Briar gaped at Fanny. This was not the revelation she was expecting. Is she daft? Sure, Fanny was diminutive, and had a cute pixie face. But a fairy? Fanny was nothing like the fairies Mam talked about. The fairy gardens they made in the woods were for tiny little creatures. Miniature doorways. Bitty pathways. Small tree-bark tables. Now if she could produce wings, Briar might consider believing her. Speechless, Briar continued gaping at Fanny for several uncomfortable seconds.
“You’re not a fairy. Not a real one.” The fear swirling in her gut took hold and began to spread. Fanny couldn’t be a real fairy, because if she was, that meant that the spindle could, in fact, be magical. And everything Briar had heard in the stories about fairies said that some were good and some were wicked. The question would then be, which fairy made her spindle?
Fanny tossed her hands in the air. “You want to see proof, don’t you?” She shook her head. “They all do.” She turned. “Follow me outside. My abilities are still somewhat, er, hindered at the moment.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Long story. But I can show you this.”
After they went outside, Fanny picked up one of the dried rose petals strewn about the ground and breathed on it. The petal filled with a soft pink color and became silky smooth again.
Briar took a step back. How was this possible? She didn’t know if she should be impressed or scared. Her hand shook when she held it out, wanting to touch the petal to see if it was real.
“See?” Fanny held out the lush petal, inviting Briar to touch it.
Briar took another step back. “Who are you and what are you really doing here?” She strained her ears to pinpoint where the children were in case she had to flee with them. “What do you want with the children?”
Fanny dropped the petal and put her hands on her hips. “I’m disappointed you would ask. I love those wee babes. I’m here to watch over them while Prudence is…is gone. I can assure you they are safe with me.” She blinked rapidly as moisture flooded her eyes.
“Does Nanny know what you are?”
“Yes.”
“And it doesn’t concern her that you’re a…a…?” Briar couldn’t even say it. Fairy.
“I have no secrets with your Nanny. She accepts me the way I am, though I suspect she wishes I were a touch more responsible, among other things.”
“What else can you do?”
“I’m not about to perform tricks for you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Fanny scowled. “I’m a fairy, not a circus act.”
Briar didn’t know how to process this information. “How am I to go back to town tomorrow, knowing what I do now?”
Fanny frowned. “I’ve been here for weeks. You see how the children are happy? Fed? Growing like flowers themselves? Be off with you like normal and be content that I am managing them well.”
Her tone had gone from wounded to irritated. But it didn’t matter how Fanny felt. What mattered was the children and their well-being. How could Briar leave them with a creature known for its unpredictability?
Briar blinked. A creature? Fanny, in the flesh, standing in front of her with arms crossed and foot tapping, waiting for Briar to make up her mind.
What were those fairy stories Mam told? Mostly ones of mischief, the likes of games little boys played. Some older folks talked of the potato famine as being a fairy curse, even though the true source was found.
Laughter floated in on the wind, cutting into Briar’s thoughts. Benny giggling. Pansy shrieking good-naturedly. Obviously, the children were very happy with Fanny taking care of them. “You haven’t—” Briar waved her hands over the rose petals. “In front of the children?”
“Oh, no. Of course not. I freshen things up when they’re sleeping. They haven’t seen a thing, the dears, though they would love it. Prudence made me promise not to do anything in front of them. I don’t know why, though. The children have no problem with fairies, it’s always the grown-ups.” She rose up on her toes and looked guiltily to the side.
Briar twisted her lips. Fanny may not have purposely shown the children magic, but she knew they had still seen. “How long until Prudence gets back?”
Fanny shifted her feet. “I thought she’d be back by now. I suppose she’s slowing down in her old age. Or there was a problem. But a problem for Prudence would be highly unlikely, don’t you agree? She’s practically perfect. Her friendship with someone like me stretches her very being. I am a bit of a rarity.”
Fanny’s description of herself was an understatement. “Can’t you tell me what Prudence is doing? It has to be serious if she sent…you…to take her place. Is it her family?”
Fanny paused. “Does she talk about her family?”
“She’s mentioned her sisters. Is that where she’s gone?”