making me feel I was in trouble somehow to which she
only replied,
“O, dear,” and went on. “I think I might have
met someone. I have only seen him twice, but one the
second occasion we had a stroll and such lovely
conversation that I invited him out to the house. He is
coming tomorrow for tea, Mr. Twinks, like you are,
today, so I was, well, I was hoping you would not, well,
you do understand that tomorrow I will be buys, you know, and-”
That was it! I interrupted, “Honor, please, I’ve
met someone too. Someone who I’d like you to meet.
That’s what I was doing. There’s a whole world out
there, for you, for me!”
I started to stutter, then Blithe walked back in,
“and she!” I looked down not knowing what to say at
this point.
“What?” Blithe said sensing tension in the room.
“I’m afraid I’ve upset Mr. Twinks.”
“O,” she said.
“Narn,” I said.
We shared tea and Blithe sent me home with
another linen napkin packed with treats as she always
when she’d implied and done everything but downright
accuse me of only stopping in for tea and food. I took
the napkin outside agreeing to take it home this time
only because she launched into a whole ‘thing’ about how
the McGillicuttys were never a brood to turn away a visitor, a guest, a friend in need.
She drew the word out as if it had 3 or 4 e’s between
the n and d. I left almost offended, determined to
introduce - rather than my first thought of capture
Blossom, who could not be lovelier, whose sparkle - in
my opinion - outshined even fair Honor McGillicutty
and whose life and world was so fascinating.
“O,” I reeled, “if only Honor knew.”
And then in the same moment, I spat,
“Affections?! Sheesh!” I’d had it with the uptight
English for the day and I sat down on the back stoop to
tie the linen napkin into a knapsack. I heard dishes
clanking through the open window and I listened, I
admit, a bit too closely, as they talked. In fact, I
listened so intently - because I kept hearing my name
passed about - that I didn’t even hear the housecat
approach until I turned to the left as what I’d heard
turned something inside me, too, and I looked right into
the shining, huge, yellow eyes of Peter, the McGillicutty house’s housecat, sitting outside with me, right next to
the stoop. So close, if he’d have lowered his head and
opened his mouth he could easily have taken off my head
in one single bite. His head alone was enormous, really,
he was the largest cat I had ever seen walking around.
Miss Tullie had a stuffed one in her study area
enormous, striped, some exotic breed, I think, somekind
of wildcat, but this one this one was supposedly tame. I
got the willies and the fright just the same.
First, what the ladies had said about me, and then
what Blithe said about Honor; and then, what I did
about the C-A-T.
Honor: Blithe asked, “How did he respond?” and
Honor paused.
“He said I couldn’t have been more wrong - in a
way, without really saying anything at all. Then he told
me he’d met someone.“ The ladies laughed right out
loud, and then they insinuated I’d lied to them.
“Hissize?” “He didn’t say,” and then they laughed even
louder. Then, Honor, acting almost giddy and strangely
enough at ease with her sister, once again, opened up
into how she had - in the process of carrying out her
sister’s wishes - untangled Mr. Twinks’ ill-placed
affections and so had actually gone into town and run
into Mr. Fitzpatrick, once again.
“Who?”
“The sewing machine man,” and she told Blithe
what a lovely time she had talking with him, and that
they had gone for a walk. Then she explained to Blithe,
how in her quest of honesty in the situation, so as not to
have lied to Mr. Twinks, she’d actually invited him, Mr.
Fitzpatrick, out to the house for tea. Once again, she
explained she was only doing what Blithe had asked her
to do.
“As it turned out,” she continued to explain, she
really did think she was ‘seeing someone’ now, as during
their stroll he let known his affections for her. She sighed, her chest heaved on long exhale, and then
she put her hand to her forehead, explaining he had even
mentioned the word, ‘wife’.
“He’d talked in great detail about his need for a
wife, and said that he was away from his factory, at this
time, in order to meet someone with which he could
become engaged!”
She paused then and said, “And I think, dear
sister, well he strongly implied, anyway, that ‘someone’
just might be me!” There was a long pause. I listened
closer, thought maybe they’d moved from the window,
that I just couldn’t hear. I looked up through the
kitchen window. I could see Honor turn to her sister.
Her sister’s gaze icy and frozen - a tightly clenched jaw
and a dish grasped with both hands, half in the soap
bath and half in mid-air.
“A glower,” is how it could best be described.
Then, what she said made even me turn away - inside
from Blithe McGillicutty and from the window, realizing that jealousy and bitterness had won the woman over.
Perhaps the fear of what Miss Tullie’d said - fear of
being alone, fear that it may be too late for her, in this
life to ‘find someone’ had taken over - gotten the best of
Blithe. She couldn’t be a ‘shrew’ if
sweet Honor was in the same singular position.
Apparently she’d made up her mind. She wasn’t going
to spinster in a big house all alone.
“You can’t, Honor! You just can’t be his
‘someone’. You are too old to marry and too young to
die. You must accept that you live, here, with me, in a
life shunned from England, the outside, our friends. But
we’re here, doing our best, and we have - all on our own
- created a life for ourselves. It’s pleasant here. It’s
nice. We have our comforts and that’s the way it is for
us, now, sister. You must put away these sill dreams and
thoughts of a profession in the sewing machine industry;
and, I absolutely forbid, forbid you to marry! I will
meet with your sewing machine man.” “Mr. Fitzpatrick.”
“And, put away all of his hopes for such things a
courtship - with you?! O, Honor, no! Absolutely not!”
She turned toward Honor and took hold of her wrists,
“If you even mention - if you even think about
- such obviously silly things, again, dear sister, well, I
shall be forced to put you away - you are not thinking
right! No, not at all.”
To that, sickening threat, I muttered,
“Nonsense!” and turned away from the window to lock
eyes with a cat. My wings fluttered a bit, nervously,
which
only served to intrigue the kitty.
“O, no,” I sighed as it put a paw up and swatted
the air, not trying at first. I flinched and jumped back
toward the door. Now, I’m not teeny tiny! Those rats
from the barn misled with their taunting and teasing.
No, I’m no housefly or gorsefly, neither. I’m taller than
buttercups and shorter than cornflowers. About the
same size as daffodils, or, okay, a little smaller; but, its not like one paw swipe could waste me entirely. I did
have a bit of a chance, here, I told myself. About the
size of, about the size of, okay, a rat! I’ve said it. This
cat, I guessed, had caught his fair share of rats, so I
panicked. I yelled. I flew up through the window and
saw Honor standing there, weeping, all alone. I hated to
interrupt, and my heart sank at the sight of her, really,
but this was about life and death. I had to get inside
and quick! I’d been a guest for such a long time that a
common break and enter move didn’t feel right.
“Honor!” I said, but her weeping only got louder.
She hadn’t heard me. The housecat leapt up onto the
window sill, right next to me. He swished his tail as it
hung over the side and with his claws still retracted he
took another playful swat at me. I tumbled into the
dishwater head first with a splash that caused Honor a
fright. She shrieked, then she wailed. The housecat
bounded right through the window onto the kitchen
counter. As I arose from submergence, sputtering and spitting the terrible taste of dish soap out of my mouth, I
swam for the side of the pot of hot dishwater, only to
find the huge, yellow
eyes of the cat, anticipating my arrival. A satisfied ‘game
on!’ kind of smile, like we’d just begun a long journey of
fun toward my death. I sensed he was even being ‘lazy’
about it. I cried out loud for Honor to help me. At the
mention of her name, she clued in to what it was that
had just fallen in her dishwater and she picked meup in
her hands, her thumbs against my battered wings. She
lifted me right up to her eye level, where I just kind of
whimpered and nearly cried. With warm eyes, also full
of tears, she just looked at me; into my eyes, and then
into my soul. Her tears stopped rolling from her eyes as
they had been, and I was touched by the look of sorrow.
We exchanged a silent, “Help me!” At that
moment, Honor did help me. She shooed the cat out,
and vowed to my wounded pride that if he didn’t stop
chasing me, she would get rid of him. I don’t think she would have, but the mention of it helped me to recover
from the disgrace of it all, at that moment anyway. And
after that day, I vowed to respond to Honor’s silent
plea, just as she had done for me. I did help Honor, I
still believe to this day, although my actions were rather
controversial, and my faith in the faeries during the time
was a bit less than solid. I knew then, as she setme into
her dish towel, shooed away the housecat, and mademe
a thimble of hot cocoa to help me dry off, the rightness
of my plans. Over the years, I have thought back on this
very moment, often, to validate my convictions to the
cause.
She repeated the words, “My goodness!” several
times, but got me to safety and nicely dried off.
Then she kiss me upon the top of my head and
said, “There, there, Mr. Twinks, Narn. Are you alright?
I am so sorry,” she went on before I could answer, “We
shall train the housecat, properly. You must be treated
like any other guest in this household, despite your slight stature. If the kitty cat does not understand this,
measures will be taken, I assure you. Although this must
have dinged your pride, Mr. Twinks, I can say that
sharing this experience with you has opened my eyes to
what life must be like for you.” At these words, I sat
down, almost about to weep, now, myself. I clicked my
tongue against the top of my mouth as the taste ofdish
soap still lingered.
“There must be many, many dangers to you in
this world that I hadn’t even thought about, aren’t
there?” I nodded my head up and down. She whirled
about the kitchen investigating objects common to her
which could potentially pose a threat to me, while she
mixed up a glass of 1 teaspoon camphor oil, one of
Echinacea flowers - center parts only which she mashed
up with a mortar and pestle - two parts goat’s milk, and
several teaspoons of sugar.
“Here,” she said pouring drops into a thimble,
“drink this. I can smell with my nose you are catching a cold. Rather nasty sore throat, too. Not now, though.
Drink. Works every time.” It tasted only slightly
better than the dish soap, but I was too worn out to put
up a protest, and I did as I was instructed. She refilled
the thimble.
“One more?”
“No,” I said.
“You really should,” she encouraged.
“I’ll take my chances,” I said. Then I confessedI
had overheard her talking with Blithe.
“I’d like to be, here, with you tomorrow, because
Honor, you deserve all that life has to offer - really, you
do. I’d like to be there - with my friend - to stand up
for you, though small we may be, to tell this Mr.
Fitzpatrick of yours that you deserve the best of
everything life has to offer.”
“Why Mr. Twinks,” she said taken aback by my
words, “that would be the kindest thing anyone has ever
done for me. It’s like I can’t talk to Blithe about this I’ve tried. She just won’t see her own -”
“I know,” I interrupted, “and it isn’t fair. Why
just look at you, Honor, you’re the loveliest maid in this
hollow. You’re kind and caring, and your sewing
fashions are the best I’ve ever seen. Certainly that I’ve
ever seen.”
“You think so? Why, thank-you,” she smiled and
then she said, “Narn.”
“Okay!” I exclaimed at this sincere sign of
friendship, “It’s settled, then. I’ll go find Blossom. O, I
hope she can make it - but don’t you worry, I’ll be here!”
I went out the same window I’d come in, as I did not
wish to bump into the housecat who was most likely
lounging in the front room by then, after letting himself
in as he did.
I set out immediately to find Blossom and invite
her to attend a gathering at the house of the humans,
where we were most indeed needed - almost as much, I
felt, as in the case of Einion Gloff; and then, I felt a twinge. A twinge to which I should have paid more
attention. A twinge arises in the area sometimes called
‘the gut’ and ‘a gut feeling’ is an indication to be
followed instinctively; but, I continued on with my plan,
almost ignoring the twinge. I would look back on this
‘almost’ moment someday, as continuing on was about to
change my life, forever. I did not allow my gut’s
in
tervention to slow me down, but looking back, my
motivation to ‘help’ and to ‘rescue’ may have been too
zealous, involving the fairies as I did, my new friends in
the intensity and confusion disrupting the lives of the
humans I’d grown to care about.
In the end, I’m forced to wonder if humans and
the magical wee folk - fairies, pixies, sprites - can really
co-exist without one species trying to overtake the other.
Was I singling Honor out, as a subject of enchantment
because I didn’t want to be alone in my ‘different-ness’?
Or, was I trying to master a fear of something I felt a bit
bad about being a part of too early, too fervently? I loved the fairies, the fairy ring. I was a pixie gnome in
the company of humans, after all, and for all these years.
Humans had had their say in my life for as long as I
could remember. Maybe I was simply so thrilled with
the magical world I had seen at the Faeries’ Ring that I
was picking out a human to throw in to the ring
throwing Honor as a sacrifice to become part of this wild
world entirely, like throwing out human control and its
power of discrimination which I’d had my fill of, but
didn’t know it, until I met Blossom and the other fairies.
I liked Honor the best, though, but was she the weakest?
Did that make her vulnerable? Either way, I’d disguised
my intentions, even to myself, and that ‘twinge’ told me
so - I just didn’t want to hear it. Not yet. I was so
happy.
Blossom and the fairy world filled my thoughts.
Was I jealous of Blossom and the fairies of these North
Woods, whom all their lives had known only the
splendor of this fantastical world without the humans reducing their powers in any way? Sure! I had to be.
They’d never known this world was not their own.
They’d never worried would a human see them. Humans
worried, here, would they see the fairies? If so, would
the fairies be nice, or serve mischief for causes the humans
thought unknown? I was jealous, but I was involved. I
was now included. Maybe the twinge told me, “Letgo
of the humans,” rather than trying to drag my two
favorite worlds together, maybe I should have just let
one of them go. I couldn’t let go the exciting world of
the fairies. No, it was me! And I knew it. Just my first
steps into the Faeries’ Ring implied - with every breath I
took and sight I saw - a better life existed; I had been
The Faerie Ring Dance Page 8
