Heir of Earth (Forgotten Gods)

by Rosemary Clair

  “Cinder, say hello to Faye,” Rose said to the cat that was already rubbing against my ankles as I pulled my oversized suitcase along behind me. “Oh, she likes you!”

  “Really? I’ve never really been a cat person,” I said, a little unsure of what the gesture meant in cat language.

  Rose flung open the door and stepped aside, allowing me to go in first.

  “Home sweet home,” she beamed in the overhead light that flared to life as I took it all in. The wide front porch ran the width of the house. A large, open room in front held the kitchen, dining room and den all mingled together. A doorway along the back wall started the hallway that led to Rose and Phin’s room, and a little staircase made its way to the second level at the far end of the den area.

  “Oh, Rose, its great.” It was cozy and welcoming after such a long day. A homemade quilt rested over the back of the couch facing a tiny fireplace where old embers glowed on the hearth. The Irish summer was much colder and wetter than what I was used to. I could already tell that would be my favorite spot in the house. Rose’s quaint little kitchen filled one corner, a well-worn table separating it from the other areas. The smell of baking bread hung heavily in the air.

  Rose was happy to hear of my approval. She had been to my house many times. It was a great house, but it certainly didn’t have the personality and warmth of hers. My mother’s taste for antiques and artwork made it feel more like a museum than a home.

  “Okay! Let’s get you settled. Work starts tomorrow. That is, if Phin gets home at a reasonable hour. Sometimes that man!” She frowned as she grabbed my bag and began up the narrow little staircase, waving for me to follow.

  “This is your bathroom.” Rose pointed to a small room on the right and leaned in to turn on a light. I was relieved to see I wasn’t sharing a bathroom. I loved Phin, but I was pretty sure he was the kind of person who left the cap off of the toothpaste and forgot to put the toilet seat down.

  “This room is all of Phin’s old riding stuff. No need to really go in there.” She waved dismissively at the next door we passed.

  “And here you are!” She opened a door at the end of the hallway, switched on the light and stepped to the side so I could walk in.

  “Rose! Did you do all this for me?” I asked in amazement. The little room was as warm and cozy as the downstairs. A little fireplace sat in the corner, a huge bouquet of fresh flowers centered on the mantle, their strong fragrance mimicking the garden outside. On the bed, a green bedspread and white pillows with my initials, “MFK”, embroidered in the same color green matched a tiny stripe in the wallpaper exactly.

  I walked around the little room, unable to believe how much it already felt like my own. On the bedside table sat a framed picture of me with Rose and Phin at a Braves game last summer. It was easily the best day of their trip. The fact that they obviously cherished the memory as much as I did made my chin quiver in that uncontrollable way that means tears are inevitable. I picked it up and sat down on the bed holding it tightly between my hands. Tears pooled on my lower lids. I looked up at Rose, who stood across the room, holding her breath as she watched my reaction. The tears rolled down my cheeks and Rose instantly rushed to my side, eyes wide with concern.

  “I am so sorry! Is it too much? Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Rose fretted as she gathered me in her arms.

  “Oh, no Rose. I...I love this, but you guys already did so much,” I said, looking around me at the cozy little room and thinking about how far away I was from my life back home. Ever since my visions started and my life had gone so horribly wrong, I had felt like a necessary nuisance to my parents. I wasn’t their perfect little girl anymore, and even though they tried to hide their disappointment I still felt like a stranger in our house sometimes.

  Sitting in my new room, I knew how excited Rose and Phin were to have me in their home, and that was something I hadn’t felt in years. On a chair sat a neatly folded pile of clothes wrapped in green ribbon. The brown suede stitched on stretchy canary fabric breeches, the tall leather shafts of shiny new riding boots, and the soft black velvet of a riding helmet were a huge “welcome home” surprise. A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth when I remembered exactly how much potential this summer had.

  “Rose, you shouldn’t have done all this. I didn’t want you guys to go to any trouble. You already bought my plane ticket.” I felt guilty for the effort and money they obviously spent preparing for my arrival. I felt even more guilt for regretting my decision to come hours earlier on the plane.

  “Oh, nonsense. We enjoyed it. You see, Phin and I? Well, God never decided to bless us with a child. We’ve never had anyone to dote on like this. When we bought this little house years ago, we always thought this would be our child’s room one day. Over the years it just became a storage room. You wouldn’t believe the fun we have had getting it ready for you. Even Phin got in the spirit. He said you would need some real riding clothes to ride real Irish horses.” She pointed to the ribbon-wrapped gift on the chair.

  “Rose, this is just beyond anything I could have…” Words failed me. I was too exhausted to even think about the emotions playing in my heart.

  As if sensing my emotional overload, Rose stood up and smoothed my hair.

  “Why don’t you go take a nice hot shower? I’ll go get some tea brewing and we can a have a nice cup before we go to bed. Probably a little girl talk, too. I’m sure Phin will be a while.” She frowned at this last part before walking out of the room. The stairs creak with her descent.

  I showered and pulled on my favorite blue pajamas. Sitting down in front of the mirror, I pulled a comb through the tangles of wet hair around my shoulders. At night, when no one was around, was the only time I dared to let my hair flow freely around me. It was a little bit of happiness I kept for myself. Of course my hair had grown back after freshman year, but I didn’t dare let the world see it anymore. The butterscotch curls looped down to my waist just as they had before my frenemies’ anger sheared them to the scalp. At the time, I had told myself I was being brave, continuing to the gym when I knew what waited for me there. Now? I knew I was a coward because I had refused to fight for my life, choosing to let it slip through my fingers. Taking the easy way out by fading into obscurity.

  I reached for the rubber band I always kept on my wrist to restrain the wad of hair, a well practiced routine of my life, but stopped before the elastic left my hand. Looking in the mirror, I realized how much I loved my hair. I snorted slightly, punching my chin up in the air, and tossed the rubber band into my toiletry bag. My fingers trailed through the golden waves, pulling the mass of curls over my shoulder. I didn’t want to hide it anymore.

  Rose was busy at the stove when I made my way down the staircase and crossed through the den and dining areas to the kitchen on the far side.

  “What’s all this?” I asked, running my fingers over the countless little rows of glass bottles that filled an ancient wooden shelf along the far wall. Below the shelf was an older wooden table scattered with the tools of a well-equipped science lab.

  “Those are my herbs, dear,” Rose answered, a hint of pride in her voice. The tinkle of china floated across the room as Rose carried the heavy serving tray, carefully watching every wiggle of every piece, striding purposefully to the table.

  The kettle on the stove let out a loud cry and Rose hurried back to rescue it. I was still looking at all the little bottles. The labels were hard to read, scrawled in Rose’s often illegible handwriting. Hundreds of little glass jars glinted in the overhead light, tightly corked with little stoppers, keeping the contents protected.

  Huh, I thought. I didn’t know that about Rose.

  I walked over to the table and sat down cross-legged in the chair facing Rose’s kitchen. She turned away from the stove, kettle in hand, and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw me.

  “What?” I asked, rubbing a hand over my face and hair, sure there was a smear of lotion I hadn’t rubbed in or something else on me.<
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  “Faye, that hair of yours is something else. You look like a different person with that mane of yours flowing down around you. Why do you keep it hidden away all the time?” She put the teapot down on a trivet after she poured some of the scalding water over a nest of dark leaves.

  I blushed at her compliment and immediately grabbed my hair and twisted in into a long tail that ran along my neck and chest. Out of sheer habit I reached for the rubber band to tie it back. Rose gently touched the back of my hand and guided it down to the table.

  “There’s no need for you to hide who you are here, Faye.” Her smile said it all. She knew better than anyone how difficult my high school years had been.

  I rearranged and hugged my knees in close to my chest, resting my heels on the edge of the seat. Rose took the chair opposite me and turned on the little radio sitting on a nearby shelf. The gentle lilting tunes of new age Celtic music flowed around us.

  “Here,” Rose said, placing a steaming teacup in front of me. “Be careful, it’s really hot.” She warned, wrapping a cloth napkin around the mug so I could hold it without getting burned. I nodded my head and leaned over to blow on the hot liquid. “It’s my own special blend.” A smile tugged at one corner of her lip.

  “Special blend?” I asked.

  “It’s a blend of chamomile with some valerian in there to help you sleep tonight.” She answered as I sniffed the hot cup with a suspiciously crinkled nose. “Oh, stop that!” Rose said in a good-natured way. “I’m known for my herbal cures. People come to me when the doctors and their modern medicine can’t fix ‘em!” Rose said pointing to the collection of little bottles I had perused earlier. “I’ve the best collection and the best knowledge of these herbs in the whole of the countryside!” I could tell she wasn’t used to being doubted when it came to her medicinal skills.

  “Ok, I believe you! I’ll try it,” I said, throwing my hand up in a fake defense. I blew on the cup to cool the hot liquid and then took a tentative sip. The warm liquid tasted divine— just like honeysuckle smells —and warmed me down to my belly. “That’s not so bad,” I said, a bit surprised. Rose nodded her head in a knowing way.

  “That’s local honey in there. Sweetest honey around. Same honey I use for my famous bread.” She took a sip from her cup and set it quickly down on the table. “Oh! That reminds me, I almost forgot with all the excitement of your arrival. That would never do.” Rose jumped up from the table and went to the cupboard in the corner. She came back in a second carrying a plate laden with thick slices of her famous Honeyed Sweet Bread. I smiled at its arrival, excited to tasted it fresh from Rose’s kitchen, and sat forward in my seat, ready to grab a piece as soon as it hit the table. Rose walked right past me and went to the front door. Where she disappeared for a moment, only to return empty handed.

  “Rose, you’re giving your bread to the cat?” I was shocked that a cat could be worthy of such a treat.

  “No, no. Not for the cat. For the Sidhe,” she said, wiping her hands and joining me at the table

  “Sidhe?” I repeated, shaking my head, clearly not following where she was going.

  “The good people,” she tried again.

  “Rose, I don’t have a clue what you are talking about,” I said, eyeing her suspiciously, thinking maybe Rose was losing it.

  Rose took a pad and pencil from the drawer beside her and scribbled something on it very quickly and passed it to me.

  “The Fairies!!” Was scribbled across the paper in dark, underlined letters.

  “Oh my gosh. Are you serious? You must be joking, Rose.” I shook my head, narrowed my eyes and pushed the pad back her way.

  “No, we don’t say that word out loud. They don’t like it.” She took the pencil and scratched out the words, like they might be able to read it too. “They prefer good people, or fair folk, even Sidhe is better than the F-word,” she said in stone-faced seriousness. It was hard to keep a straight face when Rose mention such vulgarities in her sweet, lilting tone. Clearly the F-word was different in Ireland.

  “You mean to tell me that you really believe in… that? And you feed them? Rose, that’s just insane.” I shook my head afraid Rose was starting to lose her grip on reality just a little bit. Fairytales were for little girls, not grown women.

  “Oh, calm down! I’m not crazy!” She laughed at herself, and at me, patting my hand reassuringly. “It’s part of our Irish heritage. We’re a very superstitious people, you know.” Her face pinched into a pucker as she collected her thoughts, clearly never having had to explain this to an outsider before. “Its tradition, especially in this area, that you put a little bit of food out on your doorstep at night. That way if there is a hungry traveler passing by, they will eat the food outside and not come in your house. The Sidhe can be very dangerous if you get in their way. We do what we can to be sure our paths don’t cross.” She nodded in a solemn way, the wary look on her face telling me that even if it was superstition, people around here believed it.

  It seemed like the lights dimmed for a moment and the wind bellowed a lonely howl outside. I jumped to attention when the sound of the metal plate scratching against the porch floor whispered under the door. Goosebumps prickled my body, but I refused to believe such things, forcing a disbelieving laugh from my throat when I really wanted to hide behind Rose.

  “So, you do this every night. And is the food always gone?” The tickle of creepy crawly chills grabbed onto my back and slithered up my neck. I scrunched my shoulders to my ears and shook it away.

  “Always,” Rose said in a sinister tone, giving me a spooky look before erupting into laughter. “I dare say poor Cinder is fatter than she should be! No doubt that cat waits in the bushes every night for that plate to hit the porch floor!” Rose said between laughs. “I wish you could have seen your face!”

  I shook my head and looked across the room at the little sitting area around the fireplace, somewhat embarrassed Rose had made me question my sensibilities so easily. “But, there is some truth to that story, right? I read in that tourist magazine that Clonlea was a city of the Fai- um, I mean, Sidhe?” I asked, being sure to get the proper terminology down. Though it was more for Rose’s sake then the ears of any supernatural creatures that might have been lurking within earshot.

  “Oh, yes. So they say. But who are they? Clonlea’s been around since before the world was made. The city was established long before the official town records start. Don’t even know when most of the buildings were built, including this very house. See that staircase? That is an entire tree trunk, set at an angle with steps carved into the side of it. I still to this day have never seen a tree that looks like that growing in the wild, but plenty of the houses in Clonlea have that same staircase. I think that was probably some old variety of oak that was all used up in building Clonlea.” Rose paused for a moment to refill her teacup. I took the teapot from her hand and began making her tea for her.

  “Go on.” I tried to say it as casually as possible, hoping she thought I was being nice and not because I was so wrapped up in her story I didn’t want her to stop. Rose fought the smug grin trying to spread across her face.

  “People like to speculate that the fair folk did it. Probably because they can’t think of any way other than magic that could have built such beauty so long ago. The land itself around Clonlea is the most beautiful in all of Ireland. Fair people are attracted to fair things, so the association was made over the years that it had to be the magic of the fair people who built such a beautiful city in such beautiful surroundings. A story like that helped so much with tourism, no one ever bothered to find out the truth.”

  “Do you believe it?” I asked.

  “Oh, life’s a lot more fun if you allow yourself to indulge in fantasy every now and then.” Rose’s eyes glazed over a bit, and I could tell she was reaching way back in her memory.

  “When I was a little girl, I would venture out into the woods and search for the fair people whenever I got mad at my parents. I would ca
ll to them and beg them to come and take me away to their land. In my mind, it was a beautiful world where all you had to do was close your eyes and think about what you wanted and POOF it would appear.” A smile spread across her face and she lingered for a moment in her thoughts before she continued.

  “I remember thinking that the first thing I would wish for would be a pink pony with a braided purple mane,” Rose rested her head in her hand and looked down into her teacup with a wistful smile as she thought about her childhood dreams that had never come true.

  “Then later, when I was about your age, I had my heart broken for the first time. I would dream about the stories from my childhood. Every day, I waited for a prince from the land of the good people to fall in love with me and take me back to live with him forever. Of course, that never happened. But in my mind, those fantasies helped me escape what was really happening enough to get through it.” Rose looked down at the teacup in her hand again, a slight blush pinking her cheeks as she realized how much she had shared. Then she let out a sigh and leaned back in her chair, smiling as she cocked her head to one side.

  “So, they’re magic?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes. Magic of every kind, and beauty beyond what our eyes can imagine.” She leaned forward in her chair, excitement dancing in her eyes as she told me about the imaginary friends that had shared her childhood. “They live in a secret world created by their magic that is nothing but genteel perfection. When the first humans arrived in Ireland ages ago they brought with them the cruel realities of our world. It was too much for the delicate senses of the Sidhe, so they created their own realm, and retreated from the harshness of our world. They still come back from time to time, because they get bored or because they need to feed on a human soul.”