Enchanted Summer

by Samantha Rose

“I got cold at night,” she murmured. “And … I got hungry.”

  Nate raised his eyebrows.

  “You … eat honey?”

  Mimi’s voice echoed in his mind. I used to make fairy traps.

  A little bit of honey and a box decorated with moss. This one might have fallen for that.

  “I eat honey and pollen nectar. And also nuts and berries. And I love herbal tea,” she added so quietly Nate almost didn’t hear it.

  He thought her words over. “I’m afraid I have nothing of the above in my house,” he said. “Maybe there’s something leftover in my aunt’s pantry, but I wouldn’t risk eating it.” He looked up at the girl. ”Tomorrow morning. As soon as the store opens, I will drive to it and buy some food for you.”

  “Thanks,” the fairy replied timidly.

  Nate glanced at the keys still in his hand, then back at her.

  “You can come spend the night at my house,” he suggested. “I have an extra bedroom. You wouldn’t be so cold.”

  “No, thank you,” the dryad declined, brushing her fingers along the willow tree bark. “I can sleep here.” She pointed to the hollow.

  “Are you sure you will be … comfortable in there?” Nate squinted at it.

  “I got used to sleeping there.”

  “Okay,” Nate said after thinking it through. “Then I’ll fetch you some blanket so that it wouldn’t be so cold for you to sleep outside.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nate nodded and walked over to the house. His hands trembled a little as he unlocked the front door, then came inside and opened the linen closet. He rummaged through it, and after a minute or two, returned to the garden carrying a soft blanket.

  Dryad waited for him by the tree. So strange, ethereal, breathtakingly beautiful … Shimmering slightly underneath the moonlight.

  “I can help you to arrange it inside,” Nate offered.

  “No, thank you, I can do that myself.”

  “Okay.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, as if not sure what to do next.

  “Thank you for finding my keys.” Nate suddenly remembered.

  Dryad glanced over at him. “You’d lost them by the porch in the morning. I picked them up and hid them inside the tree hollow.”

  “Thank you,” he repeated. “Truly. For everything.”

  She nodded hesitantly.

  They said goodnight to each other, and Nate was about to return to his house. He was halfway across the garden when he suddenly halted and whirled, looking at the dryad, who hadn’t taken on her true form yet.

  “Since we will be neighbors from now on,” he said, “could I ask your name?”

  She spun around—a glimmer of light in the darkness.

  “Ariadne.”

  “Ariadne,” Nate repeated as if mesmerized. “You have a beautiful name. I’m Nate.”

  She nodded. “Thank you.”

  With that, she lit up and disappeared. A moment later, a multicolored bubble of light hovered in the air. It whirled in place and hid in the tree hollow.

  Nate stared at it in wonder before shaking his head and continuing on his path toward the house.

  Six

  He didn’t play the piano that night.

  Lying in bed, Nate tried to get himself to fall asleep, but his mind was snapping back to the incident in the garden. To his encounter with a dryad. A real fairy.

  He remembered last night. How he played, and she drifted in; perched on a windowsill to listen. It wasn’t the first time she came—did she enjoy his music? Somehow, it felt even more surreal than her existence alone.

  Nate’s mind flooded with questions and possibilities. This town is full of myths and legends—was it Hanna or Mimi who said that? People seeing strange things. Maybe a fairy living in the garden was a regular occurrence in a place like this. But it wasn’t something Nate was used to seeing in his previous place of living. In fact, he’d always assumed fairies only lived on the pages of books.

  His grandfather believed in magic, and he did his best to instill that belief in Nate as well. Though Nate admitted to himself that the events of the last year—of every year following his grandfather’s death—had lessened that belief severely.

  He drifted off to sleep with an image of Ariadne lingering before his closed eyelids—an ethereal creature with soft white curls and stark amethyst eyes, the skirt of her airy dress swaying on a phantom breeze. His dreams tangled with one another—twisted memories merged in with wild imagination—and he woke up to a sunbeam blaring right into his eyes.

  At such an early hour, the neighborhood was still quiet. Nate opened the front door and peered into the garden, as if expecting Ariadne to greet him at the porch.

  Still groggy from the sleep, he wondered if the events of the previous night had only been a dream of his. Somehow he’d convinced himself there was a hungry fairy living in his garden, expecting him to wake up at dawn to drive to the store and fetch food for her.

  Berries, nuts, honey, and herbal tea. Nate ran down the mental list of things to buy. She didn’t clarify what kind of nuts and berries. Probably something close to what you could find in the forest. And it should probably be organic as well.

  Thankfully, the first store he drove by had all of those things. Twenty minutes later, crates of raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, and strawberries were carefully stacked on the seat next to him along with an assortment of nuts, a couple of boxes of loose leaf tea, and a jar of raw honey. Nate made sure everything he’d picked was as organic as possible. He had no idea how the fairy accustomed to the forest-grown produce would react to pesticides and everything, and he didn’t want to risk it. He didn’t find anything resembling pollen nectar—didn’t even know how that might look like—and hoped she would survive without it, at least until she managed to explain to him what it was.

  More and more questions flooded Nate’s mind as he drove back home. Where was that fairy originally from? Was she from the local forest? Maybe that Secret Lake Hanna had been talking about was some sacred part of the land that creatures like her populated. And they only let in those who they felt wouldn’t harm them? Somehow, the idea didn’t seem so bizarre to Nate as it had been before.

  But then, why did she leave her home to live alongside humans? He sensed it would be hard to get her to answer that question.

  Back at home, Nate found the smallest saucer his aunt had and arranged a handful of berries and nuts on it. He poured a bit of honey into the other one and brewed the herbal tea.

  He didn’t know how much food he should leave for Ariadne. If she would remain in her true form, would she eat as much as a full-grown human? Somehow, he couldn’t imagine that. So he went with the amount he thought would be enough for her to stay full until he returned from work that night.

  Work. With his life turning upside down in a blink of an eye, Nate had almost forgotten that he still had to do normal things—such as go to work to pay his bills. He picked up the plates and a small cup of tea and walked out into the garden.

  If some of his neighbors spied on him from the windows at that moment, they sure thought he was out of his mind—Nate was certain of that. He cast a quick glance at Mrs. Johnson’s house, drew in a deep breath, and headed toward the old willow.

  The hollow was deep and dark on the inside, no hint of Ariadne besides the corner of her blanket sticking out. But at least that was proof enough that the events of the last night weren’t just some wild dream of Nate’s.

  What if she’s gone? a thought popped into Nate’s mind. What if the encounter with a human had frightened her so much she decided to flee as fast as possible?

  What then? Nate contemplated. Would he be disappointed by that?

  Though he didn’t know anything about her or her intentions, a fairy living in his garden was indeed something special. Something that could chase away the dark thoughts for the time being and dilute the gray reality.

  Nate looked around the garden. Strange flowers were still bloomi
ng, surrounded by butterflies this time of the day. Somehow he felt they were all connected to the dryad, and if she were truly gone—

  He shook his head slightly and carefully arranged the dishes at the entrance of the hollow. She would find them when she woke up, and if she would decide to leave after all—well, that was up to her.

  Along with the food, Nate sneaked in a little scrap of paper on which he wrote:

  I hope you’ll find the food to your taste. I left the second-floor window open, so feel free to roam inside the house and take everything you need. I will return in the evening. Have a nice day.

  At work that day, Nate couldn’t get himself to concentrate. He forgot what he was doing in the middle of the task, mixed up orders, and spent a lot of time staring into nothing.

  A couple of the regular diners—mostly seniors—asked him if everything was all right. A few of the old ladies watched him with concern, convinced he had some sort of a family tragedy that paralyzed him. Nate was mostly loved by every regular—always nice and smiling, asking them about their day if he knew they were in the mood to talk, but still exceptionally polite and never crossing personal boundaries. He made people feel like they knew him their entire life. That was sort of a special gift of his that made it easy for him to find—and keep—various jobs.

  But today something about him felt off, and people noticed.

  Ray and his other coworkers shot worried glances at him from time to time, each and every one attempting to ask if everything was all right—with him and his family. Nate assured them multiple times that it was, that he just didn’t get enough sleep that night—but he could see that nobody believed him. If there was something Nate was exceptionally bad at, it was lying. So he preferred to hide the truth instead. The fact that he didn’t get enough sleep that night was true—but the reason for it Nate chose not to tell.

  “Mimi keeps asking questions about you,” Ray said while the two of them ate lunch, by the means of trying to get Nate’s attention. “She really liked your music. To be honest, I’m a little shocked by that,” he added, shaking his head. “I’ve always thought she only listens to pop hits on the radio. You’re a good influence on her.” He winked.

  Nate caught his glance and smiled a little. He’d only heard bits of what Ray had said. Mimi liked pop music. Him being a good influence on someone. It was as if Ray were a broken radio, switching on and off every two seconds.

  “I can’t imagine myself being a good influence on anyone,” he answered, trying to keep the conversation going. “Back at school, I was that kid every parent warned their children to stay away from.”

  Ray chuckled, barely chocking on his burger. “I can’t imagine that! I mean, you’re almost a saint. What, were you doing drugs or something?”

  Nate shook his head, laughing. “No, I just … made bad choices in life, in their opinion. They didn’t want their kids to get an idea from me. Think they could get away with the same choices.”

  Ray stared at him in puzzlement. “I don’t get it. Did you steal things or murder someone? ‘Bad choices in life’ means going to jail. Or drinking and partying like crazy at the age of twelve.”

  Nate kept laughing. “No! I didn’t do any of that.”

  “Then what is it?” Ray threw up his hands. “I’ve listed everything besides blowing up the entire school.”

  Nate grinned. “You didn’t mention getting bad grades and not studying.”

  Ray waved his hand. “That’s not a big deal. Everyone gets bad grades besides eggheads. I received plenty of them in my time.”

  “But you still got into college.”

  “Well, college is not for everyone.” Ray shrugged, biting into his lunch. “That doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person.”

  “Plus, not doing homework and skipping school.”

  “To drink and party?”

  “No.” Nate smiled.

  “I still don’t see any good reasons for parents to think you’re a bad influence on their kids. You were just a normal boy.”

  Nate glanced at the cup of coffee in his hand. “Everybody says that society rules are stupid and don’t matter. But then not many people actually dare to break them. It’s safer to live that way—of at least pretend to live that way. After all, that was programmed into our minds. You leave your tribe—you die.”

  “That’s only if you literally leave it,” Ray still persisted. “And plenty of people had done that and survived. Though some say they had gone mad in the process.”

  “Well, maybe those who had done it metaphorically are mad too. Not many parents would wish that for their children. But the fact is—it is not contagious. Many of my friends had drifted apart from me on their own, for various reasons. Mostly because our values in life didn’t match anymore. But I became used to that.”

  “That’s something we all go through as we grow up …”

  Their conversation drifted into another direction, Nate quickly losing the thread and ending up in the same stupor he had been in before.

  His thoughts kept snapping back to Ariadne. Did she get the food he had brought for her? Did she eat it? Was she still even there? He wished the hours would go faster so that he could return and check up on her. He couldn’t lie to himself anymore—he wanted to see her. He wished she had stayed.

  He hoped to get more answers from her tonight.

  That night, Nate almost flew out of the diner and drove home as fast as he could. He stopped at the local pizza place to get some dinner for himself and then continued on his way.

  The garden looked as usual, ethereal flowers glowing in the darkness, magical pollen scattering on a breeze. No sign of the dryad, but then, there had never been any sign of her when he returned.

  Nate hopped out of the car and crossed the lawn to the old willow. He peered into the hollow—nothing. It was dark and empty on the inside, as if nothing had even been there. Nate stepped back, frowning.

  So his predictions had turned out to be true—Ariadne had really decided to leave the place. But at least she’d eaten breakfast—or threw in out, maybe. He sighed.

  After all, what could he have done to convince her to stay? She’d said it herself—nobody could manipulate a fairy. And maybe it was all really just a magical dream he had imagined for himself after a long day of work.

  A fairy living in his garden? As if such things could ever happen to people like him … He was being such a fool.

  Just as he thought that, somebody’s hand tapped his shoulder lightly. Nate shivered and whirled, his eyes growing wide.

  Ariadne.

  She hadn’t gone—she was there, in his garden. Standing right in front of him, her amethyst eyes glinting in the darkness.

  She was just like he had remembered; wearing the same dress. Casting her eyes down on the grass at her feet, she murmured, “Thank you for the food.”

  It took Nate a couple of moments to recollect himself.

  “You liked it?” he asked, barely breathing, as if trying not to frighten her off. “I hope I didn’t forget anything. I hadn’t found anything resembling pollen nectar, so—”

  “Everything tasted good,” she reassured him with a little smile before he could say anything else. “I didn’t expect you would bring me the herbal tea.”

  “You said you liked it.”

  Ariadne nodded, gazing right into his eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You have nothing to thank me for,” Nate almost whispered. He looked to the house. “It’s so late already. Have you eaten dinner? I still have some honey left over in the house. I can bring you more if you want.” He started making his way to the porch.

  Ariadne remained by the willow. “Thank you. I would like that.”

  Nate nodded and headed to the door. The next fifteen minutes he’d spent running back and forth through the kitchen, heating up his pizza and arranging the dinner for the fairy.

  He’d found a neat stack of empty plates waiting for him on the rug by the front door. None of the leftovers disappea
red—that meant she didn’t take any. Before he left for work that morning, Nate had placed sticky notes all over the kitchen, explaining where everything was. He didn’t think a fairy would manage to use an electric appliance, but she could at least pour herself a glass of cold water in case she was thirsty. And none of her food required heating up. But it seemed like she’d decided not to risk entering the house.

  Nate walked over to the linen closet and extracted another blanket from it. In one of the kitchen cabinets, he’d found a big tray. A few minutes later, he came out onto the porch, carrying everything in his hands. Ariadne joined to help him.

  They settled on the blanket between the rose bushes, calling it a picnic underneath the moonlight. Nate long ago had noticed that there were no mosquitoes in his garden at night—only moths and other friendly insects. Now he wondered if Ariadne had something to do with that. Being a dryad, she probably possessed all kinds of magical abilities. He tried to guess what they were.

  Reviving trees was certainly one of them.

  They sat in silence for the first few moments, overlooking their dinner tray. An assortment of nuts and berries for Ariadne, a little bit of honey, and a slice of pizza for Nate.

  “What is that?” Ariadne pointed at pizza, watching Nate take the slice in his hand and bite into it.

  “A pizza,” Nate explained; then added, noticing a hint of puzzlement on her face, “this is something like a pie. A piece of dough with tomato sauce and cheese on top. And you can also add all sorts of toppings to it, like mushrooms, or meat, or vegetables, or anything that you’d like.”

  Ariadne blinked at him. “Back in the Enchanted Forest, we baked pies for the feasts, but we only put berries on them. Or mushrooms. Could you but berries on … a pizza?”

  Nate pondered over it.

  “I’ve never seen anything like that,” he finally said. “But I don’t think there’s any law prohibiting putting berries on a pizza. So … why not?”

  Ariadne watched him for a moment, then picked up a raspberry from a plate and put it in her mouth.

  Nate found himself staring at her and forced himself to avert his gaze. “You don’t need as much food as us humans, do you?” he noted. “The amount that I’d brought you for breakfast was enough for a day?”