My Fairy Godmonster

by Denice Hughes Lewis

  He turns away and slumps down the hall.

  Stunned, I can barely stagger into my room. I lock myself in and crash onto the bed.

  I’m alone, a virtual prisoner in the empty silence. It’s unbearable without Fairy Godmonster. Why isn’t she here? I need her more than ever. Tears spill down my face.

  My heart splits wide open.

  Chapter 24: Dead End - Prisoner

  Sleep is impossible with the anger, frustration, and grief that swarm through me. I get Mom’s diary, but the words blur and I put it away, staring into the darkness.

  When dawn peeks over the windowsill, even its pink beauty doesn’t wash away the emptiness inside.

  Two hours later, I hear David and John talking below my window. I peek over the sill and swallow the lump in my throat when I see them dragging the smashed wedding heart away in pieces. I choke up and turn away.

  There’s a knock on my door.

  “Go away.”

  “Breakfast, Princess in the tower,” says Scott.

  “Just a minute.”

  I peer into the mirror. A wild girl stares back at me. Messy hair, red eyes and a red scab on my white face. “You can’t come in,” I gasp.

  “Since when don’t you want to eat?” Scott says cheerfully.

  I unlock the door, open it a crack and hide behind it. He can’t see me like this. Ever.

  “Please push it through the door.”

  “You okay?”

  “Not really.”

  Scott slips the tray into the room. “Can we talk?”

  “If you stay on that side of the door.”

  “I know you didn’t do it,” he says.

  “Too bad my dad doesn’t.”

  “I don’t think he believes Daria. He doesn’t know what else to do. Those are David’s in-laws and his guests.”

  And I’m his daughter. “He doesn’t have to make me stay up here.”

  “I told him I saw Daria trip you. He’s pretty upset.”

  I sniff, “How’s David?”

  “Disappointed, but holding up.”

  Scott continues, “Only a few plants were destroyed. David’s replacing those. There isn’t time to rebuild the heart. Claire wants to get married in front of the lilac tree anyway. She’s going to pretend the heart is there. Mrs. Dudley wants to rent a gazebo, but Claire refuses to change anything.”

  I can’t talk.

  “Win, you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I croak.

  “Man, you wouldn’t believe all the catering people running around. Setting up tents, chairs, even a fountain. The Dudley’s have gone all out.”

  “I’m glad I’m stuck in here.”

  “I could keep you company.”

  “No!” I stare at the stupid hot tub. “I mean, thanks Scott. I didn’t sleep last night and need some rest.”

  “Want me to get you for the rehearsal? It’s at four.”

  “Sure. Could you send Claire up?”

  “Will do.”

  I hear him whistle down the hall. When did he get so happy? I’m miserable. I stuff down the bacon and eggs only because I’m light-headed. They taste like rubber.

  Where is Fairy Godmonster and why doesn’t she show up and fix everything? My gut twists in pain. What if she doesn’t come back?

  Claire comes up a few minutes later and knocks on the door.

  ”Can I come in?” she asks.

  “I’ll come out.” I close the door behind me. Hiding the hot tub is making me nuts.

  Claire takes one look at me and enfolds me in her arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Winifred. I know you’re innocent. You would never do such a thing.

  Besides, you’re such a bit of a thing, you couldn’t possibly destroy anything that large.”

  “I’m sorry the garden won’t be the same.”

  “Getting married is the most important thing.”

  “I guess. Do me a favor?”

  “If I can.”

  “I need to use the bathroom. Could you stay outside my door? I don’t want anyone to go in there.”

  “Sure, go ahead.”

  I hurry down the hall, use the facilities and return. I scratch the itching wound on my face.

  “I’m sorry about the cut on your face,” says Claire. “I have some makeup that will cover it up for the wedding.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Do you want to talk about what happened last night?” she asks.

  “Daria tried to sneak into my room. I put a water booby trap over the door to keep her out after I lost the key yesterday.”

  Claire frowns. “What key?”

  I take it out of the door and hand it to her.

  “Daria had this yesterday,” Claire says, returning the key to me.

  “When?” I ask.

  “I saw her on the front porch with it. How do you suppose the key got into the garden?”

  “I think Daria threw it out my window when she ran to save her cat.”

  Claire frowns. “Jealous brat. She’s always been like that when someone has something she wants.”

  “She’s rich. What do I have?” I ask.

  Claire frowns. “A dad that pays attention to you.”

  I think about this. I can see what Claire means, but it’s hard to feel sorry for Daria.

  “Maybe that’s why she tripped me,” I murmur. I cover my mouth. Oops. I didn’t mean to let that slip.

  “What!” Claire looks shocked. “Say that again.”

  “Daria tripped me when I ran out to see Dad.”

  “That’s horrible. I’m so sorry.” She touches my face, tears in her eyes. “You’ll have a scar. My father is going to hear about what she did and set this right. If I ever speak to him again.”

  “What happened?”

  “He refuses to bring my birth mother to the wedding.”

  “Well, he has to live with your mom.”

  “I know.”

  “Besides,” I say, “you can meet with her after you get back from your honeymoon. There’ll be time then to sort things out between you.”

  “I guess that’s really better. I’m not sure how I would react to seeing her,” she says. “I almost forgot.” She takes a box from her pocket. “For my maid-of-honor.”

  “I haven’t done a thing to help you.”

  “You’ve done more work than all of us put together.”

  “I mean to help you, personally.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Mom has taken over – as usual. She’d just push you out of the way. Here. This is for you to wear tomorrow. And to keep.”

  I open the lid. Sitting on black velvet is a delicate gold chain with a very cool, oval-shaped blue stone hanging in the middle. Lying next to it are matching earrings.

  “They’re aquamarines, your birthstone. They match your beautiful eyes.”

  “Thank you, Claire,” I manage to say. “They’re awesome.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. We have to pick up my matron-of-honor at the airport.”

  I sigh. “See you later.” I watch her walk down the hall. Returning to my room, I lock myself in and wander to the window. The garden sparkles in the sunshine like nothing ever happened. But it did.

  I miss Fairy Godmonster. It’s like a hole in the room with her gone. Will she come back? I climb into bed and fall into a restless sleep. It seems like a minute later when I hear Dad knocking on the door.

  “Winifred, time for rehearsal,” he says.

  “Okay.” I drag out of bed.

  “Win. We really need to talk.”

  I choke up. “I can’t talk now. Not if you want me to get through the rehearsal. I’ll come down in a minute. By myself.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  I change my crumpled clothes for jeans and a t-shirt and peek out the door. The hall is empty. I lock the door.

  The house is strangely silent as I come down the stairs. I walk out the kitchen door and see poles and a huge white tent lying on the ground to the right. Gobs of people
are running around setting it up, carrying chairs, tables and boxes.

  I turn left, to the garden. Hoping Fairy Godmonster is hiding nearby, I scan the bushes. Nothing.

  Entering the garden, I notice that David did a great job of fixing the mess. I force myself to take one step after the other instead of running back up to my room.

  John smiles and takes my hand. “Be strong,” he whispers in my ear.

  Scott winks and doesn’t even look at my cheek. Only into my eyes. “Hi,” he says.

  My heart lurches to my throat and I can’t speak.

  Daria sees my wound and looks away.

  Mr. and Mrs. Dudley, David and Dad are talking with our minister, Mr. Hawkins, a chubby man with dimples and old-fashioned clothes.

  Claire hurries toward me. “You okay?”

  I nod, unable to speak.

  “Come, I want you to meet my matron-of-honor and her family.” She takes my hand and pulls me toward a tall, pretty brunette.

  “Maggie, this is my new sister, Winifred.”

  Maggie smiles and takes my hand. “Hello. I understand you’re quite a horsewoman.”

  I blush. “Thanks. Nice to meet you.”

  She touches a man on the back who is even taller than she is. He carries a small boy in his arms. “This is my husband, Joseph, and our son, Joey.”

  Joey is about three and so cute that you want to squish him. He clutches the ring pillow.

  “Hi.” I smile into his dark, round eyes.

  Joey stares at my cheek. His bottom lip quivers like he’s going to cry.

  “He’s very shy with strangers,” Maggie says.

  Thank goodness Weasel interrupts us or I might cry.

  “Attention everyone. It’s time to begin. This is how we will proceed.”

  The practice is short. I have to admit, Weasel is good at organizing.

  David never talks to me, even though we’re only a few feet apart. To be fair, he really doesn’t get a chance. Still.

  As soon as it’s over, I hurry away and hear Scott calling to me. “Wait up, Win.”

  I stop.

  “There’s going to be dancing after the wedding dinner. Will you be my partner?”

  He looks so worried, I smile a little.

  “City slickers know how to dance?” I ask.

  “Sure. How about cow-er-ranch girls?”

  “Of course.” No way can he know I’ve never danced with a boy.

  Dad comes up behind us. “Excuse me Scott, I want to speak with Winifred.”

  Scott gives me a thumbs-up. “Later.”

  I turn to Dad.

  He looks right into my eyes. “I should have believed you.”

  I don’t say anything.

  “It’s inconceivable to me that Daria would deliberately cause you harm.”

  “She didn’t think. She did it out of spite.”

  “When I get a chance, I’m going to speak to Otis about it.”

  I say, “Claire plans to tell Mr. Dudley. Besides, in two days they’ll be gone and it won’t matter.” I look him square in the eye. “What matters is that you didn’t believe me, Dad.”

  “I know.”

  “It really hurt.”

  “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

  “Mom says that forgiveness is the way to real happiness. I’m going to have to work on it.”

  Shock and pain cross his pale face.

  I turn and walk away.

  “Winifred,” Dad whispers hoarsely. I turn to see tears in his eyes. “Ah, after stable chores, we’re going to the rehearsal dinner. I want you to come.”

  I stare at him, my emotions ripping me apart. It’s okay to come now that he has some proof that I’m innocent? I hold my temper.

  “I’d rather stay home. I’m not good company for anyone right now. Especially for the time it will take to drive back and forth to Salem and eat.”

  “David will be disappointed.”

  “Please, Dad. I didn’t sleep last night. I’m exhausted. Let me stay home.”

  “Very well.”

  “Tell David I’m sorry.”

  “I’d stay with you if the rehearsal dinner wasn’t my responsibility.”

  “Go. I’ll be fine.” I won’t, but I don’t want to see him looking sadder.

  “I’ll leave the telephone number on the kitchen counter in case of an emergency,” he says.

  He tries to kiss my head, but I pull away from him.

  “Someday, I hope you’ll forgive me. Winifred. For a lot of things.”

  I see the hurt in his eyes. He can’t see the hurt in my heart.

  I drag upstairs wishing I could find Fairy Godmonster. She’d know how to cheer me up. Where would I look?

  I unlock the door and close it behind me.

  No hot tub.

  I whip around, relief mixed with wild excitement. “You got the whip to work!”

  The room is empty. Except for Mom’s furniture and my things. No Fairy Godmonster. No hole in the wall. No marks on the windowsill. No note. Nothing.

  Grief slams into my heart. I collapse to the floor, wishing the world would go away.

  Chapter 25: Storm Warning - New Life

  Kong barks his head off when everyone leaves for the rehearsal dinner. I drag to the stable. Dusk shines pink on the few clouds sitting like cotton candy in the sky.

  Kong dances around me. When we walk toward the kitchen, I see the white tent and huge water fountain. My stomach growls, and I vow to see everything after I eat.

  I make myself a ham sandwich with mayo, mustard, pickles and cheese on sourdough bread. I throw Kong a slice of ham and chow down. The food tastes awful.

  Suddenly, I hear the frightened whinny of a horse. Fear socks me in the stomach. The hair on my neck prickles. I struggle with waves of nausea and hurry out the kitchen door.

  Wind and rain splat me in the face. Dark, bunching clouds hurl through the sky like a herd of stampeding horses. All light is gone. I’ve never seen a summer storm come up this fast.

  I run to the stable. Lightning zigzags through the sky. Kong scuttles behind me and hides in Dad’s office.

  I switch on the aisle lights. Thunder rolls closer. The horses move restlessly in their stalls. I check each horse.

  When I reach Sunshine’s stall, I stop in surprise. Lying on the floor, her side heaves and fluid gushes out. She’s delivering early. Except for grouchiness, she’s shown none of the usual signs - no milk, no swelling. She’s a maiden mare, her first foal, so we didn’t expect this.

  Sunny moans with a powerful contraction. One, tiny foot protrudes from her body. I want to holler in joy, but I don’t. If I’m lucky, it shouldn’t take more than an hour or two. Her belly rolls with another huge contraction.

  I long for Dad to be here. Sharing the miracle of birth is awesome. Beyond cool when a horse can deliver a seventy-pound foal.

  Sunny struggles to her feet. I wait a minute, but don’t see the other foot. I enter the stall to check if it’s a breech birth, hind feet first.

  “Easy, girl,” I murmur. I look carefully at the tiny hoof. It faces down toward the mare’s hooves. I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s a front foot, a normal birth.

  I scratch Sunny. “Not long now. Good mare.”

  My heart thumps inside my head as I run through the sequence of birthing events; feet first, head, hips, back feet, afterbirth.

  Fifteen minutes later, I’m pacing and trying to ignore my growing uneasiness.

  Sunny lies down and pushes again with a contraction. She whinnies in pain. My heart leaps to my throat and I can hardly breathe. Some horses make more noise than others. I don’t want to take any chances. I need the vet. I race down the aisle toward the stable telephone on the wall.

  BOOM! Thunder rolls over the stable.

  CRACK!

  The lights go out. I wait a second for the generator to kick in and remember that Dad is waiting for a new part.

  I stand in complete darkness. Spooky. Shivers spiral down my spine. My
hand slides along the wall for the telephone. I’m glad I have the vet’s number memorized. I pick up the phone. It’s dead. Shaking now, I realize that I can’t call Dad, either. He has the cell phone.

  The chills don’t stop when I realize I’m alone in the dark with a pregnant mare that might be in trouble.

  “Help,” I call. “Faro. Faro!”

  CRACK!

  I scream. Lightning flashes outside the barn.

  Sunny whinnies.

  I hurry along the wall to the supply room. Trip over a chair that’s not supposed to be there and sprawl to the floor, ripping my jeans on the concrete. Dragging myself up, I search for the bottom shelf and find the battery-powered lantern. I click it on. Relief. I grab the foal kit, race to the bathroom, wash my hands and arms and dash back to Sunny.

  No foal. Sunny’s large brown eyes stare at me as she moans.

  “Easy Sunny.” I re-enter her stall.

  I put the lantern in a safe corner away from the mare’s eyes. It casts shadows across the stall, making everything seem unreal.

  “Dad, I can’t do this. What if something happens and I lose both horses?”

  I stroke Sunny’s head. “You’re gonna’ be fine. Push, girl.”

  Sunny whinnies as another contraction hits.

  Mom’s face flickers in my mind. I remember her words, “There will be times when you have to make decisions by yourself. Trust your instincts and act.”

  I take off my jacket and open the foal kit. My fingers fumble with the jar of lubricant. I’m going to have to go inside Sunny to see where the foal’s head is, so I grease my left hand and arm. My heart races. My gut twists in nervous spasms. I’ve only watched this procedure.

  I move slowly toward the mare. “Easy, Sunny. I’m gonna’ help you. I’m pretty small. It won’t hurt.”

  Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take a deep breath. Sunny stands still. I slide an arm along the protruding foot into the birth canal and warmth.

  “Whoa, easy, Sunny. Good. Relax.”

  I find the other hoof and straighten it. Elbow-deep, I feel the chest and stretch for the head. Find it. It’s turned at an awkward angle.

  “Please don’t be broken. Please don’t be broken,” I whisper.