by John Osborne
“I figured that out,” Noah said, “when you turned down a million and a half bucks without blinking.”
“Is that how much it was? I didn’t bother to figure.” She paused. “Noah, I think you should know how much I’m worth.”
“Okay, but it’s up to you. I don’t consider it ‘need to know’ information.”
“Alright. I can respect that. If it ever becomes an issue or you want to know, I’ll tell you.”
“Deal. On the subject of safe houses, did you ever need to go to one?”
Willow hesitated. “Yes.”
Noah waited, but Willow said no more. “That’s it? Just ‘yes’?”
“Yes.”
Note to self: add safe house visits to list of secrets.
Willow changed the subject. “Why were you looking at Chester’s door?” she asked.
“I wasn’t looking, I was sniffing. Did you see the little bag below the wreath? It was an amulet, a container for herbs and other objects used for magical protection. Or other spell work. I didn’t recognize the scent.”
“I know what an amulet is. I sure wouldn’t have expected to see one on Chester’s door. I didn’t think he believed in anything but himself.”
“Magic is a tool, not a belief. Many people with no religion still practice magic. Folk magic is still common in the U.S., especially in rural areas. I agree, though, it seems odd for him. Of course, the Jones family is from the South, where folk magic was strong in the nineteenth century. Perhaps they continued to dabble after they moved north. I didn’t notice anything else in the house that appeared magic-related, but we only saw one room.”
They rode in silence for a few minutes before Willow spoke again.
“Why did you tell me not to stand with my hands in my back pockets?”
Noah hesitated. “Well … I’ve noticed you don’t always wear a bra, like tonight, and standing like that is … revealing.”
Willow smiled, a woman’s secret smile, undecipherable by men. “Oh.”
They arrived at the missing sign and bumped along the lane to the tree. Noah once again jockeyed the truck around to be heading out, while Willow stifled laughter.
“May I walk with you to the cottage?” Noah asked. “Not because you need any protection, but because I would like to walk with you to the cottage.”
“Certainly,” Willow answered. Noah took his flashlight out of the glove box and they climbed out. Shadow appeared with his tail wagging furiously.
“Leave your light off,” Willow said. “Take my hand.” Noah took the illuminated little hand she offered and followed. Faint light glowed from her face when he could see her profile. Shadow walked in the point position a few feet ahead, closer to Willow than usual.
Willow strolled, humming softly. Noah had grown to love these quiet moments outdoors with her. Words need not pass between them; feelings spoke.
Willow stopped and stood, listening. “Do you hear it?” she whispered. Shadow twisted his head to one side.
“What?”
“Nightsong. Listen. There.” She pointed up into the trees with a glowing hand. Noah could make out a scraping sound. “Leaves crackling as they dry. And there.” She pointed toward the ground in the same direction. “A shrew.”
Willow turned her face in his direction, sharp ears probing the darkness. Now Noah heard a sound, a soft fluttering. “Did you hear that?” he whispered.
“Yes. A songbird fluffing his feathers against the cold.”
They continued on at a slow pace in the silence. Too soon, Noah thought, they arrived at her little home. Willow pulled a key from her pocket, unlocked the gate and the door and reached in to flip on the porch light and an inside light, while Noah waited outside. Shadow slipped inside and soon could be heard lapping water from his bowl. Willow walked up to Noah, slipping her hands into her back pockets. Her smile was sweet, innocent. Light radiated from her face and her fragrance surrounded him.
“Noah, this was a good day. I haven’t laughed so hard in years.”
“Even when we fought?”
Willow swiveled her torso right and left in a playful manner. “That was some of the best stuff, especially when I knocked you down.” Her laugh was charming; the trees seemed to lean close to hear the forgotten sound. “When will I see you again?”
Not soon enough.
“I need to get some work done tomorrow. I’ve been trying to fit in a trip to the parks west of Danville. My editor is going to be all over me if I don’t send some proofs to him. I left my cell phone at the motel today and I’ll have nasty messages. I’ll need to work on the photos I took today and tomorrow’s stuff, so I don’t think I’ll be able to come back out until Saturday.” Willow’s face and heart reflected disappointment, which pleased him, in a way. “Sometime mid-afternoon, say two o’clock or so.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll be here. We can explore the basement maybe.”
“Sure. What will you do tomorrow?”
“I need to check the salt and mineral blocks, make my weekly sign inspection, make a menu for next week … all my usual Friday stuff.” They lapsed into silence, delaying. Finally Noah spoke.
“Well, I guess I better go.” He looked down at her sweet face. “Good night, little fairy.”
“Good night, Cowboy.” She placed her hands on his shoulders, pulled him down, and kissed him lightly on the mouth. Noah’s face betrayed surprise, but so did Willow’s. She put a hand over her mouth, and somehow he could see her blush through the glow.
“I … uh … I don’t know why I did that. I mean I know why but I don’t … oh, shoot, maybe I should shut up.” She paused for a moment. “It’s like you say: deja knew. I’m sorry if …”
Noah laughed at her discomfort. “No offense. It’s a considerable improvement over being licked.”
Willow giggled. “See you Saturday.”
“See ya.” He dragged himself away and walked toward the truck.
When he arrived at the motel Noah powered up his cell phone and laptop. While the computer started up, he contemplated Willow’s picture hanging above the table.
“Ms. Brown, you are an amazing woman.”
Seven voice mails and thirteen emails waited. Four voice mails were from Varney. He listened to them as he checked emails, half of them from Varney, also. The successive voice mails were each more terse. The last was fifteen minutes old. Noah switched off the phone lest he get another call. He called Varney’s office with the motel phone and left a long, soothing message about the great shots he had gotten at the woods, how Noah had been wrong about going back, and promised to send the pictures tonight.
Noah spent the next two hours working up the new pictures of Willow’s pond and uploading them. When he finished it was after midnight. He undressed and hit the bathroom. Before lying down, he sat on the edge of the bed and regarded Willow’s picture yet again. He blew a kiss in its direction.
“Good night, sweet fairy.”
Eleven
Noah walked into Henning’s at six-thirty the next morning to catch up with the gang. An enthusiastic greeting awaited him. Louie nodded, as usual, but sneaked a sly wink, too.
“Where you been workin’?” Harry asked.
“Nowhere Wednesday, it was too nasty out,” Noah said. “Yesterday morning I went to Danville to take care of some business. Then I went to Jones Woods and shot some pictures of the pond.”
May as well spill the beans myself.
Lawrence’s face went pale. “You didn’t. You’re just joshin’ us, right?”
“Nope. Ms. Brown said it would be okay. She’s not bad for a hermit. Likes her privacy, but she’s civil enough. Guess she liked my farm-boy charm.” He grinned and received a general laugh all around the table, but loudest from Louie.
Lawrence sat silent. “You be careful down there, young man,” he said in an ominous tone.
“So what’s she like, this Brown woman?” Frank asked. “You hear all kind of stories about goings on out there, but you
can’t get anything out of Louie.”
Noah expected these questions but he was still annoyed. Louie looked aggravated, too.
“She’s quiet,” Noah said. “She’s a nature lover, and looks after all the wildlife on the property, even has names for some of them.” Noah stopped, lest he say too much. He could go on for hours about Willow. His eyes met Louie’s.
Why haven’t you told them about our beautiful lady of the woods?
“Where you off to today?” Harry asked.
Noah was glad the subject changed. “I’m going to the park district west of Danville. There should be some good subjects.”
The old men weren’t as familiar with the parks as they were with the Hoopeston area, but they gave Noah plenty of pointers anyway.
Vermilion County boasted many beautiful parks, the three biggest a few miles west of Danville. Kickapoo State Recreation Area, the Middlefork State Preserve, and Kennekuk Cove County Park all butted against one another astride the Middlefork Vermilion River to form a contiguous area of five thousand acres. The two northern parks were fairly new, formed from farmland purchased by the state and county in preparation for a reservoir project that never happened. Kickapoo Park was much older, and of interest to Noah because it consisted of reclaimed strip mine land. Its many spring-fed ponds and woodlands were a testament to how nature can recover if man keeps his nose out of things. While not a subject for his current article, he couldn’t pass up an opportunity to shoot there.
Noah mulled over his time with Willow during the thirty-minute drive from Hoopeston. Two words described her: feisty and fearless. Not many people in Hoopeston would talk to Chester Jones as she had last night.
No, she’s not fearless.
Something frightened her; he felt it whenever his questions came too close to her secrets. Noah was developing a list, but listing secrets leaves you with nothing but a blank page. He hoped someday she would tell him about her demons; it would take time and patience.
Her time, not mine.
Noah’s heart said he loved her, but his head couldn’t get around the obstacles. Like money, age, secrets. Oh, yes: she was a fairy. They were plowing new ground, she said. A farm boy could get his arms around that.
And the plow keeps hitting rocks.
Mystery surrounded Willow Brown except in one way: she was a captivating beauty. Noah hoped that wouldn’t be a rock in the field, too.
Darkness fell before Noah returned to the motel. The trip to the parks had been productive. The weather had held out for the day despite some occasional cloudiness.
He spent the evening processing his photos and uploading them and accompanying prose to the main office server. While making one last check of email, he dozed off with his chin resting on his hand and jerked awake when it slipped off. The laptop clock read after one o’clock. He stripped off his clothes and dropped into bed without setting the alarm.
Ten o’clock passed before Noah woke the next morning. He had slept hard and couldn’t remember rolling over in the night. His shoulder ached. He sat on the bed wishing someone could rub it for him, someone with tiny, warm, strong hands.
The pain went away after a shower and some coffee. He put on clean jeans and his favorite blue plaid flannel shirt. Tennis shoes were the choice over boots today since they planned to explore the Big House basement. Besides, if he had to chase a misbehaving fairy through the woods he could run faster. Noah chuckled at the image.
“This farm boy will never beat Willow in a race.”
No: this cowboy. Maybe I should buy a rope and learn to lasso.
Noah visited the grocery to restock the motel room with goodies for quick meals, the liquor store for his favorite beer, and filled the truck’s fuel tank. After putting everything away, he drove to the pub for a relaxing lunch. He returned to the motel to brush his teeth, swish some mouthwash and touch up his hair. Rummaging in his travel kit turned up a small bottle of cologne. He dabbed some on and smiled at his reflection in the mirror.
How long has it been since you duded up for a woman?
Duded? Maybe this cowboy thing was going too far.
Noah killed the engine after turning the truck around at the tree across the lane. He opened the glove box and grabbed both flashlights before climbing out of the truck.
His heart was light as he strode through the colorful woods. Closer proximity to the cottage, however, brought on anxious feelings. His steps slowed somewhat. The closer he approached the cottage the more uneasy he became, until he came to a halt in bewilderment.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I—
“Something’s wrong with Willow!”
He started walking again, faster and faster as the sensation grew, until he was jogging down the narrow path. Within a minute, he was at the clearing and pounded through the tall grass to the cottage.
“Willow? It’s Noah!” he called. The iron gate was unlocked, but the door was latched. “Willow?” He turned his ear toward the door, but her voice was too soft to understand. Finally, he heard the bolts drawn, and the door slowly opened to reveal Willow, clad in her long white robe.
“Willow? What’s wrong?”
She looked dreadful, her face pale and drawn, with dark circles under dull eyes. Her hair was tousled and unwashed.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I feel awful.” Breath came ragged through her mouth, and she leaned against the doorway for support.
“Is it okay if I come in?”
“Yes, please do. I’m glad you’re here.”
Noah stepped inside and received Shadow’s greeting, which was uncharacteristically subdued. Willow descended unsteadily to the floor and walked to the sofa, which was covered with a rumpled sheet and blanket. She sat down and rubbed her eyes.
“I started feeling bad last evening,” Willow said, “but I didn’t think much about it. I thought something I ate caused it, but I got worse overnight. This morning I woke up really weak and I’ve gotten sicker throughout the day.”
Noah knelt before her. He put a hand on her cheek and forehead.
“You feel warm, but you always do. Do you hurt anywhere?”
“I’m achy all over, but nothing hurts. I’m so tired. And now I’m feeling nauseous.” She rubbed a hand across her belly. “This is weird. I’ve never been sick like this before.”
“You haven’t?”
“No, remember I told you fairies rarely get sick at all.”
Noah frowned. “Have you eaten today?”
“I ate some cereal this morning, but nothing since.”
“Have you been drinking anything?”
“No. I’ve just been lying on the sofa.”
“You need fluids. Lie down while I make some tea.”
Willow complied and Noah covered her with the blanket, more because it seemed the right thing than because she needed it. Shadow took up guard next to the sofa, where he laid with his chin resting on his paws.
Noah went into the little kitchen and filled the teakettle from the crock of spring water on the counter. He was turning on the hotplate under the teakettle when Willow appeared.
“I think I’m going to puke,” she said, and made a dash for the bathroom. Noah crowded into the tiny room and offered comfort as violent heaves racked her body. When the convulsions subsided, she sat on the floor and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily.
Noah tenderly wiped her mouth with a cold cloth, rinsed it and held it to her forehead. “Let’s get you back to the sofa, sweetheart,” he said. She nodded feebly. Noah helped her stand and then guided her by an elbow lest she fall, and settled her on the sofa with the cloth on her forehead.
“That was awful,” she said. “Thank you.” She found his hand and squeezed it.
Noah smiled. “What are fairy friends for?” he said. She smiled a weak imitation of her usual cheery look. “Now you need fluids for sure so you don’t dehydrate, but tea might not be good. I’ll get you some water.”
Willow tossed and turned for the next hour,
unable to get comfortable. Noah sat in the easy chair across the room and watched her. He rose often to check her temperature or rearrange the covers.
Noah hated caring for a sick loved one. He cleaned up after them and did whatever they needed but he loathed seeing them suffer.
Care of sick fairies isn’t on my resume. And I’m sure the Handy Home Medical Adviser doesn’t cover this.
Willow vomited twice more during the afternoon, though little remained to come up. The last time she heaved on hands and knees next to the sofa. Noah held her tight while her entire body convulsed. She slept better then and he hoped she was improving, but soon she appeared flushed and when he felt her forehead, she was much warmer. She complained of being cold.
“Sweetheart, have you ever had a fever before?” he asked.
“Yes, once or twice, a long time ago.”
“You don’t have a thermometer, I bet.”
“No, my normal temperature is off scale.”
Noah kept a cold cloth on her head. Her nausea subsided but the fever worsened. She would feel hot for a time, and throw off all the covers, then in a short time she would be huddled under the blanket shivering.
The afternoon wore on forever. Willow’s temperature continued to rise. She became woozy and slow to respond.
I can’t feel your emotions. It’s as if you’re not there.
He caressed her face to waken her. “Willow, I think we need to get you to an emergency room,” he said.
Willow shook her head. “No,” she said, without opening her eyes. “I can’t. The first thing they’ll want to do is take off my clothes.”
Good point.
“What am I supposed to do if you start convulsing?” he asked, but sleep had taken her. Noah paced. She probably didn’t have any aspirin, couldn’t keep it down if she did. Willow mentioned fairy physicists, so there must be fairy doctors, but where? He sat on the sofa arm, looking at Willow.
What’s more important, your mystery or your life?
Maybe Rowan could help. He moved to Willow’s desk, powered up her laptop and located her email software. He returned to the sofa with a pencil and slip of paper. “Willow? Can you tell me your email password? I’ll email Rowan to see if she knows any remedies.” Willow woke enough to give him not one but three passwords and then dozed off again.
