Aye, I am a Fairy

by Dani Haviland

  The two of them were headed back to the shade of the ‘family tree’ when they heard the labored breathing. An old horse was being urged up the narrow road by its slumped-shoulder skinny rider, a young boy trotting close beside them.

  Wallace knew who it was at once. His jaws clenched tight and his feet stopped, not sure whether he wanted to greet the tanned and disheveled man on the back of the old, swaybacked roan or let him fall on the hard ground and suffer the consequences. But James, as weakened as he was, didn’t hesitate. He recognized him, too, and half-ran, half-stumbled up to the horse and the weakened rider.

  Ian was back.

  "Whoa, there, girl,” James said, pulling the nag to a halt. “What are you doing, riding a horse?” he scolded, one hand on the horse’s mane, the other on Ian’s skinny leg for support. “You're supposed to be back where we left you, resting.” He turned and asked the young, dark-haired boy wearing nothing but a breechclout and moccasins, “Wee Ian, why did you let him leave?"

  "I couldna have stopped him without hurtin' him more. I even bound him up with that zap cloth Leah left me, but he was squirmin' and wigglin', tryin' so hard to get free, I figured I'd better let him loose. He was leavin’, no matter if he had to walk or crawl, so I set him on the mare. I made sure I stayed alongside to protect him, thugh. Not that anyone was left what wanted to hurt him. All of them that he was mad at for that stuff they did are deid now. I jest wanted to protect him from fallin’ off the horse or doin’ somethin’ else to hurt hisself … like now!"

  Wee Ian’s back had been to his father as he spoke, but he dashed to his father's side as soon as he heard movement. "Dinna I tell ye to let me help ye down?” he groused. “Yer the stubbornest animal I ever did see!"

  James moved in behind Wee Ian to assist in the dismount, shadowing the boy’s movements, placing his big hands under the father’s armpits, guiding him to the ground. Once Ian was off the horse and upright, he backed away and let the son take over as the human crutch for the walk to the house.

  Although James had donated blood to the man, he had never paid much attention to his build. He had noticed Ian was lean when he was lying on the ground next to him, during the transfusion, but hadn't realized until now that he was nearly a skeleton. Either life had been rough on him or he had been rough on life.

  "Ian Kincaid, you ignorant cur!" Leah screamed, as she came running over to the three men and the boy. "What in the hell do you think you're doing? You were supposed to stay down for five days."

  Leah was twelfth-degree irate, but was quickly at Ian's other elbow, guiding him to the shade of the tree next to the porch. “You lie down and stay down.” She turned and hollered toward the house, “Mom, would you bring me some of that milk, stat!"

  Ian was bug-eyed. "Who are you?" he asked, ashen-faced and breathless.

  "I'm your nurse, you idiot!" Leah declared, then snorted in disgust at him. She didn't think it was possible, but his eyes got bigger. She realized that he probably thought that when she said ‘nurse,’ she meant she was the one who had suckled him. "No, not that kind of nurse! Your…your…your healer. Why didn't you stay put? No, never mind. Just shut up and lie back. Damn, it looks like one, maybe two, stitches came out. Have you been spitting up blood?"

  Ian panted briefly, then found the strength to speak. "Weel, do ye want me to shut up or answer?"

  Leah scowled at him and said, "Answer," then continued to shift his body so his shoulders were propped up securely.

  "No, no blood. Who are ye? I mean, yer name?"

  Leah didn’t answer, just glared at him, pretending to adjust his position further, although he was already as well-situated as he could be for sitting against a tree.

  "Yer not Evie then?"

  "No," Leah answered flatly, and looked away, trying to avoid more conversation. She had never expected to see Ian again and hadn't thought of what she would say about who she was if she did see him.

  "Stay put." She jumped up and headed for the house, stomping the dusty ground, trying to discharge her anger. She turned around at the steps and added gruffly, "And I mean it, dammit!"

  Ӂ ӁӁ

  The sudden sound of feet pounding up the stairs startled me. I had heard a commotion outside, and thought that I had heard my name, but I was in the middle of one squalling baby vying for my attention, the other happily kicking his feet in the poopy clout I was trying to change.

  "Ergh," I grunted. No wonder babies usually came one at a time. I'd have to be an octopus—or would that be a sextopus?—to handle feeding and keeping three infants clean and fed. A third boob would have been handy, too.

  "What's wrong?" I asked, then added, "Would you pick up your brother and hold him until I get done here, or do you want to take over the dirty diaper duty?"

  Leah huffed in exasperation, then quickly calmed down. She picked up Leo and rocked him back and forth, blowing in his face to get him to stop screaming. "See, you just blow in the face of the blow hard and he shuts right up!" She was talking to the baby, but making a joke for me. As soon as she stopped blowing, he began yelling again, pounding his little fists like he was pedaling a bicycle with his hands. "Sorry dude, these are empties. You'll just have to wait for Mommy." She stood in place, rocking her body back and forth, the rhythm of her movement calming him enough that his eyes started to flutter. She brought him to her shoulder and rubbed his back.

  "Blaat!" Leo had had a burp stuck, and it wasn't a dry one.

  My hands were holding a baby's legs and still had poop on them, but I managed to pick up a clean clout with my teeth and offered it to Leah with a mumbled, "Here, he puked on you."

  "Thanks, little brother. I love you, too." She grabbed the cloth and cleaned up the regurgitated milk while I finished with Judah's de-nurtured output. The babies’ poop still didn't stink, but was as messy as mustard, and impossible to get cleaned up in a hurry. No wonder so many of the mothers of this time just let their babies sit in it.

  "I'm glad to see you two could calm each other down. What were you so upset about?" I asked.

  "Oh, crap," she replied.

  I raised my eyebrows as if to say, ‘Yeah, well, there's plenty of that around with three babies.’ I knew she could read my mind, at least on that one.

  "I didn't get a chance to tell you. Jody’s wasn't the first transfusion that I was involved with. James donated blood two days ago, just an hour or so after we got here."

  I gave her the 'yeah, go ahead' look. She exhaled sharply, took two steps back towards the open door, and craned her neck to look out at the big tree, then came back to stand directly in front of me. "He gave blood to Ian. Ian Kincaid. And he was supposed to stay put, but instead he followed us and..."

  Leah didn't get a chance to finish her story. I grabbed a rag to wipe my hands and was out the door with Judah pressed to my shoulder in two seconds. I rushed to Ian’s side, squatted down beside him, looked into his eyes, and asked, "Are you all right?" I could tell if he was lying to me—or at least, I hoped I would be able to.

  "Why willna anyone tell me who she is?" he asked, his breath still coming in short spurts in what I guessed was called labored breathing.

  "Because you don't need to know," I answered sharply. I leaned in to within six inches of his face, glared at him, and didn’t even try to contain my rage. "Why didn't you stay put like she told you to? Do you want to die?"

  Ian tried to shrug his shoulder and let out an involuntary gasp, biting off a yelp. He had forgotten about his wounded neck. He was embarrassed about his show of weakness, so instead of answering the direct question, he asked, "Which one is that?" referring to the baby I was holding.

  I was still mad at him, and he could tell. Asking me about my baby—not his, I felt like reminding him—wasn't going to calm me down, either. "What difference does it make?” I replied testily. “You'll never live long enough to see him crawl, much less walk, at the rate you're trying to kill yourself. What, do Indians think that…that…being tough and macho is better than
sticking around to watch your…your…your kin grow up? Or is that just you being estupido?"

  Ian cast his eyes down in shame, and then I started to feel sorry for him. "This is Judah," I said, backing down from my Spanish-spewing rage. I placed him on Ian’s lap, holding onto one side of the squirming infant so he wouldn't slide off. Ian had been lean when I met him, and I doubt he had ever been fat, but now he was emaciated.

  "When was the last time you ate?" I asked gently, not knowing if I was asking out of compassion or pity. Either way, he needed nourishment.

  He started to shrug again, then thought better of it. Instead he let his eyes roll to the ground, then back up to face me again. "Who is she?" he pled.

  "You have got to be the stubbornest man in the world!" I took the baby from him and sat down next to him, hard and without grace. "Why do you want to know? She was your healer and you didn't listen to her. How could it make a difference if you knew her name?"

  "Weel, maybe not her name, but I ken it would make a difference if I ken who she is.” He shut his eyes, then asked softly, his breathing still shallow, “Is she Danny?"

  "I'll make you a deal. You eat some food and do as she says, and I'll tell you, all right?" I was plenty mad at him, but certainly didn't want him to die.

  Ian opened his eyes, looked down that crooked nose of his at me, and without saying a word, asked me to tell him at least part of what he wanted to know. He was too tuckered out to speak, but I could see that not knowing was eating him alive.

  "All right—one answer. She is ‘not Dani,’ okay? Now, will you at least take some broth?"

  My answer seemed to make him feel better. At least he could speak again. "Do ye happen to have any of those chocolate nibs or cashews? Wee Ian gave me a few bits and that’s why I thought that 'not Danny' was ye. She’s kin, aye?"

  "No and yes," I replied, a reluctant smile creeping in. "No, I don't have any chocolate or cashews, but I'll see if…if…the healer has any.” I paused, then added hesitantly. “And yes, she’s kin."

  I put Judah in the playpen with his sister and walked into the house. Leah was standing just inside the doorway, peering at her patient with an oversized frown. I could tell she had seen and probably heard the emotional exchange.

  I huffed in defeat then looked at her and rolled my eyes. “I’ll fix him something to drink. Why don’t you go out and sit next to him and show him Leo, or put Leo in the playpen with the other two—your choice. I know he can be hard-headed. I don’t blame you for wanting to keep your distance. Well, except in a professional capacity. Don’t… Well, just use your own judgment about how and when you tell him who you are. I trust you.”

  I watched her grimace, then take a deep, courage-gathering breath before leaving, her baby brother over her shoulder, gently patting his back to soothe him, even though he was already asleep. “Thanks. Maybe a stray breeze will come by and cool things down,” she said. I doubt she knew what she was going to do or say any more than I did.

  Ӂ ӁӁ

  Jody and Sarah were still sound asleep on the floor. I wanted to check and see if there were any obvious physical changes, but decided it was more important for them to get their rest than for me to gather scientific data. What would I do with it anyhow?

  What I needed to do was find something to feed that stubborn, pig-headed, but half-dead grouch, Ian. I realized I didn’t have any broth. The leftover porridge was still good, but if he hadn’t eaten anything lately, I didn’t want to give him solid food. I still had some buttermilk left, though. That would have to do.

  I poured a mug half-full with the clabbered milk, then had either a brainstorm or Divine inspiration. Either way, I knew what I had to do.

  I set down the cup, went to the hearth, and pulled out the loose ‘stone’ that enshrined the little blue bottle of Master Simon’s Fountain of Youth elixir. I held the bottle meditatively, rolling it back and forth between my fingers and thumb, seeking inspiration or discouragement from its physical form. Yes, using it was the right thing to do.

  My hand hovered over the cup of buttermilk, the dripping rod ready to release the drops of rejuvenating and repairing potion my spirit had urged me to use. The devil’s advocate side of my brain was arguing with my heart, though. Let him die. It would be easier for everyone.

  No. It was not wrong to use this, so shut up, devil. Dosing him with the FOY water wasn’t cheating death, either. Nope, it couldn’t be. I didn’t feel guilty. And why would the Lord allow me to have it if not to use inspired wisdom and discretion in dispensing it? If ever someone needed it—other than Jody, of course—it was Ian. He was so frail that his physical reserves were in the negative zone. But it wasn’t really my decision to make and I knew it.

  “Thank You, Lord, for letting this medicine be in my hands,” I prayed aloud. “Guide me in its use, and when—or whether or not—I should use it. Oh, and if so, how much.”

  Well, after my little conference with the Lord, that wee devil shut up and there was no doubt in my mind—dose the man. I added two drops, then felt compelled to add one more. He had been through a lot of physical and mental anguish in the year that I had known him and could probably use a tune up. It wasn’t me making the decision on his dosage, after all. Two drops didn’t feel right, but three did. “Please, Lord, let his body use it to the best of its ability, and heal his mind, too. In Jesus’s name, Amen.” There, now I felt better.

  I put the stopper back in the bottle and returned it to its hiding place. I felt incredibly at peace. Hopefully, Ian would, too.

  “Hey, there,” I called out in a jovial mood as I walked toward the tree. “Are you ready for your nourishment?” I saw the confused look on both Ian and Wee Ian’s faces. “Hey, I’m going to start you with buttermilk. If you can tolerate this, I’ll see what else I can scare up. Here.” I held the cup for Ian, “you have to drink all of it or it doesn’t count.” He frowned at me. “I only filled it half-way, so no grumbling.”

  He took two sips, then leaned back against the tree and closed his eyes. Leah saw that he was having difficulty drinking. She called over, “Wee Ian, do you still have that clear reed for him to use? I guess he’s still too sick to drink from a cup.”

  That did it. Ian opened his eyes and glared at me, telling me with the look on his face to get on with it and bring the cup to his mouth again.

  I obliged him, and managed to bite my tongue, but couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. It was so tempting to talk baby talk to him. ‘Open wide for the airplane’ or ‘Here comes the choo choo.’ Of course, it wouldn’t have the same impact on someone from this time period. It would have taken more energy to explain airplane and choo choo to him than to find an easier way to get him to open up and eat.

  As it turned out, Ian managed to drink all of his lunch, only pausing twice to get a breath. “Now keep it in you,” I ordered. “And you might want to lie down for a while. You had a long ride in here, didn’t you?”

  “Aye, it was and yer right, I think I could do with a wee nap.” Ian managed to scoot his bottom away from the tree and settle into a sleeping position without any assistance or groaning. It seemed as if the ‘juice’ was already working.

  “You might also want to take a nap,” I told Wee Ian. “You’ve had a long trip, too, and I’ll wager a tough time trying to keep your father alive.”

  “Aye, there’s truth in that.” He rolled over, grabbed his little rucksack and fluffed it into a pillow, adjusting it under his head, “Too much truth.”

  I left the Ians to their siestas and took on another task. Dinner was going to be a three-person project. I delegated the spaghetti sauce concocting to Leah and Jenny, the prep chef. I managed to get the eggs, salt, and flour mixed into noodle dough, and by the time I had it rolled out, Jenny was standing by with her knife, ready to cut it into strips. I didn’t know where the men were, but I wasn’t worried about them. They were big boys and could take care of themselves. I was sure that when they smelled dinner, they would miraculously appear
.

  Miracles. That reminded me—it was time to check on the prime Pomeroy pair. Or not. I had heard giggles earlier and decided it was best to give them a bit of privacy. But now I needed some items from the kitchen.

  “Come on, Jenny. I want you to get the cutting board and bring it outside. We’ll finish cutting the s’ghetti noodles on the porch. Hopefully, the bugs and leaves won’t be too bad there. Hey, where’d your sister go?” Leah had disappeared, too.

  “Oh, she’s taking a nap by him. See,” she said, and led me to the other side of the tree.

  The sun was low, the shadows long, and there was plenty of room to spread out. Ian was sleeping soundly, snorting in his deep sleep, and Leah was four feet away, Wren dozing on her chest. It was unusually quiet, but peaceful. The world was in sync.

  “Can we make s’ghetti again tomorrow? I like cutting.”

  “We’ll see, we’ll see. Go stir the sauce now before it burns. I think I’ll lie down for a bit, too.”

  I lay down on the other side of Ian, my elbow tucked into my chest, my cheek on my palm. I must have fallen asleep immediately. All I remembered was putting my hand under my face. Peace, warmth, and security—key ingredients for restful repose.

  It seemed as if I had been asleep for a long time, but it must have only been moments because the sun was still up and in the same position when I was awakened by the sound of a loud and familiar voice.

  “What happened out here? Are ye in charge now, lass?”

  Jody had awakened and risen, and was ready to give everyone the dickens for taking a late afternoon nap.

  “Grandpa, Grandpa,” Jenny hollered, as she sprinted to her Jody. She collided into him, causing him to take two steps backwards with the impact. She embraced him around his hips, “Are you feelin’ better? You sure look better.”

  “Aye, I am. I see yer mother nappin’ there, but where’s yer father...?” Jody suddenly recognized Ian and saw a young man and a woman he didn’t recognize lying beside him. “Who’s she and when did they get here,” he asked, indicating the two Ian Kincaids.