Christmas Fairy Magic (7 page)

fifteen

O
nce the Fairy Bell sisters realized that baby Squeak might be able to fly, they were filled with wonder and relief—and even more panic. Where could she have gone? And why?

“Let's calm down and use our heads,” said Clara.

“We can look for flying tracks,” said Sylva. “She can't be completely sure of herself yet. She must have left tracks in the trees.”

Sure enough, Sylva was right. The sisters looked up at the trees above Squeak's last footprints. “Look!” Goldie said. “Heading toward the east shore! The branches are broken.”

“Goldie's right,” said Clara. “She must have started this way. And, oh look, some more footprints!”

Bit by bit, the Fairy Bell sisters followed Squeakie's clumsy trail through the Fairy Village, around Sunrise Hill, in the direction of the Fairy Library.

“I can't believe how far she flew,” said Rosy. “Where could she be going?”

“I think she must be looking for Tink,” said Clara.

“I don't think that's it,” said Rosy. “She was trying to tell me something, but I didn't listen. Oh, Squeakie—I am so sorry!”

“We all could have listened better,” said Goldie. She hated to see Rosy upset. “But we can't dwell on that. We need to find her. Oh, look!” Her eyes lit up. “She landed here. You can tell by the snow!”

Indeed, there was a big dent in the snow, just beyond the Fairy Library near the east shore. “Squeakie! Are you here? Where did you go?”

Then they heard something. “What was that?” said Clara. “A loon?”

“There won't be any loons out on such a cold night,” said Sylva. She drew her jacket around her.

The strange cry came again. “A cat?” asked Goldie.

“Ginger is safe at home,” said Sylva. “And Poppy wouldn't let Lucky out on a night like this.”

The sisters listened again. “That's not Squeak's voice, I know that much,” said Rosy. “It's that cry I heard before—when we were opening our presents. It sounds more like—”

“Look—over there on Heart Island! Can you see something?”

Clara, Rosy, Goldie, and Sylva strained their eyes as they looked over onto the little island off Sheepskerry's east shore. “I think I see her!” cried Rosy. “I think she's there on Heart Island.”

“What is she doing there?” said Goldie. “Did she run away from home?”

“Squeak would never run away from home,” said Clara. “Something must be up. Come on, sisters, we have no time to lose.” Clara could feel her wings starting to freeze. And if her wings were freezing, Squeak's must be freezing too.

sixteen

R
osy knew they were lucky—the wind was out of the west and blew them over to Heart Island with no wear and tear on their wings, which were stiff from the cold.
How we'll get back is anyone's guess,
Rosy thought. “Oh, why didn't we stop to ask for Queen Mab's help?”

“We didn't have time,” Clara replied. “We did the right thing.” Clara didn't even want to think about what might have happened if they hadn't acted as quickly as they had.

“She's right in the middle of the island,” said Sylva. “I guess it must be a loon—”

“It's a cat, I think,” said Goldie.

“—whatever it is, the sound is coming from the middle of the island. Not much farther now.”

In the very middle of Heart Island, there's a rock that looks like a heart itself. At the top of the rock, there's a little cleft, which makes a shelter. That's where the noise was coming from. And that's where the Fairy Bell sisters found Squeakie Bell.

“Oh, Squeak! You're all right!” cried Clara. “You're all right!”

All the Fairy Bell sisters rushed over to give her a hug. And I don't mind telling you: Many tears were shed.

“Why did you leave us?”

“How did you fly so far?”

Then the little cry came again. “What's making that noise, Squeak?” They looked carefully. Squeak was sitting in the shelter of the rock, and nestled in her lap was something even smaller than she was.

“What have you got there, Squeak?” asked Clara.

Rosy was the first to realize. “Oh my!” she said. “The question is not
what
have you got there. It's
who
have you got there.”

And Squeak said, “Baby.”

seventeen

“S
queak! You said a word!” said Goldie. “You said ‘baby'!”

“A real word,” said Clara. “Oh, Squeakie, we are so proud of you!”

“Not to mention you rescued a new baby fairy!” said Sylva.

It didn't take long for the Fairy Bell sisters to figure out what had happened. (Nor you, I'm sure!) Squeak had been out of sorts because her wings ached from learning to fly. Her sisters hadn't thought it possible that she'd be flying so early—most fairies don't learn till they're five fairy years old, and Squeakie was barely two. Little fairies have a knack for understanding or hearing one another, so it was no wonder that Squeak heard this little fairy's cries despite the wind and the distance.

Most fairy babies are not born in the winter, because it's so cold that human children often are busier keeping themselves warm than laughing. (Fairies are born when a human child laughs for the first time, as some of you already know.) And most fairy babies land in a safe place with their sisters gathered around them . . . but this one did not.

“Thank goodness she wasn't harmed!” said Clara.

“You saved her life, Squeak,” said Rosy.

Now the question was, what to do next?

“Baby,” said Squeak again.

“We see, Squeak!” said Sylva. “We see it's a new baby.” She turned to her sisters. “Shouldn't we get her home?”

The five Fairy Bell sisters looked into the night. The temperature had continued to drop. And the wind was against them. “We flew out here, but we may not be able to fly back!” said Goldie. “With this cold, our wings might snap right off.”

“We can walk back to the island if it's low tide,” said Sylva. But one glance at the rocks showed them that the tide had flooded in while the fairies were looking for Squeak. “We can't walk. And we can't fly. And if this baby does not get in out of the snow before long, she might—”

“Don't even say it!” said Rosy. “We have got to get her back to our fairy house. And Squeakie, too. She's freezing!”

The Fairy Bell sisters looked over at Squeakie and the tiny fairy baby. The temperature was way below freezing. The wind was bitter. But since there was no proper shelter on Heart Island, the only way to safety was to fly home. Fast.

“Squeak's teeth are chattering. Oh, Squeakie, what possessed you to come out in this tiny little fairy dress? And no coat or hat?”

“Baby,” said Squeak.

“I know!” said Rosy. “You wanted to take care of the baby. And that was just the right thing to do. But now how will we take care of you?”

Clara pulled off the shawl Rosy had just given her for Christmas. “Let's wrap you up, Squeak, and the baby too.” Clara tried to wrap the two little fairies in her new shawl, but the baby was too squirmy to keep it on, so it kept falling off Squeakie, too.

“Tear it in half, Clara,” said Rosy. “It's the only way to keep them both warm!”

“But you worked so hard on it!” said Clara.

“It doesn't matter now,” said Rosy. “Those little ones need it more than any of us. I'll make you another, Clara, but not in time for Christmas!”

Without wasting another moment, Clara tore Rosy's carefully crocheted stitches on a rock. Then she ripped the beautiful shawl in two. “I'm sorry, Rosy!” she said. But Rosy was busy wrapping up the baby in one half of the shawl as Clara wrapped Squeak in the other.

“Their teeth aren't chattering anymore,” said Sylva. “Hold them close! I think they're going to be okay!”

“But how will we get off Heart Island and back to Sheepskerry?” said Clara. She tentatively stretched out a wing. The wind had died down, and the temperature seemed to be holding steady. “I think we have a few minutes to get across without snapping our wings off,” she called. “But I don't know how we'll be able to fly into the wind and hold these little ones at the same time!”

Sylva thought of it first. “If we can make some kind of baby carriers, you could keep the baby safe, Rosy. And Clara can hold Squeakie the same way. But we have to do it fast.” She squinted at the horizon. “It looks like there might be a snowstorm on the way.”

“Here!” said Goldie. “Use my skirt!”

“We can't do that to you, Goldie!” cried Clara.

“These babies need it. We all need it. So let's use it, please!”

“I know!” said Sylva. And she whipped the green-and-silver shoelaces out of her new shoes. “We can use these to tie up the baby carriers. It's got to work somehow.”

“But your feet will freeze without your sneakers!”

“I'll hang on to these sneakers, don't worry about that.”

In a moment, Goldie had torn her skirt into strips and swaddled the baby on Rosy's chest. “Oh, this won't stay!” cried Goldie. “The laces are too slippery to hold a knot like this!”

Without a word, Rosy took off one of her treasured earrings, unbent the wire, and twisted them onto her baby carrier. “There,” said Rosy. “Not as good as a safety pin, but it will hold.” She did the same for Clara and Squeakie.

“Do you really think we can get across?” asked Sylva. It wasn't like her to be afraid, but the storm was fearsome, the sky dark, the winds fierce, the water beating against the rocks. “If we get weak or tired we may—”

“If we're weak or tired, we will pull each other through!” said Goldie.

“We can do this, sisters,” said Clara.

“We
must
do this to save ourselves,” said Rosy. “And to save the . . .”

She waited for Squeak to say “baby.” But Squeak was too weak to say a word.