by John Osborne
“About another week. I have to work most days, but we can get together a couple of times in the evening.”
May I see you every evening?
“I would like that. Is my coat dry?”
Noah retrieved her coat and helped her into it. She grabbed her hat from the ventilator and pulled it on. Noah went to the closet for his own coat and hat.
“I have another nosy question,” Noah said as he donned his things. “You said your parents did okay financially. I wondered … if … how do I say this. I don’t want to pry or make you mad or anything. Are you okay financially? I mean, do you have enough money to take care of yourself and the property?”
Willow looked confused. “Yes. My father did quite well, and I’ve continued to manage by his methods. I’m worth about—”
Noah held up a hand. “That’s okay. I don’t need to know. I just wondered why your property taxes haven’t been paid. I thought you might be in some difficulty.”
“What are you talking about?” Willow asked.
“Remember, I told you I looked at the tax records? The records show the payment history for each tract, back ten years or so. The tract for the woods shows this year’s taxes unpaid. The property is listed for the tax sale on November twelfth.”
Concern crossed Willow’s face. “That can’t be. Of course they’re paid. Bill Anders always pays the tax bill for me from the property maintenance account. I don’t even take advantage of the two installment payments. I always have them pay it all when we get the bill. I’ll have to email Bill tonight.” She paused, and grimaced. “Shoot! He’s not here. He always takes a family vacation in October and shuts the office down.”
“Do you have the receipt?” Noah asked.
“Yes, it’s at the cottage in a lockbox.”
“Well, we’ll drive down to the courthouse in Danville tomorrow morning and straighten it all out.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve work to do.”
“I’m an independent contractor so I set my own work schedule. I’ll take the morning off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep. On one condition.”
“What?”
“That you grant me permission to shoot your pond a second time.”
Willow grinned. “Granted. Perhaps we’ll make a day of it. I’d like to show you around the property … if you’re interested.”
What man wouldn’t want to spend a day with you?
“Sure. Now we better get you home.”
After riding in silence for a few blocks, Willow spoke.
“Oh, by the way, I looked up your magazine on the Internet, as well as your website. You do beautiful work. The article about horses was wonderful.”
“Thank you,” Noah said, feeling quite pleased.
“And I should apologize, too, for accusing you of working for Chester Jones. I don’t trust him an inch. He’s been making trouble for me the last few months.”
“What sort of trouble?”
“Making continual offers to buy the property or the house. Starting rumors that I’m a Satan worshipper or a prostitute. There have even been rumors about Louie and me having an affair. That’s why he’s out at the woods every week, they say. At least I assume it’s been Chester. Ever since his father, Anthony, died last year, Chester has taken an interest in the Big House. I caught him on the property one day last summer, nosing around. He pretended he had come to see me but I know better.”
When they reached the missing sign, Noah swung wide to the left to pull through the trees.
“You can let me out here,” Willow said.
“No, I’m taking you home.”
Willow didn’t object. They soon came to the tree across the lane. Noah jockeyed the truck around until it headed out toward the road, and then killed the engine. He popped the glove box open, grabbed a flashlight, and flipped it on.
“Let’s go,” he said, and climbed out as Willow did.
“You don’t need to walk me to my door. I’ll be fine from here. Fairies can see very well in the dark.”
“It’s late and dark and foggy. I’m going with you, little fairy.”
“Noah, really, I’ll be fine. Thanks, but I’ll be fine.”
Noah hesitated.
You’re an independent little fairy, aren’t you?
“I’ll have Shadow walk with me,” Willow said. “I let him out when I left. Watch this.” Facing toward the cottage path, she raised her right arm and pointed it straight out with her hand upright, palm facing forward. The hand glowed with a pure white light. Within a few seconds, Shadow’s happy bark sounded in the distance. Willow kept her arm raised a few seconds longer, and then dropped it to her side. She wore a satisfied smirk. “Fairy magic,” she said, as if any explanation was necessary.
Amazing.
“Thank you for tonight,” Willow said. “Thanks for listening.”
“I never thought I would hear you say that after this morning. Thank you for tonight, too. It was fascinating, to say the least.”
It was delightful, too.
Shadow arrived to disturb their peace, bounding up the path and greeting them with Labrador enthusiasm.
“I’ll pick you up about eight,” Noah said. “Right here?”
“I’ll be out on the road at the missing sign.” She stepped forward and gave Noah a quick hug, laying her head against his chest, and then pulled away before he could hug her back. She followed the flashlight beam to the path and waved her hand.
“Tootles,” she said, and stepped into the darkness.
Noah laughed. “See ya.” He was almost to the truck when Willow’s voice rang from the trees.
“Noah! Don’t forget to pick up that underwear under the bed!” A delicious giggle followed. As she walked away, the sensation of her emotions faded, but she was happy, no mistake.
As am I.
Back at the motel, Noah sat down at the table and began to plow through the day’s email. After a few minutes work, he glanced at the wall behind the desk; it was bare. He rummaged through the papers on his desk, found the article with Willow’s picture and restored it to its rightful place.
An hour later, he leaned back and rubbed his eyes. Willow’s image watched him yawn.
What makes you tick, mystery woman?
His mind filled with their evening. Willow had told him much, but her stories were all generalities. Fairy lore and the Jones family were her two main topics; only briefly had she mentioned her family or herself. Was that part of Guarding the Mystery: the less he knew about her the better? He shook his head in answer to his own question.
I don’t think so. It’s more complicated than that.
Noah sighed.
“I need to take a better picture of you, Willow.”
It feels good to say your name.
Seven
On the way to pick up Willow the next morning, Noah counted the “No Trespassing” signs along the county road that wound through Jones Woods. When he reached the thirteenth set, he pulled the truck over in front of the vacant spot on the right, just as Willow stepped out from among the branches. She climbed in quickly, and that wonderful fragrance followed her. A bright smile graced her features.
“Good morning!” she said.
Noah gave her a quick once over look. “Good morning. You look sharp today.” She wore a green plaid flannel shirt and khaki slacks with a belt, under a brown quilted vest jacket. A gray plush hat with a rolled brim sat on her head and her little feet were clad with brown hiking shoes.
“Thanks,” she said. “I thought I should dress up for the County Clerk.”
They pulled west onto Route 9 and made the short trip to Hoopeston, where they turned south on Route 1. The trip to downtown Danville would take about thirty minutes.
“I keep forgetting to ask,” Noah said, “what cologne or perfume or whatever do you wear? It’s wonderful.”
Willow smiled. “It’s just me.”
“Just Me? I’ve never heard of
it, who makes it?”
She giggled. “No, you goose. It’s just me. I don’t wear anything. It’s another fairy thing.”
“Oh. Do all fairies smell so good?”
“No, just the girls,” Willow said. “We each have a different scent, and it varies among the kinds of fairies. Its intensity changes with our mood, like the glowing.”
“Tell me about that, too, I’ve been meaning to ask.”
“I can’t tell you how it works if that’s what you mean. We just do it. Fairies have a stronger mind-body connection than ordinary humans. When our minds do certain things, our bodies react at a cellular level and stuff happens.”
“Makes sense. Scientists believe humans once had more abilities, psychic ones included, than we do now. Maybe the fairies kept theirs.”
“Whatever,” Willow said.
“The glow is linked to other actions, too, isn’t it? Like when you called Shadow last night.”
“That was just showing off,” she said with a sheepish grin. “I can call him without glowing.”
“Oh. Can every part of you glow?”
“No,” she said. She paused, then added, “Our hands and faces and the front of our necks glow the most, though other parts can glow. The more emotional we are the brighter it becomes, but we can keep it shut off, too. Fairies are more connected to the earth and nature than humans … regular humans, I mean. When the weather’s bad, we feel bad, too. It’s hard to explain.”
“Interesting. Hate to change the subject, but did you find the receipt?”
“Yep, it’s right here.” She pulled a small leather wallet from an inside pocket and withdrew the paper, held it up for him to see and pointed to a square rubber stamp on the front. “See? It says right here I paid it.”
“Good,” Noah said. “I thought about this unpaid taxes scenario last night. If a person was interested in getting control of a piece of property, and if that person put some money in the right hands, it might be easy to arrange to have a property listed for sale for back taxes.”
“If you mean Chester Jones, we’re thinking the same thing. The taxes are paid, and he knows it, but the embarrassment alone might be worth it, in his eyes.”
“And if a court case ensued, that’s another opportunity to harass you. It would also raise doubts about your claim to the property.”
“Chester’s messing with the wrong fairy. I’m not giving up the woods. That’s the last thing my parents would have wanted.” Willow folded the receipt and placed the wallet in her pocket.
They rode in silence for a time. Overnight the fog had dissipated and for the first time in two days, the sun shone bright in the southern sky. Noah looked forward to shooting at Willow’s pond today. Conditions should be perfect and he would have some good stuff to send to Varney.
He looked over at Willow. She was checking out the farms and houses along the highway, especially the few with animals. “You don’t get out often, do you?” he said.
“No, I don’t. It’s been a couple of years since the last time I was in Danville. Going out is a big energy drain if you’re not accustomed. All the contact with people can be daunting. Unless I want to go out, or have to, it’s easier to stay home.” Willow frowned at him. “You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a photojournalist. We analyze things and dig out the facts.”
“Most people just call that plain old nosiness. Analyzing … definitely not a fairy thing.”
They were silent for a few minutes before Willow spoke again. “Can I ask you a question?” she said.
“Now who’s analyzing? Sure, I gave you a good grilling last night.”
“Yes, you did. I did some research on Wicca yesterday after you showed me your pentacle. I hadn’t ever looked into it, even after they moved to town. I think most of their beliefs made sense. It seemed to be a hodge-podge of many ideas. A composite might be a better way to say it.” She stopped and mused in silence for a moment.
“So, what’s the question?” Noah asked.
“Oh, I forgot,” Willow said, returning from her reverie. “I wondered if you belong to a coven.”
“I tried one. There’s a coven in our county in Wisconsin, so I went to some meetings. They were friendly, but it was all women, which didn’t bother me, but some of this bunch was husband hunting and I wasn’t wife hunting, so I quit. I’m a solitary practitioner. I follow all the principles and precepts, but I do it alone.”
“Do you do all the rituals?”
“Whenever I can. Sometimes travel and work schedules interfere, but I hit most of the regular ones. I have a traveling ritual kit in the truck.”
“What magic do you do?” she asked. “That was a big deal in what I read.”
“It’s bigger for some Wiccans than others. If you can shape or control the flow of the energies, which is what magic is, you can create positive change in yourself and others, if they agree, of course. Did you know magic is a form of prayer?”
“Prayer?”
“Yes. Magic is a directed prayer to a supernatural power, asking their assistance in using energetic objects and rituals to direct your will to affect change, to quote the technical definition. When I do magic, I pray to the Lord and Lady, the male and female deities. The God and the Goddess. Take healing, for example. People who know how can use crystals, herbs, and so on to help bring healing energies to an ill person, but it’s similar to prayer in many religions. When Christians get sick, what do they do? They grab a rosary, do a ritual with it, and pray to their God. In some sects, they have someone anoint their forehead with oil. Ritual is ingrained in everyone no matter what belief system we follow. I suspect even fairies.”
Willow frowned. “I’m not sure about that, not for all of us. We don’t have any set belief system, as you call it. Many fairies adopt the prominent religion of whatever society they live in, but I can’t claim to be an expert on fairy religion. I do know one thing. Not many fairies convert to Christianity. It’s not conducive to our free-wheeling lifestyle.” Noah raised his eyebrows at this. “Not all fairies are as stickin-the-mud as I am. You have to remember we live cloaked in secrecy. In Christian circles, we would be considered liars and deceivers, which we are, out of necessity. If that secret ever came out, we would be branded as … I don’t know, instruments of Satan, or something.”
“Or half breed angels, maybe,” Noah said. “I disagree about the fairy rituals though. You told me last night about the Guarding the Mystery ceremony. That’s a form of ritual.”
“I hadn’t thought of it, but that makes sense.”
“What about you, Willow? What do you believe in?”
She sat in silence for a long time.
Are you ignoring me? Or do I feel confusion?
“I don’t know if I believe in anything specific,” she said, “at least not in the supernatural realm. I think a person needs to believe in something … unchanging, something constant. For instance, the energies you believe in, or your God and Goddess.” She paused for a moment. “The only constant I’ve ever known was my parents’ love, and that was taken from me.” Her face clouded.
Noah spoke gently. “I suppose that’s why most people try to find constancy in something permanent.”
“I suppose.”
“What about your friend Rowan?” he asked. “Whenever you mention her I can feel your soul warm up. Is she a constant for you?”
Willow smiled. “Very perceptive of you. Yes, Rowan is a constant for me and has been, though not in the supernatural sense, for sure.” She shot a mischievous grin at Noah. “I emailed her about you last night. I mean about you being my fairy friend. She asked about a hundred questions. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. She’ll have the whole FairyNet buzzing.”
“Why would that happen?” Noah asked.
Willow’s grin faded. “I mean … well, the mismatched gender fairy friend thing, that’s unique, you know. It will make people talk.”
Noah’s arms tingled and her emotions evaporated.
“Oh,” he said.
They rode in silence the last few minutes to Danville. Once there, Willow pointed out all the changes since her last visit. New buildings here, an old deserted one there. Soon they reached downtown, and Noah swung into a parking lot on Walnut Street. They walked across a vacant lot to the downtown mall where the County Clerk’s office was located.
Noah pointed toward a coffee shop across the street. “I’m going to grab a cup of coffee while you straighten things out. Come get me when you’re finished.”
“Oh. I thought you would go with me.”
“Well, I guess I can. I figured this was private and you’d want to take care of it on your own.”
“I really would like you to come.”
Careful, Noah, don’t trip over your own feet in your hurry.
“Sure,” he said. Her face brightened.
Heavy foot traffic filled the walks outside the courthouse annex building where the Clerk’s office was housed. They found the office quickly, but when they rounded the last corner, a dozen people stood waiting at the counter. Willow sighed and muttered something indistinct. Noah made small talk to distract her from the hustle and bustle. When a loud group came in behind them, she began to fidget, looking back and forth at the people to the front and rear, at the clock, down at the floor, then toward the counter, and then repeating the cycle.
Noah eased alongside her and whispered. “Willow, look at me.” She obeyed, her face flushed with discomfort. He slipped his hand under the vest jacket and massaged the small of her back … and her wings, he realized. Her breathing slowed and her body relaxed. Noah kept his eyes locked on hers; she seemed in no hurry to look away. After a minute, he whispered again. “Okay now?”
Willow nodded and turned toward the counter. Noah started to take his hand away, but she looked up and whispered, “Don’t stop. Please.”
Ten more minutes passed before they reached the counter. Willow was fine now with her focus on the tax bill, so Noah moved a few steps away.
Soon the controversy was cleared up, a scanned copy of Willow’s check was located and the records corrected. No one could tell her how the mistake had happened. From his detached vantage point, Noah tried to read the body language of the various office workers, but no one seemed to betray any guilt. Perhaps it was a simple mistake. After many apologies and reassurances, Willow turned to leave. Noah fell into step beside her as she fled the building. Once outside she sighed and took several deep breaths.
