registered what was on the other side of the lace curtains. The window should have looked out into the yard that I’d just walked through to get to the house. The yard outside the window was just as immaculate as the inside of the house. The grass was a beautiful deep green and there were several flowerbeds that were well cared for. In my mind’s eye I could almost see the old woman pruning back weeds and planting new tulips. Our jeep sat at the curb; confirmation that I was indeed looking at what should have been a weed choked yard. I went back to the couch and was just sitting down when our host came back. The silver coffee and tea service she sat down on the low table that separated us matched the rest of the décor. The tiny fine china looked paper thin and the thought of handling something so delicate added to the nervousness I already had.
“Freeland, you say?” She poured coffee into a cup and handed it to me. I sat back and focused entirely on not damaging the heirloom cup and saucer.
“Yes, I think I do remember some Freeland’s living around here, they’re long gone now of course.”
“Of course,” my mom said, holding her own cup, but not drinking from it.
I’m looked at the women over the rim of my cup wondering what was going on. There was definitely a weird feeling in the air and Mom was eyeing the pleasant older lady suspiciously.
“Relax young Ruth. I would never harm the Queen Mother or her guardian.”
I almost spit my coffee out.
“You know who we are?” I sat the china down, not trusting myself to hold it.
“Of course I know who you are. I knew as soon as I opened the door. I also recognized Ruth. She’s grown into quite a beautiful woman.”
Forgetting all manners, I cut in, “Well why didn’t you say that from the beginning?”
She did two things at once. She shrugged her shoulders and then she changed. That’s the best way I can put it. Before, sat a lovely old woman of about eighty or so, then between sips of her tea she’d turned into a woman slightly younger than my mother. I don’t think I even blinked. I was glad I was no longer holding the china.
Not at all stunned at the sudden transformation of the nice old lady, my mother joined the conversation. “Emily, you haven’t changed a bit.”
I didn’t even attempt to figure out how they knew each other. “Someone please explain to me what is going on.” I said looking between the two women.
“I’m a guardian, same as Ruth,” She said and then winked at me.
“I don’t’ understand. You’ve been here the whole time?”
“No of course not,” Emily said.
My mouth was already open with another question. “Give her a chance to explain Wila,” my mother cut in. I sat back in the comfortable plush loveseat and let Emily tell me the part she played in the life of my family.
“My mate, Fredrick, and I were given the middle twins Amara and Sveva. We are of the Summer Court,” Emily said, the sweet smiled offered was one that I couldn’t help but return.
“Fae have remained hidden from human since the creation but the Guardian Mothers bind us all. When word was passed that they were in need of aid, Summer’s queen bestowed upon us the honor of guardians. We were sworn to secrecy before we were taken to the home of this village’s elders and given the very ones that were to watch over the fairy courts.
“Fae are older than humans and almost immortal. The Summer and Winter Queens are oldest among our kind. Your tribe is the oldest in human existence but the world had moved on. Your mother grew up knowing the story of the Mothers, not many remembered. Your memories are as short as your lives.”
I felt like I should apologize for mankind. I was glad when Emily continued with the story.
“We were to raise the twins as our own until they reached the age of ten. Then they would live with our queen. When Amara and Sveva turned eight we learned a truth that made us leave the realm of fairy. The two courts are always on the brink of war and the only thing that brought the queens together were the birth of the twins meant to rule over them and their decision to stop them. Fredrick overheard a conversation between two guards and we left that very night. We decided to live in earth’s realm, as it would be harder to find us.”
As I sat in stunned silence Emily turned to my mom. I’d told myself after last night I wouldn’t cry. I was made of stronger stuff but the look on the fairy’s face told me that I may have to eat my words.
“I think of that night often and how brave you were, still a child yourself with no husband or mate to help you. The birth mother saw something in you and trusted you with our most precious gift. I remember you cried when she touched you and how my heart broke for you both. Thank you Ruth.” Emily words were filled with awe and reverence and when she finished she bowed her head in respect to my mother.
I loved her even more. The sacrifice that I thought I knew p
aled in comparison of what I’d learned from the fairy. My mother was alone. Each of my sisters had been given to a couple and I was given to a lone girl, who had grown into a woman that never dated or married or showed any interested at all in anything or anyone except me and my well-being. She had never been touched in love by a man or loved one in return. She had given up her life for me. The lump in my throat stopped me from speaking and I was glad when mom asked the question I was unable to.
“There is a twin here now?”
“Amara.”
I stood up as Amara came from the back entrance that old Emily had gone through to get the coffee and tea. I had not remembered her just two days ago and the only memory I had was that of a baby.
She was dressed in a long cream dress with a round neck with a length of gold chain around her waist. There was a band of gold around her forehead that disappeared in her shoulder length hair that was the same color and texture as mine. We stood for long moments, each drinking in the sight of the other and both ran to the other at the same time. Amara threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. Our two guardians stood side by side. Emily cried—my mother—true to form, did not.
“Do you know where our parents are?” I asked. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Amara. I kept looking at her to make sure she was real.
“I’m afraid not. I came back, not really expecting to find them but disappointed when they were not here.”
“I’m sorry that you had to leave your home and your husband.”
“Fredrick and I will see each other again. We’ve been together four hundred years. What’s a decade or two when you have eternity?”
I watched Emily speak the words but my heart still went out to her. She had been with her true love for four hundred years and had to leave him to keep my sister safe. Her sacrifice, like my mother’s, had been great.
“So who’s the angel?” Amara asked.
Chapter 5 Revelations
Found Page 6