by Candace Sams
"Another bowl?" Hugh asked, as he rose to fill his own again.
Blain nodded and smiled his thanks as he reached for his third piece of bread. "You were right. I actually feel like part of the human race again. Afton, you're a wonderful cook."
Afton rewarded him with a brilliant smile and pushed more bread and butter toward him. As Blain continued his meal, she studied him. His remark about being part of the human race couldn't have been more wrong. While Druids were human, fairies were not. They were ethereal creatures whose existence depended upon nature. If something about Blain was attracting an evil presence, there was more to him than a human aura. What was it that this foul presence wanted from him?
Since she knew that only time would give them the answer, she listened as Hugh told Blain how he'd tended the farm animals with help from Shayla and her.
Blain was ashamed of the weakness which had caused him to stay in bed for so long. Whatever had been wrong was rapidly vanishing. With each moment that passed, he felt stronger. Doubts about his health seemed to fly away. Again, the attention made his chest tighten with warm emotion. It just felt plain good. He didn't want it to end.
"I don't suppose anyone wants the last of that soup?" Blain raised his eyebrows and looked around the table.
Everyone laughed and Afton rose to fill Blain's bowl with the special brew. The soup he had eaten had been filled with some of her best herbal remedies. While it was no more than healthy fare for the rest of them, Blain had badly needed its curative ingredients. His color and humor had already greatly improved.
After supper, Afton waited for a signaling nod from Shayla and Hugh. When it came, she took a deep breath before saying, "Blain, why don't you go out onto the back porch. I think there's something you should see."
Blain looked at her curiously, then rose to do as she'd asked. He walked out onto the porch and gasped in surprise. His mother's herb garden had been landscaped according to her final plans. Every last plant, arbor and stepping stone was in place. Fresh plants had been carefully planted among the old ones to complete the designs she'd drawn. Everything was as she'd imagined it. But for his father's death, his mother would have completed this lovely garden herself. Her heart had simply not been in the project after her husband died
Shayla spoke very quietly. "Please say you like it. Your uncle, Afton and I did everything we could to make this place exactly right. We stayed up all night digging and made dozens of phone calls during the day to get just the right plants Every stone has been placed by hand and the paths have all been dug to last The borders have been aligned down to the last inch as the diagram specified. Because of our efforts, this garden will be here forever. And this was what we wanted. A monument to your parents. We worked very hard. Tell us it was worth it, Blain."
Even after her heartfelt explanation, Blain could only utter, "It's the most amazingly beautiful place I've ever seen. There's magic here. I wish mother could have seen it."
Blain looked around in wonder and began to slowly walk down one of the paths. His strength increased with each step. Occasionally, he bent to inspect an herb. Smell, color, texture and design were all perfectly balanced. Soft ferns mixed with baby's breath. Purple, frilly-flowered ageratum bordered the beds. Oxalis, or ornamental clover as it was commonly called, bloomed in pots, and hanging baskets of variegated ivy hung from low branches of oak trees. A wind chime tinkled in the evening breeze, and benches invited a weary soul to rest. Blain could almost hear his parents' laughter. How they would have loved this special place.
Then, something caught his attention and lured him to the center of the garden. Within a round bed of yarrow stood a wrought-iron pedestal. Ornate, metal vines curved around the base and up to form a well. Within the well rested a striking, silver globe. The globe was more than a foot in diameter and reflected the surroundings with an unearthly quality.
He tilted his head slightly and gazed deep into its depths. The gleaming, setting sun reflected off the brilliant surface. It was the most enchanting piece of artwork he'd ever seen. The thing had a mesmerizing allure, and it captivated him. Then he remembered the last time he'd run nude in the forest. He recalled viewing the moon in the same way as he was now seeing it. That's where the memory had come from. Long ago, his parents must have described this type of garden art to him, and he was only now piecing the memory together. On the night when he'd been running, the moon had looked like a giant gazing globe.
From somewhere deep inside his being, haunting images of another life flooded his thoughts. In this other place, forest beings of legend and myth dwelled. They gracefully drifted among the plants and beckoned him to come. Oh, how wonderful it would be to go to that fantasy place! It was soft and safe there.
"Though it wasn't in her plans, is something your mother would have eventually put here. I knew her well, and she would have loved it," Shayla quietly explained as she walked up behind him.
Blain heard her, but her voice didn't break the spell of the moment. Rather, it added to it. It was as if her voice was a part of the world he dreamed.
"Legend has it that its reflective surface could turn away evil spirits. Anyone practicing black magic can't tolerate seeing their reflection in it." Shayla paused before continuing. "We thought it might bring you peace and renew your strength to walk here. Your illness isn't of the body, Blain. It's of the spirit. The only way to combat such an affliction is to renew your strength from Mother Earth herself. If you close your eyes and let yourself feel, you'll know what I say is true."
Blain closed his eyes and felt his every care drift away. The cool night breeze stirred branches of the nearby oaks. An owl hooted from its roost. Something inside him yearned to be free, but he couldn't put a name to that feeling. All he knew was that this strange pull seemed older than time, and his senses became more attuned to everything. He could smell every herb and flower in the garden and knew their names. As the sun dropped lower, the yearning grew. Nothing about the desire was painful. It was just there. He wanted to be alone here and to be one with nature.
"Are you all right?" Shayla asked.
"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for this," he said, waving a hand to encompass the garden. "All of you must have worked very hard. I don't know that my gratitude will ever be enough, but you have it all the same."
"If you enjoy the garden, that's thanks enough," Shayla said as she placed a hand on his shoulder. "Now, rest here awhile. You'll have no more problems with your health. I promise you."
He heard her and the others walk away and believed what she said was true. Shayla Gallagher was an odd woman, but he thought her heart might be as big as the globe into which he gazed. She was right about feeling at peace.
He walked closer to the globe and saw the first of the evening stars glimmer on its lustrous surface. His own reflection, however, seemed dim and far away. As though he needed to be closer. In his mind, Blain interpreted that to mean closer to nature, and not necessarily the globe itself.
He recognized that thought as being strange. It was more of an impression, really. And no matter what else he believed or what his mind conjured up, his heart felt calm, and he smiled. It was as if his parents were here again He could almost feel the joy they shared at being together. He wondered if he'd ever share that same emotion with someone.
Suddenly, a memory pushed itself into his mind. He turned and ran into the house, up the stairs and into his room. At the foot of his bed was an old trunk. He hadn't opened it since his mother died. He quickly rummaged through the contents until he found what he wanted. Then he rose and made his way back downstairs and into the garden.
The lights in the house were all off. He assumed everyone needed their sleep after sitting up with him for hours and working so hard to landscape the garden. In the garden, Blain found a stone bench to sit upon. He could see the moon above and its glowing reflection shimmered on. He waited. As time drifted by, there was no sensation of its passing. He'd never felt so extraordinarily alive in his entire life.
He looked at the object in his hands. His father had carved it from a piece of old wood and given it to him when he was about five years old. His mother had taught him to play it. Though he wasn't sure he could do the music justice anymore, he raised the flute to his lips, closed his eyes and played.
Inside the house, Afton heard the sweetest music that had ever been created. She went to the window to see where it was coming from. The musician was Blain. The flute he played was a common instrument among the fey. Some of the fairy race were known to gift their newborns with all kinds of musical instruments the children would later learn to master. Except no fairy of her acquaintance had ever played in such an exquisite way. The vibrato was pure and clear, and she could feel its power pull her to him. Only one of the Sidhe, or spirit-race, could play so enchantingly. She could feel every fiber of her body responding to the call he was giving. She wanted to run to him and be one with him. But now was the time to listen, not act.
***
"Good morning everyone," Blain smiled warmly as he entered the kitchen. As he sat at the kitchen table, he rolled up the sleeves of a brown flannel work shirt.
"Well, you're looking much better this morning," Hugh remarked and patted Blain on the shoulder.
"I do. In fact, I feel like anything is possible." He grinned broadly at his uncle.
Hugh poured them both a cup of coffee as Shayla and Afton walked into the kitchen. Afton went to the refrigerator and began to place items on the kitchen counter for breakfast. Shayla sat beside Blain.
"You know, you don't have to do this every morning," Blain said to Afton as he watched her begin cooking breakfast.
"I love it." Afton shot him a bright smile. "I cook all the time at home. My six brothers and my father need a hardy start to the day, and Shayla isn't much of a hand in the kitchen."
"Enough of that, young lady. I have other urgent business to attend rather than a family's oversized appetites. “Hugh, pour me some tea, will you?" Shayla requested.
"How many brothers did you say you had? Six?" Blain grinned. He was glad to finally see Afton stand up to Shayla, even if only jokingly.
"Yes," she replied. "There's Gawain, Taurus, Drew, Sean, Ian and Bolt. Then there's Mother and Father, of course.
"And you're their little girl." Blain stated it as a fact.
"Yes, that's what I am, and it's the bane of my life. How did you know?" Afton stopped her work to look at him.
"Just a hunch." He winked at the others. "You have a well-sheltered air about you."
"If you mean she's a virgin, then you'd be correct," Shayla mumbled as she sipped her tea.
"Shayla'" Afton turned quickly and glared at her mentor. "That's no one's business. Now, eat your toast!"
Blain watched Shayla smile wickedly as Afton slammed the plate of fresh toast down onto the table. "Temper, too." Blain shot the older woman a mischievous grin. "I'll bet she gives those brothers hell."
"I do! Now, all of you be quiet and eat. Your breakfast will get cold," Afton ordered as she stalked back to the stove.
The rest of the breakfast went by without incident. Blain felt a little ashamed that he'd joined Shayla in teasing Afton. She was obviously sensitive about her lack of worldliness.
Somehow, he found the fact that she was a virgin refreshing. It was a sad statement of the times to admit he might never have met one. The more he thought about it, the more endearing Afton became. She was just a little slip of a thing, and from the things she'd said, he d suspected her brothers were probably hulking farmers or construction workers. The kind of men who would gladly mangle anyone who looked at their charming sister for more than a glance.
He once again found himself comparing Afton to Rhiannon. Rhi was dark, alluring and sophisticated, while Afton was sweet, warm and as inviting as sunshine. He mentally shook himself for the comparison. Doing such a thing was like comparing two prize chickens at a county fair. Since he didn't want the same ever done to him, he redirected his thoughts.
Like a storm coming in off the ocean, something dour suddenly entered into his consciousness again. A warning of some kind that he just couldn't understand. Everything seemed perfect. The sun was up, he had friends and family around him. Why did he feel like some ominous, dark cloud was on the horizon? Why couldn't he just be happy with what he had and forget the dreaded premonition that was constantly haunting him?
***
Afton walked to the field where Blain worked. His current project was fixing a pump on a stock tank. She had his lunch in her basket and, as usual, half the livestock at her heels. She turned and laughed at their antics as they tried to keep up with her. Animals knew when there was someone in their midst who loved them. She knew they understood she could never harm a single one of them. And Hugh told her that Blain's farming instincts seemed to stop in the fields. He never butchered any of the animals he personally raised. And that fact was about as sweet a thing as Afton had ever heard. Warrior class he might be, but it sounded as if his heart was pure honey.
Blain watched Afton walk toward him and laughed out loud. She'd added on a stray cat, two geese from a nearby pond and several more horses to her menagerie. As she neared, he turned and splashed cool water onto his face and bare chest.
It no longer bothered him that she gathered animals to her. He had been raised loving them and the land. Afton simply had that in common with him.
Strangely, his thoughts drifted to Rhiannon again. She'd phoned earlier in the day. When he'd made excuses about needing to stay near the farm and work on the weekend, she'd become angry and refused to talk. So their contact had ended badly again. Somehow, her anger should bother him more than it did. He tried to imagine Rhi's dark, sultry figure gathering herbs, working in the garden, feeding livestock, or bringing him lunch the way Afton did. The picture wouldn't come, and he chided himself yet again for the comparison. It was a bad habit he was drifting into. Just like the bad habit he had of looking to the future and feeling some disastrous event looming there. By sheer force of will, he let his mind go blank and thought of only the beauty in front of him. And that made him smile.
"What are you grinning about?" Afton laughed when the cat meowed for attention, so she bent to scratch its head.
"You and the entire contents of The Ark." He took the basket from her and walked to a nearby tree for shade.
"I know. I haven't the heart to send them away. Besides, they keep me company while I explore your woods."
"And what do you find so fascinating about my woods, young Afton?"
"Herbs. There are different kinds here than in the forests back home. And I'm not that young, young Blain," she countered.
"What are you? Nineteen, maybe twenty?" Blain opened the basket and almost drooled over the fresh bread, honey, fruit and cheese he found.
"I was twenty-three last October." Afton placed her hands on her hips and grinned
Blain sat beneath a tree and openly stared "You look much younger, though you wear the ripe old age of twenty-three well."
"You're as bad as my family and Shay la No one takes me seriously. Well, just for that, you can eat lunch by yourself.
You're much too old for me," she joked.
She turned and made a show of dramatically flouncing off, but Blain jumped to his feet and caught her arm before she got far.
"Afton, I'm sorry. I was just teasing," he apologized.
She looked at him and tried to pretend she was upset, but she ended up laughing instead. "Well, I guess I don't mind eating with an older man. After all, it isn't as though someone your age could pose a threat to a girl. I've heard older men find it difficult to get up to anything, if you know what I mean."
"Why you little..." He laughed at the cut to his virility and made a mock pass at her.
She countered by running behind an oak tree to hide, laughing as she did so. "What's the matter, Blain? Winded already? Maybe someone your age shouldn't exert himself so much. You might break something vital," she playfully provoked as sh
e dodged him yet again. "Maybe you should find some older woman to chase. You know, someone who's desperate enough to let you catch her?"
"That's it! No more Mr. Nice Guy!" Blain laughed again as he faked going one direction around the oak tree. She was caught off guard, and he tackled her to the ground.
Laughing hysterically at the mock battle, Afton tried to squirm free and almost succeeded, but Blain was on her in an instant. He pinned her arms over her head and rested his weight on his elbows. His body pinned hers down.
"All right, you little minx. I promise I won't make any more remarks about your age if you don't make any about my virility. Besides," he stopped to pant and grin at her, "I'm only seven years older than you. That's not really old now, is it?"
"No Blain. It isn't that old," Afton's chest heaved as she looked up at him, trying to catch her own breath. "I just want people to quit treating me as though I were a child."
"You're no child." Blain gazed down into her blue eyes and felt her soft body beneath his. Suddenly, the situation turned more serious. The laughter was gone, and he was all too aware that the body beneath his was very womanly. There was nothing childish about her. Every desirable female attribute was in the exact right place.
For moments, he searched her face. His hands released her arms and moved to her soft hair. It had come loose from its fastener and lay about her in long disarray He'd never before seen it down like that, and the sunlight glowed in its depths. He felt her hands come up to his shoulders and tentatively caress them. He realized she was uncertain as to what to do, and she was searching for an answer in his gaze.
Blain knew he should leave her alone. She was an innocent and certainly not the kind of woman who usually appealed to him and his experienced needs. But need her he did. The evidence of that need lay heavy and thick within his jeans. And she was so sweet and inviting.
