Charmed
Page 26
"I know."
"He says them when he has to clean it up. And today he was in a really bad mood 'cause Daisy ate his pillow and there were feathers all over and the washing machine exploded and he maybe has to go on a business trip."
"That's a lot for one day." She bit her lip. Really, she didn't want to pump the child, but she was curious. "He's going to take a trip?"
"Maybe to the place where they make movies, 'cause they want to make one out of his book."
"That's wonderful."
"He has to think about it. That's what he says when he doesn't want to say yes but probably he's going to."
This time Ana didn't bother to smother the chuckle. "You certainly have his number."
By the time they'd finished the kitchen, Jessie was yawning. "Will you come up and see my room? I put everything away like Daddy said to when we have company."
"I'd love to see your room."
The packing boxes were gone, Ana noted as they moved from the kitchen into the high-ceilinged living room, with its open balcony and curving stairs. The furniture there looked comfortably lived-in, bold, bright colors in fabrics that appeared tough enough to stand up under the hands and feet of an active child.
It could have used some flowers at the window, she mused. Some scented candles in brass holders on the mantel. Perhaps a few big, plump pillows scattered here and there. Still, there were homey family touches in the framed photographs, the ticking grandfather clock. And clever, whimsical ones, like the brass dragon's-head andirons standing guard on the stone hearth, and the unicorn rocking horse in the corner.
And if there was a little dust on the banister, that only added to the charm.
"I got to pick out my own bed," Jessie was telling her. "And once everything settles down I can pick out wallpaper if I want to. That's where Daddy sleeps." She pointed to the right, and Ana had a glimpse of a big bed under a jade-colored quilt—sans pillows—a handsome old chest of drawers with a missing pull, and a few stray feathers.
"He has his own bathroom in there, too, with a big tub that has jets and a shower that's all glass and has water coming out of both sides. I get to use the one out here, and it has two sinks and this little thing that isn't a toilet but looks like one."
"A bidet?"
"I guess so. Daddy says it's fancy and mostly for ladies. This is my room."
It was a little girl's fantasy, one provided by a man who obviously understood that childhood was all too short and very precious. All pink and white, the canopy bed sat in the center, a focal point surrounded by shelves of dolls and books and bright toys, a snowy dresser with a curvy mirror, and a child-sized desk littered with colored paper and crayons.
On the walls were lovely framed illustrations from fairy tales. Cinderella rushing down the steps of a silvery castle, a single glass slipper left behind. Rapunzel, her golden hair spilling out of a high tower window while she looked longingly down at her prince. The sly, endearing elf from one of Boone's books, and—a complete surprise to Ana—one of her aunt's prized illustrations.
"This is from The Golden Ball ."
"The lady who wrote it sent it to Daddy for me when I was just little. Next to Daddy's I like her stories best."
"I had no idea," Ana murmured. As far as she'd known, her aunt had never parted with one of her drawings except to family.
"Daddy did the elf," Jessie pointed out. "All the rest my mother did."
"They're beautiful." Not just skillful, Ana thought, and perhaps not as clever as Boone's elf or as elegant as her aunt's drawing, but lovely, and as true to the spirit of a fairy tale as magic itself.
She drew them just for me, when I was a baby. Nana said Daddy should put them away so they wouldn't make me sad. But they don't. I like to look at them."
"You're very lucky to have something so beautiful to remember her by."
Jessie rubbed her sleepy eyes and struggled to hold back a yawn. "I have dolls, too, but I don't play with them much. My grandmothers like to give them to me, but I like the stuffed walrus my daddy got me better. Do you like my room?"
"It's lovely, Jessie."
"I can see the water, and your yard, from the windows." She tucked back the billowing sheer curtains to show off her view. "And that's Daisy's bed, but she likes to sleep with me." Jessie pointed out the wicker dog bed, with its pink cushion.
"Maybe you'd like to lie down until Daisy comes back."
"Maybe." Jessie sent Ana a doubtful look. "But I'm not really tired. Do you know any stories?"
"I could probably think of one." She picked Jessie up to sit her on the bed. "What kind would you like?"
"A magic one."
"The very best kind." She thought for a moment, then smiled. "Ireland is an old country," she began, slipping an arm around the girl. "And it's filled with secret places, dark hills and green fields, water so blue it hurts the eyes to stare at it for long. There's been magic there for so many centuries, and it's still a safe place for faeries and elves and witches."
"Good witches or bad ones?"
"Both, but there's always been more good than bad, not only in witches, but in everything."
"Good witches are pretty," Jessie said, stroking a hand down Ana's arm. "That's how you know. Is this a story about a good witch?"
"It is indeed. A very good and very beautiful witch. And a very good and very handsome one, too."
"Men aren't witches," Jessie informed her, giggling. "They're wizards."
"Who's telling the story?" Ana kissed the top of Jessie's head. "Now, one day, not so many years ago, a beautiful young witch traveled with her two sisters to visit their old grandfather. He was a very powerful witch—wizard—but had grown cranky and bored in his old age. Not far from the manor where he lived was a castle. And there lived three brothers. They were triplets, and very powerful wizards, as well. For as long as anyone could remember, the old wizard and the family of the three brothers had carried on a feud. No one remembered the why of it any longer, but the feud ran on, as they tend to do. So the families spoke not a word to each other for an entire generation."
"He says them when he has to clean it up. And today he was in a really bad mood 'cause Daisy ate his pillow and there were feathers all over and the washing machine exploded and he maybe has to go on a business trip."
"That's a lot for one day." She bit her lip. Really, she didn't want to pump the child, but she was curious. "He's going to take a trip?"
"Maybe to the place where they make movies, 'cause they want to make one out of his book."
"That's wonderful."
"He has to think about it. That's what he says when he doesn't want to say yes but probably he's going to."
This time Ana didn't bother to smother the chuckle. "You certainly have his number."
By the time they'd finished the kitchen, Jessie was yawning. "Will you come up and see my room? I put everything away like Daddy said to when we have company."
"I'd love to see your room."
The packing boxes were gone, Ana noted as they moved from the kitchen into the high-ceilinged living room, with its open balcony and curving stairs. The furniture there looked comfortably lived-in, bold, bright colors in fabrics that appeared tough enough to stand up under the hands and feet of an active child.
It could have used some flowers at the window, she mused. Some scented candles in brass holders on the mantel. Perhaps a few big, plump pillows scattered here and there. Still, there were homey family touches in the framed photographs, the ticking grandfather clock. And clever, whimsical ones, like the brass dragon's-head andirons standing guard on the stone hearth, and the unicorn rocking horse in the corner.
And if there was a little dust on the banister, that only added to the charm.
"I got to pick out my own bed," Jessie was telling her. "And once everything settles down I can pick out wallpaper if I want to. That's where Daddy sleeps." She pointed to the right, and Ana had a glimpse of a big bed under a jade-colored quilt—sans pillows—a handsome old chest of drawers with a missing pull, and a few stray feathers.
"He has his own bathroom in there, too, with a big tub that has jets and a shower that's all glass and has water coming out of both sides. I get to use the one out here, and it has two sinks and this little thing that isn't a toilet but looks like one."
"A bidet?"
"I guess so. Daddy says it's fancy and mostly for ladies. This is my room."
It was a little girl's fantasy, one provided by a man who obviously understood that childhood was all too short and very precious. All pink and white, the canopy bed sat in the center, a focal point surrounded by shelves of dolls and books and bright toys, a snowy dresser with a curvy mirror, and a child-sized desk littered with colored paper and crayons.
On the walls were lovely framed illustrations from fairy tales. Cinderella rushing down the steps of a silvery castle, a single glass slipper left behind. Rapunzel, her golden hair spilling out of a high tower window while she looked longingly down at her prince. The sly, endearing elf from one of Boone's books, and—a complete surprise to Ana—one of her aunt's prized illustrations.
"This is from The Golden Ball ."
"The lady who wrote it sent it to Daddy for me when I was just little. Next to Daddy's I like her stories best."
"I had no idea," Ana murmured. As far as she'd known, her aunt had never parted with one of her drawings except to family.
"Daddy did the elf," Jessie pointed out. "All the rest my mother did."
"They're beautiful." Not just skillful, Ana thought, and perhaps not as clever as Boone's elf or as elegant as her aunt's drawing, but lovely, and as true to the spirit of a fairy tale as magic itself.
She drew them just for me, when I was a baby. Nana said Daddy should put them away so they wouldn't make me sad. But they don't. I like to look at them."
"You're very lucky to have something so beautiful to remember her by."
Jessie rubbed her sleepy eyes and struggled to hold back a yawn. "I have dolls, too, but I don't play with them much. My grandmothers like to give them to me, but I like the stuffed walrus my daddy got me better. Do you like my room?"
"It's lovely, Jessie."
"I can see the water, and your yard, from the windows." She tucked back the billowing sheer curtains to show off her view. "And that's Daisy's bed, but she likes to sleep with me." Jessie pointed out the wicker dog bed, with its pink cushion.
"Maybe you'd like to lie down until Daisy comes back."
"Maybe." Jessie sent Ana a doubtful look. "But I'm not really tired. Do you know any stories?"
"I could probably think of one." She picked Jessie up to sit her on the bed. "What kind would you like?"
"A magic one."
"The very best kind." She thought for a moment, then smiled. "Ireland is an old country," she began, slipping an arm around the girl. "And it's filled with secret places, dark hills and green fields, water so blue it hurts the eyes to stare at it for long. There's been magic there for so many centuries, and it's still a safe place for faeries and elves and witches."
"Good witches or bad ones?"
"Both, but there's always been more good than bad, not only in witches, but in everything."
"Good witches are pretty," Jessie said, stroking a hand down Ana's arm. "That's how you know. Is this a story about a good witch?"
"It is indeed. A very good and very beautiful witch. And a very good and very handsome one, too."
"Men aren't witches," Jessie informed her, giggling. "They're wizards."
"Who's telling the story?" Ana kissed the top of Jessie's head. "Now, one day, not so many years ago, a beautiful young witch traveled with her two sisters to visit their old grandfather. He was a very powerful witch—wizard—but had grown cranky and bored in his old age. Not far from the manor where he lived was a castle. And there lived three brothers. They were triplets, and very powerful wizards, as well. For as long as anyone could remember, the old wizard and the family of the three brothers had carried on a feud. No one remembered the why of it any longer, but the feud ran on, as they tend to do. So the families spoke not a word to each other for an entire generation."
