Chapter 16

Sheila came back with a tray of tea things and poured out two cups. I sipped, careful not to spill any on Sulamith, although Sheila had doused mine with a healthy splash of milk so it wasn't hot. I'd forgotten black tea and its bizarre capacity to make things less bad. It couldn't change the world or undo the past but 'less bad' counted for something that night. Sheila sat in a fat plaid arm chair with her cup and took a sip, letting the silence in the room settle comfortably into the corners before she said to me, “If you don't have it in you, that's alright, but if you feel like you can tell me, if you'd like to, I'd be honoured to hear your story.”

“Are you sure?” I asked her. “It's very long, and very sad.”

“I'm sure,” she said.

So I told her everything, starting with the package of wildflower seeds I'd purchased with my own money when I was on the brink of my thirteenth birthday. I told her about Sulamith and Lugh, Gavin and Fionnuala. I told her about Gwydion, about Sarah, about my cruel psychopathic uncle and how he'd been inadvertently allowed so much power. I told Sheila about my brothers, about Nimue, Cole, and Raphael. I told her about the summer solstice, the day my daughter was born, and I told her about Rowan. I didn't leave anything out. Not even the personal bits because in a way some of those times were my happiest and I told her as much to remind myself that they had happened, as to share them with Sheila.

Fairies and Unicorns. Castles and knights. Black hearts and Heroes. It seemed unbelievable, impossible, that it was my life. Surely it was just a dark and beautiful nightmare studded with stars and monsters? A temporary lapse of reality, of reason, of sanity? But I held a baby in my arms, and the heart in my chest was broken. No mere dream could ever leave me like that.

When I finished Sheila sat there silent for a long time. She wiped her eyes without fuss and sat thinking before asking, “So what do I call you?”

“Let's settle on Krista,” I said. “Rhiannon, well . . . I think she died with Rowan. And Kristabell died in a house fire.”

Sheila nodded. “And you're . . . A fairy?”

I nodded and smiled then lifted my hand and let the opalescent nimbus flicker and dance along my fingertips then willed the lights to coalesce in my palm into a flaming soap bubble of colour. I watched for a moment, still fascinated on some level by my ability, before pulling the lights back into myself.

“Oh my god,” Sheila whispered and then wiped her eyes again.

*

Sheila found me a spare toothbrush and settled me in the spare bedroom, tucking me in almost like I was a little girl. I didn't lay awake long as I gently moved Sulamith close and nestled into the bed. I didn't have the energy for more than fleeting half thoughts but, as sleep washed over me, I was grateful for the haven I had been able to run to.

*

Once Sheila was sure that Krista slept she hopped in her car and drove to the garden centre. She unlocked the back door, headed for the office and woke the computer. She typed up a short message then printed it off. DUE TO A FAMILY EMERGENCY WE WILL BE CLOSED FOR THE WEEK. WE WILL REOPEN RESUMING REGULAR HOURS ON DEC. 20. SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE.

Sheila taped the paper to the inside of the customer entrance, double checking that she had faced the words outward. She was tired and more than a little emotionally bowled over. Posting a sign backwards was exactly the sort of thing she did when she was preoccupied. She'd done it after the fire that had taken Krista's parents. She wrote up a list of jobs that she could have Tanya do while they were closed, then, locking the staff door behind her, she drove home through the late night traffic. She pulled up in front of her house, stepped out of the car, hit the auto lock button then turned, glancing down at the curb in the shadows of the street lamp and walked towards her front gate.

She almost leaped out of her skin when the massive angel stepped out of the shadows towards her. “Good God! That girl trails angels in her wake!” Sheila burst out, throwing her hand to her pounding heart. “You scared the living daylights out of me,” she scolded.

“Sorry.” The angel shrugged sheepishly but then asked immediately, “She's here then?”

“Yes, she's here,” Sheila admitted.

The angel closed his eyes tightly and let out a shudder as tears of relief escaped his closed lids. He wiped his face with his hands then took a deep breath.

“It's Raphael right?” Sheila confirmed as much to have something to say as anything else.

He nodded. He looked as tired as Krista had. He sighed then admitted hesitantly, “I know she didn't want to be followed. I . . . I don't need to see her. Don't tell her I came. I just needed to know that she's . . . she . . .”

“She's safe enough,” Sheila told him. “She cried long and hard on my entrance way floor then told me everything she's been through. I won't tell you that she's okay, but she's here, with her baby, and she's alive.”

The angel's face worked. He turned from her, placed his hand against a tree and buried his face in the corner of his elbow.

Sheila admired his beautiful variegated wings as he wept and shook her head in bewildered wonder. Fairies. Angels. She wouldn't be surprised to wake up and find a unicorn in her backyard.

The angel took another deep breath and faced Sheila. “She cried?” he asked. And she thought she could detect a lightness in him at the thought.

“She did,” Sheila confirmed gently.

Raphael blinked back more tears of relief. “If it's okay with you, I'm gonna spend a few hours in your tree,” Raphael nodded towards the cherry tree, “just for old times sake. I'll be gone by sunrise.”

Sheila couldn't suppress a small chuckle, “Be my guest, it's all yours.”

He was silent for a moment nodding thoughtfully, “If you ever need me, there's a tree next to the duck pond at Queen Elizabeth Park. A beech with a knot half way up and a little hollow about one of your arms length up from that. Leave me a message. I'll check it every full moon.”

“Are the moons the same?” Sheila asked.

“They are,” Raphael confirmed, as if he found comfort in the fact.

“I'd better be going in.” Sheila headed towards her door, but had to turn for one more look at the beautiful angel.

“Thanks. You know . . . For the tree.” The angel jerked his head at the cherry tree again and gave her a complicated lopsided grin.

Sheila chuckled and went in, set her alarm clock for six-thirty, put a reminder in her phone to call her employees about the schedule changes, and then went to bed.