An Ordinary Fairy

  “We did good. Thirteen shots.”

  “Good! Now we can ice him!”

  “If it was Jones that made the camera fire and not a bird or a bat. If he was facing the camera. If we got good images.”

  “Aren’t you a bundle of joy?”

  “I don’t want you to be disappointed. We’ll develop this tonight at the motel.” Noah removed the film, reloaded the camera and returned it to the box. He pocketed the film and they walked in the direction of the front door.

  Noah looked toward the upper floors. “I hate the idea he was here while we were at the cottage.”

  Willow nodded. “I was thinking that, too. I hope he didn’t find anything.” She paused. “I might poke around here some today, to see if I can tell where he looked, and take another look where we searched.” She said this cautiously, as if she expected Noah to object.

  Well … I guess you can take care of yourself.

  “Okay,” he said. He pulled the heavy front door open. “But be careful, and no cheating. If you find a passage or anything else of interest, you will wait for me. Please.” He added this last word when Willow’s expression started to sour, but then she grinned.

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Come here, you brat,” he said, and grabbed her by the shoulders. Her hair glowed in the sunlight, and her skin was silky soft.

  A shiver coursed through Willow and she frowned. “Why are you blocking?” she asked. Her dark brown eyes locked on his.

  Because it’s becoming difficult to be a gentleman when I touch you.

  “How do I say this? Willow, I don’t want to make love with you. I mean, I do, of course I do, any man would die for the chance to be with you, but I don’t want to be any man. I don’t want to be your fairy friend, either. That’s important, but we’re already far beyond it. I’m not sure how it feels to you, but for me, it’s like we stepped into a fully developed relationship the moment we met. I’m sure we had a past life together. We were in love before we were born. I was, at least.” He paused and sighed. “I want you, Willow, but only if it’s right.”

  Willow contemplated him in silence, her eyes roaming over his face.

  “Did that make any sense?” Noah asked.

  “Actually, I lost consciousness right after Willow, I don’t want to make love with you.” Noah laughed. She touched his face, running her hand over the stubble. “Noah, only one other man ever told me he didn’t want to make love with me. And I really wanted him.” She shook her head. “When he said that, it made me want him all the more.”

  Noah sensed a change in her, a new feeling that he couldn’t interpret.

  Must be a woman thing.

  Willow patted his chest. “You better go. You have pictures to take and I’ve got searching to do. And thinking.”

  They kissed and Noah left, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. He had reached the bottom of the steps when he heard the door open again. He stopped and turned around.

  Willow stood in the doorway as she had the first time he saw her, with the same flustered expression.

  “I’m thinking perhaps maybe I might be falling in love with you.”

  She swung the door closed.

  Good … but I wish you weren’t so afraid.

  Eighteen

  Noah changed his plans and penetrated deeper into Indiana, based on the good results he obtained the previous day. He wouldn’t return to Jones Woods until six o’clock. Willow had agreed to meet him at the missing sign with a picnic supper packed to eat at the motel.

  Shooting conditions were excellent all day and the locations perfect. Noah made good progress, but stayed too long at the last site. He rushed to Hoopeston and drove straight to the woods. Perusing the motel room for stray underwear before Willow arrived had to be dropped. When he rolled up to the sign at 6:15, darkness already covered the woods. Willow appeared, literally out of thin air, and leaned down to pick up a canvas bag.

  “Sorry I’m late,” Noah said as Willow climbed into the truck. Before speaking, she slid across to the center seat and kissed him.

  “That’s okay. Guess what I found at the Big House today.”

  “What?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I went over the south wall on all four floors again and I couldn’t find anything that looked or even smelled like a secret passage or door or whatever it is we’re trying to find. I didn’t see any sign of Chester being there, either. I did something we should have thought of before. I put a small piece of bent wire between the kitchen shutter halves, so it will pop out if it’s opened.”

  “Smart.” Noah shook his head. “I’m stumped. Next time we go, we need to take a tape measure. It occurred to me today if we start measuring rooms we might find a hollow wall or something like we did in the basement.”

  “Good idea. Boring, but good.”

  When they arrived at the motel, Noah rushed in first and collected beer bottles, food wrappers and some errant socks and tucked them away while Willow walked slowly to allow him time. At least, so he assumed based on the smirk on her face when she came in. She walked straight to the desk and looked at her picture, then turned to Noah and grinned.

  Yeah, it’s still crinkled.

  “I want to develop the film first so it has time to dry,” Noah said. “I can’t print for at least an hour after it’s finished.”

  Willow watched as he set up his equipment in the bathroom. The film tank and the careful way he laid out all the pieces in order on the counter seemed to fascinate her. She picked up a couple of pieces and examined them, then put them back on the counter. Noah gave her a cold look.

  “What’s wrong?” Willow asked.

  He moved the tank pieces back to exact positions. “I need to be able to find things in the dark since I don’t have your cat eyes. Don’t touch anything.”

  Willow stomped out of the bathroom. “Snotty photographer,” she muttered.

  “I heard that.”

  “You were supposed to!”

  The television came on as Noah closed the bathroom door. He placed a towel against the crack at the bottom of the door to obtain complete darkness. With practiced speed and accuracy, he loaded the film in the tank in under two minutes. He flipped on the light and opened the door.

  “Ready to develop,” he announced. “Do you want to watch?”

  “No. I might be tempted to move something and make you snotty.”

  Noah began the simple but tedious task of pouring chemicals, setting timers and shaking the tank. Thirty minutes later, he pulled the wet film from the tank and held it up to the fluorescent lights. Even without a magnifying glass, he could see some promising images. With two clothespins, he hung the film from the shower curtain rod to dry.

  Noah found Willow lying on the bed with the remote in one hand repeatedly zapping to the next channel. She shook her head. “How can people stand to watch this drivel?”

  “That, my dear, is one of the great mysteries of the twenty-first century. Let’s eat, I’m starving.”

  Willow clicked off the television. She spread a dinner of cheeses, fruit, fresh bread and the remainder of the wine Noah bought earlier in the week.

  “So how did thinking go today?” Noah asked as they ate.

  “It went.” Willow didn’t look up from her food.

  I think perhaps maybe you might be hiding—

  Sharp tingles ran up Noah’s arms.

  He changed the subject.

  After eating Willow cleaned up and packed the dishes in her bag while Noah checked the film, which needed more drying time. A glance in the mirror reminded him of his unshaven condition. He stripped off his shirt and began his shaving ritual.

  Willow’s reflection appeared in the mirror. She watched as if she had never seen a man shave.

  “You need something, sweetie?” Noah asked.

  “No. I like watching a man shave, especially one with muscles.”

  That’s a nice thing to say, but I’m sure you could toss me across this room if you wanted
.

  Willow continued to watch without speaking.

  I love how we can just … be.

  When Noah finished he caught Willow’s eye in the mirror. “Do you want to watch me take a shower, too?” Or would you care to join me?

  Willow grinned and shook her head. “No. I’ll go back to watching drivel.”

  Darn it.

  Noah moved the film out of the bathroom and hung it on the clothes rack, and grabbed clean clothes from the dresser. Twenty minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom feeling and looking better.

  Willow made a big act of sniffing the air. “You smell a lot better.”

  “Thanks.” Noah checked the film and pronounced it dry. He shifted equipment in the bathroom, setting up his small enlarger on the toilet. On the counter, he placed three small pans for developer, stop bath and fixer. Willow watched, curiosity drawing her despite the danger.

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t touch anything. Does this take long?”

  “Several minutes per print.”

  “Okay. I’ll zap some more.”

  “Try channel thirty-eight, there may be something good about animals or nature.”

  Noah closed the door and went to work. He printed the picture of Willow and himself first as a test shot of a known subject. From the results, he would tweak exposure and development time and adjust contrast. He laughed when the expected image shimmered into view in the developer tray. He finished processing the print and squeegeed off the excess water.

  Willow’s got to see this.

  She lay on the bed with a pillow under her head, absorbed in a show about snakes. Noah walked around and stood beside the bed. “Look at this,” he said and handed her the print.

  Willow squinted at it, both because she didn’t have her glasses and because it was hard to interpret. “What am I looking at?”

  “It’s the picture we took of you and me. That’s me on the right, a good image for infrared. And that’s you.” Noah pointed to a bright featureless blob of white on the left side of the print. “Remember I told you infrared film registers higher temperatures as whiter? This proves what I’ve always known. You are one hot babe.”

  Willow’s eyes twinkled. “Babe? Did you call me a babe?” she asked in a threatening tone. She grabbed the front of Noah’s shirt and pulled his face down to hers. “Nobody calls me a babe!”

  Off balance as he was, it took little effort for Willow to pull him over. Laughing, she rolled and threw him over on his back. In an instant, a little fairy knelt upright across him. They both laughed.

  At least you didn’t pin my arms this time.

  “Please don’t hurt me little fairy,” Noah said. “The wicked photographer is sorry he thinks you’re a hot babe.”

  Willow cackled in delight. Noah tried to move but her legs firmly clamped his hips.

  Someday, somehow, I will best you in a fight.

  “Oh, darn it,” she purred. “Did the sweet little fairy make the wicked photographer feel inferior again?” She rubbed her hands up and down his chest, and her face and neck began to glow. “What can I do to make you feel better?” She nuzzled his neck, and kissed him there. “Better?”

  “A little.”

  She gave him light fairy kisses on his cheek. Her scent flooded his senses.

  “Now?” she whispered.

  “Almost.”

  “Well, this should take care of it.” She lay down against him and pressed her open mouth to his. They kissed deeply for a long time and ended breathless.

  Oh, yeah, that did it. That did lots of things. Is this just my feelings or are yours in there somewhere, too?

  Noah slid his hands down Willow’s back and cupped the curves of her bottom. Her beautiful glowing face hovered inches above him.

  “Hmm,” Willow said with a wicked smile, “that issue has, well, come up again.”

  “You’re in the best position to know,” he said.

  Willow giggled. She raised herself and leaned her elbows on his chest. She blushed through her glow.

  “I have a confession to make. You’re not the only one in the room with an issue.”

  “Good. That’s very good.”

  They laughed, and she dropped her face to his and kissed him again.

  Oh, gosh, I want you so badly. But not here, not in a cheap motel. It should happen at the cottage. At home.

  “Well,” Noah said, “I need to finish those pictures before the chemicals go bad.”

  “I should get back to my snake show.” They disentangled themselves. Willow settled back on the bed and Noah returned to the bathroom. He closed the door and then leaned against it, gasping deeply.

  Are you having difficulty breathing, too?

  Each print required about five minutes to expose and process. It was ten o’clock when Noah surveyed the damp pictures with some disappointment. There were some good images, but several showed issues with quality. Noah stacked the prints, left the bathroom and spread them out on the table. Willow quickly stood beside him, leaning over the table and squinting, oozing excitement.

  “Anything good?” she asked.

  “Maybe. But the Gremlin bit me.”

  “Huh?”

  “Sorry, it’s a photographer thing. When you do everything exactly right and still get crap for results, you have to blame something. We call it the Gremlin. It’s a little creature that follows us around and messes with our cameras and stuff.”

  Willow raised her eyebrows. “Sure. So are any of the pictures usable?”

  “Some are good, but the ones that show Jones’s features the best, like this one, have some flaws. See these white spots? They’re caused by film handling problems. Little buckles form in the celluloid and make these crescent-shaped marks. This print has four of them. It’s odd though because I couldn’t see the buckles in the film even with my magnifying glass. Marks like that reduce the credibility of the print because it looks as if the negative was retouched.”

  Willow squinted at the prints. “Can I borrow your magnifying glass? I can’t see these very well.”

  “Sure, Granny,” Noah said. Willow’s withering look warned him against ever saying that again. He retrieved the glass from the bathroom and handed it to her. They both leaned over the table now, studying the prints. Willow picked up the one with the marks. She gasped when she held the glass up to it. Noah could feel a powerful wave of excitement burst from her. Her face lit up with emotion and glow.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “Noah, you’re a goose!” She handed him the print. “It’s wings!”

  “What?” Noah asked as he peered at the photo.

  Willow hopped in a circle. “It’s wings! It’s wings! It’s wings!” she sang. “Look at it, Noah! It’s my mother!”

  Noah examined the print. Four tiny white crescents showed in two opposing pairs like waning and waxing moons. Each pair was one above the other, with the upper moon somewhat larger, Noah thought because of symmetrical buckling of the film. Faintly visible between the marks was the outline of a small figure, shaped like the white blob in the picture of himself and Willow. The crescents were fairy wingtips.

  “I’ll be damned,” Noah said. “I’ve heard of people using infrared film to supposedly photograph ghosts, but I only halfway believed it.”

  Willow wasn’t listening. She was busy poring over the other photos with the magnifying glass. She found another print with one pair of wingtips and half of the fairy’s body. A larger faint white area next to it must be her father, she concluded.

  “I told you they were still there,” Willow said. “I knew it. I can always feel them. You felt them in their room.”

  “I wonder why they’re still hanging around. Aren’t ghosts supposed to cross over or something?”

  “Not if they have unfinished business. Like protecting the house. Or telling me how they were killed. Did you notice when Chester was in the kitchen, they were, too? I bet they followed him wherever he went.”

  “M
aybe we should try to contact them,” Noah said.

  Willow grew suddenly still. “What did you say?”

  “It’s possible to communicate with departed spirits. I’ve never done it, but I’ve read about it. I don’t mean to have a conversation with them, but at least to sense their presence. As strongly as you feel them, it shouldn’t be difficult.”

  Willow looked skeptical. “I always thought all that seance stuff was just charlatan tricks.”

  “Most of it is, but not all. It’s like the myth that fairies exist. There’s some truth to it. This couldn’t happen at a better time, either, since next week is—”

  “Halloween! Everyone knows that’s when the spirits walk the earth!”

  “Well, that’s more the stuff of legend, but it is the time when the veil between the spirit world and our world is thinnest. Wiccans call it Samhain, and we celebrate it as our New Years Day. Perhaps we could do a Ritual for the Dead.”

  “Really? That would be tremendous! Thank you, Noah.” She gave him a painfully tight hug.

  “We should let these prints dry before we damage them,” Noah said, “and I need to clean up the chemicals. You can look at these but don’t touch them any more than necessary.” Willow nodded.

  Noah cleaned up the mess in the bathroom and packed the enlarger away in the bottom of the closet. When he finished, Willow was lying on the bed watching the television.

  “Scoot over,” he said. Willow complied and he stretched out. As soon as he settled on his back, she snuggled against him on her side and laid her head on his shoulder. Noah put his arm around her.

  For several minutes, they learned about snakes. At least Willow did. Noah was oblivious. No man could watch television with a beautiful fairy lying with him. He gently stroked her hair. She craned her neck back to look at him, revealing glowing cheeks.

  “We’re breathing together,” she said.

  “We are?”

  “The whole time we’ve been lying here we’ve been breathing exactly in sync. Here, feel.” She took his hand and held it to her chest between her breasts. Now Noah felt it, too, the matched rhythms of their bodies. Willow’s heart beat softly beneath his hand.