When Libby Met the Fairies and her Whole Life Went Fae (25 page)

“So how are you feeling? Any headaches? Nausea?”

Libby shook her head. “I get headaches, tension headaches, once in awhile. No more than I used to, though.”

“Change in sleep habits?”

“No.”

“And you say you’re not using any stimulants—” She flipped over one of the forms and scanned the back. “You’re not on any prescription drugs. No anti-depressants.”

Libby shook her head again.

The doctor rested her clipboard back on her lap. “Okay. You have a worried boyfriend. I can understand how this would upset him. But absent any physical symptoms, I really don’t see the point of ordering any tests. You say these . . . people you’re seeing—they don’t frighten you?”

“At first, yes. Yeah. But now—no. I’ve sort of, you know, adjusted to it.”

She nodded. “And you’ve put here—there’s no history of schizophrenia in your family.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“Well, Libby, here’s the thing. Generally speaking, if there’s a psychiatric problem, the patient will exhibit emotional problems—agitation, paranoia. That kind of thing.”

Libby nodded.

“If you’re feeling at all anxious about your experiences, I can recommend a therapist.”

“I don’t.”

The doctor stood up. “Then tell your boyfriend I said you’re fine.”

She shut the door behind her and Libby changed from the gown back into her clothes. She was relieved, she admitted it. Oh, she’d known she was fine, but it was still nice to have a doctor say so.

♦ ♦ ♦

She’d showered before the appointment. Now she changed into a new outfit that had come mail order earlier in the week. A skirt and matching floral print top for her date, that evening, with Paul. It seemed important to dress up in something a bit special, play up the girlfriendy stuff a bit.

Only Gina was waiting for her when she came back downstairs.

“Libby,” she announced. “This is an intervention.”

“What?”

Gina took Libby by one arm, and Alex took her by the other.

“Stop it, guys. I have to leave. I’m meeting Paul for dinner, and I’m already late.”

“Forget Paul,” Gina said. “This is about you.”

Somehow, Libby kind of doubted that.

They pulled her into the living room and who should she see but Jade, the woman who’d barged into her house months before to talk about The Work.

Maisey was there, too, sitting on the easy chair in the far corner. She didn’t meet Libby’s eye.

“This is Reverend Jade,” Gina said.

“We’ve met,” Jade said, standing up. She was wearing a purple and gold sarong, which made her look kind of monk-like in a psychedelic way.

“Good to see you again,” Libby lied. “But I’m sorry. You have to excuse me, I have someplace I need to be.”

“Not so fast, Libby,” Gina said. “You have time for this.”

Libby glared at her but of course her sister ignored her.

“You need to hear what Reverend Jade has to say. She’s a clairvoyant. She’s been in contact with your nature spirits.”

“Oh,” Libby said. “Now they’re ‘nature spirits.’”

“This is a highly charged quadrant,” Jade said. “It’s relatively straightforward for any sensitive to establish a bridge under these conditions.”

“Fine. Bridge away. I have to be somewhere.”

Gina’s grip on Libby’s arm tightened and she caught her shooting a look at Alex. A “don’t let go now” look. “You can leave,” she said to Libby, “when you’ve accepted this aspect of yourself that you’ve been fighting. This is about your inner growth, Libby.”

Libby sighed. Perhaps the fastest way to get this over was to play along. “Okay, fine. What is it you want me to do?”

Gina smiled. “Have a seat.”

So she sat.

“Jade, why don’t you tell Libby what happened yesterday?”

Libby looked at Jade. The woman had repositioned herself on the sofa and gave Libby a smile followed quickly by a terribly serious expression, as if to say, “I’m friendly, but this is an occasion for extreme solemnity.” Rather like a school principal when confronted with a lively rule-breaker.
Yeah, yeah, you’re charming, but you’re about to be punished just the same.

“The energies that you perceive are becoming . . . restless,” Jade began.

Ah, that explains everything.

“They need you to understand that you were chosen for a reason, and when you resist them, the positive vibrations become inverted, with potentially harmful consequences.”

Libby saw Maisey moving restlessly out of the corner of her eye.

“Interesting,” Libby said. “They haven’t, you know, mentioned any of this to me.”

“Of course not!” Gina said. “Libby, you’re resisting it. That’s what resistance is.”

Jade held up her hand. “Wait a minute, Gina.” She looked at Libby again. “You may have noticed it yourself. Are you getting headaches? Vertigo? Pressure right here?” She touched the spot between her eyebrows.

Libby shook her head. “Sorry, no.”

“You do too have headaches,” Gina said.

“Well, no more than before. And did it ever occur to you, maybe you’re the one giving them to me?”

“Hold on a second, Gina,” Jade said, and then, to me, “Well, that’s a blessing. I’m relieved.” She shut her eyes now and they waited until she began speaking again, this time with her eyes closed. “You were chosen because of certain alignments. You were first called to this property in . . . 1991. But you chose at the time to pursue other . . . avenues. You weren’t quite ripe yet, in a manner of speaking. Then came a point about a year ago when the energies here attempted to contact you again, this time through the dream state, and at that point . . .”

Gina had loosened her. Libby, naturally, considered whether she could make it to the door. And how undignified it would be if the three of them, four if Maisey joined, responded by tackling her in the kitchen.

“. . . pick the proper quadrant and continue the communication from there—”

“Look,” Libby broke in. “I don’t mean to be rude, but what is it that you want, exactly?”

Jade opened her eyes. “Your destiny is not in your hands,” she said earnestly. “Do you understand that?”

Oh yeah. I’ve understood that for a loooooong time.

“You’ve been chosen. You need to accept that.”

“Let me ask you a question, Reverend.”

Jade smiled.

“You say you’re able to speak to these spirits. You call them, as well?”

“Yes.”

“Well, here’s an idea, then.” Libby stood up. Gina took a step toward her but Jade raised her hand again to stop her.

“Go ahead,” Jade said reassuringly.

“How about you take over. You know, you do all this—the communicating with the spirits, and managing all the campers, and the whole thing.”

“That would work,” Gina said, and Alex nodded vigorously, and Libby realized she’d stumbled onto an idea that they’d already discussed.

Alrighty, then.

She took another deep breath to quiet her churning stomach. “Good. We’re in agreement. So I can leave, now?”

“Yes. We can discuss the details later,” Gina said.

“Yup.” Libby started toward the door.

“We’ll start by redoing the website. And Jade—she’ll need a place to sleep. Libby, don’t leave yet—just a couple of things. Jade will need a place to stay, and obviously it will have to be here. There’s enough room in your office, I’m thinking, for a single bed, we’ll just need to move the couch out somewhere—”

The sweat from Libby’s hand made the metal of the door handle slippery. “She can sleep anywhere she likes, Gina,” she said over her shoulder. “All she needs to do is come up with the money to buy the place.”

“What? Hey, wait a minute, Libby—nobody said—”

“Nobody needs to say anything,” Libby called through the door just before she broke into a sprint to her car. “I’m putting the place up for sale. You want to run a cult, Gina, you’ve got it. Yours for the taking.”

She stood by her car for a second. Gina was standing on the stoop now, with Jade behind her. And Alex and Maisey, their faces showing dimly through the screen of the door.

“See?” she called out. “Now everyone can be happy.”

She slid into her car and turned the key in the ignition, and then when she’d turned the car around so they couldn’t see her, that’s when she stopped grinning.

Because of course, everyone wouldn’t be happy.

Not if everyone included Libby Samson.

Paul, on the other hand . . . Paul would be. Very happy.

She just needed to focus on that. First, her good news from the doctor. Then the even better news about selling the place. And that their relationship could now, finally, get back to normal again.

Yeah. She was about to serve him a regular good news sundae. Cherry and whipped cream on top.

Or so she thought.

Until, about halfway to the stop sign at the end of her road, she passed a van going the other way.

It wasn’t just any van.

It had a satellite transmitter dish affixed to the roof.

Libby took her foot off the gas pedal and watched the van in her rearview mirror.

There was no reason whatsoever for a television news crew from Rochester to be driving along her road at 3:00 p.m. on a Saturday afternoon.

None at all . . .

35

You know what she really wanted to do?

She wanted to just pretend she’d never seen that van. Drive right on in the direction she was already going. Show everyone, show herself, that she was right now filing this whole sorry chapter of her life under Old Business.

But she couldn’t. She had to turn around and follow it. Just to be sure.

Reassuring herself the whole time. That news crew—they were probably lost. They were probably on their way to an annual corn festival in Bristol or something and had gotten lost. Maybe their GPS had been knocked out by an unexpected solar flare.

So she’d just turn around, and follow it, and by the time she got to her house they’d already be a half mile past it, out of sight where the road curls around Dean’s property and starts its descent back down into the valley.

But of course she was kidding herself.

Because when she got to her house, the news van was parked in her driveway and a bunch of campers were crowding around it, and Gina was on her way down Libby’s front steps like a flower girl preceding the towering Jade in her flowing purple and gold.

Libby got out of her car.

Gina and Jade reached the van driver, an athletic-looking man with thick, tousled hair, almost as soon as his feet hit the driveway. He had to be the reporter, Libby guessed, because the guy on the passenger side had just opened the vehicle’s back door and was lifting out a video camera and tripod.

Gina had seen her sister—she had to have—but was carefully avoiding eye contact.

Again it struck Libby that she could just get in her car and drive off. After all, she’d just told Gina and Jade this whole silly operation was theirs . . .

“May I help you?” she said in a firm tone of voice, interrupting the reporter’s conversation with Gina.

He turned toward her.

“Libby Samson?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks so much for agreeing to talk to us.”

“I’m sorry? And you would be—”

“Howie Southman, Channel Eight News—you’re expecting us, right?”

He’d caught the look on her face.

“Remember, Libby?” Gina said. “The television crew—I told you they were coming to—”

“No, Gina, you did not.”

Howie looked back and forth at the two sisters.

“Well, no matter, Howie, you can interview Reverend Jade here,” Gina said, sidling between Libby and the reporter, her back toward Libby. “Reverend Jade is in full communication with the little people, and as a matter of fact, she and I are purchasing the farm and—”

“I thought it was Ms. Samson who sees them,” Howie broke in, looking at Libby. “Ms. Samson . . .”

“We have more than one who has,” Gina said.

The camera man walked by, accompanied by a knot of campers, and started taking some footage of tents.

“We really need to interview Ms. Samson.” It was Howie who was maneuvering himself now, stepping toward Libby. “You okay with that, ma’am?”

An image flashed into Libby’s mind of what it looks like when a camera crew tries to pursue a reluctant interviewee on one of those muckraker shows, a 60 Minutes-type show, some crank trying to evade the journalist and how lame it looks, the shots through the car window, the reporter banging on the windshield, “Ma’am, ma’am, why won’t you answer a few questions?”

“Well, Howie, this wasn’t—I didn’t have any advance warning of this—”

Gina’s face, over his shoulder, was dark red. Libby saw Jade put a hand on Gina’s shoulder and lean forward to whisper something in her ear. “Serenity now,” probably.