The Great Big Fairy (The Fairies Saga Book 4) Read online

  Any more mushy talk was interrupted by a clamoring at the front door. It sounded as if someone couldn’t quite get the door open. Benji bounced up and opened it, then grabbed the cloth bag of groceries as it fell out of Bibb’s overloaded arms.

  “Benji!” she squealed. She dropped the rest of her bags and grabbed him around the waist. She backed away and scolded mockingly, “Come down here for a proper hug, you big galoot.”

  Benji squatted down, let her wrap her arms around his neck, and then stood up and spun her around, eliciting childlike giggles out of the gray-haired lady. Mac heard his grandmother laughing and joined the chorus, shrieking with excitement. Jane stood up and walked into the living room to bring the boy to the reunion, but stood against the wall, still unsure of what was happening.

  Benji spied the pair by the doorway and stopped the grandma carousel, setting the ecstatic lady down, but not letting go of her until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Bibb, this is my fiancée, Jane. Janie, this is Billy and Wee James’s mother, Bibb.”

  “Fiancée?” Bibb squeaked, “You found someone in the 18th century to marry?” she asked, and then realized she wasn’t being guarded about the time frame. “Well, she knows when she’s from, and if she’s made it this far, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  Bibb looked back and forth from Benji to Jane, then realized that Jane was holding Benji’s biological son. She didn’t have to ask with her lips—the question was on her face.

  Benji lowered his eyes in shame, and this time it was Jane to the rescue. “Billy asked if we would stay on here to help with the building and, um, taking care of Benji’s godson. It’s fine with us, but we want to make sure it’s agreeable to you, too.”

  “Of course, it is, sweetie,” Bibb said, then scurried over to hug both Jane and Mac. “And you sure got a tall one,” she called back to Benji as she hugged the odd couple. “And a pretty one, too,” she said softly to Jane alone.

  “Mom! You’re back!” Billy said, as he came into the room. “And you’ve met the happy couple… I know you just got home, but after freshening up a bit and getting a bite to eat, would you take Janie here shopping? She needs a wedding dress and a…a…” Billy shook his head as he remembered his mother knew what was going on. “Both she and Benji need clothes. All they have are the clothes on their backs. Now, I’ll stay here and make the rest of the arrangements for the ceremony. By the way, they’re getting married here tonight. I’ll keep Mac while you do the shopping. Benji can pick out his own clothes, but Janie needs a personal dresser. I can’t do it since I have a full agenda with getting a birth certificate, a wedding license, arranging for…well, everything else.” Billy paused before continuing, holding up one finger, as if he had just had a brain storm and needed to sort something out.

  “I picked you two up, at, um,” Billy looked down at his watch and asked, “what? eight-thirty?”

  Benji looked at Jane. They both had a blank look on their face. They didn’t know, and neither of them paid attention to clocks or hours of the day.

  “Fine; I’ll just say Janie first became acquainted with Mac at eight-thirty. So, Mom, try and be back by eleven-thirty…” Billy saw the look on her face, then grinned his all-knowing smile. “Mac wants her back for lunch. You can finish your shopping after that.” Billy added a double eyebrow pop and smile to Jane, but didn’t elaborate to his mother about Jane’s new status as his son’s wet nurse. For right now, it was on a need to know basis.

  “Oh, and here,” Billy said as he handed an envelope to Benji. “Mom will treat for the wedding dress and trousseau, but I’m sponsoring the groom. You might want to buy a few work shirts and jeans while you’re at it. After your honeymoon, I’ll let you get started on phase two of Bibb’s Place: parenting, and nutrition. Here,” Billy said, as he grabbed a plastic bag out of the cupboard, “have some beef jerky for the road. We can eat a real meal later. Eleven-thirty, right Mom?”

  Bibb took out her smartphone and did a couple of slides and taps. “The alarm is set. Here, give me a couple of those granola bars. I don’t need to be tearing out any crowns with that stuff. Come on you two. We’ll let Billy work his magic while you two freshen up. It looks like you brought most of the dusty road home with you.”

  Ж

  As soon as the three were out the door, Billy was back on the phone, watching Mac chew on his set of colorful plastic keys, bouncing up and down in his doughnut shaped scooter/walker. “Michael, Michael Callahan? Yes, you don’t know me, but we have a friend in common: Benji MacKay. Yes, yes, he’s doing fine. As a matter of fact, he’s getting married tonight. Well, I’m kind of his brother now, and he asked me to keep the wedding small. I’m not supposed to invite anyone to the ceremony, but I have a free hand in getting everything else set up. Yes, that’s why I’m calling; I need a hair stylist. Hmm, maybe for him, but definitely for his fiancée. Oh, and feel free to bring your family with you. Here’s the address…

  “Forever Flowers? Yes, how many roses do you have? Hmm, I guess we’ll need to bring other varieties into play here, too. How fast can you set up a wedding? It’s a smallish room—twenty by thirty—but there will only be, say, ten people in the wedding party. Give it your best shot. Is Steve still the owner? Good. Make sure you tell him that this is for Billy Burke. Yeah, well, I’m glad to hear it. I hope everything works out for them. Make sure you’re here by six and done by seven. Okay. Hey, do you know a baker who can put together a five star cake by the same time? Really? He’s doing that now? And catering, too? Do you have his number? Great, thanks.

  “Carlos the caterer, how the hell are you? What, you can’t tell? This is Billy, Billy Burke. See, I told you you’d like that job. And none of the old family found you there, right? Well, they won’t be looking in this circle now that you’re out. Hey, my godbrother is getting married tonight. I know it’s pretty short notice, but could you do a special dinner for say, ten people? The ceremony is at seven and should be over by seven fifteen. Yes, you and your partner can come. I understand, and I doubt the bride and groom care if they know you or not. I know, I know; weddings are special, and there just aren’t enough of them anymore. Hey, do you know anyone who takes pictures? He does? Well, ain’t that somethin’? See, he was already invited, and now he has another reason to be here. Hopefully, he won’t let the crying get in the way of getting some great shots. Oh, but the bride is a little bashful, so if I ask him to stop, he won’t get offended, will he? Great. Being sensitive is so underrated. Okay, see you about six so you can set up. Bye, now.

  “Let’s see, Mac,” Billy said, seeking counseling from his five-month-old son, “we got the dress, caterer, photos, flowers, and cake taken care of. What else is there? You’re right, the honeymoon! Do you think they’ll want to stay downtown or take a cruise?” Mac babbled in response then bent to chew on his keys again. “Right, they’ll want to stay close to home. Okay, let’s go fix up the crafts room again. You can help me put everything back in the totes. Again. I don’t know why Mom thinks she can ever do any of that beading or whatever...”

  40 Showertime

  “U m, before we leave, I’d like to use the privy, and at least wash my face,” Jane asked Benji shyly. She had seen trees outside, but hadn’t noticed an outhouse.

  Benji snorted and chuckled briefly, then answered, “Oh, darlin’, ye have no idea what awaits you. Bibb, do ye have a big bed sheet or long length of fabric we can use for another sarong for my Dorothy Lamour here? I think we both need a quick shower before gracin’ the stores with our eau d’ road aroma.”

  Bibb grinned as she realized what Benji was up to: introducing his fiancée to modern day plumbing and a shower. “Use my bathroom and I’ll set out something for her. I have an old pair of coveralls you left here you can wear shopping. I think you’ll have to go shirtless unless I can find an oversized t-shirt in the girls’ clothes. One of my ladies was big to start with and insisted on wearing men’s t-shirts for comfort. Take as much time as you need, but try and keep it
under an hour. The hot water heater only has a sixty-five gallon tank.”

  Benji dipped his head, said thanks to Bibb, and then held out his arm to Jane. “This is probably the best part of modern times,” he crowed, “and what I missed the most: inside plumbing.”

  Benji led the way to Bibb’s room. He knew his way around; he had built and helped design the house himself. He had talked Bibb into putting in the fanciest Jacuzzi tub and shower combination available, embellishing the stock design with twin shower heads and ports for air-drying the bather with warm, forced air.

  “Now, here is the privy. We call it the toilet or john or potty or crapper or…” Benji saw the wide-eyed look and realized he was giving too many names to the simple, human waste conveyance. “Potty will work; everyone kens what a potty is. So, ye jest sit on here, do yer business, and when yer done, wipe yer, um, weel, whatever needs wipin’, ye wipe with this.” He pulled out the leading edge on the roll of toilet paper. “Ye just pull out as much as ye need, tear it off, wipe, and put it in the commode, I mean the potty, and then push down this handle.”

  Benji tore off a foot-long length of tissue, dropped it in the toilet bowl, and flushed. Jane’s head popped back in shock at the sudden rush of fresh water into the standing bowl of water, and then its rapid disappearance. “It washes yer waste out to either a holdin’ tank or to a main tank in the city. We have a septic system—that is a private holdin’ tank. The wastes get pumped out once or twice a year and taken away so it can get cleaned up and used, I mean, they do somethin’ with it. All ye have to do is flush; someone else down the line will take care of the wastewater. I’ll wait out here and when yer done, come out and I’ll show ye the shower.”

  Benji closed the door then ran down the hall, used the other toilet, and was back just a little too late: Jane was already standing outside the bathroom door with a confused look on her face. “Everything came out okay, dinna it? I mean, ye figured it out, dinna ye?” Benji asked.

  “Aye, it’s just that it seems like such a waste. And how does paper get so soft? Do all people wipe their bottoms with soft paper, or are Bibb and Billy so rich that they can afford to use it instead of leaves or cobs?”

  Benji grinned and held back the laugh that most likely would have embarrassed his naïve young fiancée. “Even the poorest of people here have toilet paper, although there are still many who use the old-fashioned outside privies. But, those people usually live in very remote areas. Towns and cities tend to keep the plumbin’ inside. Now, are ye ready fer a shower? I’d introduce ye to the Jacuzzi, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. I wouldna want ye to rush that experience.”

  “Shower, like in rain shower?” Jane knew they were getting cleaned up to go shopping, but it wasn’t cloudy and didn’t look like it was going to rain.

  “Aye, it’s like a rain shower, but ye can control the temperature of the water and how fast it’s movin’.” Benji led her to the shower, reached in, turned the handle, and flipped the switch so water came out of both showerheads. “But, unless yer feelin’ too bashful, I think ye ought to take off yer clothes before we step inside.”

  Just then, there was a gentle knock at the bedroom door. “I set out some clothes for you,” Bibb called through the door. “They’re not very fancy, but will keep you decent enough to go shopping.”

  Benji held up one finger to Janie to tell her to wait. He bounded over to the door, opened it up just enough to grab the pile of fresh cotton, and said, “Thanks,” to the happy lady walking away.

  “You’re very welcome. And thank you for coming back,” Bibb said as she looked back over her shoulder, doing her best to not be intrusive, leaving the two young lovers to what she was sure would be a very private moment.

  Bibb was truly glad to have the perpetually cheerful and multitalented big galoot back in her life. And by the contented smile he had on his face when she first saw him with his biological son, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be laying claim to the boy, but would let her, Billy, and Peter rear little Mac. He evidently understood and embraced the concept of being a godfather. And that was good for everyone. Besides, with the passion and lust he had in his eyes when he gazed at his fiancée, it wouldn’t be long and they would have a child of their own.

  “We got clean clothes,” Benji announced, and set the neatly folded linen and used clothing on the foot of the bed. “Now,” he said softly as he walked toward the shower, pulling his shirt off over his head as he neared her, “like I said, this is probably the best part of life here.”

  Benji tossed his shirt on the floor then bent over to take off his boots and socks. He stood up to unfasten his pants and saw that Jane had already joined the strip club, her blue wrap on top of the dirty clothes pile. Gulp. Benji felt a surprised blush of embarrassment cover him from forehead to belly button. Jane was more naked than he had ever seen her. She had removed both her travel-dirtied sarong and her leather apron: that insulting little scrap of animal hide that was the only clothing she wore when he had first seen her. Even with all of the passionate kissing and groping they had shared, he had still never seen her without it.

  “Are you okay?” Jane asked, as she saw his color change from white to red in a hurry. She placed her hand on his forehead to check for a fever. “You don’t feel feverish…”

  “Aye, I’m fine, um, actually finer than fine. I’ve jest never seen ye totally naked.” He paused, then looked up at the strip of blue calico wrapped around the old rag that was always on her hair. “Weel, I guess yer still not totally naked.” He reached up with the intent of unbinding the cloth, but stopped halfway up, his hand frozen in the air between them. The look of absolute horror on her face was totally unexpected. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and pulled his hand back in shame at invading her personal space.

  “I, I don’t want you to see my hair,” she replied in humiliation. She didn’t want him to view her rat’s nest of braids and tucks of wiry hair, but was also embarrassed that she was being so guarded with the man who she would be sharing her most intimate parts with before the end of the day. “Maybe later,” she offered in compromise.

  ‘Maybe never,’ she thought. Her mother had asked her never to cut her hair, had said that a woman’s hair was her beauty and glory, and shouldn’t be shared with just anyone. The only person who had touched her hair, other than herself, was her mother. She cherished those special moments when her mother would run the little homemade pick through her hair, separating the tresses section by section then re-braiding them, wrapping them close to her head, binding them with a rag torn from the dress she had worn on the boat trip from Africa. It was all that was left of her mother’s heritage. It was skimpy now, and quite threadbare, but just as dear as ever. She had discarded the ugly brown rag that had covered her legacy cloth, the one she wore when Benji ‘bought’ her, and replaced it with fabric that matched her sarong. Sarah had put a new bandage on her ribs that first day when she cleaned and re-stitched her wound. She said she didn’t need the improvised cloth bandage that Benji had employed. Jane had asked for, and was given, the blue calico bandage. Sarah even washed it for her and suggested that she use it as a new hair covering. Jane hadn’t told her that was what she wanted it for, but was pleased that Sarah had suggested it.

  “It will complement your pretty dress,” she said. “You look beautiful in blue.” Jane shook her head gently and smiled in recall at being called beautiful by another woman, the only person besides her mother and Benji who had described her as such.

  “Are ye cold?” Benji asked as he saw Jane shake her head and shiver slightly. “It’s nice and comfy in here,” he said as he pulled back the shower door in invitation.

  “Comfy?” That was another word she had never heard. There were so many new words to learn, she thought in momentary panic. She grinned and relaxed. At least she had a translator who wouldn’t shame her with her ignorance.

  “Comfortable,” Benji clarified. “Here, I’ll go first.” He stepped into the gentle mist. “The pre-w
ash cycle,” he explained as he shut his eyes and addressed the warm water flow. He took a deep breath as the soothing wetness washed away the first layer of dust and filth, then gasped. Jane was standing behind him, her body pressed close to his in either fear or passion. He relaxed his pose and turned to face her, his wet body slipping around against hers that was still dry. “There’re two shower heads here, so we can both get wet. Can I wash yer back fer ye?”

  “I think I owe you one, remember?” Jane replied coyly. The warm water did feel very nice, but his body, wet and slippery, and so close to hers, felt even better.

  “Aye, I said I’d let ye wash my back if I could wash yers. But, I dinna ken ye could understand me back then. But either way, I’ll let ye wash my back and, um, jest about any other parts ye think might need cleanin’,” he added softly, hoping that she’d take the hint, and that she hadn’t heard his squeak of anticipation.

  “I would have understood your hand talk with or without the words. You said some other words, too. Ching chong chow chow and spracken zee doitch? How many languages do you speak besides the hand talk and English?” Jane asked, as she slipped her hand down the side of his face to his collarbones.

  “Weel, I speak a bit of about six or eight—at least enough of those to get me into or out of trouble, dependin’ on the situation. I kind of made up the sign language, the hand talk, though. I was pretty desperate to speak with ye. I’m really glad ye speak English, although I woulda made the effort to learn whatever African dialect ye spoke.” Benji handed her a washcloth, loaded up with liquid soap, and turned away from her so she could begin scrubbing.

  “I don’t speak Afrikaans, just the words to the song my mother gave me. You remember that song, the one I sang the night I first held you?” She started washing his shoulders, marveling at the old whip scars on his back. He must have at least twenty, she thought, as many as she had fingers and toes.