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  Dances Naked

  Third book in The Fairies Saga

  A Novel by

  Dani Haviland

  Dances Naked and The Fairies Saga are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, real or fictional, businesses, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously for the reader’s entertainment. Any resemblance to persons, living, dead, or fictitious, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 by Dani Haviland

  All rights reserved

  by

  Dani Haviland

  (The Fairies Saga

  in chronological order)

  Naked in the Winter Wind

  Aye, I am a Fairy

  Dances Naked

  The Great Big Fairy

  Fairies Down Under

  Preface

  F

  airies, Nûñnë’hĩ the Cherokee called them, the Eternal Ones. They traveled to wherever they wanted without being seen. And, to whenever, too. They were invisible unless they wanted to be seen, were small—barely the height of a full-grown man’s knee—and had long, black hair. They were friendly, and helpful, and, if you were nice to them, they’d be nice to you, and even bring you food. This crazy white man, Dances Naked, was all this, but he was easy to see, very tall, and had curly silver hair and a beard. He couldn’t be a fairy. Or could he?

  Ж

  20th century born Lord Martin Melbourne had received his master’s degree from Oxford but was also well learned in folklore and the Tuatha De’ Danann legends. He knew fairies weren’t pastel-colored, exaggerated flying insects with big smiles–they were real entities with remarkable skills. They could move from one place to another easily–or from one time to another. He had studied The Letters, the centuries’ old epistles written by the time traveler, Evie, to her 21st century daughter, Leah, and learned that a human, too, could move through time. He had done it himself, traveled back to 1781, and saved the life of his sons’ ancestor. Now he wanted to go back home to 2013. But, he was lost in the wilds of North Carolina. He needed his new Cherokee friend to show him the way back to The Trees, the magnetic time portal between the centuries. But first, he’d have to wait until Red Shirt was done with him.

  Ж

  NAKED IN THE WINTER WIND, the first book in THE FAIRIES SAGA, tells the story of Dani Madigan, a plump and perky older Alaskan lady who takes a vacation to Greensboro, North Carolina, to visit her daughter, Leah, a nurse. Through an accident involving the mysterious Master Simon, she falls through time on October 31, 2012 and awakens in 1780, without her memory and in a younger, thinner body. She rescues a mountain man, Ian Kincaid, who names her Evie and claims her as his wife. Months later, Ian takes her to visit his aunt, the time traveling fairy, Sarah Pomeroy, where he abandons her. Many events and people impact Evie’s life, including the generous Little Bear and the evil British Captain, Atholl MacLeod, a renegade who shoots her in cold blood. Critically wounded, Evie is sent on an emergency medical trip back to the 21 century where she reencounters Leah. Moments later, Evie is kidnapped and taken back to the 18 century before she can explain to her daughter what has happened, where she has been the last year, and why she now has a youthful body. (Estimated release late 2012)

  Ж

  AYE, I AM A FAIRY continues the story with Leah finding clues about her mother’s whereabouts in a misplaced cell phone. The reportedly gay James Melbourne, the British Lord her mother met the day she disappeared, contacts Leah. He has more information about her mother’s disappearance in his bundle of ancient Letters. In the first of The Letters, Mom explains where she is, that the characters from Lost, the historical romance novels by Lisa Sinclaire, are real, and that some of these people are now her new family. Leah makes a new friend in James. The two suddenly have to ward off attacks by the numbered heirs of Atholl MacLeod, ne’er do wells who are searching for The Letters and the treasure they lead to. James receives another old letter, apparently from Marty Melbourne, asking him to go back in time to save his ancestor. However, it looks like he won’t be traveling solo—Leah wants to go back, too. (Estimated release mid 2012)

  Ж

  THE GREAT BIG FAIRY introduces six foot seven inch tall Benji MacKay, an amiable soul born in the 18 century who returned with his parents to the 20 century as a child. Benji has read some of The Letters and heard about Evie. He searches out her 21 century daughter, Leah, meaning to travel back in time with her. However, he is too late. Life does not go as planned for The Great Big Fairy, but he makes the most out of what he has. He encounters and helps many people, including a six foot four female slave, in his journey back in time to see his beloved Grandpa Jody.

  Ж

  FAIRIES DOWN UNDER follows a certain member of the time traveling family who is transported on The First Fleet, the convict-laden ships sent from England to the newly discovered continent of Australia. He makes the best of his situation as he serves his sentence in the new, rough and tumble, no man’s land used as a prison for convicts. (Estimated release 2013)

  1 Strangers on the Road

  Pomeroy’s Place, North Carolina

  August 12, 1781 late morning

  arah Pomeroy watched the odd procession thread its way down the road. The scrawny, stringy-haired girl was overloaded with babies, one infant over her shoulder, the other in her belly. A dirty and disheveled man marched five steps ahead of her, his nose in the air, an overstuffed satchel slung over his shoulder. The mother didn’t have anything other than her baby to carry, but Sarah remembered the fatigue and discomfort of an advanced pregnancy and sympathized with her. The woman-child shuffled behind the man then stopped, shifted the squalling baby to her other shoulder, then continued her trudge. The scruffy man halted, snorted indignantly, and waited for her to catch up. Well, almost catch up. As soon as she was five steps behind him, he picked up his long stride again, apparently not wanting her to be near him.

  Sarah stepped away from her semi-secluded position in the tall weeds at the side of the road, waiting to be seen. She didn’t want to frighten them or call out until they were near enough to converse. Maybe they had news about the war. The man looked up and saw her, but did not acknowledge her presence. He acted as if he had seen a crow or maybe a butterfly; she was a part of the fauna in the landscape and of no importance to him.

  Well, to hell with him and his rudeness, too, Sarah thought. She would hear any news soon enough. Yes, but the young mother needed a break. If they stopped to speak with her, the woman could rest for a few moments at least.

  “Hallo,” Sarah hollered. The man looked up toward her. Well, actually he looked right through her, as if she didn’t exist, and then continued his journey.

  “I say, hallo,” she repeated with an insistence that was hard to ignore. “Is there any news of the fighting?” she asked, now assuming a civil tone although, at this point, she wasn’t feeling very cordial.

  “Nope,” he said without missing a step.

  “Hold on there a minute,” Sarah called out as she rushed over to them; it looked like the pregnant woman was ready to fall down. “Would you like to stop for a drink? I have some water here,” she offered in desperation.

  Sarah could tell by the man’s stance that he was going to turn her down and that the swollen, downtrodden woman wasn’t going to speak for herself. Sarah decided it was time to get bossy. “Hey, I think this woman needs a break,” she declared. She changed her focus to the overheated young woman carrying the snot-faced baby. “Why don’t you come sit a while in the shade and, here, I’ll take the child,” she said as she extracted the baby’s fists from the mother’s hair, not giving her a chance to refuse.

  The very young woman, more a child than an adult, reluctantly relinquished her hold then stepped away
from Sarah, not wanting to be familiar with her. She breathed a loud sigh of relief at losing her burden, arched her spine, and then rubbed her lower back with both hands.

  The baby was not big; he was actually scrawny, and Sarah could tell why. The woman was most likely trying to nurse the child while in the advanced stages of pregnancy. Mother, youngster, and in utero infant were all suffering as a result. “Would you care to share my lunch?” she asked the girl, offering her a hand to help sit down in the shade.

  The woman accepted the help and settled next to the maple tree. “If you’re sure you have enough,” she answered softly, allowing Sarah to see her smile of gratitude but still keeping her head bowed low, avoiding eye contact.

  Sarah gave her a cheese-filled tortilla wrap sandwich, poured out a cup of water from her canteen, and then handed it to her. She sat down beside her new acquaintance and laid out the baby, placing it on the skirts of her dress. She took the kerchief out of her pocket, wet it with water from the canteen, and used it as a washcloth to wipe the baby’s mucous matted face and eyes. The baby’s clout was soaked and stinking, but she couldn’t do anything about it here and now. She didn’t have a dry one with her although there were plenty at the house. She briefly thought of inviting the little family to her home, but she knew she should find out more about them first. The woman seemed safe enough, but the man had an aura of evil about him that disturbed her.

  “Where are you headed?” Sarah asked nonchalantly as she pulled the baby’s sticky and sweaty gown away from her, or was it his, body; the child was covered in heat rash.

  “None a yer business,” boomed the man who had come over to investigate their little picnic site. Sarah had expected as much from him by his appearance, but it still took her by surprise when the rude words came out with such disdain. She turned to see the woman’s reaction. Apparently, she didn’t care what he said. All she cared about was eating the cheese burrito and gulping the last of the water in her cup, stealing glances at the canteen. Sarah took the hint and poured the woman’s cup half full. She wanted to make sure she didn’t give it all to her. It was a long walk home and the little bit of water in the jug was all she had.

  The man remained standing over the two women, lording over them with the stance and tone he had taken. He brought out his own canteen, sneered at the women, and then started drinking heartily from it. Sarah doubted that it was water—it had the distinctive smell of raw alcohol.

  “How about you—when are you due?” Sarah asked. Hopefully, the woman was just tired from the walk and not as dense as she appeared.

  The only answer she gave was a shrug of her shoulders. She either didn’t know or was afraid to answer. “Soon enough,” the man answered for her. “Come on, let’s go. There’s no reason to laze about while the sun’s still shinin’.”

  Sarah took pity on the woman as she struggled to get to her feet. She ignored her own better judgment and asked compulsively, “Would you two like to come to our place for dinner? You could sleep the night in the barn on clean straw and get a fresh start in the morning?”

  The man looked as if he was getting ready to say no, so Sarah played her trump card. “We have meat,” she said. “And fresh milk—it would be good for your wife.”

  The woman’s eyes stole a look at the man then cut back to watching the ground. Sarah could tell she wanted to go, but he was a hard case. “I could pack you a little bit of food for the road tomorrow, too,” she added, not wanting to beg but very concerned about the girl.

  The man looked up toward the sun then down the road they still had to travel. “I guess we could take a break. We still have a couple a days to go and I could do with some meat. Do you have whisky?” he asked greedily.

  Sarah didn’t know how to answer that. The lure of having meat should have been enough of an enticement for the couple. She shook her head slowly then looked away, knowing he would be able to tell she was lying if he saw her face. “I think my husband traded the last of the whisky for some wheat.” She turned to face him, “We do have some ale though,” she added truthfully, letting him see she was being honest, at least with her last remark.

  He sighed. “Lead the way then.” He smiled to himself—maybe there were other things worth stopping for.

  2 Rachel MacLeod

  Near Pomeroy’s Place

  August 12, 1781 late morning

  arah walked home with the ragged pair in tow. She had carried the baby for the first half mile, giving the young mother a break, until the man stepped in front of her and stopped, his feet planted firmly apart, his arms crossed in defiance. “Give the babe back to her,” he growled. “It’s hers to take care of.”

  Sarah didn’t think it wise to challenge him so handed the now sleeping baby to the mother. The woman-child looked a little better for having the break but still appeared worn out. Hopefully, a hearty meal, a good night’s sleep, and someone to help care for the baby for a few hours would help her further. She wished she could do more, but there was only so much an interfering bystander could do.

  Prince Charles the jackass brayed to announce that someone was nearing the house. I saw a rag tag trio led by Sarah coming up the road. Apparently, she had rounded up a few strays, one of them very small, and brought them home to graze. “Here, let me take the baby,” I suggested as I reached for the dirty and stinky bundle of rags. A red, pimply face poked out from beneath the threadbare cap, the eyes vacant and staring. The mother didn’t like my gesture and clutched her child tighter, reluctant to relinquish her charge. She paused, shot a panicked look at Sarah, and then returned to her head bowed down position, emphasizing her fear and uncertainty.

  “Let her take the child,” Sarah gently admonished as she laid her hand on the young woman’s shoulder. The disheveled and tired girl loosened her grip on the baby, lifted the mass of cloth away from her chest, and tentatively handed him or her to me. I led the way into the house and the two women followed, leaving the man to walk about the yard where he investigated the fence, then headed toward the barn.

  Sarah guided the very pregnant girl to my chaise and helped her bring her feet up off the floor, lifting her tattered shoes to the foot of the couch, relieving the burden on her lower back and feet. I would guess that the girl, she could hardly be called a woman although she was very pregnant and the baby she was toting appeared to be hers, was only fifteen or so. And, I didn’t know who stank worse: her or the child. Either way, I was glad there were two of us here to take care of the pathetic pair. They were definitely going to be a challenge.

  Sarah helped the girl peel off her sweaty shawl. The stink almost made me heave. I grabbed the wooden tray next to the cupboard and used it as a makeshift fan to move the air. We didn’t need me to add to the reek by losing my lunch.

  “What’s your name?” Sarah asked, both as a way to distract her from my impromptu air freshening antics as to make her, and us, more comfortable.

  “They call me Rachel,” she said softly, her head bowed down in apparent shame. Sarah looked over at me and raised one eyebrow. By the look of shock mixed with exasperation on her face, I could tell that even in the course of guiding the girl and the man on their long walk to the house, she had never seen the girl’s eyes. Those four words were probably the first ones Sarah had heard her utter. Her body language was loud and clear though. She was a beaten woman; whether by whip or by words, it made no difference. She was a meek and totally subservient creature.

  “I’m Evie and Sarah here is a healer,” I offered as a further introduction and as an attempt to warm up the chilly atmosphere in the otherwise sweltering room. “Would you let her listen to your belly and see if the baby is okay?” I started to add that she didn’t look too good and that we were both concerned about her, but bit back the words. They wouldn’t have helped her or the situation anyway. I wasn’t a doctor, nurse, or midwife, but her gray pallor could only be bad news. She gave the briefest of nods. Sarah moved in with her paper tube, her jaw set with concern. She too, could see wh
at my untrained eyes had observed—a pregnancy in distress.

  Sarah had everything under control so I decided to distract myself with the now sleeping child. His clothes were stuck to his body with his mother’s sweat. I knew that very young babies didn’t perspire and that was why his face was covered in the red pimply heat rash. I hated to waken a baby to change a dirty diaper, but this one was too rank not to take care of right away. Besides, it would only get ranker with time and the heat of the day. I looked around for something to place on top of the table before beginning the bath. I settled for my old blue patchwork skirt as a drop cloth. I spread it out, set the basin and towels on top of it, and then walked to the window to take one last deep breath of clean air. This was going to be tough.

  The baby’s cap was stuck on with a mixture of mother’s milk, sweat, and baby vomit. I used a small, sopping wet cloth as a means of soaking off the cap from her/his head. I got a memory flash of the last time that I had to soak off disturbing fabric from someone’s skull: Ian’s bandage around his ears on the first day of our acquaintance. I shook my head and mumbled, “not now,” and proceeded south with the disrobing.

  Sarah looked up from her ministrations. I guess I’d been talking to myself louder than I thought. “It’s nothing,” I explained lamely, knowing that she would understand.

  I unbound the layers of cloth on the child as I held my breath. I finally had to gasp. I couldn’t leave the child and run back and forth to the window for fresh air like I was performing a task underwater. I knew I could get this done only if I breathed through my mouth. I opened my mouth, gulped air, and then realized the stench was so strong that I could actually taste it. I turned my head into my shoulder and breathed in my own body odor: warm, moist and musky but preferable to the baby poop and puke stench. I turned back to my task, once again holding my breath.