by John Osborne
“Right.”
“I’ll swing by the motel and grab some things. Could I tap into your wireless connection? I need to work on email and photo files tonight.”
“Sure. I need to catch up my email, too. We’ll have a quiet evening of computing.” Willow seemed pleased. She followed Noah to the door. He turned to her, put his hands on her waist, and pulled her close.
“So what are you going to do today?” he asked.
“I need to check on the animals. The Gator needs an oil change. I should scrub the pool. The usual fairy stuff.” She grinned.
“You should stay away from the house, in case Jones is about. We want him to think we’re ignoring it.” Noah tapped her nose with one finger. “Remember, no outdoor fairy magic, okay?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Willow said.
Noah shook his head. “It’s a good thing I love you or I’d…”
I didn’t mean to say that.
Willow put her arms around him and laid her head on his chest. “Yes, it is,” she said. Noah encircled her with his arms and they stood quietly. After a minute of enjoying the embrace, they parted and with the precision of long-term lovers, smoothly transitioned into a long kiss.
How do I know so well how you move?
Noah held her face in his hands.
“I don’t want to leave,” he said.
“I don’t want you to.”
Do we mean for today … or for good?
Noah kissed those wonderful little lips again, and forced himself to go.
“See ya later, little one.”
“See ya, witch man.”
After a long day of photography, another of Willow’s vegetarian wonders made a great supper, including a sweet potato casserole. She made plenty, so no arguments ensued over seconds or thirds. Their conversation was very domestic. They discussed the little things that happened in their day: the stuck shutter on Noah’s camera, Willow’s busted knuckle from a wrench slipping.
After supper, Noah set up his laptop. He opted to sit on the sofa with a small lap desk Willow gave him, so he could spread out his files and camera memory sticks. Willow sat at her computer desk.
Noah liked this arrangement because he could look at Willow by raising his eyes, while she had to turn her head to look at him. She was a distraction, but he enjoyed looking at her. She still wore the red flannel shirt with her wingtips sticking out.
They had worked quietly for a few minutes when Noah noticed Willow squinting at the screen.
“Sweetheart, put your glasses on,” he said.
She frowned at him. “Were you watching me?”
Why no, I was looking at that picture on the wall behind you.
“Yes. Men do that. They watch beautiful women, and they see when they’re squinting.” Willow relented and pulled the glasses out of the drawer.
After a few minutes, Willow caught Noah looking at her.
“You’re watching me again.”
I was?
“I was thinking how adorable you are in those glasses.” Willow rolled her eyes. “No, I mean it. I’ve always liked how women look in wire rims. I think they’re cute.”
Willow smiled. “Thank you,” she said. She turned back to her laptop and began typing again. Noah did likewise for a few minutes, but he had difficulty concentrating with Willow in front of him. She kept moving her wings under the shirt and reaching to scratch them or her back, and then reaching for the candy dish.
“Why don’t you take your shirt off and be comfortable?” he said. “Or go put on something that lets you stretch your wings.”
Willow’s eyes narrowed for a moment, but then she unbuttoned her shirt and hung it on the chair. She still wore the little white bra. Her wings rose to flight position and she stretched them, and then shook them rapidly. Satisfied, she returned to typing, her wings draped over the back of the chair.
Concentrate, Noah. You’ve got a lot of stuff to upload to the server.
“Have you heard from Rowan lately?” he asked after a couple of minutes.
Willow turned an exasperated expression on him. “Yes, about five minutes ago.”
“Oh. I was just curious.” Noah put his head down and continued to upload. This time he lasted about five minutes.
“What does she look like?” he asked.
“Who?” Willow asked. Her wings moved high and twitched.
“Rowan.”
“Why?” She glared at him.
“I was just curious. No need to get all owie about it.”
“I’m not owie, I’m trying to get something done.” She sighed loudly. “She’s about six inches taller than me and weighs maybe ten pounds more. She’s a dragon, too, so her wings look the same.”
“Eastern pondhawk?”
“What?”
“Your wings are the same as the eastern pondhawk dragonfly. Those places on your front edges with the opaque squares are one of their characteristics.”
“Really? I didn’t know that.” Willow brought her top right wing forward to look at it.
“Is Rowan as cute as you are?”
“She’s pretty, very pretty.”
“Is she blonde, too?”
Willow laughed. “Nope, she has dark brown hair and lots of it, and dark brown eyes, of course. Her legs are long, too, not like my short little things. Oh, and she has actual boobs, and she has a crazy Kentucky accent. You’ll like her. You’re a lot alike.”
“What do you mean?”
“You both like to banter and tease and argue.” Willow grinned at this. “You’ll get on well. She has a sexy, foxy thing she puts on. Now can I get back to work? I’m trying to help someone with a FairyNet security problem.”
“Sure, don’t let me bother you.” Noah uploaded more files. Willow would type madly for a time and then stop and stretch to scratch a spot on her back.
After about two minutes, Noah spoke again. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
Willow let out a sigh, dropped her head to the desk, and pounded her forehead. “You—are—driving—me—crazy!” She raised her eyes and glowered at Noah.
Well, excuse me.
“I just thought you might like some tea.”
“Noah, move to the kitchen table where you can’t see me and then maybe I’ll get something accomplished.”
Noah gathered up his laptop and other materials and left for the kitchen in a huff.
“Snotty little fairy,” he muttered.
Once Noah settled at the kitchen table, the atmosphere improved. He supposed, grudgingly, this would be better.
After about twenty minutes, Willow spoke.
“Noah? Would you come here a minute?”
“I wouldn’t want to distract you.”
“Just come here. Please?” Noah walked up to the computer desk and stood with his arms crossed. Willow looked pensive. “Are you mad at me?”
Yes!
“No. Well, maybe a little.”
“I’m sorry I got snotty.”
“You heard that.”
“Fairy ears, remember? Will you forgive me enough to scratch my back, it’s driving me crazy.” She contorted herself, thrusting her chest out in an attempt to reach the offending spot. Noah walked behind her and began scratching.
“Right in the middle between my wings. Down lower. No, to the right. Lower again. Under my bra strap. Ooh, that feels so good.” She sighed in apparent ecstasy. “Unfasten my bra, that’s what’s making it itch.”
What!?
“Wait a minute. Are you the same fairy that didn’t want me to see her in a bra and now you want me to unfasten it?”
“This is different.”
“That’s what you said this morning.”
“That was a different different.”
“Oh, now I understand.” Noah unfastened the bra. Willow clasped it to her chest with one hand and laid her forehead on the desk while Noah scratched to the accompaniment of many oohs and ahs.
“That’s good,” Willow said once the itch was
satisfied. “Thanks.” She straightened, clutching the bra to her chest. “Go back to the kitchen. I’m going to put my shirt on and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”
Noah shook his head and did as he was told. Soon Willow was typing at a furious pace again.
Noah did accomplish a lot in the kitchen during the next hour and a half. He caught up all his email and uploaded all the photo files. Varney should be pleased. Maybe he would stop calling every day. Noah was so absorbed that he didn’t notice the cessation of Willow’s professional ten finger typing until she spoke.
“I think it’s time we got into bed, don’t you?”
Huh? Oh, wow!
Willow was leaning back against the kitchen counter with her arms stretched out to either side, her shirt unbuttoned to her belly. Her jeans had disappeared sometime in the last hour.
Do you mean…?
Willow’s words were innocent enough by themselves, but since Noah’s thoughts had been on the subject of getting in bed at least ten times during the evening, his reaction became inevitable.
Oh, crap, not again!
Noah’s face must have betrayed him as well as his feelings. Willow read both and her own face displayed surprise and dismay. Her eyes grew wide and flicked down to Noah’s lap for a moment. Her face grew red with embarrassment, as did Noah’s when her reaction hit him. Willow recovered first, stood up straight and pulled her shirt closed.
“Oh, Noah, I … didn’t mean for you to think … I mean I—”
“No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I—”
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Noah.”
“Neither did you. I’m sorry I … oh geez.” Noah closed his eyes, trying to sort out both their feelings as they swirled in his head.
“Noah, it’s not I wouldn’t ever want … oh, maybe I better stop.”
Noah moved to stand up but Willow held her hand up.
“I’m going upstairs to put my pajamas on,” she said. She ran from the kitchen. Noah didn’t watch her go. He rested his head in his hands and closed his eyes again. Willow’s volatile emotions slipped away, thankfully without hurting.
No enchantment caused that little scene.
He heard Willow retrieve her jeans, start up the stairs, and then stop. “I mean my real pajamas,” she said and then she ran up the remaining steps.
Noah carefully blocked his feelings, and then packed the laptop and his other equipment, vaguely aware of Willow rummaging through drawers up in the loft.
As he finished, she came down the stairs, wearing a floor-length flannel nightdress under her white robe, which was cinched tight. She even wore socks, which was definitely un-Willowy.
Message received.
Willow appeared to feel his amusement and put her mouth into a pout for a moment before breaking into a grin. Noah laughed.
“Well, I don’t want you to think…” she began. “Oh, I don’t know what I want you to think.” Noah walked to her and took her face in his hands.
“It’s okay, Willow. The crisis has passed. I’m sorry I took what you said wrong. You could parade in front of me with your regular pajamas and I still wouldn’t think badly of you or touch you … unless that’s what you wanted.”
“I know,” Willow said in her little voice. She reached up, took his hands away from her face, and held them between hers. “Noah, let me explain something. I have an imaginary box where I locked a bunch of stuff away years ago. Parts of me, a lot of confused feelings and ideas and emotions. When my parents died, I opened the box just long enough to throw more stuff into it and slam the lid. Then I forced myself to forget everything I hid and I even tried to forget there was a box.” She paused for a moment, her mind off in the past somewhere.
You call it a box, I call it a rock. It stands between us, either way. Something that happened before your parents died.
Willow’s face brightened and began to glow. She focused a sweet smile on him. “Then one day the last thing I expected happened. A man, a human, appeared on my doorstep and turned out to be kind and gentle and thoughtful … and loving. A man I had no claim on, who had no reason to be kind, no reason to care about me.” She looked deep into Noah’s eyes. “But you did. The first thing I did was trip over the box.” She giggled. “I needed some of the feelings I had tucked away. You made me crack the lid open and look inside. After I accused you of … I can’t even say it … I stayed up all night and opened the box and pulled out the rest of myself. I’ve been busy ever since dusting things off and trying to reassemble the pieces. Some of it hurts. Much of it frightens me terribly, but I’m going to put the puzzle back together.” She reached up to take Noah’s face in her hands. “It’s going to take some time. I hope you’ll wait for me.”
While Willow spoke, Noah’s heart first ached and then swelled with his feelings for her.
“I’ll wait,” was all he could make himself say.
Willow’s face and neck glowed brighter. They slid into an embrace and kissed many times. After, they held each other for a long quiet moment until Willow pulled away.
“I’m going upstairs to lie down,” she said with a grin.
“Me, too. Right here on the couch.” Noah let her go and she padded up the stairs.
Willow’s voice floated down from above as Noah snuggled under his blanket, still dressed.
“Good night, Cowboy.” A fairy giggle followed.
“Good night, sweet fairy. I love you.”
“I’m glad.”
A few minutes later Noah spoke. “Willow, are you still awake?”
“Yes.”
“Is your name really Willow Brown?”
Willow didn’t hesitate. Her voice was soft in the darkness. “My name isn’t Brown, but it is Willow.”
“Good,” Noah said. “Good. I love your name. I like how it feels on my lips.”
Aromas of coffee and bubble bath filled the cottage when Noah woke in the morning. He could hear splashes from the poolroom. Willow must have built up the fire quite some time ago, as the main room felt warm. He struggled up from the low sofa and walked toward the kitchen.
“Good morning,” he called. “Are you decent?”
“No,” Willow replied, but he could feel the teasing in her.
“Good, ‘cause I’m coming in.” Willow giggled.
The water was milky and covered with bubbles. Willow’s head protruded from the surface. “A bath sounds great but I suspect this water is too cool for a mere human.”
“I’m afraid so,” Willow said with a devilish grin. “Besides, this is an invitation-only party.”
“That’s okay. I planned on cleaning up at the motel anyway.” Noah entered the bathroom to brush his teeth and attempt to straighten his hair. He heard Willow climb out of the pool, so he took his time to allow her to finish. Soon her rapid footsteps moved up the stairs.
The coffee tasted great. Willow reappeared from the loft, pulling a blue sweatshirt over her flight suit and jeans. She smiled as she passed through the kitchen to the bathroom. “There are oats on the stove. I didn’t think you would ever wake up, so I ate earlier. It was tough leaving any for you.”
Noah scooped some oats out into a bowl. He sat down facing the bathroom, where Willow stood before the mirror doing the things women do in the morning.
“What’s the battle plan for today?” she asked.
“First thing is to go see if the camera caught anything last night. Then I have to go to work. If we need to, we’ll develop the film after I get back. Otherwise we’ll explore the Big House again.”
Willow was quiet for a while before she spoke again. “How much longer will you be in town?”
Noah detected some emotion behind this question, what he could not discern. Melancholy?
Or was she anxious about something?
“I have another job starting on the eighth of next month, so I should be out of here by the first. Next Wednesday. My dad needs me on the farm for a couple of projects.”
The sound of Willow brushi
ng her hair filled the silence. “Where do you go next?”
“Louisiana. It’s not the Midwest, but my editor has a dream of renaming the magazine Outdoor USA so every month we do a ‘somewhere else’ feature.”
Another pause. “I wish you could stay longer.”
“So do I.”
Noah unlocked the door to the Big House as soon as he heard Willow move the bar. When he opened the door, she stood in the sunlight in the atrium with wings all aglow, turning in circles and looking at the upper floors.
I wish I could tell someone I’ve found you.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“I was imagining a houseful of fairies. Someone would always be buzzing around the atrium. And the ballroom … it would be neat to play flutterball again. Fairy volleyball, I mean. Of course, you can’t play it good without a bunch of Dragons. We fly better than the others do. An old fairy saying is ‘Dragons zoom, but Butters just flutter.’” Willow giggled. “I always liked that one. Bumbles don’t play at all. ‘Dragons fly straight, but Bumbles only tumble.’”
“A little rude, don’t you think?”
“Oh, Noah, wait until you meet Rowan. I guarantee you’ll learn plenty of fairy insults. Did you know there are wingless fairies? They’re called Nubs. They have the hump on their back but they never get wings. Some people call them fleas.”
“That’s mean.”
“What’s mean is to call another fairy a fly.”
“What’s bad about that?”
Willow grinned. “What do flies eat, Noah?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s gross.”
“And a promiscuous fairy is called a roach.” She went on to give him the equivalent human word.
“Willow!”
“Oops. I think I shocked you.”
“That’s a far too ugly word to pass through your sweet lips.”
“Well, I guess I better put that part of me back in the box,” Willow said with a giggle. “Oh, and one more thing. Don’t ever, ever call me Tinker Bell. That’s the worst of all.”
Put that in the glad-you-told-me-before-I-said-it file.
They walked to the kitchen to check the camera, and found the box undisturbed. Noah pulled the camera out.
“Well?” Willow asked, her little kid excitement spilling over. Noah turned the camera over to read the exposure counter.
