15. Chapter 15

fifteen

Ivy moved ahead, turning left to descend the hill. Hawthorne and Harper followed close behind. While Ivy kept her gazed forward, Hawthorne, forehead furrowed, peered this way and that while sniffing the air.

Nothing about the environment caused Harper qualms. As Ivy had foreseen, she felt as though she had entered the land of her earliest dreams, when all was secure, and worries didn't exist. She remembered taking long walks with Grandma Sophie in the fall, stopping to gather pinecones in the forests and pumpkins at local farms, while admiring the beautiful leaves. And though not the October blue she remembered from her childhood, this luminous, pearl gray sky struck her as unaccountably lovely.

And it wasn't just the sky; everything was bewitchingly beautiful. On the edge of the field near the trees, she saw a little cream-colored cottage that reminded her of pictures in fairy tale books. Like the barn, it appeared to be abandoned. Ripe red apples lay scattered beneath a gnarly old tree to its side, while languid bees skirted leisurely from one rosy sphere to another. For a moment, she felt compelled to examine the structure's interior. If only she could convince her companions to let her peek into its windows.

She was about to ask when a stiff breeze began to blow, and she became distracted by the turmeric- and toffee-colored leaves that flew from the trees. The three figures made their way down the hill through the overgrown, dry-roasted grass that released a scent like freshly baked butter cookies as they stepped on it. Harper's heart began to ache with a yearning she didn't understand. She became increasingly convinced that this was where she had always belonged. She felt a pleasing mellow warmth at her back, though she could detect no sun. The sky itself seemed to radiate serenity. She turned her head to gauge how far they had come. Hawthorne glanced at her. "Don't look back, Harper. Keep your eyes to the front. You never know what may be lurking about over the hilltop."

Unperturbed, Harper returned her attention ahead. There, she saw a massive beech tree standing at the edge of the wood. As a child, she'd spent happy hours playing house underneath beech canopies while Grandma Sophie rested on their friendly roots. She realized with piercing sadness that she hadn't seen one of these trees up close since her grandma had died. The grief of losing her grandma hit her with an overwhelming wave of anguish as though it had just happened. Tears filled her eyes as she remembered that she never got a chance to say goodbye.

Then other trees towering around the beech drew her attention as the wind romped joyfully through their branches. Harper had never seen such majestic trees, their bright lemon-yellow leaves rattling in the wind. She pointed to them. "What are those?"

Hawthorne tilted his head up at a ninety-degree angle, straining to see to the tops. "American Chestnuts like these used to grow all over the east coast of your country. Ink disease and chestnut blight wiped out most of them. Your forests still mourn the tragedy. But, as you can see, their counterparts thrive here."

Harper looked at them in wonder until she was under their large branches. Her sadness forgotten, she only wanted to sit down and soak up the enchanting atmosphere. But Ivy continued her steady pace, taking them further into the wood. A little further downhill, Harper heard running water. As they walked on, the sound grew to a roar.

Ivy curved right, leading them through an assortment of hardwoods and evergreens of enormous height. The air became flooded with the bracing smell of pine. Then, Harper saw another magnificent beech right ahead, but instead of golden leaves, this one was crowned with royal purple. To its left, a path wended its way down to a thunderous river, where it ended at a cascade of silvery waterfalls. Everything about this place looked embroidered with gold. Once they reached the beech tree's trunk, Ivy halted. "We'll stop here. If you would like to drink some of the water you brought with you, it's safe to do so."

Harper sat down at the base of the mighty purple-clad tree, soaking in the surroundings. Light filtered through the treetops, and the air was laden with an intoxicating mixture of fallen leaves, earth, spices, and river water. The sky felt like a great soft gray blanket overhead, persuading Harper that all was well. The sound of falling water, and of music, the likes of which she had never heard, filled her ears with an enchanting symphony. Gradually, Harper understood the music was singing. It came from the trees, the river, and even from the rocks and the ground beneath her. She closed her eyes to immerse herself in the vibrations.

After a while, she realized all of it—the vibrations, the music, and even the light—was building in intensity. In response, her soul felt lifted and stretched somehow, as though she were becoming a part of it all. Hawthorne was sitting on one side of her; Ivy was on the other. Suddenly, both of them stood. Hawthorne touched her shoulder. "Stand. Brush off your clothes."

Ivy reached over to pick a few leaves from Harper's thick, unruly hair. As instructed, she opened her eyes and got to her feet. She could see silver light, edged in gold, growing across the river as its source approached through the trees. As it drew closer, she saw that a tall column of light was surrounded by smaller beings that resembled her Fae friends. They, too, had a light that seemed to emanate from within. All were dressed in simple but elegant robes in vivid hues Harper couldn't place. As she watched, they crossed the water on a stone bridge that had materialized when they reached the river's edge.

As they made their way up the hill toward the trio underneath the beech tree, Harper's heart leapt wildly, beating much faster than before. Her heart whispered that a joyful reunion was at hand.

When the light reached the edge of the giant tree's canopy, Hawthorne removed his hat. He and Ivy bowed low to the ground. "Queen Sophia."

Harper followed their lead and lowered her head. As the light grew closer, she felt a hand on her head and heard a clear, melodious voice saying, "Harper."

As she looked up at the being, the light faded, and she gasped.

In front of her stood Grandma Sophie. But instead of the sixty-five-year-old woman Harper remembered, she more closely resembled a picture of Grandma at age twenty-one, taken before she had married Grandpa Al. Her unlined face was lovely. Oddly, Grandma seemed as tall as she had when Harper was a child. Her auburn hair was crowned in a wreath of purple leaves.

Finding her voice, she exclaimed, "Grandma!? You're not dead? Are we in heaven?" She looked around for Hawthorne and Ivy, but they had disappeared, along with Grandma's attendants.

Harper found herself swaying in shock. As her knees buckled, Grandma caught her. "Have a seat, Harper." Instead of falling to the ground, she sank into an evergreen silk-covered sofa, which, like the bridge, had materialized from nowhere.

Overcome, she began crying hysterically. The intense light around Grandma faded as she reached into her robe and handed over a soft linen handkerchief. Then she waited silently until Harper's sobs turned to sniffles, then finally ended.

Harper sat still and waited for Grandma to explain herself. But as the quiet unwound itself interminably, she realized she would have to speak first. Her voice shook as she asked, "Is it okay if I give you a hug?"

"Of course, Darling!" Her grandma smiled and held out her arms. When Harper let go, she leaned back and drank in the sight of Grandma Sophie's face.

Then, with a rush, her questions came tumbling out. "Why did they never find you? Why are you here? Why did you give me that mirror before you died? Why didn't you tell me you were going to Whippoorwill Gap? How do you know Hawthorne and Ivy? Tell me everything!" She paused for breath, her chest tight.

"Is that all you want to know?" Her grandma leaned over with a smile and tucked a lock of Harper's hair behind her ear.

"Darling child," she said, her voice as clear and strong as Cate Blanchett's when she played Lady Galadriel. "I didn't want to leave you the way I did. But I had no choice. There isn't enough time to tell you everything right now. You, being mostly mortal, can only stay here a brief while. But I will tell you the most important things for you to understand right now."

Harper nodded; her overstuffed brain rendered her unable to think.

"Are you familiar with the word changeling?"

Harper remembered a poem in her literature textbook she had been obsessed with as an eighth-grade student. She even remembered parts of it: "On the wings of an owl I take my flight … " 1 But what did it mean? It was one of those times when she knew the answer, but it wouldn't come to her.

She looked into her grandma's unearthly bright-green eyes, a sight that left her more confused. Grandma's eyes had been hazel, like her own. She shook her head. "I've heard the word changeling , but I don't know exactly what it means."

Taking Harper's hand in her own, Grandma continued. "In old times, people used to believe faeries were unfriendly characters. For good reason, too, because some of us are . As the stories went, the Fae would sometimes want a human child for themselves. When they found one they wanted, they would substitute a faery child for the human one. The human parents would be left with an alien being." She frowned. "Dreadful things sometimes happened when parents suspected their child had been stolen by the Fae.

"The stories weren't entirely false. Right before your tenth birthday, when I was sixty-five, I was visited by some emissaries from this land. And I was told, to my complete shock, that I, myself, had been a changeling child." She watched Harper, gauging her reaction.

Harper shook her head. "But that doesn't make sense. If faery children were strange, then you couldn't have been one, Grandma. You were the only person who ever made sense to me." She looked down at her grandmother's beautiful gown, which looked as though it were made of spiderwebs glistening with morning dew. It made a spectacular contrast to the polyester pantsuits she wore in Harper's memories.

"Always remember, Harper, most stories you hear are only partly true. In my case, no human child was stolen away from the Earth Realm. I was in imminent danger when I was born. To save me, some of my people left me on the steps of an orphanage in Whippoorwill Gap, North Carolina. The orphanage is no longer there." She smiled at Harper's budding protest. "Yes, I know you've been researching me."

None of this made sense. Harper cast about for what confused her most. "But you were raised in Winterfield—that's over a hundred miles away from Whippoorwill Gap."

"Yes. Your great-grandparents in Winterfield wanted a child, but they were unable to have one. They had relatives in Whippoorwill Gap who checked with the orphanage there to see if they had any newborns available for adoption. When I had been there less than a week, they told your Great-Grandfather Bob and your Great-Grandma Sally about me. The couple drove over right away in their Model-T Ford, adopted me, and took me to Winterfield. They raised me there, and they were good parents. No one, except me, ever suspected I was different from everyone else."

"You thought you were different?" Harper studied the purple leaves forming the crown on Grandma's head.

"Yes, I did. From a young age, I could see creatures no one else could see. I often had visitors at night. They told me how the universe works, and other things most humans never guess at. They explained that there were other places, even right where I was, that other people couldn't see. When I was small, I would tell my parents about these beings, but it upset them. As I got older, they told me not to talk about it, ever again, to them or anyone else. They said I was too old for such foolishness." She smiled sadly as she shook her head.

"After that, my nighttime visits ended. But I kept seeing little people in bushes and trees, birds and animals changing into people—that sort of thing. After I got married and had children, those sightings became less frequent, too. But after you were born, I sensed you were different like me. I always felt our connection. But you never saw other beings until recently, did you?"

Harper's eyes dropped from the leaves circling her grandmother's head, to those carpeting the ground at her feet, and back up again. "Yes! I did, when I was very small. Sometimes I would look outside, and little people would be dancing on the back lawn in the moonlight. They waved at me sometimes. But I never told anyone. And after a while I stopped seeing them, too. I told myself they were imaginary. But I saw one a few times outside my home in Raleigh after my husband Tim passed away. And then, of course, I see them in my bookshop where I live now. And—wait a minute—how do you know Hawthorne and Ivy? Did they call you a queen a little while ago?"

Sophia straightened herself so that she now towered over Harper. Her voice gained power, echoing in the forest around them. "As you've no doubt figured out, I am, as some people say, Fae, a faery. Hawthorne and Ivy were correct to bow to me, and you were too. Indeed, I am a Faery Queen." Then she resumed her previous size and so did her voice. She put a hand beneath Harper's chin, lifting her face to her own. "And it's time you knew that you, yourself, have inherited a magical gift."

This was more than Harper had bargained for. She wasn't sure she even wanted a magical gift. "But what about Mom and Uncle Buddy? Did they have magical gifts, too? What about Beverly and John?"

At that, Grandma Sophie threw back her head and gave a hearty chortle. "None of my children, nor any of your cousins, inherited my magic. I'm certain of that. Their DNA was one-hundred-percent human."

"Did Mom and Dad know any of this about you, or about me?"

The beautiful head shook conclusively. "Oh Gracious, no. Your parents were so wrapped up in themselves, they had trouble seeing beyond their noses. They had no idea what was going on around them—not only about you and me—but about most things. Now, any more questions before I tell you about your new friends?"

Harper didn't want this meeting to ever end. "A million questions, Grandma! Why did you send me the mirror and then run off to Whippoorwill Gap to disappear like you did? I've been sad, ever since." Once again, her voice caught. "Did your accident hurt?"

"What accident?"

Harper's brows squeezed together in confusion. "They found your car after it ran off that cliff. But you were never found. I always wondered if you suffered."

Grandma put a hand to her forehead. "Oh, Dear. Poor Sadie. She was such a good sedan. No, I didn't know they did that to her. I guess it makes sense, though. There needed to be a cover story."

She looked back at Harper. "When I arrived in Whippoorwill Gap, a committee of Fae met me at a little park at the edge of town. I believe it's near your shop. Some of them came here with me while others stayed behind. I just assumed they left my car in the parking lot."

Harper sniffed. "Apparently not."

Her grandmother patted her shoulder. "My dear, dear child. I knew it would be hard for you. But I had no choice. I was told I must go to Whippoorwill Gap only a day after your family left for your beach trip. They gave me the mirror and told me to bring it with me. But instead, I sent it to you because I hoped it would make you feel a little better. I meant it to be something you could remember me by. I've been told since then that giving it to you was a grave mistake. But I don't regret my decision."

Harper leaned over and picked a bright purple leaf from the ground. "So, that's why I'd never seen it before."

"Yes, once I understood that if you had it, I could watch over you telepathically, that's what I planned to use it for. But then it quickly became so misted and tarnished, I couldn't see or hear you at all. I was pleased when you started coming through again when you moved to Whippoorwill Gap." She leaned over and blew softly on the leaf in Harper's hand, which instantly turned into a bouquet of leaves the color of purple cabbages.

Harper smiled in delight. "I knew it. I had a feeling you could hear me." She felt the leaves vibrating in her fingers. Opening her hand, they turned to bright, long-tailed violet butterflies and flew away.

Her grandmother watched them as they grew smaller, then disappeared. "Yes, let's try to keep the surface clear from now on." She turned her now plum-colored eyes to Harper's hazel ones. "I'll tell you the secret—stay true to your heart. Allow others to do the same. And that brings us to your new friends."

Harper looked around. "Where did they go?"

"They'll return when it's time to leave. Now, you must understand something about your friends. They are a special group, Harper. They possess, I suppose the best way to put it would be exalted spirits. You may think all of us here are like them, but you'd be sadly mistaken. Your friends are made of finer stuff, and desire, above all, to help inhabitants of the Earth Realm. Service rings true to their hearts. And I'm delighted to say, they come from my corner of the Fae Realm. But no Fae, no matter how noble or well intentioned, can help a human without their consent. Our natural law forbids it. They want to help you. Will you let them? If not, they will find another place to serve."

Harper knew she had been foolish, and she needed to explain herself. "I don't want them to leave! I admit I got angry with them. But I was already in a bad mood that day. I was afraid they were trying to control my life. I've struggled my entire life to live the way I want to. Now I'm confused. I was only being honest about my feelings at the time. Is it bad to want to be in charge?"

"Are any of us completely in charge of our lives? What you need to understand is that your friends don't want to tell you what to do. They want to help achieve what you desire in your heart. That's a very different thing from trying to control you. Do you see the difference?"

Harper nodded slowly. She didn't completely grasp why her small mistake was so grave. But then again, she wasn't dealing with fellow human beings here: Grandma had called them "exalted spirits." So they were definitely different from humans. "They just want me to be happy. And now I know that having their company makes me happy."

"That was good for you to learn. Who knows? Maybe you can help them one day. And that would be a blessing—for you."

Harper looked at the cascading water. "You said I have a magical gift. Is my gift seeing the Fae or something else?"

"Seeing the Fae—yes, that is a gift. But you also have another that is more amazing. Once you find it, it will change your life forever." She patted Harper's hand.

"Can you tell me what it is?" Harper was startled to see her grandmother's eyes had shifted color once again, now shining burnished gold.

Her grandmother chuckled. "No one can tell you what your gift is. You must discover that for yourself." She stood. "My time with you is done now. You must go back."

Her light grew piercingly bright, then in less than the time it takes to wink, Harper found herself standing at the edge of the massive forest, below the tunnel's entrance. Hawthorne and Ivy were waiting for her at the top of the hill. Harper looked around for Grandma Sophie, but she was gone, and the pearl gray sky was deepening into a charcoal twilight. In a daze, she made her way up the hill to her waiting friends.

Ivy and Hawthorne wordlessly bowed to her, then they all turned toward the tunnel. None of them spoke until they emerged at the riverbank. Harper felt a chill in the air. It would soon be fall here as well.

As the tunnel disappeared once again behind a covering of thick vines, Harper turned to her friends. "I want you all to stay. Grandma explained how things are with you. I'm honored you want to help me."

The two Fae smiled at her. "We know."

Back at the Robin's Nest, Harper felt ravenous and exhausted. She thanked Hawthorne and Ivy and said goodnight at the bottom of the stairs. Then she made her way up to her apartment on shaky legs.

Once inside, she was grateful for the pot of warm passionflower tea waiting on her kitchen table beneath a pink and white toile tea cozy. Beside it lay a spread of hummus, fresh bread, olives, and pears. Before she sat down to eat, she went to wash up. The bathroom was pristinely clean. Taking her jacket into her bedroom, she found the bedside lamp was on and the covers on her bed pulled back. Pulling her mirror from the nightstand drawer, she saw that it was crystal clear. "Thank you," she said gratefully. Then she went back to the kitchen table and sat down to her supper.

As she bit into the sweet, juicy pear, she heard the owl's call drifting in through the open living room windows.

1. Leah Bodine Drake, "Changeling." https://www.poemist.com/leah-bodine-drake/changeling