by M. E. Eadie
***
The Farmer’s Market happened twice a week, and each time, in eager anticipation, Ofelia was there before it opened. She explained to them, that during her circus days she had learned to get up before the sun, and by now it was a well-worn habit she had no intention of giving up. Their eyes were still blurry with sleep and their breath hovered in front of their faces as they made their way outside. The days were getting shorter and colder. The leaves on the trees were turning from their usual gentle verdant colors to the autumnal glory of yellows and reds. They watched as the little tributary moved sluggishly out to join the greater river. Even though the chill of the early morning dampened their clothes, it did not dampen the relief they felt at being out of Horwood House and away from their aunt.
Grizzelda had become even bitterer, turning inward, curling up protectively, shunning everyone and everything. At first, her silence was a blessing, but then it began to weigh heavyly on them, heavier than any shrewish behavior she could have inflicted. She shuffled about the house, the only thing to announce her presence, a sense of deep, dark despair that surrounded her and led the way through her misery, a great black cloud that kept everyone at a distance, buffering her from all outside influence.
When Marcus first disappeared, the police had come asking questions, and, although baffled, seemed satisfied with the dull, muffled answers that she had given them. She had then taken to her room, bolting the door, ignoring all inquiries, even from Ofelia. Now and then, they would stumble on her standing in front of one of the many paintings that now populated the house, tears running down her cheeks, silently pleading. The oppressive mood steeped the entire house in misery, and Colin was beginning to think that he preferred being scolded. Even her clothes were devoid of the usual stars that ornately decorated them.
At night it was even worse. Locked in her room she would wail and plead, as though she was trying to convince someone about something. From her increasingly disheveled look, she wasn’t having much success. Spike, even with his amazing hearing, couldn’t make out what was being said. It was as though a different language was being used. Another oddity was that he could hear the muffled, deep voice of another person.
Colin, Spike and Melissa waited for Ofelia, seated on the slope of the railway bed. Rhea, they noticed was with her Grandma at her stall. The vendors in the farmer’s market were just starting to open for business.
Melissa reached for her note pad, scribbled something, and handed it to Spike.
A surprising thing had begun to happen to Melissa. It seemed the more time she spent with Ofelia, the more open she was becoming. She was less passive, more likely to initiate communication, and she was much happier. Ofelia’s mothering was making Melissa blossom.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” answered Spike plaintively. “What do you think she did, have Marcus stuffed and placed in her room?”
Irritated with him, Melissa blew air out of her nose and scribbled furiously on the notepad. In a huff, she got to her feet, ripped off the page and thrust it at her brother, then stalked away to find Ofelia.
Spike appraised this note: “Maybe, but what I do know is that people just don’t vanish without leaving some idea of where they’ve gone.”
“She’s right you know,” said Colin moving a piece of slag about with a stick, “Marcus didn’t just vanish without a trace.”
“Not you too!” groaned Spike, then his face contorted in obvious agony. “Well, what about my parents? Huh? They disappeared without a trace!” He rose to his feet and took off in the other direction toward the marina, running, then walking, then running again, hurling stones he’d filled his pocket with from the railway bed.
Colin breathed out heavily, trying to release the feelings of exasperation and frustration that were clawing at him -- that were clawing at them all. Grizzelda was going to drive all of them crazy if the situation didn’t change soon. He fumbled in his coat pocket checking for the phoenix tear pendant, hoping Rhea had gotten the message he had sent with Ophelia. He watched as a seagull perched on the top of a lamppost waited for a morsel of food to drop to the ground among the tables in the market. As soon as it happened the seagull took to the air, and within a minute a flock of mewing birds was winging ever-narrowing circles around the market. Colin shivered thinking about the Nixes he’d encountered Inbetween.
“This better be good!” said Rhea, with a glint of humor in her eye, as she strode up the path from the farmer’s market towards him. Her orange-red hair caught the light of the morning making it glow.
He stood up and dusted off his pants. “Oh, it is.”
“Good,” smiled Rhea. You better come with me, I need to help Grandma at the market. Come on,” she said turning to lead the way back to the market. “Even though she doesn’t need the money, she loves to come here. She says it keeps her in touch with the way things were back home.”
Colin wondered where ‘back home’ was and felt a pang of longing in his chest, and wondered what a real home felt like. Pansy Patch was all he’d ever known as a home, but there had always been the feeling, without knowing his parents, that things were not complete. He caught up to Rhea and they walked down between the vehicles parked around the periphery, and made their way to the tables set up in a rectangular circuit.
This being autumn, an abundance of richly-colored vegetables were on display: the reds of the peppers, tomatoes, and beets; the oranges of the carrots and pumpkins; the yellows of the squashes and the different corn varieties, along with the expected plethora of greens of cabbages, cucumbers, zucchinis, broccoli, brussel sprouts, and lettuce. But it was the tantalizing baked goods that made Colin’s mouth water, the rumbling of his stomach reminding him that he hadn’t yet had breakfast.
They strolled by one table where a woman, wearing a long black dress and a white lace bonnet (she had a black coat pulled over her shoulders like a shawl) sat passively, her hands folded in her lap. He was immediately reminded of Mrs. Bone. Another woman in identical clothes was unloading more of their produce from a black van that provided the backdrop for their table. He caught her eyes widening as she momentarily regarded him. She was surprised by the brilliant colors of Colin’s coat, just as surprised as he was by the lack of color in her clothing. Maybe ‘surprised’ wasn’t exactly the word that expressed what he was feeling; maybe ‘interested’ was the better word. He was always interested in things and people that were different. And speaking of different…
Rhea’s Grandma sat behind her table, which was piled high with several varieties of cabbage, lettuce, and radish he had never seen. The radishes looked particularly funny, being club sized. Rhea went behind the table and leaned over giving the ancient round-faced woman, who had been napping, a kiss on the cheek. A smile spread across the old woman’s face and her eyes flashed open.
“You thought I was sleeping, eh? Thought you could slip away, but I know where you go! Who we have here?” Her eyes fell on Colin and he felt as if they were boring into his brain. The intense scrutiny made him feel as if he were being lifted up by the scruff of the neck and hung on a great, invisible scale that weighed his worth. It was disconcertingly familiar, as when the Phoenix had examined him.
“Grandma, this is Colin…I’m sorry, Colin, but I don’t know your last name.”
Colin tried to remove his eyes from the gaze of Rhea’s Grandma, but couldn’t. Struggle as he might, he could not move. “I don’t have one,” he offered weakly.
The old woman’s eyes widened. “You don’t have one!” she exclaimed standing up. “What type of boy are you? Not having last name. Everyone has last name! Where is your family?” She was an extremely small woman. Even standing up, she only came up to Colin’s shoulder. A little walking stick flickered over the table and tapped him on the pocket. “All right boy-without-last-name, what you have for my granddaughter?”
He sensed no ill will in the little woman’s aggressiveness, and felt that she was jus
t simply treating him the same way she treated everybody else. But how did she know about the necklace?
A customer had just come by and was now waiting to the side, examining some of the vegetables. Colin shivered noticing that the man had an unnatural pallor to his skin, as though he hadn’t seen the sunlight for a very long time. The man poked a finger into a bunch of cilantro, testing it for freshness.
“What you do?” demanded Rhea’s Grandma. “You see it fresh. You no need to poke, poke, poke! You either buy or go away!”
Rhea gave a hand-veiled laugh as the surprised man scrambled away. “Grandma doesn’t sell a lot, unless she likes you, then she forces you to buy almost everything.”
“What you talking about? That nonsense. I sell to those who going to benefit. Now, enough chit-chat, what does boy-with-no-name got in his pocket?”
Colin noticed that Rhea was about to protest, but he just shrugged.
“It’s all right. I never knew my family, so I don’t know what my last name is. I was told by Grandfather…”
“What you mean,” said Rhea’s Grandma, poking with her stick again, “you have no last name, but you have Grandfather? He has your name? What his name?”
Rhea gave Colin a sympathetic look. “You better tell her. She won’t stop until she has a name.”
“Of course I not stop until I have name, disrespectful granddaughter! You should not talk as if I not here.” She tottered about on the spot, completing a full circle. “See, I am here,” and then her eyes bored into Colin’s skull again, “but where were you, young man?”
Colin’s mouth went dry, his tongue sticking to the top of his mouth. She knew! She knew he had been Inbetween! “Thunder,” Colin said, “grandfather’s name is Thunder.”
Instead of bewilderment, Rhea’s Grandma clapped her hands together, obviously pleased. “Thunder, yes, Thunder, is good, strong name. You are Colin Thunder, the dove who will roar.” The cane jabbed out again like the tongue of a snake. “Now, what you have in your pocket? What you have to give to my granddaughter? It better be good!”
Because Rhea’s Grandma would demand it, Colin knew that he had to tell the entire story. When he was done, the old woman nodded sagely, as though none of it surprised her. Rhea was gaping openmouthed. And when he finally pulled the pendant out of his pocket there was a mutual gasp of delight between Rhea and her Grandma. The walking stick slid between his hand and the necklace, and before he could stop it, it slid down the stick and into the old woman’s hand. She held it up, letting the morning light penetrate the black surface and illuminate the shimmering tear within. She cast Colin a look of respect, gave him a grave nod, and handed Rhea the necklace.
With unsuppressed delight she placed it around her neck, her radiant smile and bright red hair adding to the already luminous light from the Phoenix tear. Colin was tempted to squint. It was a joy to see someone happy about something. He thought of Grizzelda, and felt sad for her. True, she wasn’t a nice person at the best of times, but if Grandfather Thunder believed in her, maybe he should too.
“What is glum look, chum?” asked Rhea’s Grandma rather tenderly. This coming from the abrasive woman caught him by surprise.
“My aunt is feeling rather...down lately...” he began, but was grateful to be stopped by the old woman, who placed a withered up root into his hands. “Take this, grind it up, and use a little to make tea. I guarantee she be much happier. Now, you two should take nice, long walk.”
“Grandma!” cried Rhea with embarrassment.
“What? You not think an old woman can handle a few measly vegetables, or crazy mister poke poke? I can handle. Besides, with that hanging from your neck,” she motioned to the necklace, “you not need company of protective, old Grandma. You now have very powerful guardian spirit,” she said, puffing up her chest. “Now, off you go. It was nice to meet you, Colin Thunder.”
When they were far enough away from the market, Colin leaned in and asked: “How did your Grandma know about guardian spirits?”
“I don’t know. She comes from the old country. Maybe they know about them there.”
“Maybe,” said Colin, but he doubted it. “Spike went down this way. Let’s try to find him.”
On the other side of the railway, a parking lot fronted a small marina. Rocks had been piled up to form a breakwater that kept the marina waters calmed and protected against the prevailing wind. At the end of the break wall there was a white cylindrical light beacon, its top painted green. Far across the river, almost indiscernible by the eye was its red-tipped mate. A few masts on the sailboats punctuated the air with odd sounds as the wind whistled through them, their sail cables sounding like discordant wind chimes as they rubbed against the metal masts.
Spike was at the far end of the rocks, next to the light, his head held close to the water, his brow furrowed. He seemed to be listening to something. The waves washed onto the rocks, crest after crest. A few gulls were playing in the buffeting wind. Rhea and Colin crouched down beside Spike.
“You hear something?” asked Colin.
He shook his head disappointedly. “No, nothing. I was hoping I could find that clapping sound we heard when we were cleaning the washrooms. Sorry about that back there, it’s just…”
“Don’t mention it, Grizzleda’s driving us all a bit loony,” commented Colin.
Spike gave Rhea a small smile. “Hi, Rhea, how’s it going?”
“Good. Washrooms?”
“It’s a bit of a long story. We believe there might be Water Nixes, or something down here. We’ve never seen any, but we think we heard them once. Let’s go Spike. We should be getting back. Ofelia and Melissa should be through by now.”
“Have you tried over there?” She pointed to the confluence of the two rivers.
It was a bit more sheltered from the wind there. A half-sunken log poked out of the water; a turtle perched on the tip sunning itself. The wind soughed through a big willow that draped itself over the side of the riverbank, branches reaching down to the water like a curtain. They found seats on some big rounded boulders and listened for the Water Nixes.
“I come here sometimes, when I have things to think about. They say this place used to be the nesting grounds of thousands of swallows, then, one summer they just stopped coming,” explained Rhea. She nodded over at the brown condominiums on the other side of the river. “I think the birds left because the town built that and destroyed their habitat. I call it Swallows’ End.”
Where the sand and water merged, a curious rock caught their eyes. In the center there was a hollow depression--like that of a comfortable seat--and on either side of it were two rock armrests. It looked as though it had just been sat in. It was wet, and dark. “Would you look at that,” said Spike stepping into the mud so that it squished up over his boots. He touched the rock with his fingers. “I wonder if a Water Nix was sitting here and then when we came we scared it away?” His face was bright with animated hope.
Just then, two ducks, eyeing them warily, glided out from behind the rushes along the shore. They sped towards the relative safety of the center of the small river.
“Maybe, they were the ones on the rock,” suggested Rhea.
Spike wasn’t amused. He tried to extract his feet from the mud, but found that they were stuck fast. By twisting his body about, he hoped to create some wiggle room, but it was no use, he was stuck fast.
“Come on, Spike,” called Colin, “quit fooling around.”
“I’m not doing this on purpose,” he said twisting about. “I’m really stuck!” He held out his hand, urgency entering into his movements. “How about giving me a hand?”
“Wait,” said Rhea handing Colin a broken branch. “Try grabbing this.”
Spike held one end, while Colin and Rhea positioned themselves on the other end of the branch. It was no use. No matter how hard they pulled, they couldn’t budge him. With one last momentous ef
fort, Spike pulled too hard, and both Rhea and Colin, fell into the mud on top of him.
The three of them burst into laughter, but then Spike’s face turned white with fright and he gave an abrupt yelp. “Something is in the mud. I felt it slide over my leg!”
Colin shivered, remembering the sensation of having the snakes wiggle up his nose. He, Spike and Rhea had just pulled themselves up and were struggling, trying to free their feet from the mud, when a voice froze their movements. The exquisite musicality of the voice was like sunshine dancing on water, playful and yet pointedly pressing, intensely focused.
“If you don’t stop squirming, the Mud Sucker will get you, and then I’ll have three times as much work to do, so if you don’t mind…?”
They stopped moving about to see where the voice was coming from. A young woman was standing on the riverbank looking down at them. The morning light glowed like a golden nimbus around her entire body. Her clothing consisted of a white blouse and a series of layered, colorful, sheer skirts. Her feet didn’t touch the ground. She was ethereal, made of some part of the very air itself, but she was wet, soaked through. Still, this did not seem to dampen her jovial smile. Her emerald eyes sparkled as she brushed the wet blond strands of her hair out of her face. She was very beautiful in a tragic sort of way, but the source of that tragedy remained hidden.
They watched as she approached them, walking over the mud, her feet leaving no impression. Standing by Spike, she smiled sweetly at him and laughed, her voice tinkling into the air. Two little swallows playfully darted about Spike and the wet River Lady.
“Don’t worry. Mud Suckers this time of the year are more interested in hibernating than looking for food.”
“Food?” asked Spike staring down at the mud worriedly. “Don’t wiggle so much,” she said, bending over and placing her mouth close to the surface of the muddy water. Then, she began to sing. It was a wordless song, full of form and shape and color. Immediately it reminded them of some of Melissa’s music, but this song used vibrations that were closer to nature, like the sound of the whispering wind, the calming effect of running water. Spike realized that whatever was holding him had eased its grip. The song extended its soporific effect down into the mud and mesmerized the Mud Suckers.
“You make me want to sleep,” yawned Spike never feeling so sleepy.
“That’s the general idea,” said the young woman smiling beatifically, her eyes flashing.
Colin was transfixed by the young woman. He didn’t understand why, but it was there, as palpable as the cold water against his skin. Somehow, someway, this woman was vitally important to him. She turned to him and smiled; he seemed to melt, his body flowing into the very water that dripped from her.
“Hey! You’re the Water Nix!” shouted Spike excitedly.
The young woman made a sour face. “A Water Nix? I don’t think there is such a thing. No, I am because I am.”
The last phrase was delivered while looking directly at Colin, as though it was meant for him and him alone. Reaching out to them, she had them wrap their hands around her slender, but strong, arms, and she gave a firm pull, popping them out of the mud and, effortlessly, depositing them safely onto firmer ground around the mud, then they followed her ethereal form back up the riverbank.
“You were kidding when you said that thing about food, weren’t you?” asked Rhea tentatively. “I never heard of a Mud Sucker. What is it?”
In answer to Rhea’s first question, the woman shook her head and said, “No, I wasn’t kidding.”
Rhea gulped.
“You wouldn’t have heard of the Mud Sucker because it’s a type of Shadow Nix,” explained the woman blithely. “It only exists Inbetween.”
“That’s where we were?” asked Colin. “Are we still there?”
“No, not really. Only the moment when you stepped into the water to find me, that’s when you went Inbetween. Now we’re back, and the water is quite safe now, no Mud Suckers.”
“Thank you,” said Colin, trying to sort out the strange, conflicting emotions he felt about the woman. She was, both, familiar and yet strange. “Do I know you?”
She smiled and Colin forgot about Rhea and Spike.
“Perhaps.”
Before they could say anything further, she swirled away further along the riverbank. Each blink of the eye put her further and further out of reach. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was about to lose her.
“Wait!” called Colin. “What do you mean, perhaps? Who are you? What’s your name?”
“My name?” she said, her voice a song tinkling in the air. “Listen to rushing water, the deep, dark water, and you shall know my name, but you may call me Silverberry.”
“Why are you going away?”
“Because I must,” was all the disembodied voice in the air said.
“Can we see you again?” said Colin a frantic note entering into his voice. He needed to see her again, even though he did not understand why.
“Yes,” she laughed, her voice tinkling into the air, and then, like a flicker of sunlight that catches a wave on the crest, it was gone.
Spike looked over at Colin. “Don’t worry, we found her once; we can find her again.”
“I didn’t think ghosts could actually touch you,” said Rhea shivering. “She looked so real.”
“I don’t know if she is a ghost,” whispered Colin. “Sergeant Peary is a ghost, but she seems almost real, as if she’s alive.”
“This is weird,” said Rhea quietly. “This should bother me, but it doesn’t. I mean, just a few days ago, I knew nothing about Shadow Nixes, ghosts, and spirit guardians. None of these things existed for me.”
“Seems normal to me,” shrugged Spike, wondering why Rhea was making such a big deal about it.
“No way, this isn’t normal! People don’t live in invisible tents; they don’t see Shadow Nixes, or have guardian spirits,” she hesitated, confused by her own words. “I mean, that’s what I thought, before I met you. Now there’s this,” she said motioning to her neck where the Phoenix tear hung. “What I’m saying is that all this should bother me, but it doesn’t, and I want to know why.”
“I’d like to know why too,” said Colin still staring at the last place he had seen Silverberry, wondering why his heart was still racing. He felt as though he was in a dream, and yet he knew he was entirely awake and solidly connected to reality.
