Free An Ordinary Fairy by John Osborne

you come here today?” she asked.
    Noah wasn’t sure how to answer. To get the truth, yes, but he already knew the truth. “I guess I came here to get confirmation. To hear you say what I saw with my own eyes but still couldn’t accept. You realize this changes what a person believes in, don’t you? Fairies are the stuff of … well, fairy tales. They’re whimsical little creatures that vanish and reappear with a poof. They have pots of gold. They fly.” He paused for a moment. “I didn’t come here to upset you.”
    “You seem to be a good person,” Willow said. She sniffled. “And maybe I should trust you. I can’t take the chance. I … I’ll have to leave.”
    “Why? I’m not going to tell anyone. No one would believe me.”
    “Someone might. I have more than myself to think about.”
    “So there are other … fairies?” Noah asked.
    Willow ignored his question. “Well, there are the animals here in the woods. I take care of them.” Her gaze swept around the cottage. “I built this place with my own hands. The basics were here, but I put the peak in the roof, added the loft, and built the poolroom.” She looked at Noah, her face growing angry. “That’s not why I’m strong, though. The strength is a fairy thing. Do you want to see my biceps?” She slid her sleeve up and flexed her arm before he could wave her off. “Put that in your little notebook.” She glared fiercely. “Fairies have big biceps. That’s b-i-c-e-p-s.”
    Now you’re going to slug me.
    Noah didn’t move or speak.
    She let her sleeve fall, turned her back to him, and began to cry again. “This is my parents’ home. They died here. They are here; I feel their presence. And now I have to leave.” She faced him again, tears streaming down her face. “I think you should leave now, too, Noah.”
    I wanted to be your friend. Now, I’ll never see you again.
    Noah walked to the door, pulled on his boots and retrieved his hat and poncho. Willow didn’t move.
    “Please don’t make any hasty decisions,” he said. “You must trust me. I’ll keep your secret.”
    Doubt clouded Willow’s eyes.
    Open the closet door, Noah.
    “Let me show you something.” Noah pulled a pendant on a chain from under his shirt, and held up a silver five-point star surrounded by a circle. “Do you know what this is?”
    She shook her head. “A pentagram?”
    “It’s a pentacle. It’s the symbol of my belief. I’m a Wiccan, the same as those crazy people in town who own the witch school. But we’re not crazy. We know many things, obscure things, and forgotten things, and we keep secrets well. We’re good people. We are true to our word. Our most honored rule is two little words. Harm none.” He dropped the pentacle back under his shirt.
    “Ms. Brown, I mean you no harm.” He pulled the door open and stepped out into the rain.

 
    Five
     
    N oah spent a miserable, rainy afternoon in his room. He worked for a short time, finished some photos and emailed them to the home office. He paced. He zapped through television channels. He tried to read a book, all to no avail. Willow invaded his thoughts whatever he did. His gaze returned often to the article taped to the wall.
    He replayed the visit in his mind, going over every word said, every sight, every sound. Should he have said this thing a different way, or made that point more gently.
    I didn’t mean to upset her so. Maybe I should have dropped it and moved on, never spoken to her.
    The rain let up around six o’clock when thick fog came in. Noah prepared a frugal supper of soup and reheated biscuits. He sat on the bed to watch the news and check the weather forecast. The sky would be clear by mid-morning tomorrow. He could start working southwest of Hoopeston in the Potomac area.
    The phone rang, nearly jarring Noah off the bed. Everyone he knew called his cell phone.
    “Hello?”
    “Mister Phelps? This is Tommy at the front desk. You have a visitor at the office, a Ms. Brown.