Celia and the Fairies

  Celia and the Fairies

  Karen McQuestion

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Text copyright ©2010 Karen McQuestion

  All rights reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore

  P.O. Box 400818

  Las Vegas, NV 89140

  ISBN: 978-1-935597-28-5

  For my goddaughter, Josie

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Every night after Celia was tucked into bed, she tiptoed out of her room and sat quietly on the upstairs landing. Listening, always listening. If she was very quiet she could hear her parents’ voices from below. Most of the time their conversations were boring, but every now and then she heard something important.

  So when her mother and father called her into the living room for a big announcement one day, she already knew what they were going to say. They motioned for her to sit down, and then her mother began. “As you know, Celia, Grammy has been living with Aunt Joanne since you were a baby.”

  Dad leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Just recently Aunt Joanne accepted a new job overseas. She’ll be selling her condo and moving to France.”

  “So it’s been decided,” Mom said, “that Grammy will come to live with us.”

  Dad added, “She’ll use the downstairs bedroom. Our lives will basically be the same, except that your grandmother will be part of everything we do. Do you understand?”

  Celia understood more than they knew. “I think it will be nice to have Grammy here.” In truth, she was deliriously happy with this new development. Her grandmother was one of her favorite people in all the world. Grammy had a ready laugh, always listened, and never pried. Best of all, Grammy clearly adored her. Really, Celia could do no wrong in her grandmother’s eyes.

  Her parents looked pleased at her response. They thought she was an especially insightful child. “Wise beyond her years,” her father was fond of saying. “Just like talking to an adult,” her mother often said. “It’s because we don’t baby her,” they both agreed, taking credit for her maturity.

  Her mother smiled. “Your Aunt Joanne will be bringing Grammy on Sunday. This isn’t a visit. She’ll be staying with us for a long, long time.” She’d overheard her parents discuss this at length. They’d said, “We must make sure Celia understands that this isn’t short term, or there will be problems.”

  Celia nodded thoughtfully, to show she understood.

  “We’ll be relying on you to help Grammy,” her father said. “This will be a difficult change for her. She’ll need help finding things around the house, especially in the kitchen. And one more thing.” He stopped to look at her mother, who gave him an encouraging nod. “Your grandmother might tell you stories about magical things in the woods behind our house. It was a story she used to tell me when I was a child, just a made-up story. Lately, for some reason, she’s been insisting it’s true.”

  “Luckily,” her mother added, “you’re old enough to know there is no such thing as magic. Be kind and agree with her, but remember what we’ve said. We’ll need to watch out for Grammy. Your father and I know we can count on you to help.”

  “What kind of magical things?” Celia asked.

  Her father waved his hand dismissively. “Nothing you need to worry about. Just a lot of nonsense.”

  “It might not even come up,” Mom said. “We just wanted to mention it in case it did.” She gave Celia a firm look to let her know the subject was closed. “Do you have any more questions about Grammy coming to live with us?”

  “Does this mean,” Celia asked, “that I don’t have to go to Paul’s after school?” She knew the answer was yes, of course, but thought she’d mention it while they were on the subject. She and Paul were the last two drop-offs on their bus route. They’d been best friends when they were younger, but now Paul, who was a year younger and a grade behind her in school, was starting to get on her nerves. There wasn’t much left of the school year, and she’d had her fill of being bossed around.

  Maybe it was because she’d gone to his house every day after school since kindergarten. Her parents worked long hours at the company they owned. Lovejoy World was a business that made traditional toys and board games. Their products were environmentally friendly and had won many awards.

  The company’s motto was the phrase “Bring back family time!” printed beneath a sketch of a family sitting around the table playing Trixie-Dixie: The Good Deed Game, something her father had invented. It was voted America’s most beloved board game for children under twelve, and Celia loved to play it, but Paul was never interested, insisting they pretend to be army spies or ninjas instead. He got to pick the games, he said, because it was his house, and he thought The Good Deed Game was stupid.

  “Yes,” said her mother. “You won’t have to go to Paul’s house anymore. You can get off the bus right here at home and stay with your grandmother until your father or I get back from work.”

  Celia thought about how nice it would be not to have to go to Paul’s and said, “I think this will work out just fine.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  When her aunt and grandmother arrived that Sunday, Celia was sent to help Grammy unpack, while the other adults—her parents and Aunt Joanne—went over “important details” in the living room. Celia was glad not to be part of that discussion. She already knew what it would be about: medication and eyeglasses and money. Nothing she cared about. It would be more interesting to see what Grammy pulled out of her suitcases.

  “Is this all you have?” Celia asked, helping to lift three suitcases onto the bed.

  “When you get to be my age, you don’t need very much.” Grammy smiled and rested a hand on Celia’s forehead, like she was checking for fever. Her grandmother’s skin felt warm and smelled like the baby powder Celia’s mother sprinkled in her running shoes.

  The first suitcase was all clothing. Celia helped put things on hangers, while her grandmother put nightgowns, socks, and underwear into dresser drawers. The next two suitcases contained what Grandmother called “personal items.” She had books and a pillow, cut-glass bottles of perfume, a jewelry box filled with treasures, and framed family photographs. While Celia unwrapped the paper from each breakable item, Grandmother arranged the pictures on the top of the
long, flat dresser.

  Celia recognized most of the photos. There was one of her father and Aunt Joanne as children taken on the front porch of their house, the very same house she lived in now. Both of them wore cowboy hats and fringed vests. Another picture showed Grammy and her husband on their wedding day. Both of them were very skinny and very young, so different from being old (Grammy) and dead (the grandfather she’d never met).

  Grandmother held up a photo Celia hadn’t seen before. “Do you know who this little girl is?”

  Celia studied it carefully. The girl in the black-and-white photo looked just like her, but it wasn’t her. Certainly she’d never worn her hair pulled up to one side with a bow perched on top, like an enormous butterfly. But the face was definitely what she saw in the mirror each morning—pale skin, freckled nose, and a dimple in one cheek. Her mother said Celia had a heart-shaped face, which was supposed to be a good thing. Puzzled, Celia shook her head.

  “You can’t figure it out?” Grammy asked. “This is a photo of me, when I was about your age.”

  Celia took the photo from Grammy’s hand to get a closer look. “It looks just like me.”

  “Yes, they named you well when they gave you my name,” Grandmother said. “Old Celia and young Celia, that’s us.”

  Celia was glad she got to be the younger version. She secretly thought it must be so sad to be Grammy and have white hair and skin like crepe paper.

  “I don’t mind being old,” Grandmother said, interrupting her thoughts. “I’ve had many adventures in my life. You’ll be lucky if you live as long and as well as I have.” Celia nodded politely. “And my very first big adventure happened to my sister and me when I was just about your age. Would you like to hear about it?”

  And Celia said she would.

  CHAPTER THREE

  While Grammy was telling her story, a group of fairies gathered in the woods behind Celia’s house.

  Mira, the leader of the Watchful Woods fairies, took her job very seriously. Unfortunately, the rest of the group didn’t always cooperate. “Attention, everyone, attention!” she said, once all the fairies had met in the clearing. “I have news.” She waited for complete silence, but a few in the back kept whispering, so she clapped her hands together twice and switched to her no-nonsense voice. “Quiet, everyone, this is important.” Everyone hushed then, except the twins, Trixie and Dixie, who continued chattering to each other. So typical. Now Trixie was flitting up in the air admiring her sister’s headband, a crown of flowers.

  Mira sighed. The twins were such bubbleheads, never able to take anything seriously. Probably because they didn’t have a real responsibility. Instead of being assigned a family like the rest of them, they were in charge of good deeds for the area. They flitted from house to house, silently urging people to do good deeds. Their biggest accomplishment was getting Jonathan Lovejoy to invent The Good Deed Game. After the game became big, they were impossible to live with. Community activists, they called themselves, and took credit for every good deed done anywhere in the world. As if one game could make that much difference. “Ladies!” Mira yelled. “Settle down.”

  Trixie plunked herself down with a dramatic bounce and flapped her wings a few times for emphasis. “Okay, Mira, don’t have a breakdown.”

  Mira cleared her throat. “I have important news. Celia, the original Celia, has moved back to the Lovejoy house.” There was a moment of stunned silence before the fairies started talking all at once.

  “The original Celia is back?”

  “When did this happen?”

  “Does this mean what I think it does?”

  “Is the game in danger?” This from Dixie, who was always thinking of herself and her sister before anything else.

  Mira held up a hand. “Quiet, everyone. I’m not sure yet what it means. I just want you all to be aware that Celia is back, and I feel a change coming on. Something is going to happen. We have to be on our toes.” She turned to one fairy boy. “Especially you, Boyd, because you’re in charge of the other house. What’s the name of the boy there?”

  Boyd ran a hand through his curly hair and squinted. “Peter? No wait, that’s not it. Paul, I think.”

  “Do you think, or do you know?” Mira was critical of fairies who didn’t do their jobs, and Boyd was the worst of these. A total slacker.

  Boyd slouched back against a rock. “Yes. No. I mean, I’m pretty sure his name is Paul.”

  “Keep an extra close watch, then, on Paul and his parents,” Mira said. “Whenever something happens in one house, it’s connected to the other one. You must be extra vigilant.”

  “Sure, okay,” Boyd said with a yawn. “I’m on it. You can count on me.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Grammy settled into the armchair next to the bed, while Celia sat at her feet. “My sister Josie was two years older than me. We grew up in this exact house, and we shared the bedroom upstairs in the back. The room with the balcony.”

  “That’s my room,” Celia said, pleased. She loved her house with its built-in bookcases, winding staircase, and two cozy fireplaces; and she especially loved her room with the french doors leading outside. She was the only one in her grade to have her own balcony.

  Grandmother nodded and continued. “I remember the exact day because it was Easter Sunday. That evening we saw something very special, something that changed my life forever.

  “Springtime that year was especially warm, just like it is now. My parents had invited all the relatives and a few family friends over for Easter dinner. Our little house was full of people and laughter and song. Mama’s cooking smelled like heaven. I can still taste her glazed ham and potatoes. Nobody could cook like her.

  “And there was music! We used to have a piano in the front room, and someone was always playing, and we all sang along. Holidays were always so lovely, a good reason to have a party. Josie and I got to stay up later than usual that night, but eventually Papa said we had to go up to bed. Back then, children never argued with their parents, so up we went without a word.”

  Grandmother smiled down at Celia. “We weren’t as good as all that, though, because once we’d changed out of our day clothes, we stayed up and spied on the adults. The holiday party had moved outdoors onto the back patio, and that night Josie and I crept out onto the balcony to watch and listen. I remember that we had on matching long nightgowns, the kind with a ruffle at the bottom. My mother had made them, and we loved wearing them. The material was so soft and full; it floated when we spun around. Girls don’t wear nightgowns like that anymore, I don’t think.

  “Anyway, we sat on the balcony cross-legged, listening to the grown-ups talking, and I was getting sleepy. Suddenly Josie grabbed my arm and whispered, ‘Look, Celia, fireflies!’ She pointed and I saw it, too: dozens of the biggest fireflies I’d ever seen were flitting around in the woods just beyond the patio.

  “The grown-ups didn’t notice, but we kept our eyes on them, mesmerized. I wasn’t tired anymore. Eventually the patio crowd drifted back into the house, and we were able to move closer to the edge of the balcony. We stood on our tiptoes and leaned over the railing as far as we could. That was when Josie said, ‘They can’t be fireflies, Celia. It’s too early in the season. I think they’re fairies.’”

  Grandmother, looking off in the distance, was too busy telling the story to notice Celia’s eyes grow wide in amazement. “Now Josie sometimes tried to fool me. She’d tell me monster stories at night when we were lying in bed. Other times, when we were alone in the house, she told me fanciful tales of ghosts that haunted our cellar, or mermaids that lived in the creek in the back. When I was much smaller I believed her, but by the time I was ten I wasn’t so easy to trick.

  “But there was something about these lights that didn’t seem like ordinary fireflies. And standing there on the balcony, concentrating as hard as I could, it seemed as if I could almost make out the outline of each fairy by the glow of her light. If I really looked hard, I saw their wings, sheer as a
dragonfly’s, and their slender arms and legs. The longer I looked, the more it seemed possible. I said to Josie, ‘Do you really think they could be fairies?’ and before she could answer, one flew up as gracefully as a ballerina and appeared right in front of our eyes. I saw her clearly, her face just like a human girl’s, her wings fluttering as quickly as a hummingbird’s, her dress shimmering like silk. I think she was as curious about us as we were about her. It was just for a moment, one beautiful glowing moment, and then whoosh—she was gone. I’m an old lady now, but I remember that moment as clearly as if it were yesterday.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Grandmother’s story was interrupted by a knock on the door—Celia’s father telling them dinner was ready. Drat! Such poor timing. Celia would have skipped the meal to hear the rest of the story, but that wasn’t an option, unfortunately.