by Blythe Baker
His smile grew. “Italy is one of the prettiest countries in the world,” he said. “And where do you hail from, Marianne? I cannot place your accent.”
“I have an accent?” I asked, with a short laugh. “Missouri, but I was born here.”
“Were you really?” he asked, and he leaned in, his eyes shining with interest. “I wish I was born here. This valley…it’s my true home.”
I swallowed nervously as I saw him surveying the landscape as if it belonged to him. By the look of his expensive suit and his wing-tipped shoes, I could easily imagine that he could buy every square mile of land without blinking.
He looked back at me and there was a glint of something mysterious in his eyes. It sent a chill down my spine and made me turn to look at my Aunt. “Well, it was really nice to meet you, Dr. Valerio, but my aunt and I need to be heading back to the lodge. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
“Indeed you will,” he said. “I tend to frequent Mr. Cromwell’s shop in search of any kind of valuable artifacts. I look forward to getting to know you better, Marianne.”
“Likewise,” I said, red flags waving furiously in my mind. “See you later.”
“Have a good afternoon,” Aunt Candace said.
“Drive safely,” Dr. Valerio called after us. “The wolves have been seen prowling near the roads just outside the town limits.”
My ears burned, but I forced myself not to turn around. How weird that he’d mentioned wolves and I’d seen one that morning. Maybe it was just a friendly warning.
Something told me that he meant something more, though.
We hopped in the car, and Aunt Candace didn’t waste any time pulling out of the small parking lot and back onto the main road.
We sat in silence for a few minutes. I stared out the window at the trees rushing past, nervousness keeping me quiet as I looked for another pair of golden eyes in the shadows.
Dr. Valerio’s eyes had seemed so strange, so entrancing that I was sure I’d see them in my dreams that night.
“So what do you think about Abe and his shop?” my aunt asked eventually.
I perked up, grateful that she hadn’t started with a question about Dr. Valerio. “Oh, I think that’ll be great. It’s completely different than anything I’ve ever done before, so I am going to welcome the change of pace.”
She smiled as she slowed at a stop sign. “Good, I’m glad to hear it. I could see the relief on poor Abe’s face. It will help him to rest, I think. And he needs to. That man tries to do too much.”
Somehow I felt like she was dancing around something, and my stomach constricted when I thought about the book. For a half a second, I thought about asking her. It was like talking to my mother. But even I knew that I wouldn’t admit to her that I’d been hearing foxes talking to me and seeing books float and glow like I’d cast some sort of spell.
I smirked. Yeah, right. A spell? That was ridiculous.
“…so she asked me if…Marianne?” Aunt Candace asked.
I straightened and looked over at her, my eyes wide as I realized she’d been talking while my mind drifted. “Yes?”
She sighed, but smiled kindly at me. “I’m sorry. You must be completely exhausted, aren’t you?”
I smiled back. “Yeah, I guess I am. I just keep zoning out. I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“I was just telling you a story about your mother,” she said. “Why don’t we head back to the lodge where we left your car and I’ll make you something to eat? You can take whatever we have leftover home. I can’t imagine you’ve had a chance to get over to the grocery store yet. Why don’t I send Bliss to get some things for you? You could make a list for us and that way you can focus on unpacking.”
My first reaction was to tell her no, that I was totally fine going and getting my own groceries. But then I realized I was basically so stressed I was hallucinating weird stuff, so really, it was probably better for me to drive as little as possible until I’d gotten enough rest. I could maybe even squeeze in a nap after I’d changed the sheets on my bed back at the cabin and taken another hot shower.
“That’s really kind, Aunt Candace,” I said. “And honestly, it would be a huge help. I’ll pay for everything, of course. Just have her keep the receipts and I’ll write you a check.”
“Absolutely not,” she said. “It’s the least I can do for my niece who just moved here. You deserve to be showered in a little love when everything is so strange and new.”
She wasn’t wrong. Everything was strange and new. That was probably where all this uneasiness was coming from. I was out here on my own, barely knowing anyone or anything about the area in general. It was going to take time for this place to feel like home.
I needed some rest, and some time to explore and settle in. Once I became more familiar with my surroundings and didn’t have to rely on my GPS anymore, I’d feel better. I knew I would.
I just wanted things to go back to normal.
But as I stared out at the moody forests, the branches of the trees swaying in the midafternoon wind, I could almost swear that the world I’d left and the world I’d entered were very different from one another.
It was better to keep the things I’d noticed to myself, at least for now. There was no sense making Aunt Candace worry that I might be losing my mind.
I just needed rest.
I’d look at that book again on Monday with fresh eyes, and prove to myself once and for all that things were normal around here.
9
Even though it was only the second time I’d stepped through the beautifully crafted wooden front doors of the lodge, it was incredibly comforting to recognize a place and to know it was safe. Bliss was there waiting for us, ready to inform her mother that it had taken effort, but she made sure that old Mr. Terrance went on his lunchbreak.
I ate dinner with the two of them, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d enjoyed a meal so much. We laughed and swapped stories. It seemed that Bliss and I were very similar to one another; we both loved being outdoors, preferred cats to dogs, and really loved the occasional deep fried chocolate cookie. Aunt Candace, however, was like a carbon copy of my mother. She moved her hands in the same way that Mom did when she spoke, and was frightened of frogs and lizards the same way she was. They had their differences, though. Aunt Candace, for one, really loved coffee, and my mom couldn’t stand it. Mom also loved going for hikes. Aunt Candace preferred getting her exercise in the pool at the lodge.
I finally relaxed as we sat there enjoying the most delicious pumpkin pie I’d ever had in my life. The memories of the last few days seemed to fade away into the past, and I was feeling much more positive about the move. I was almost excited.
I compiled a list of things I wanted from the store, including bread, eggs, and my favorite English breakfast tea, and Bliss waved to us as she hopped in her car and drove off for me. I hoped I hadn’t put too many things on there for her to get.
“Now, you are going to need something else to get around town with,” Aunt Candace said, waving me on after her. We wandered around the outside of the lodge toward a large shed just inside the forest. She unlocked it with a key on the loop of hundreds she carried around. I was amazed she’d been able to find the right key among so many, as we stepped inside.
There was a lawn mower, some rock salt for the parking lot in the winter, and a number of mountain bikes on racks along one wall.
“This is how people in Faerywood Falls really get around,” she said, pointing up at the bikes. “Especially around the lake. Old Abe’s shop is only a few miles from here, so if you wanted to save some money on gas, you could ride one of these to work on the sunnier days.”
I gazed up at the bikes. “I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid,” I said. “But I loved doing it when I did.”
“There’s a reason why everyone compares tasks you never forget to riding a bike,” she said. “You can have your pick of these three here, if you want.”
“
You guys have been too generous,” I said.
I ended up choosing a pretty turquoise blue bike with a bell on it. Aunt Candace said that it had been Bliss’s favorite bike for many years until she upgraded.
She asked a few of the guys working the landscape to come and help me attach the bike rack to the back of my car, which they managed to do in just a few minutes.
The sun was starting to set as Aunt Candace and I hoisted the bike up onto the rack, securing it there.
“All right, you should get home and get some rest,” Aunt Candace said with a broad grin. “I’m sure you’re just exhausted.”
“I am,” I admitted. “I didn’t know moving took this much out of you.”
“It’s a big change, both physically and emotionally,” Aunt Candace said. “Now, why don’t you come over for lunch on Sunday? We’re having prime rib.”
My stomach rumbled even though I’d just eaten. “That sounds amazing.”
“Good,” she said with a smile and a nod. “Now go get some rest. We won’t bother you tomorrow, I promise.”
“You wouldn’t be bothering me,” I said as I opened my driver’s side door.
Aunt Candace watched me from the front steps of the lodge as I drove off down the dirt road toward my cabin. There was a warm glow in my heart as I watched her fade away in my rearview mirror. I had come not knowing anyone, but I had family here, and it was as if I’d known them for years already.
The cabin was dark and quiet as I approached, the evening sun reflecting off the windows in bright reds and oranges. I gazed out over the lake, relishing the view that was just outside my front door. It was stunning, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever been more proud to live in a place, no matter how tiny.
I rubbed my eyes as I grabbed a box out of the backseat, deciding that now was as good a time as any to start unpacking the back of the car. It was heavy, and I saw I’d labeled it kitchen in obnoxious pink marker. Pots and pans probably. Or my extensive mug collection.
I trudged up the stairs, digging through my purse with one hand while trying to deftly balance the box on my hip with the other. I managed to locate my keys just before the box toppled out of my hands and onto the steps.
I slid the lock home, pushed open the door, and stepped inside. I set the box down on the narrow countertop just beside the door, and froze.
I wasn’t alone in the cabin. A tiny red and white face stared up at me from the couch. A pair of black eyes blinked at me, and a little black nose twitched.
I was glad I’d put the box down, otherwise it would have gone careering out of my hands and smashed against the floor.
I peered at the fox, all curled up in the blanket I’d nestled it in the night before. I’d ditched the box that morning after talking to the vet, but the animal somehow managed to find the blanket folded up on the arm of the sofa.
How had it gotten back in? I’d closed all the windows on my way out, afraid of soaking the whole inside if it started to rain in my absence. I glanced around and my eyes fell on a doggie door no bigger than a foot and a half tall in the wall beside the front door. The perfect size for a fox to squeeze through.
“Well, aren’t you a clever little thing?” I said hesitantly, walking inside, but giving the fox a wide berth. The vet had given me very clear instructions to keep my distance from the fox in case it was carrying diseases. The last thing I needed was to drag myself down to the emergency room to get a rabies shot.
I never broke eye contact with the creature, thinking that if I did, it might show some kind of weakness or submission.
The fox’s tail waved like a cat’s, and a shiver ran down my spine. Hopefully the little creature wasn’t agitated.
Why had it come back? What was it about my place that had seemed preferable to the outside, where it belonged?
I thought of the torn food container this morning and groaned.
This is why they tell you not to feed the birds at amusement parks, I thought. They become dependent on you for food.
Still…I worried about the fox’s leg. Was it still hurting? Had it sought shelter in a safe place where it could heal?
I sighed, rubbing my hands over my face. How much harm could it really do? I had slept with it in the same room all night, for Pete’s sake. If it wanted to attack me, it would have done it then, right?
I was making excuses with myself, and I really couldn’t be sure why. The smartest thing to do was to call the vet back and ask for his help, but something kept me from reaching for my phone to call him.
Would it really harm anything to give it just a little more food? Maybe that would give the fox enough strength to leave. As soon as it was gone, I’d block the doggie door so it couldn’t come back in. I’d call Mrs. Bickford tomorrow and ask her to send her handyman out to permanently board up the dog door. Then the fox would have no choice but to go back to the wild.
That seemed like the wisest thing. At least that was what I kept telling myself.
Making sure not to turn my back to the fox, who was still very comfortably seated on the blanket, watching me steadily, I went to the fridge and pulled out some milk. I then moved to the box near the door and picked up some of the roasted chicken that Aunt Candace had sent home with me.
I filled up a plastic cup with the milk, and set some chicken slices on a plate before putting it on the floor between the fox and me.
The fox looked up at me, and then down to the food before hopping down and slowly making its way over to the meal.
I watched it hesitantly. It was like watching a child eat. I was nervous and interested all at the same time.
The fox sniffed at the chicken before looking up at me.
This human is kind to me.
I blinked.
“Who said that?” I asked, turning and looking around. The front door was open, but my porch was empty. And I was the only one in that tiny, one room cabin besides…
I looked back at the fox, who had started gnawing on the chicken rather exuberantly.
My eyes narrowed as I looked at the creature.
That was twice now that I’d experienced this. There was no way. It was impossible.
I opened my mouth and then snapped it shut. No. I was not going to talk to a fox like it could understand me.
It’s not like it would respond anyway. I really am losing my mind.
I would respond, if you spoke to me.
I jumped, nearly out of my skin, and collided with the small table and chairs behind me.
I clutched at my heart, staring down at the fox, who spared me nothing more than a brief glance before it started to lap at the milk in the red plastic cup. My heart thundered in my ears, and I squeezed my eyes shut.
This is a dream. It has to be.
Well, if you are dreaming, then I must be as well, for I can hear your thoughts as clearly as you hear mine.
I opened my eyes and looked down at the fox. “Are you saying…” I mumbled, sinking down into the chair behind me. “That…you can understand me?”
The fox raised its head and looked me dead in the eye. It sat back on its haunches, its front paws together in a very picturesque manner, and wrapped its tail around its body.
Yes, I can. And it seems you can understand me, as well.
My jaw dropped, and my hands covered my mouth in shock.
“How…this isn’t possible. It can’t be real – ”
It seems very real to me, the fox said, blinking at me, tilting its head to the side. Although you are the first human I’ve spoken with like this. Then again, perhaps you are a special kind of human.
“No,” I said, getting up and walking away. “This is just another part of my breakdown. That’s all there is too it. I’m hearing voices in my head and think it’s the fox sitting on my living room floor eating chicken leftovers.”
I pressed my fingers against my temples, willing the insanity to work itself out of my brain.
“I am a normal, sane person. I’m just over exhausted, and dealing with so
me major life changes. Anyone is bound to go a little unhinged during all this stress. Right?” I asked to the air.
The fox blinked at me again, apparently unperturbed by my distress. What if this is not so simply explained away? The fox asked. What if, instead, this is all real?
I blanched, looking over at the tiny creature.
What if…what if the fox was right?
“Oh, good, you’re home.”
My heart stopped as I whirled around, knocking the stack of plastic cups off the table in the process.
Mrs. Bickford was standing there in the doorway, hands on her hips, still sporting that beekeeper’s hat.
“Mrs. Bickford,” I said, clasping my hands over my heart, my breathing coming in shallow gasps. “You startled me.”
“Sorry about that,” she said, strolling inside as if it were her own place. I guessed it was, but it would have been nice if she’d knocked. “I just forgot to tell you this morning that the cabin doesn’t have a washer and dryer, but that the laundromat for the whole lake is just a half a mile from the lodge up on the hill,” she said. “I know that’s a big inconvenience for some people, but the washer only costs a quarter, and the dryer is ten cents. Just keep your pocket change whenever you get groceries and you’ll be fine.”
“Okay, thanks for the advice,” I said, still clutching at my heart, willing it to slow down.
“Still unpacking, huh?” she asked, staring at the box on the counter. “I saw you still had a pretty full vehicle, too, when I walked by.”
A twinge of annoyance vibrated in my head, but I shoved it aside, smiling at her instead.
“And eating on the floor, I see,” Mrs. Bickford said, staring down at the plate and plastic cup on the floor.
Remembering her rule against animals in the cabin, I looked down nervously. The fox –
It was nowhere in sight.
“Going for that whole low carb diet, huh?” said Mrs. Bickford. “Well, protein always does the body good. Just don’t forget to let yourself indulge once in a while. Life’s too short to deny yourself some cake. Or some spaghetti Bolognese.” She turned and looked beside her as if someone was standing there. “You know as well as I do that my Bolognese is better. No, don’t you give me that look, mister.”
