the place. Mundane work, mostly. I expect you’d have more fun playing in the garden.”
Kendra laid a hand on Grandpa’s arm. “I want to see as much as I can.”
Chapter 6
Maddox
Kendra snapped awake with her sheets tented over her head. She was supposed to be excited about something. It felt like Christmas morning. Or a day she was going to take off school so her family could visit an amusement park. No, she was at Grandpa Sorenson’s. The fairies!
She pushed off the sheets. Seth lay in a contorted position, hair wildly disheveled, mouth open, legs tangled in his covers. Still out cold. They had stayed up late discussing the events of the day, almost like friends rather than siblings.
Kendra rolled out of bed and padded over to the window. The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, streaming gilded highlights across the treetops. She grabbed some clothes, went down to the bathroom, took off her nightshirt, and got dressed for the day.
Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Kendra found Lena out on the porch balancing atop a stool. Lena was hanging wind chimes. She had already hung several along the length of the porch. A butterfly flitted around one of the chimes, playing a sweet, simple melody.
“Good morning,” Lena said. “You’re up early.”
“I’m still so excited from yesterday.” Kendra looked out at the garden. The butterflies, bumblebees, and hummingbirds were already going about their business. Grandpa was right—many clustered around the newly refilled birdbaths and fountains, admiring their reflections.
“Just a bunch of bugs again,” Lena said.
“Can I have some hot chocolate?”
“Let me hang these last chimes,” she said, moving the stool and climbing fearlessly on top of it. She was so old! If she fell she would probably die!
“Be careful,” Kendra said.
Lena waved a dismissive hand. “The day I’m too old to climb on a stool will be the day I throw myself off the roof.” She hung the final chime. “We had to take these down for you kids. Might have made you suspicious to see hummingbirds playing music.”
Kendra followed Lena back into the house. “Years ago, there used to be a church within earshot that would play melodies on the bells,” Lena said. “It was so funny to watch the fairies imitate the music. They still play those old songs sometimes.”
Lena opened the refrigerator, removing an old-fashioned milk bottle. Kendra sat at the table. Lena poured some milk into a pot on the stove and began adding ingredients. Kendra noticed that she was not just scooping in chocolate powder—she was stirring in contents from multiple containers.
“Grandpa said to ask you about the story of the guy who built the boathouse,” Kendra said.
Lena paused in her stirring. “Did he? I suppose I am more familiar with that story than most.” She resumed stirring. “What did he tell you?”
“He said the guy had an obsession with naiads. What’s a naiad, anyhow?”
“A water nymph. What else did he say?”
“Just that you know the story.”
“The man was named Patton Burgess,” said Lena. “He became caretaker of this property in 1878, inheriting the position from his maternal grandfather. He was a young man at the time, quite good-looking, wore a moustache—there are pictures upstairs. The pond was his favorite place on the property.”
“Mine too.”
“He would go and gaze at the naiads for hours. They would try to tease him down to the water’s edge, as was their custom, in order to drown him. He would draw near, sometimes even pretending he meant to jump in, but always stayed tantalizingly out of reach.”
Lena sampled the hot chocolate and stirred some more. “Unlike most of the visitors, who seemed to regard the naiads as interchangeable, he paid special attention to a particular nymph, asking for her by name. He began to pay little heed to the
Kendra laid a hand on Grandpa’s arm. “I want to see as much as I can.”
Chapter 6
Maddox
Kendra snapped awake with her sheets tented over her head. She was supposed to be excited about something. It felt like Christmas morning. Or a day she was going to take off school so her family could visit an amusement park. No, she was at Grandpa Sorenson’s. The fairies!
She pushed off the sheets. Seth lay in a contorted position, hair wildly disheveled, mouth open, legs tangled in his covers. Still out cold. They had stayed up late discussing the events of the day, almost like friends rather than siblings.
Kendra rolled out of bed and padded over to the window. The sun was peeking over the eastern horizon, streaming gilded highlights across the treetops. She grabbed some clothes, went down to the bathroom, took off her nightshirt, and got dressed for the day.
Downstairs, the kitchen was empty. Kendra found Lena out on the porch balancing atop a stool. Lena was hanging wind chimes. She had already hung several along the length of the porch. A butterfly flitted around one of the chimes, playing a sweet, simple melody.
“Good morning,” Lena said. “You’re up early.”
“I’m still so excited from yesterday.” Kendra looked out at the garden. The butterflies, bumblebees, and hummingbirds were already going about their business. Grandpa was right—many clustered around the newly refilled birdbaths and fountains, admiring their reflections.
“Just a bunch of bugs again,” Lena said.
“Can I have some hot chocolate?”
“Let me hang these last chimes,” she said, moving the stool and climbing fearlessly on top of it. She was so old! If she fell she would probably die!
“Be careful,” Kendra said.
Lena waved a dismissive hand. “The day I’m too old to climb on a stool will be the day I throw myself off the roof.” She hung the final chime. “We had to take these down for you kids. Might have made you suspicious to see hummingbirds playing music.”
Kendra followed Lena back into the house. “Years ago, there used to be a church within earshot that would play melodies on the bells,” Lena said. “It was so funny to watch the fairies imitate the music. They still play those old songs sometimes.”
Lena opened the refrigerator, removing an old-fashioned milk bottle. Kendra sat at the table. Lena poured some milk into a pot on the stove and began adding ingredients. Kendra noticed that she was not just scooping in chocolate powder—she was stirring in contents from multiple containers.
“Grandpa said to ask you about the story of the guy who built the boathouse,” Kendra said.
Lena paused in her stirring. “Did he? I suppose I am more familiar with that story than most.” She resumed stirring. “What did he tell you?”
“He said the guy had an obsession with naiads. What’s a naiad, anyhow?”
“A water nymph. What else did he say?”
“Just that you know the story.”
“The man was named Patton Burgess,” said Lena. “He became caretaker of this property in 1878, inheriting the position from his maternal grandfather. He was a young man at the time, quite good-looking, wore a moustache—there are pictures upstairs. The pond was his favorite place on the property.”
“Mine too.”
“He would go and gaze at the naiads for hours. They would try to tease him down to the water’s edge, as was their custom, in order to drown him. He would draw near, sometimes even pretending he meant to jump in, but always stayed tantalizingly out of reach.”
Lena sampled the hot chocolate and stirred some more. “Unlike most of the visitors, who seemed to regard the naiads as interchangeable, he paid special attention to a particular nymph, asking for her by name. He began to pay little heed to the
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