14. Chapter 14

fourteen

A week slunk by before Harper saw any of the faeries again. None were outside the shop as robins, neither were there signs of them in the building. Dust began to pile up on the furniture, food was no longer waiting for her, and one morning she realized her bathroom needed cleaning. She hadn't encountered a dirty bathroom since she left her rental cottage. The smell of the river and pines faded, then disappeared. The building lost its feeling of enchantment.

Even worse, she began to feel lonesome. She pulled out her mirror every night, with no clue how to stop the mist encroaching its surface once again. She yearned to have Piper leave her something—anything—to eat. She yearned for the sprites to unexpectedly appear for an evening's read aloud.

By the time Hawthorne finally knocked on her door, Harper had spent many hours reflecting. Now some of Olivia's grievances made sense. Yes, she had always done everything she believed a mother was expected to do. She'd attended ballgames and competitions. Without fail, Olivia had the equipment and clothes she needed. Harper had thrown birthday parties for her that featured clowns when her daughter was small and bands when she was a teenager. She'd joined parent–teacher organizations. She read to her daughter for as long as Olivia wanted her to. She had done everything she knew to do to be a good mother. But most of it had been done from a sense of duty, not deep affection.

For the first time, Harper realized in her own quiet way, she kept people, even her husband and daughter, at a distance. And now, with a chance for a do-over, she was following the same entrenched path in Whippoorwill Gap. Even though most of the people she'd met had been friendly, she jockeyed to keep herself secluded.

She ignored Quinn Ellis when he knocked on the door, and Bryan Greene rankled her … okay, maybe that wasn't unreasonable. But shouldn't she give him a chance? He always tried to talk when they ran into each other. Maybe the aversion that she sensed came, not from him, but from her. And after the trip to the brewery, she had even avoided Deanna. And now, with these faeries who wanted nothing more than to make her happy, she'd done the same with them. The question was why.

While mulling this over one evening on her balcony, with only the notes of the katydids to keep her company, it dawned on Harper that perhaps she should be a little more open in her relationships.

The very next day, just as she finished her lunchtime yogurt and granola, Hawthorne knocked on her door. Elated to see him again, she invited him to join her for tea at the kitchen table.

As they settled down with their cups, Hawthorne got right to the point. "We've talked it over and formed a plan. Having received approval, we have a proposition for you."

"Approval?" She wasn't sure she liked the sound of that. Who could they need approval from? "I thought you guys were independent agents."

He fixed her with a grave stare. "As I told you before, that is the problem. There is much about us you do not know. Speaking of matters you know nothing about, have you looked into your mirror lately?"

It was a surprising question, so she pulled it from her pocket. "I look in it every day. Why? What does my mirror have to do with anything?"

He cleared his throat and looked down at her rug for a moment. "Have you noticed any changes in your mirror?"

She frowned and showed it to him. "It's starting to mist over again."

"I'm not surprised. It will continue to mist over until you learn more about our circumstances. To begin with, and as you no doubt suspected, we are not native to your world. To stay here for very long costs effort. We come from another place. You can call it the Faery Realm. But what you call it isn't important.

"We belong in that place. It is our home. We, those of us who share this space with you, choose to come here to be of service. But we do not have enough spare energy to stay with someone whose wishes and vitality are not attuned to ours. To do so would drain our life force dry. An important personage in our world has told us that it is essential you understand about where we come from. For that to happen, we need to take you to that other place—the Faery Realm."

The feeling of curiosity that swept over Harper was followed closely by foreboding. "I don't understand. How would we get there? Is it safe? I mean … why can't you just tell me what I need to know? If I get it, maybe I won't need to go there after all."

Hawthorne's eyebrows rose into an arch. "No, I am afraid we cannot ‘just tell you about it.' All will become clear after we pay our visit. Rest assured; this will only be a visit. You may return here when you wish." His teacup landed in its saucer with a clatter and he wiped up the resulting spill with a napkin.

"If you agree to go, Ivy and I will escort you. Once we have returned, you will decide the terms on which we stay. You may wish to break all contact with us, but you may also decide you want us to stay. But to make a wise choice that comes from your truest self, you need to understand what you may gain and what you may lose."

She wanted to argue that she had already thought about it, that she already understood what they meant to her. But after looking into his bottomless eyes once again, she admitted to herself she knew nothing.

"Will I be in danger?" She hated her cowardice, but she couldn't help herself.

"Everything in life presents danger of one sort or other. Yes, there are dangers for humans who visit our land. In fact, for most, the journey would be impossible. Some would call where we are going another dimension. That's not entirely accurate, but it gives you an idea of the difference between that realm and this. With Ivy and I to guide you, the danger is minimal provided you do as we tell you. And you are expected there. That is all I can say at present."

That grabbed Harper's attention. "Expected? Who would be expecting me in another world?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he pointed to her mirror. "That gift you treasure is more valuable than you know."

She wrapped her fist around it and clutched it to her chest. "I'd like to take it with me for luck."

His head swiveled from side to side. "That won't be necessary. In fact, it is not desirable. And, with us as your guides, you will not need it. But I repeat, you must follow our instructions, even when you don't wish to."

"Okay." Harper glanced around her cozy pink and green kitchen nervously, a sudden compulsion to scrub it down seizing her. "When will we go?"

Maneuvering his square form solidly from the chair to the floor, Hawthorne stood. "There's no time like the present."

Standing in response, Harper stammered, "Now?! What should I wear? Is there anything I should do to get ready?"

He took in her pajama-and-bathrobe-clad figure. "Wear whatever you like, though comfortable shoes are recommended. It would be good to take a jacket in case of chill. As I said, leave your mirror and your keys here. We will make sure you get back inside when we return. Oh, and bring a water bottle. You may get thirsty, and drinking anything there is unwise."

"Will we be gone long?"

"It's hard to say. Time functions differently there. We may seem to be there for many hours, but only seconds may pass here." He began tapping one foot pointedly on the floor, his eyes never leaving her face.

"Okaayy." She drew out the word, wanting to stall but not knowing how.

"Meet us at the park, down by the river, near the owl's tree." With that, he turned and walked out the door. Harper wondered briefly why he'd said, "the owl's tree," but the thought quickly evaporated. She knew the one he meant. She opened her mirror and looked inside. It was already completely misted over but hadn't begun to tarnish. She gave it a squeeze and held its cool surface to her forehead before laying it gently in the drawer beside her bedside table.

After changing into a long-sleeved t-shirt and hiking pants, she wrapped a fleece hoodie around her waist and donned a pair of sneakers. Then grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and a small book she had found in the shop, she headed out the door.

Before locking the basement door behind her, she glanced toward the river and saw them all gathered under the owl's sycamore tree. For once, the owl was nowhere in sight. As Harper approached, none of them said a word, but they all gave her dignified nods.

Without considering whether people nearby might hear, she burst out, "Hey! I've missed you all so much!" She hurried over to Alida and got down on one knee. "I'm sorry for being so irritable with you. I do appreciate your help. Here, I brought you a present." And she handed over a copy of a little book, Fairies of the Trees by Mary Cecily Barker.

As Alida held out her slim little hand for the book and looked at it thoughtfully, she said, "Thank you, Harper. I wasn't mad, just a little sad. I'll share the book with Lily."

"Of course. I hope Lily enjoys it, too." Convinced that her offering wasn't enough, Harper stood glumly until Earl Grey caught her eye and gave her a wink. She smiled gratefully before looking timidly at Hawthorne and Ivy, who were standing apart from the others, silently waiting for her. Ivy stood straight, looking regal, in green pants, a white shirt, and her red vest. "Do you have your mirror with you?"

"No, Hawthorne said …"

Ivy's hair whipped in the rising wind as she bestowed a small smile on Harper. Her eyes looked a shade warmer than they had the last time Harper had looked at them. "Good. We mustn't chance your losing it. Come with us if you are ready."

The two Fae turned and led her down the small path she had avoided since that scary day when she'd gotten lost back in January. But unlike its previous confounding track, today it quickly led them to the riverside, where they turned left and walked a short distance to a large granite rock. Here they stopped and turned to her again.

Ivy faced her. "This is your only chance to turn back if you wish. We caution you now that you may feel enchanted by what you see, hear, and feel when we get to the Faery Land. You will likely feel as though it is a place you've known before but cannot remember. You will encounter things that may shock you. But if you are willing, we are ready to escort you now."

Harper swallowed her frigid terror, determined to do whatever it took to get her friends back for good. She straightened her spine and raised her head, ignoring the pops and cracks in both as she did. Her answer held all the dignity she could muster. "Yes. I'm ready, please lead the way."

Ivy raised her hands to the riverbank, and the honeysuckle vines parted to reveal the entrance to a dark tunnel. Once inside, Harper had only inches above her head to spare, but the tunnel was wide enough for all three of them to walk side by side. She and Ivy followed Hawthorne.

Once inside, she felt more physically comfortable, sheltered from the whipping wind. The tunnel smelled pleasantly of earth, and its bottom was completely covered in soft, fallen leaves, which muffled the sound of their steps. Though the floor was smooth, the walls and ceiling occasionally revealed tree roots poking through. Her nose detected notes of plowed garden and ancient pipe tobacco. She found herself yearning to move forward, like she was heading toward some sublime joy. A line from Yeats entered her mind unbidden: "Come Away, oh human child."

After walking along the tunnel's twists and turns for twenty minutes or so, she noticed high windows off to the left letting in a diffuse, pearly light. Where had the light in the tunnel come from before the windows appeared? With a start, she realized it came from her two friends.

She stopped, straining to see out one of the windows, but Hawthorne shook his head. "It would be best if no other beings here see you. Don't be frightened, but neither should you draw attention to yourself."

Despite his reassurances, Harper's hair began to rise, and her serenity cracked. She asked quietly if they could slow down so she could put on her jacket. The two made eye contact before they stopped. Her jacket felt substantial and comforting. By habit, she reached into her pocket and was momentarily disoriented when her hand closed around emptiness instead of her mirror. She forced her legs to move forward again to keep up with her companions.

After continuing for what Harper guessed was another twenty minutes, they came to a large chamber with earthen walls that held an old desk and chair, tables, chests, and shelves of very old, leather-bound books behind glass fronts. Merlin's office. Fascinated, she asked if they could stop and look at the books, but her escorts shook their heads no, and they continued to a tunnel opening in the opposite wall.

A short while later, they emerged into an open field. When they'd entered the tunnel, it had been late summer in Whippoorwill Gap, but here it appeared to be the height of autumn. Forests formed a ring around a large field, overgrown with tall yellow grass, with gently sloping hills stretching to their left. An old barn and wagon stood, seemingly abandoned, near the top of the hill.

Despite the wild, deserted landscape, or perhaps because of it, Harper felt an unreasonable surge of happiness she hadn't felt since she was a young child. Fall was her favorite season. A homey smell of woodsmoke hung faintly in the air along with the heady scent of grapes and honey. Something tantalizing dangled on the edge of memory, but she couldn't grasp what. It was as though the air itself was rich with possibility. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly felt more intoxicated than she had after that first glass of porter—expansive, happy, and in love with everything. This is where I belong, she thought. I could stay here forever .