“Well, the horses are gone now.” He absently ran his fingertips along the armrest. “Once Dad died, Mom couldn’t run the business by herself. Running the farm hadn’t ever interested me. I had no talent with horseflesh, anyway. Working and communicating with animals is a gift…a gift that I wasn’t blessed with. So the horses were sold to other breeders.”
Fern knew that work—or an occupation, as she’d heard it called—was very important to humans. She’d witnessed people in Ireland going out to toil in the fields or going off to factories or working in the shops. Labor seemed to be a defining aspect in their existence. Hadn’t that been one of Paul’s first questions to her? So she asked him about his job.
“I’m a writer,” he supplied. “A novelist.”
She knew of books, and was even known to fly through the small village library on a dare. Her friends would laugh in delight when she’d use her magic dust to knock a book to the floor and startle someone, or she’d flutter her wings ferociously in order to turn the pages of this book or that to the vexation of the librarian. The harmless pranks were all in fun, of course. A good pixie made it a habit to be helpful and kind, but even respectable pixies suffered with boredom every so often.
“So you’re a teller of tall tales?”
He grinned, and Fern’s insides twisted up.
He said, “Horror stories are my forte.”
“Ah—” she offered him a knowing nod “—you like to frighten small children.”
Paul laughed. “Actually, my work is geared to adults.”
Her eyes widened. “Your stuff must be good and gory, then.”
The sigh issuing from him conveyed a weariness that made her head cock to the side. He evidently sensed her curiosity.
“I haven’t written anything for quite some time.”
Ever since Maire’s passing. He didn’t have to say the words. Fern just somehow knew it as fact. Empathy rose like floodwaters. Had she not been holding the sleeping Katy in her arms, she’d have reached out to him. The urge to comfort him was intense. Again she realized that the magnitude of these human emotions pulsing through her was like nothing she’d ever endured.
“But that’s got to change,” he told her. “My publisher’s been after me. They want a book, and they want it soon.”
“They’ve got confidence in you, then.”
“What do you mean?” His question was asked in a feathery whisper.
“If this publisher—” she wasn’t certain what a publisher was, but she wasn’t so daft that she couldn’t figure out it had something to do with the book-making business “—thought you weren’t capable of the job, he’d have called someone else.”
Paul studied her face for a moment, and then Fern saw his deportment change right before her very eyes; his spine straightened, his shoulders leveled and his gaze brightened.
“Thank you, Fern. I guess I needed to have that pointed out.”
Again he sighed. But this time the sound of it was easier, less tense.
Pleasure caused her toes to curl inside her silk booties. The fact that she’d lifted his spirits filled her with a delight that was absolute. Total. Oh, she wouldn’t mind basking in this warmth for a good long time.
“Of course,” he murmured, “there are some problems that need to be worked out. Like Katy.”
It was almost as if his discussion turned inward, as if the chat had turned serious and he was the only one participating.
“I guess I could write while she’s sleeping. But I can’t always count on the muse to come when I call. There’s day care, of course. I’m sure I could find a reputable—”
His sentence stopped short. Then his gaze swung to her face. It was evident that he’d been struck with some amazing thought or other.
“Fern, you said you need to look for a job. You said you don’t have a place to stay. We could help each other, you and I.”
If she could continue to be of some service to him, that would make her very happy.
“After seeing you with Katy, this is probably a silly question,” he said. “But I have to ask. Do you have experience with children?”
“I love children! I spend most of me time entertaining the little tykes, I do.”
He smiled. “I could tell pretty quickly that you have a way with kids. Katy fell for your charms from the get-go.”
“She’s a sweet thing, Katy is.”
“So would you consider it?” he asked. “Would you come stay with me and Katy? Take care of her for a fair wage and a place to stay? I’d have to check your references, but—”
Dread forced Fern’s eyes closed. Please don’t check me references. There are no references to check. I’m good and kind, and I love sweet Katy.
“But I really don’t need to do that,” Paul said, his voice suddenly soft and fuzzy. “I can tell you’re good and kind, and it’s clear that Katy trusts you. I should, too.”
Fern’s eyes went wide. It was as if her very thoughts had the power of pixie magic. She didn’t know how it had happened, or if it would ever happen again. But she was grateful for the enchantment.
“Like I said, I live close to the city,” Paul said, his tone miraculously back to normal again. “I promise to show you the sights. When you return to Ireland, you can tell all your friends about the places you’ve seen.”
His dark eyes sparkled with excitement. Exhilaration gathered in Fern’s chest and made it hard for her to draw breath.
“Well, now, isn’t this turn of events far from what I was expecting?” she said, astonished by the winded feeling that had overtaken her. “You make the arrangement sound like an adventure. And, well, a good adventure is just what I’m after.”
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