Enchanted Summer

by Samantha Rose

  “I don’t know. A bee trap?” Ray snickered. “Why do I keep remembering Winnie-the-Pooh?”

  Nate chuckled. “It makes no sense. I can imagine kids sneaking things from the porch just out of mischief—maybe they don’t like Mrs. Johnson for some reason—but breaking into the house to steal a jar of honey? That is ridiculous. Unless my home ghost had done it, of course,” he added when Ray glanced at him.

  “You’ve seen that bubble of light again last night, didn’t you?” his friend asked.

  A smile touched Nate’s lips at the memory. He told Ray about that—but he didn’t tell him what he did next, about the night filled with music and the sweet-scented, chilly air drifting in from his living room window. About how he played the piano concert for the moths and other creatures wandering around his house at night.

  How satisfying it felt. As if he’d really had an audience—a quiet but devoted one.

  “Did you get the chance to listen to some of the recordings?” Nate asked, wittingly ignoring his friend’s previous question.

  “Actually, I did.” Ray nodded. That was what Nate liked about him—Ray never insisted on him answering the questions Nate wanted to leave alone. “In the car, while driving to work this morning.”

  Nate picked up the drinks he was pouring and set them on a tray. “And what do you think?”

  “I enjoyed them.”

  “Really?”

  “I did.” Ray nodded. “Seriously; you have a talent. You told me it was just a hobby, so I didn’t expect much, but I was surprised.”

  Nate paused with his fingers still touching the tray.

  “Have you ever considered sending your music demo to a record label?” Ray looked up at him. “You could have made a career out of this.”

  Nate shook his head, smiling just slightly. “No; I don’t want that.”

  “May I ask why? Just curious. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s just not …”—Nate hesitated—“for me.”

  Ray watched him for a moment before averting his gaze.

  “I’ve shared your music with Hanna. You don’t mind, do you?” He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought she would be interested. She used to play the piano when she was little.”

  “Oh, really?” A nervous shiver went through Nate; his anxiety returning. He shook it off. “No, I don’t mind it at all.”

  A few hours into their workday, the bell on the door of the diner chimed, announcing the arrival of the new customers. Nate whirled to greet them and stumbled across Hanna and Mimi entering.

  Hanna grinned at him; Mimi attempted a smile. As soon as his eyes met hers, she flushed and looked away, wringing her hands.

  “Hello, talented boy,” Hanna said, approaching Nate.

  Nate smiled back. “So, you’ve listened to it, too?”

  “I did.” She patted his arm. “You’re good. Really good.”

  “Ray told me you used to play the piano.” Nate stepped aside to let them both in—Mimi seemed to shy away from him.

  Hanna rolled her eyes. “Hated it. Absolutely hated it. Though it wasn’t the piano itself I hated so much—I thought the instrument sounded kind of sweet—but I despised the lessons and my tutor. Thankfully, my parents got the hint pretty fast and canceled them.”

  “I used to hate music lessons when I was a kid, too,” Nate said. “When my tutor came, I hid around the house.”

  “Really?” Hanna stared at him. “But you’re so good at it. I thought you were one of those kids who won piano competitions. I mean, what are you even doing here?” She chuckled. “You should be performing in a big city.”

  Nate huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “No; it really is better for me to be here. I never liked big cities.” He cast a glance at Mimi, who watched him closely all of this time, but as soon as she noticed him looking at her, she dropped her eyes.

  Ray appeared from the kitchen, holding a tray. He nodded to Mimi and Hanna as he passed them on his way to the group of customers.

  “Where’s Amy these days?” Hanna whipped her head around.

  “In the kitchen, as always,” Nate said.

  “I’ll go say hi to her,” Hanna announced, and went off.

  A couple of seconds later, Ray finished unloading his tray and followed his girlfriend.

  “Do you want something?” he asked his sister. “A milkshake? French fries?”

  “No.” Mimi shook her head.

  Ray shrugged and moved on.

  The kitchen door slammed in the distance. Nate proceeded cleaning the counters, giving Mimi some space to decide if she wanted to talk to him or not.

  But when the silence between them had stretched for more than a minute, he turned to find her watching him from afar. Just as the previous time, Mimi averted her gaze as soon as she realized that he’d noticed.

  Nate gave her a warm smile. Really, he’d never thought of himself being so intimidating.

  “How are you doing?” he asked the first question that came to his mind.

  “Good,” Mimi squeaked. “How are you?”

  “I’m good too,” Nate replied. He considered it for a moment and then chuckled. “Don’t you think it’s funny how people always say that everything’s good? It’s much easier than saying that it’s not so good and then having to spend the next half an hour explaining.”

  Mimi’s eyes grew wider.

  “Sorry,” Nate muttered. “I didn’t mean to sound offensive. You can ignore everything that I’ve said.”

  “No!” Mimi exclaimed. “I don’t mind listening.” She recoiled, taken aback by her own courageousness.

  Nate laughed. “No; everything’s fine, really. Your brother thinks I live in a haunted house, and my neighbor thinks I’m a thief. But apart from that, my life is great.”

  Mimi pursed her lips, suppressing a smile. “Why does your neighbor think you’re a thief?” she asked in a much more normal voice.

  “Because somebody stole a shawl and a jar of honey from her. Actually, that sounds more like a kleptomaniac. What do you think someone might need those things for?”

  Mimi contemplated. “When I was a kid, I used to make fairy traps. Hanna would tell me all sorts of stories about people seeing strange things around our town, and I believed it. She said fairies loved everything sweet, so I would put a little honey in a bowl, cover it with a box, and decorate it with moss and leaves to blend it in with the surroundings.” She smiled, lost in the memory. “I’d never caught any fairies, but I’d attracted a lot of insects, and sometimes rodents.”

  Nate grinned at her. “My grandfather believed the world is full of wonders we can’t see with our eyes. He told me fairytales and made me believe in magical things.” He shook his head. “My parents hated this.”

  Mimi clutched her hands; the movement seemed to anchor her. “Why?”

  “Well, they thought too active imagination is harmful to a child’s mind. Especially, my father. Even one mentioning of fairies or anything like that unsettled him.”

  Mimi opened her mouth to say something more but was abruptly interrupted by Hanna stepping out of the kitchen, holding a banana shake in her hand.

  “I’m back! Are you ready to go, Mimi?”

  “Yeah.” Mimi jumped in place, startled.

  Hanna walked past Nate, pointing at him as she did so. “This weekend. We’re going to the forest to seek out the Secret Lake. You’re coming with us, right?”

  Nate blinked at her, a little confused by her sudden appearance and the change of subject.

  “Sure,” he said. “I would love to join you.”

  He cast a quick glance at Mimi, who was blushing all over again.

  “Great. See you later!”

  Hanna sipped her drink and beckoned Mimi to come after her.

  “Bye,” Mimi murmured to Nate on her way out.

  “Nice seeing you.” He smiled at her.

  Mimi’s blush deepened, and together with Hanna, they exited the diner.

  Fi
ve

  Driving home that night, Nate thought what a strange direction his life in a new town had taken. He’d never thought that coming here would reignite his passion for music. That he would play the instrument and not feel any pain. That somebody would enjoy his music just as it was, not judging or pinpointing his flaws at any opportunity.

  For the first time in a long while, he felt free and almost happy. He wanted to return home as quickly as possible, rush to the piano and start playing. Record some more. Open the window again and turn off the lights to let the nightly creatures come listen.

  He knew the feeling was right when his heart was opening to the world—not caving in and shutting itself off. His intuition was guiding him this time.

  Filled with energy and inspiration to the top despite the long day at work, Nate parked the car by his house. Thankfully, that night, his neighbors’ windows were dark, and nobody greeted him from their front porch.

  Nate walked through the garden, ascended the stairs, and started rummaging in his pocket in search of the keys.

  But they were nowhere to be found.

  Nate looked in every single one of his pockets. He took off his jacket and shook all of its contents out.

  Nothing. Either he forgot the keys in the car or he somehow left them at work, or he’d lost them—in the diner, on the parking lot, or on his way there.

  Nate took a deep breath and willed himself to calm down. What he needed to do now was search his car thoroughly, and if nothing was found, get the flashlight and walk through the garden.

  A thought popped into his mind—that morning, his neighbor had caught him off guard by her sudden appearance. Being in a rush and distracted by her accusations, he could have just dropped the keys on the lawn and not notice it. If that was the case, he might find them by searching the path from the car to the house. Unless someone who took Mrs. Johnson’s things had returned to play a prank on Nate.

  At worst, Nate told himself, he would have to sleep in the car. Or he could call Ray and ask him to let him in for the night. Then, in the morning, he would solve this problem. It’s not like it was the end of the world—just a small inconvenience.

  Though he wouldn’t be able to play the piano that night, and that saddened him a little.

  He put his jacket back on, descended the stairs, and started on his way to the car when suddenly something jingled on the stone path before him. Nate paused, then crouched to pick the object up. His eyes widened slightly—in the faint light coming from the porch, a set of his house keys glinted. He stretched out his hand and grabbed it, metal shimmering in the darkness.

  Nate tipped his head up.

  There was a bubble of light floating right above him. That same mysterious bubble of light that appeared every time Nate played the piano. If he had been doubting the existence of this thing before, wondered if it was just a figment of his imagination, now he was certain—that bubble of light was real.

  It hovered above Nate’s head, shimmering and multicolored, “staring” back at Nate as perplexedly as he was staring at it. A whole minute went by before either one of them had wholly grasped what was going on and snapped back to reality.

  The bubble of light rushed forward, and Nate—partially convinced he was out of his mind—scrambled to his feet and hurried after it.

  His previous conjectures had turned out to be true—the bubble of light was drifting in the direction of the old willow. He chased it through the garden, wishing he had a butterfly net with him. And just as the bubble of light was about to fly into a tree hollow, Nate took a chance and jumped, trying to catch it with his hand.

  He felt something tickling his fingers, like a butterfly trying to get out—or, on the contrary, trying to hold on to him—and then they both tumbled to the ground, landing in a cloud of light and glittering dust.

  Nate opened his eyes.

  The keys. As weird as it seemed, he was still grasping them with his left hand. Meanwhile, his other hand—

  Nate stiffened; his eyes flew open. Propping himself up on his elbows, he gawked at what was lying beneath him.

  Not what—but who. There was a girl there. An enchantingly beautiful one.

  Her short white hair framed her pretty face with its soft curls. Her eyes the color of amethyst glimmered in the moonlight. And her skin was shimmering slightly as if covered in fine glitter dust.

  Nate blinked at her, stunned, as she fluttered her eyelashes at him; and then he recollected himself and sprang back, jumping to his feet.

  He watched the girl as she rose up from the grass, dusting and shaking out the skirt of her dress—airy and ethereal as if made out of the pink-colored mist. And then she started to stretch out her wings.

  Her wings.

  He was going mad—Nate was absolutely sure of it now. That, or he had passed out in the garden and was watching some magical dream.

  The girl had four wings at her back, shaped like a dragonfly’s, only much bigger in size. They were multicolored, like stained glass, and glinted in the moonlight along with her beautiful eyes.

  Unconsciously, Nate squeezed a set of keys in his left hand, cold metal biting into his skin. Everything felt so real, and at the same time, it was not. He could still feel the feather-soft fabric of her dress touching his fingers, smell the intoxicating scent of honey and wildflowers on her skin.

  If that was all a dream, it was the best one he had in ages.

  Nate took a deep breath and dared to be the first one to break the silence. Even if the girl was an illusion, he had to find out what she was doing in his garden.

  “Are you … okay?” He didn’t recognize his voice as he spoke.

  “Barely broke my wings …” the girl murmured in an answer.

  Her voice sounded beautiful but, unlike her appearance, absolutely non-magical. Though Nate didn’t expect it to be any different.

  “I’m so sorry,” he breathed. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t know that—”

  He stumbled.

  Didn’t know what? That there was a fairy-winged girl hiding inside that bubble of light? He didn’t even saw her change. That had probably occurred when they were still surrounded by the cloud of light and dust—if only he didn’t hit his head in the process and imagine the whole thing.

  “It’s fine,” the girl said softly. “They are all right.”

  As if trying to prove that, she flung open her wings again and fluttered them, sending a cloud of magical pollen flying in the air. Nate gasped.

  “This … This tree.” The girl folded her wings neatly behind her back and flicked her eyes to Nate. “It had complained to me.”

  Nate flinched and blinked at her.

  “You didn’t take good care of it, and it almost died,” the girl went on.

  “I …” Nate goggled at her, then cast a glance at the willow. “I didn’t—”

  “Apologize to it,” the girl demanded. “Say you won’t do this anymore.”

  “W-what?”

  “Apologize,” she repeated, her voice breaking a little.

  She watched him with a bit of precaution, but at the same time remained steady. Illusion or not, Nate sensed she would be deeply hurt if he refused to do what she told him.

  Taking another deep breath and silently praying nobody watched them from a window, Nate turned to face the old willow, taking in its massive foliage.

  “I …” he pronounced hesitantly. “I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t mean to cause you any harm. I had no idea trees needed any special maintenance, and if I had neglected you, I only did it out of my own ignorance—not ill will. I promise I will be more mindful in the future. Truly.” He bowed his head. “I mean it.”

  A light breeze rustled through the branches of the old willow. As if it had heard him; was answering him. Nate felt chills creeping down his spine.

  “It forgives you,” the girl said.

  Nate gazed at her.

  “Who are you?” he finally asked. “You were hiding in that bubble of li
ght?”

  Her amethyst eyes flickered in the darkness.

  “That was my true form,” she said. “I’m a dryad.”

  “Who?”

  “A dryad. A tree fairy.”

  “A fairy?” Nate repeated, stunned. Though, what was so surprising about that—after everything he’d already witnessed. “What are you doing in my garden?”

  “I live here.”

  “How long?”

  “A few weeks.”

  A few weeks …

  A few weeks ago, Nate had moved into the house, and then the old willow tree had started to come back to life. The garden had been revived, and those strange glowing flowers popped up here and there. Was it all her making?

  The illusion became more and more real with every moment that passed.

  “And why … are you living in my garden?”

  The girl recoiled, stepping back. “Dryads have their own reasons to do what they do. We choose where we want to live, and no one can manipulate us.” She averted her gaze for a moment, and Nate saw something familiar in it. Something that reminded him of how Mimi behaved around him. Was he intimidating her, too?

  “But why did you choose this exact garden?” he attempted to ask.

  “It’s none of your business.” The fairy turned away.

  “Okay, I’m sorry, I won’t bring up this question anymore!” Nate apologized hastily. Then he added, “Hey, is there a chance that it was you who took a shawl from my neighbor’s porch?”

  “A shawl?” The girl blinked at him shyly. “Y-yes, I— It was me.”

  “And a jar of honey from her kitchen?”

  “That was me as well.” She dropped her eyes and wrung her hands. “I’m sorry …”

  “Why are you apologizing?”

  “Because I got you into trouble! I didn’t even think you might have problems because of that. I returned the shawl the next morning, but she still yelled at you. I heard it.”

  Nate gave her a smile. “Don’t worry about it. My neighbors aren’t fond of me anyway, so if it wasn’t for that, she would have found another reason to complain. But tell me.” He stepped forward. “Why did you need a jar of honey and a shawl?”

  The dryad was still staring at the grass.