by A W Hartoin
“There’s always a first time.”
“Well, it’s not this time.” I smiled and waved at the nearest one.
The trow lowered its gaze and peeked at me from underneath long thick lashes. Its eyes were dark brown with no white at all. The trow shrank back as I picked up a violin. The neck had been broken off, but was beautifully repaired. A light coat of wax made the repair almost invisible. I wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t been looking for a break.
“You do beautiful work,” I said, placing the violin back on the table.
The trow nodded and I suspected a smile on its concealed lips.
“Can you talk to me?”
I saw the trow’s lips move under the curtain of fur, but I couldn’t hear anything.
“What?”
Gerald stepped forward, puffing out his chest. “He whispered, ‘We are trow.’”
“I know you are,” I said. “Soren Maple told me about you.”
At the mention of Soren, the rest of the trow crept forward out of their hiding places. I felt like they’d taken a huge sigh of relief.
“You know Soren?”
All dozen trow nodded. The one closest to me held out its hand. The palm looked like black leather. Calluses tipped the fingers and decorated the palm in hard ridges. Gerald grabbed my arm, but I took the trow’s hand anyway. It regarded me shyly and then patted my hand.
“We’re wood fairies,” I said.
Gerald relaxed and let go of my arm. “He says that Soren told them about a wood fairy with black hair in the antique mall. He told them not to scare you.”
I stifled a giggle. The thought that the trow could frighten anyone seemed a ridiculous notion. “You did well. I’m not frightened. You’re musicians?”
The trow picked up the violin and the bow next to it. He placed the instrument on his shoulder and played a quick tune so lovely and intricate I stopped breathing for a second it was so beautiful.
“Wow,” said Gerald.
“Wow, indeed,” I said. “Would you play some more?”
The trow all picked up instruments and assembled themselves in the middle of the room. Three played violins, one a harp, two had cellos, two more had guitars and the rest situated various drums. Once they were assembled, I had a hard time telling them apart. If it hadn’t been for the violin, I wouldn’t have known the one whose hand I’d held. I started to ask their names, but they began playing a slow melodious tune that made me feel like I was in a boat, rising and falling with gentle waves.
The trow played the song for several minutes. When they stopped they leaned forward, their eyes searching my face. I almost couldn’t react, the song was so wonderful. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.”
The trow murmured something.
“They said thank you and would you like to hear more,” said Gerald.
“Yes, definitely, but would you mind more visitors? I know a little mindbender who can’t wait to meet you.” I smiled, although the word mindbender stuck in my throat a little.
The trow nodded.
“Gerald, please go get the others,” I said.
“Why do I have to go?” he asked. “I want to stay with them.”
I glanced over at him. “Really?”
Gerald ducked his head. “I like the music. Okay?”
“Okay. I’ll get them.
I left Gerald there listening to a sonata. It was hard to tear myself away once the trow began playing. I skipped down the stairs, buoyed by the music and feeling as light as I did when flipping around in the warm air outside the mantel.
The dogs waited outside, their noses still tipped up. They wagged at me, probably hoping for a scratch, but I wasn’t quite ready to risk being eaten yet. I retrieved Iris, Horc, and Easy and brought them to Grandma Vi’s sitting room. As soon as we walked in the door the babies stopped squabbling and stared at the trow who ignored them and played a jolly tune worthy of a parade.
I sat next to Iris on the floor and blew out my flame. The dim light from the party lent itself to the music. Iris heaved a sigh and sank back against the wall as one of the trow gave Easy a lyre. His plump fingers skipped across the strings. In a second, the trow picked up his melody and accompanied him in a song that spoke of longing. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I’d known Easy’s family played, but never heard them. I’d missed an essential part of life in the months the mindbenders lived in Grandma Vi’s house.
I whispered to Iris, “Is this what Easy’s family sounded like?”
“Pretty close, but there were only three of them. Mom really liked their playing,” said Iris.
“How come nobody ever told me what they sounded like?”
Iris cast a sad look at me. “Because you couldn’t hear it.”
I turned back to the music, determined to enjoy it. With all those musicians in the same room, I was having nearly the same experience as everyone else.
We stayed for hours. When the humans turned off their lights, darkness overtook the music room and I relit my palm. “We have to go, but we’ll visit again, if you’ll allow it.”
The trow nodded vigorously and kept on playing. They continued even after we left and took my light with us.
“Are they still playing?” I asked when we got to the front door.
“Yes,” said Iris. “I guess they don’t need light.”
I asked again when we were all getting ready for bed and Iris nodded yes. The expression on her face told me that the music was still beautiful and I felt a pang of sorrow. Easy tapped his foot and Horc swayed back and forth. Only I sat in silence.
I made us pallets for the night, all except Gerald, who said he was too big to sleep with us. He went to my parents’ room. I lay down next to Horc, watched his breathing, and ignored the faint spriggan scent that remained in spite of the scrubbing I’d given him. I ran the songs I’d heard through my head, delighting in the rhythms, but also with a great sadness settling around my heart. I didn’t know how much I’d been missing and I wanted to go back to a time when I didn’t know. Back to when the mantel was on the wall of Whipplethorn and my worst problem was babysitting for Gerald.
I woke early, crept out of the bedroom and left by the front door. The red room lay dark and empty before me. Tess wouldn’t be up for some time. I yawned and considered going back to bed before seeing a flash of movement. The dogs dashed out from behind the sofa and ran up to the mantel. They sat their furry butts down and pointed their fat snouts at me.
“Nothing gets by you, does it?” I waved at them.
The dogs wagged, then jumped up and ran back across the room to the stairs. A few moments later, the man I’d seen at the party, Evan, tromped down the stairs in a blue bathrobe. The dogs followed him into the kitchen and sat wagging furiously until he patted their heads. He was talking, but he was so far away I couldn’t make out the words or see his lips.
I closed my eyes to concentrate and then popped them back open. Evan was still in the kitchen with the dogs, but when I closed my eyes it was like they ceased to exist. What little I thought I could hear went away. I watched him opening cabinet doors, pulling out pans and containers. I would’ve sworn I heard it, a little clinking far in the distance. When I covered my eyes, the clinking disappeared. Evan poured water in a black and silver contraption. Then he spooned dark brown chunks in the top and pressed a button. A little orange light appeared on the front of the contraption and the man turned around, leaning on the cabinet. The dogs sat in front of him and I was able to read his lips.
“What are you doing, you worthless animals?”
The dogs wagged harder.
“How can I love creatures so ridiculous?”
I covered my eyes and sat in silence. I thought about all the things I’d taken for granted as normal. Iris edging in front of me to talk. Mom always telling me to face Dad when he spoke. My teacher, Miss Penrose Whipplethorn, giving all her lectures directly in front of my seat. I’d always wondered why she did that. I wanted her
to go lecture in front of someone else so I could relax. Maybe I didn’t have the exceptional hearing that was expected of wood fairies, but I thought I could hear well enough.
That day watching Evan, I realized how bad it was. I couldn’t hear. I really couldn’t hear. No wonder Grandma Vi insisted I learned to lip read. I’d thought it was pointless, since I only needed it at a distance. But it wasn’t about distance or direction or the tone of the speaker’s voice. I needed it all the time.
I dropped my hands. Evan moved about the kitchen, pouring ingredients in a big bowl and it seemed like I could hear it. But I couldn’t. I was just filling in the blanks. I jumped off the edge of the mantel and flew towards the kitchen. It wasn’t all my imagination, not Mom’s voice, not the trow’s music. How much could I hear? I landed on the counter near to Evan’s bowl and closed my eyes.
“You dogs stink,” he said.
I definitely heard that. Then I flew farther away and tried again. I heard his words, but they were fainter. Another small flight and they were fainter still. One more and nothing. I flew back a little and turned around. As soon as I turned Evan’s voice almost disappeared. It was better if I faced him.
Evan poured a black liquid out of the contraption into a misshapen mug that said “Tess” on the side. He took a drink and went to sit at the table. A fresh flowered tablecloth covered the expanse. Candles and a bunch of flowers were arranged in the center. He opened a flat, skinny box lying at the end of the table and stared at a shiny blue screen while sipping the liquid. The dogs didn’t follow him, but sat looking at me.
“I think I can hear humans better than fairies,” I told them and they wagged their answer. “I wish it were the other way around, but I suppose it can’t be. Humans are probably pretty loud in comparison.”
Evan began tapping his fingers on the box and I flew over to see what he was up to. The dogs followed me and sat next to his chair. He looked down at them and said, “You two have been acting kind of weird lately.”
I hovered over the box and saw rows of grey buttons with black numbers and letters on them. When Evan pressed a button the corresponding letter appeared on the screen.
“That’s pretty cool,” I said as I dropped closer to get a better look. Some of the buttons had words on them like “Caps Lock” or “End.” “I wonder what that’s about.”
“What are you doing over there?” Evan asked.
I jerked away and saw him, not looking at me as I’d hoped, but at Tess who was standing on the mantel’s hearth. Her nose brushed against the mantel’s shining wood and she ran her fingers over the curves and ridges of the intricately carved wood. She must’ve said something in response, but she was too far away and I couldn’t see her lips.
“What are you looking for?” he asked.
Tess turned around. “Just looking, Daddy.”
“I’m going to make pancakes. How many do you want?” he asked.
But Tess had turned back to the mantel, and her answer was lost to me.
“Get away from there,” he said. “I haven’t fixed it to the wall yet.”
Tess jumped off the fireplace hearth and skipped across the room to the kitchen table. She skidded to a halt when she saw me hovering above her father’s hands.
“Daddy,” Tess said.
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
Tess placed her small hand on her father’s large shoulder. “Do you believe in fairies?”
Dimples appeared on his cheeks and a smile danced on the edges of his mouth. “Why do you ask?”
“Do you, Daddy?”
“Not really, no.”
Tess winked at me. Then she burrowed under her father’s arm and perched on his lap. My palms started sweating and I couldn’t have started the meekest of blazes. This could be it. Any minute Tess’s father could turn his head and see me. I flew closer to make sure he couldn’t possibly miss me, if he was willing to see.
“Daddy, if I told you I saw a fairy and that she was here right now, would you believe me?” Tess gazed up at her father with wide, hopeful eyes. I didn’t know how he could resist such a face. Tess’s cheeks were flushed with excitement. Her tangled hair cascaded over her shoulders and made her look a bit like a magical creature herself. She looked so young, she almost made me feel old.
“A fairy,” he said. “Right here, right now?”
“Yes. She’s flying there.” Tess pointed at me and I spread my wings wide and waved.
“I don’t see anything.”
“Come on, Daddy. She has long black hair and beautiful shiny wings.”
“Nope. Now let me finish this e-mail, will you?”
“Daddy,” Tess pleaded.
Evan shifted his focus to the glowing screen again and began pushing the letter buttons. I landed on the broad area behind the buttons. Tess looked at me with her trembling bottom lip sticking out.
“It’s fine,” I said.
I wiped my hands on my shirt and lit my palms. Blue blazes erupted. Their heat stung my face and I stared intently up at Evan. He looked past me at the screen, punching buttons. My flames grew higher, turning white hot.
“Daddy,” said Tess. “Try harder. She’s standing on your keyboard holding balls of fire.”
He shook his head. “Your imagination has always been a wonder.”
“It’s not my imagination.”
Evan reached above the keyboard. His hand went over my head, grabbed the edge of the box, and swung it down towards me. I jetted off the box and flew over the letters, but I wasn’t fast enough. The top of the box hit me, driving me down between A and S. The last thing I heard before the box closed completely was Tess screaming, “No!”
CHAPTER 21
I opened my eyes in time to see an enormous pair of fingernails coming at me. I shrieked and struggled, but my shirt was caught on the letter S. The fingernails pinched my shirt and I shrieked again.
“Hold still.” Tess’s face hovered over me. “I’ll get you out.”
“Wait.” I worked my hand underneath the S, found the caught material and released it. “Pull, Tess.”
Tess lifted me from between letters A and S and placed me on table. “Are you okay? I thought Daddy squashed you.”
“I’m fine. What happened?” I asked.
“My dad closed his laptop on you. He didn’t mean to. He just didn’t see you there.”
I rubbed my forehead where it had struck a letter. Evan’s head appeared next to his daughter’s and he grabbed Tess around the middle. She laughed and tried to get away, but he tickled her until she shrieked.
“Talking to your fairy?” he asked when he tired of the game.
“Yes,” said Tess.
“Say hello for me.” He returned to the stove where he poured something in a skillet.
Tess waited until he’d turned his back, and then leaned over me. “That’s my dad. He says hi.”
“I heard.”
“Last night you said you needed help. What’s wrong? What can I do?”
“Pull up a chair,” I said.
Tess sat in her father’s chair and held out her finger. I stretched my wings and, finding nothing amiss, I flew onto Tess’s finger. “I do have a problem and a story. Do you want to hear it?”
“I do,” said Tess, her cheeks turning even brighter pink.
I sat on Tess’s finger and told her everything about the humans taking our mantel. I told her about Gerald running away, Soren Maple, and the spriggans. I explained about being a kindler, keeping Horc, and meeting the commander. I told her all of it and Tess listened with her entire being. She gasped when the spriggans attacked and got teary-eyed about Easy’s lost mother. When I finished she leaned back in her chair and let out a tensely held breath.
“So your parents could be anywhere,” said Tess.
“We have to get back and see if anyone’s left at Whipplethorn. Will you help us?”
Tess sat up straight. “I will.”
Before I could say more, Judd came up to Tess and shoved
her shoulder hard. “What are you doing, dufus?”
“Ow, Judd. That hurt,” said Tess as I flew off her finger.
Evan walked over with a plate stacked high with flat cakes. “What are you doing, Judd?”
“Tess is talking to her finger.”
He shot Judd a warning look. “So what’s it to you? She can talk to her foot for all I care. Leave your sister alone.”
Judd bent over his sister’s ear. “Weirdo.”
“Daddy, Judd called me a weirdo.”
“What’s wrong with being a weirdo? It’s a sight better than being average.” Tess’s father put down the plate. “Eat your pancakes. I have to call Grandpa about the mantel. Judd, go wake your mother for breakfast.”
Rebecca walked in the kitchen, slinging a traveling bag over her shoulder. “No need.”
“Where are you going?” asked Evan.
“To that tea at the botanical garden,” Rebecca said.
“You’re really going to that?”
“I said I would, Evan. I’ll be back after four.”
Evan shrugged and went back to the stove. Tess eyed her mother as she rummaged around in her traveling bag and then smeared some red stuff on her lips.
Judd sat down and piled his plate with cakes. He cut them into large chunks and poured a sweet-smelling liquid over them. My mouth watered and I was about to fly down and swipe a crumb when I saw Tess tug on her mother’s sleeve.
“Mom, can I talk to you in private?” Tess asked.
Judd looked up, his mouth half full. “She wants you to talk to her finger.”
“Shut up, Judd,” said Tess.
“Don’t say that, Tess,” said Rebecca. “I don’t have time right now. I have to go. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Mom, please. It’s really important.”
“Yeah,” said Judd. “Fingers are really important. I’ve got ten, but I don’t talk to them.”
“You’ve got eight fingers and two thumbs,” said Tess. “Thumbs aren’t fingers.”
“Says who?” asked Judd.
“Everybody.” Tess stuck her tongue out at him and then turned to her mother. “Mom, please.”
