by B. J. Smash
“Yes. Be very careful.” He looked as if he were in deep thought, chewing and staring straight ahead. “And the boy, he used to play with you. Your father would bring you to a field.”
“Drumm is very trustworthy.”
“Is he now? Good. Good.” He chewed on a single blueberry using his front teeth, avoiding my gaze.
“You knew about Drumm.” I held back a smile. I knew what he was going to say—that he didn't think it was his place to tell me. “You already knew that he’d be trustworthy.”
“I did. Although many times I thought you should know, I withheld. It was never me that you should hear it from. He's a good boy, I hear. Faithful kind. He's got morals and dignity, that one. Least that's what I have heard.”
“Where do you hear these things?” I had to wonder, as he seemed quite knowledgeable of everything.
“Oh, Ian tells me things. I'm an old man, but we are good friends. His father and I are the best of friends.” He picked up the dice and rolled. It didn't surprise me when he got yet another Yahtzee. “Yahtzee!” he yelled out.
Thinking it would be time to show him my new ears, I tied my hair up into a ponytail.
“Your ears! What happened to them?”
“Izadora fixed them.”
“I thought something about you seemed different. Your eyes—they are bigger.”
“Ha! I can see better too.”
He contemplated something for a moment. “I can’t stress this enough, and so I will say it again. You must be careful when dealing with this Izadora and the rest of that clan. Watch your back. When your father returns, you should probably leave here.”
“I assume that we will,” I told him. A day ago I would have agreed wholeheartedly, but now…something in me wanted to stay. I mean, I had Drumm now. Could I just leave him behind? And Izadora, she didn't seem that bad.
We finished four games and were on the last one, when he brought up a subject that got my full attention. My mother.
“Get me that box up there on the shelf.” He pointed to an old wooden box with a little gold latch in the front. I handed it to him, and he opened it and pulled out a thin, long white rope. A pendant hung from the center. “This must have belonged to your mother. It was in the basket with you, when you were brought here. It was me that opened the door that night. You were the cutest little button I'd ever laid eyes on. I saw your mother in the tree line. Beautiful, she was. Anyhow, here is the necklace. It would suit you to wear it.”
My face lit up and I reached for it, clasping it in my hand. The stone glimmered silver, blue, pink, and green; it appeared similar to a moonstone but had silver waves inside that seemed to move.
“I love it!” And I couldn’t believe I actually had something that belonged to my mother. I’d never had a mother before.
“Put it on but keep it hidden under your shirt,” he advised me.
I put it over my head and held the stone. “Why can't anyone see?”
“I have a feeling it has power. You keep it a secret. Don't let anyone know that you pack a punch.” He gave me a half smile.
Before we finished the fifth game, I brought up Montague. “Aggie told me to summon Montague. She calls him Monty.”
“Monty, you say? What does she want with him?”
“She says he knows how to release her from the earth, break the spell. She told me to go to the ocean and write his name in the sand. That would summon him, and he would come to her aid.”
He scratched his head and rubbed the stubble on his face. “Interesting. I wonder if he'll show up. I hear that no one has heard from Montague in quite some time.”
“I don't know, but I hope so. She granted me one wish if he comes. If Izadora fails to free my father, I shall wish for that.”
“If Izadora does free your father, what use would you have for a wish?”
I paused, not knowing if I should broach the subject. I figured it was best to just get it all out there. “To free Zinnia.”
His eyebrows furrowed, and he sighed. “I hear from Ian that she is in cahoots with Magella. Is that so?”
Surprised that he knew this, I said, “It is true.”
“Then that would be a good wish.” He thought for a moment, and then we added up our scores. Of course, he won.
“Legend says that Montague never got along with the rest of his family. They were too strange to him. I don't know if you should get your hopes up. He might not show. If that be the case, you won't get your wish.”
“I know. There is always a chance he won't come. But one way or another, I have to help my father and my sister.”
“I think I will lie down now. It's a bit late and I am weary. Good night, Ivy.” He rubbed his elbows as if they ached. I felt sorry for him; I knew that his arthritis gave him trouble.
“Good night, GG Edmund.” I put away the game, lowered the window a bit, and left the room, quietly shutting the door.
That was a great amount of information for such an old man to take in. I hoped that I hadn't caused him to worry. He seemed frail to me, and I would hate to see him suffer on my account.
Tired myself, I went to bed. The last thing I remember was dreaming of a woman in the forest, and with the moon shimmering behind her, and the millions of tiny sparkling stars in the black sky, she looked like a goddess. Long, wavy blonde hair flowed past her shoulders, billowing out at the sides with the wind. Her silver and blue dress matched the silver crown with bright blue stones atop her head. She waved for me to come closer. Nearing her, the smile upon her face vanished, and a look of fear spread over her features. One moment I was standing before her, and in another I was up close. Our eyes locked, and I could see a ship and storm with waves the size of towers. Mad-looking faces appeared and disappeared before my eyes; and the earth opened up, threatening to swallow me.
I awoke panting, sweat covering my body. Sitting up, I wiped my brow on the top sheet.
The dream was confusing, but one thing I had gathered from it was: Magella and Izaill were coming for me; I was certain of it.
The next morning, I ate lime Jell-O topped with whipped cream, even though a better part of me preferred to eat celery. I couldn't find any; my sister had finished it off, which left me with a deep craving. There weren't any carrots either.
My aunts were wandering about the house, and Aunt Cora scurried from room to room, dusting everything in sight with a bandana over her mouth (to keep the dust out, I suppose) and rubber gloves. When she was excited or nervous about something, she couldn't sit still. It was why Gran's house was spotless—because Aunt Cora was always excited or nervous about something.
Aunt Clover chatted on the phone with someone, walking back and forth and down the hall, up the stairs, and back down the stairs. Finally she plopped down at the table and clicked off the phone. She leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands, smiling all the while.
“That was Ian. He's such a nice man, isn't he?” Ian had a way about him that made everyone feel special. My Aunt Clover was no exception, and she fell victim to his charm. Before I could answer, she spoke again. “He wants you to come up as soon as you can.” She wore a black tank top, gray cardigan, and jean shorts, causing her to look comfortable—whereas Aunt Cora wore tan capris, a light pink cami covered by a short-sleeved, white button-down blouse, and white wedge sandals. She looked as though she should be out shopping at an upscale grocery store.
“But it's not even 8:30 a.m. He's supposed to be asleep still. He doesn't come down to brunch until 10:30 a.m.,” I said.
“Apparently he's awake now. You should get a move on.” Aunt Clover said.
“Wear a sweatshirt! Maine mornings can be chilly,” Aunt Cora yelled from down on her knees behind the kitchen island. She was cleaning the floor with Windex and paper towels.
I grabbed a black hoodie from a hook on the wall by the door. I was about to ask about my grandfather but was sorely interrupted when Aunt Clover spilled her coffee on the floor. Aunt Cora apparently h
ad good ears, and she immediately stood up and walked over to the spill, got back on her hands and knees, and Windex-ed it up.
“Always making messes for me to clean!” She scolded Aunt Clover while wiping and spraying once again.
“You know, people can be exposed to a few germs and it's actually better that way. It makes you healthier, if you ask me,” Aunt Clover replied.
“Ah, but no one asked you, did they?” Aunt Cora sprayed the area again and wiped one more time before she continued on under the table.
“Look at you—you’re actually going underneath the table!”
“Move your feet.”
“Bye,” I yelled as they continued to bicker back and forth. They didn't acknowledge me, but I left anyway.
The door at Ian's opened before I could even ring the bell.
“Mr. McCallister awaits you in the sunroom,” Mrs. Pumbleton informed me. She led the way as though I'd never been there before, and pulled a chair out for me to sit down at the exquisite table. Today there were Belgian waffles, strawberries, whipped cream, eggs Benedict, and cappuccinos. I scanned the table for any celery but to no avail.
“Miss Seaforth. Good to see you.” Ian had food in his mouth, but that didn't stop him from talking.
“Why do you call me ‘Miss Seaforth,’ and not ‘Ivy’?” The question had always plagued me; I had to ask.
“Why, Miss Seaforth”—he chuckled—“do you care?”
“I don't know, just curious,” I said.
“My father does the same thing, and I picked it up from him, I suppose. He rarely calls people by their Christian names. Would you prefer me to call you ‘Ivy,’ Miss Seaforth?”
I thought about it for a second, and I couldn't picture Ian using my given name. “No. I like ‘Miss Seaforth.’”
“Well, now that we have gotten that important issue resolved, would you like to hear your instructions for the day? Or do we have any more pressing matters to further discuss?” I believe one of the reasons Ian and I got along so well was due to his sarcasm.
“Ha! No, we can get on to business. I must get to Izadora's soon. She promised to get my father back once the spell is broken, and it should be broken today.” I'm sure he could sense the excitement in my voice; there was no way he could miss it.
“Precisely so. Now I have a favor to ask of you.”
“Yeah?” I realized the time had come. I had always suspected that he wanted me to do something for him in return for helping me find my father.
He held a fork in one hand; a knife in the other. A sly smile spread across his face. He laid the utensils down, patted his mouth with a white cloth napkin, and sat back in his chair.
“After your father's return, I need a vial of spring water from Merribay.”
“You know about Merribay?”
He rolled his eyes. “It's on my property, Miss Seaforth. I own it.”
“But it belongs to the—”
“It belongs to me, but they are welcome to it. Not that I could actually take it away without them chopping my head off, but just the same, they are welcome to it.”
“How can I get the water from the spring? Where is it located in the city?”
“You are half elf, half human. You walk right in to the center of the city, place the vial in the spring, walk out, and, voilà—bring it back to me.”
“What do you need it for?”
“Full of questions, we are.” He tapped the table with his fingers, narrowed his eyes, and said, “I have more money than God Himself; but what good does it do me? I cannot use my legs. The spring water has curative properties,” he sighed. “Believe me, I have accepted my fate, but if there is something out there that may help me to walk again, I would be a fool not to try it.”
“I understand. I will try to get it for you.”
“Thank you, Miss Seaforth. I have no doubt.”
I could feel the stone from the necklace that GG Edmund had given me. I felt safe and secure wearing it—right on top of the world.
“Are you going to eat? Mrs. Pumbleton specifically made you the waffles.” He waved his hand at the table like it was a showcase of diamonds or something.
“I would rather have celery, if that's all right,” I said.
“Celery? Are we dieting? You are like a beanpole as it is.”
“Thanks,” I scowled.
“Mrs. Pumbleton,” Ian yelled out, “bring me some celery, if you would.”
“Uncut,” I said.
“Uncut, Mrs. Pumbleton.”
He looked at me for a few seconds as though he seemed confused about something. “You know, you look taller. Anyway, go get your father back and then proceed to the city of Merribay for the spring water. I will be sure to reward you, even if you try and fail.”
Mrs. Pumbleton carried in a plate of crisp celery. Overly excited, I grabbed the plate and pulled out a celery heart that was nice and tender. “Thank you,” I mumbled as I chewed.
Both Mrs. Pumbleton and Ian watched as I devoured the celery. I chewed and swallowed several times. A few times a koi fish splashed in the pond, but no one took their eyes from me to observe it.
“Must be something you need in the celery that you crave,” said Mrs. Pumbleton.
“Would you like a bag to take with you?” Ian asked. He sat with his back to the chair and his hands folded in his lap, eyeballing me.
“This will be fine.” I grabbed a few more stalks and jumped up to leave.
“I'll go with you to the gate.” Ian pushed himself up and swung over to the wheelchair.
As we made our way to the gate, he informed me that my craving for celery meant that my body was changing.
“Otherworldly beings rarely eat meat. They tend to enjoy vegetables and, I have found on occasion, wine.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “In fact, sometimes if you leave wine outside during a full moon, the next morning you will find the cup empty. Just ask my father. He used to leave a cup out and find it empty in the morning. Ah well, sometimes it was me that drank it, but usually it was the fairies.
“Now, when you arrive at Izadora's, explain to her what I have asked you to do. And take the boy with you; you'll need him to guide you into the city. Good luck with getting your father back.”
“Wait. I have a question about Zinnia. She also ate nothing but celery and vegetables before she went with the Fae. She started to look pale and scrawny. Do you suppose that—?”
“She ate something in fairyland. Once you do so, the process starts. When did she start doing this?”
“Before Father went missing, probably a few days before.”
“You don't say? That's interesting news. Perhaps she met up with the Fae before he had ever been taken.”
“She couldn't have. Could she?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Anything is possible.”
When we arrived at the gate, Drumm sat up in a tree waiting. He sat in a cleft between the tree and a branch, his legs dangling. He jumped down with ease, like he'd done it a million times before. “Are you ready?” he asked, smiling.
“I am,” I said, knowing that he meant getting my father back.
“Take care of Miss Seaforth. I shall see you back here soon,” Ian said.
We were off, racing to see who could get to Izadora's first. I had to admit, he was slightly faster; but over time, maybe I'd be able to beat him.
When we arrived, we walked to the tree house stairs, and it was then that I realized I no longer came up to his shoulder. Grabbing his arm, I stopped him. “Hey! I'm up to your nose now. I grew!”
“Elves are not short. We are quite tall.”
“I must have grown three or four inches!”
“I think that's about right.”
We ran up the stairs and into Izadora's house, and standing in the doorway was the old Izadora. She looked to be around a hundred. This was a really good sign.
“The curse must be broken. You aren't young anymore and it's still morning!” I exclaimed.
“It's in the process of being broken. I just finished a bread cake. I have two more left.” She looked pleased with herself.
“When can we get my father then?” My whole body was wired with excitement, and I felt like I'd drank a pot of coffee.
“It must be done at midnight. That's when the Fae travel. There is a lay line not far from here that they ride their horses along. I have seen in the blue bottle that they shall pass by there on this night, and we shall remain there and wait for them to pass.”
“That is why you couldn't get him back before now, because of the spell. You couldn't travel during the night. Right?”
“Exactly,” said Drumm.
Izadora nodded once and then said, “The Fae are a tricky bunch. I know, because my father is one. We must be prepared.”
“I know. My great-grandfather told me the legend. He says your mother married a Fae man or something like that.”
“Your great-grandfather, you say?” She grimaced and narrowed her eyes, thinking for a few moments. “He told you that? He knows of the legends, then. I will correct you: my mother did not marry the Fae. They don't believe in marriage. However, they were together for some time. She had four children by him. I am the oldest, then comes Izaill, Magella, and Montague. Montague was always her favorite, and mine too. Could never stand the other two.” She put some scones on a tray, and we sat outside at the tree trunk table. “As I was saying, Mother and Harikin—my father's name is Harikin—they were together until my mother decided she liked being on her own better. You would think that it was my father that left her, but it was the other way around. You see, the Fae are known for being finicky—but he loved Mother. One day she just up and left, taking us with her. She probably regretted taking us, as we never gave her a moment’s peace. Always arguing, we were. And as you are well aware, we still argue to this day.”
I realized Izadora and her family weren't your average Brady Bunch members. She talked of them as though cursing and damning each other were just mere arguments.
“Your mother seemed rather kind. Scary, but kind,” I said.
“One thing you must know about Mother. She is human, but she is no ordinary human. Her own mother came from a line of great sorceresses. She inherited that from them—and beyond what they were capable of. Very talented, my mother is. She was always a great match for my father. Power versus power.”
