Written for the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge in early January 2020, it had to be no more than 1000 words, in the genre of Fantasy, the subject of Farming, and include a mentor.
In the Field with Milk and Bread by Amy LaBossiere
On most days, Olivia worked the land, while despondent waves of sorrow ebbed and flowed, drowning her in deep remorse. In winter, Liv wandered outside while waiting for spring — the thaw so that she could dig in the dirt again. It was a way to handle those untidy emotions and cast them briefly aside. In the fields, Liv took responsibility for something, anything, as long as it wasn't the heartache. She didn't wear socks outside, not even in 10-degree weather, so she'd feel the earth hold her up when she felt like falling. In summer, the flowers returned, but not like what they used to be. For two long, arduous years, the seasons blended together like they were one long spell of misery. A shift hovered on the horizon, although Liv didn't know it. She thought about the day Bean arrived, wondering if any of this was truly real.
Liv stood near the lilac trees, crocs kicked off on the front lawn, absorbing the energy of the earth. Liv recalled the trees' ambrosial scent from spring, trying to bring the past into the present. She spied the engraved stone Marcus installed when they first created their Shangri-La. It had a loving quote by William Butler Yeats: "Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!"
Liv knelt and ran her hands over the carved words, as she whispered, "I miss you."
Liv looked for her trowel, set down somewhere earlier that morning. The days were warm now, and the flowers bloomed once again. To Liv, though, it always felt like winter. Ever since that night, when everything changed.
Her phone rang and disrupted her wallowing thoughts. Liv reached into her apron pocket. The cotton felt soft and warm as she gripped the phone and saw that it was Jules. He called at noon on the days they didn't see each other at meetings.
"Hey Jules," Liv was almost whispering. Her voice was restrained as if she awakened from a depressed slumber. Jules was eager for a daily update. He checked in and counseled Liv in getting through the day.
"What's up Liv, how are you today? Did you get another visit?"
"Sure did," Liv said, "But I don't understand what she wants from me. I asked her again. But she didn't answer at first. She flitted around the roses for a few seconds. Then I heard, 'give me time.' What the hell does that mean?'"
Jules hesitated then said, "I know what she wants. I'll swing by later."
Liv put the phone back in her pocket, her hands raw from pruning. She looked out at the old crops, reminiscent of two years ago, when they overflowed with magical colors from chrysanthemums, aster, delphinium, roses, snapdragons, and daffodils. After nearly a decade of farming, Liv and Marcus produced sought-after flowers for weddings and other events. They were the pre-eminent source in northwestern Connecticut.
Marcus was the lifeblood of Fanta Flower Farms. What started as a weekend-warrior side hustle while they both worked finance jobs blossomed into a thriving business. It helped that the family property was in the idyllic part of Litchfield County. Marcus and Liv cherished organic farming. She got lost in the fields from dawn to dusk every weekend. Marcus ushered their passion for growing flowers into a professional business. Somehow he just knew what to do. The company launched seven years ago and took off. Marcus eventually hired volunteers and staff. Fanta Flower Farms became one of the biggest private-sector employers in the area back then. Field hands started in the wee hours and worked in two shifts. Liv never stopped digging.
Liv knew that eventually, their good fortune would shatter and change in an instant. Just when life is full of abundance, the tide turns, and it all fades.
Never did Liv imagine that they'd become full-time flower farmers, hanging out with seasonal celebrity residents and going to high-profile parties on the weekends. Locals called the area 'the Beverly Hills of the East.' On Saturday nights throughout the summer, Liv set aside her weathered overalls for Eileen Fisher and Mara Hoffman. That may have been when her excessive drinking kicked in. She sipped her Chardonnay around lunchtime and kept drinking well into the night. Some days she tempered her cravings with only a glass or two, so she told herself it wasn't a problem.
In August that year, the party season was swinging, and business boomed. They received an invitation to Jackson's summer soiree, a swanky affair attended by the likes of Meryl Streep, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Conan O'Brien. After a few hours of mingling and sipping, Liv searched the crowd and wandered over to Marcus, who was chatting with Wally Lamb.
"Hey, Wally. Sorry to interrupt. Marcus, time to go. Big order tomorrow for the Calder wedding."
Marcus nodded and shook Wally's hand, looking at Liv's bloodshot eyes. "You okay to drive, hon?"
"Just a buzz. It's only five miles and all back roads." Liv tried to disguise her noticeable slur.
Once in the SUV, Marcus relaxed into the leather seat and shut his eyes while Liv drove their usual, uneventful route. They turned the corner around Town Hill Road, and something flashed. What was that, headlights? Liv blacked out, and the SUV lost control. It slammed head-on into an old oak, shattering the windshield. Liv's head smacked the steering wheel while the seatbelt hammered her breastbone. By the time she came to, Liv was out of the SUV in handcuffs, sirens wailing in the chilly night air. Marcus died upon impact. He didn't care much for seat belts, especially on short drives.
Liv often wondered if she would ever survive the guilt and remorse. It lived just under the surface, worn like a wetsuit under her skin, suffocating her during all waking hours. While she weeded and pruned, picked up sticks, and burned them in the fire pit, the memory of Marcus hung in the air. If only she didn't drive that night. If Marcus wore his seat belt. If those high beams didn't distract her. If that old oak wasn't in the way.
The last flower cutting was for Marcus's funeral in August.
The fields deteriorated that fall into winter. Liv insisted the property was off-limits to everyone but Jules. He was Marcus's best friend, and to Liv, it was as if part of Marcus was still around. Jules was older and retired, pushing 70. He had a sense of absolute peace and wisdom that enabled Liv to feel some relief amid her excruciating pain.
Months passed, and Jules didn't push Liv to emerge from her grief. He sat with her quietly. He never said things like, "This too shall pass," or "Everything happens for a reason." He always respected her boundaries. Jules brought food and helped Liv get sober, introducing her to AA, where she could rest her mind with a cup of strong black coffee. Liv didn't leave the house except to go to two meetings a week. She saw Jules there every time, and their friendship grew. In the spring, Liv ventured into the old gardens to tend the roses, Marcus's favorite.
"Maybe if I work these flowers, I'll feel him here," Liv muttered to herself.
Liv pulled at her rake, smelling the earthy sweetness of grass, roses, and mulch. At the corner where the roses ended, and the unkempt delphinium began, she noticed a warm radiance in her peripheral vision. It appeared as an orb, then the iridescent light formed into a birdlike being. As if from nothingness moonlight projected in daylight. It was a ghostly goldfinch figure, hovering a foot off the ground and moving like a hummingbird. Liv barely saw its small wings as they shimmered and whirred. Liv's heart pounded with awe.
"What in the world..." Liv said, her eyes widening.
"I'm Bean," the figure interrupted. "But I'm not who I say I am. The roses summoned me here. I'm going to protect and guide you through this difficult time. Listen closely and believe in me."
The apparition dissipated into a fine mist and vanished. Liv rubbed her eyes, dumbfounded, and wondered if that was a hallucination.
She grabbed her phone as she walked up the landing toward the house and called Jules. "Hey, you're not going to believe this. I saw something...uh, strange. I'm stunned. Maybe I'm losing it."
"Hang on, I'll be right over," Jules reassured Liv as he hung up. It wasn't the first time that he dropped everything to come over. Liv poured two cups of coffee and brought the steaming mugs outside. Jules arrived, and they sat on the wooden pergola bench in front of the old Maple tree while Liv described Bean and their conversation.
"She appeared out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly. She told me to listen and believe. I swear it was real, Jules, what the heck was that?" Liv scanned Jules's face for shock and disbelief, but there was none.
"I wondered when this would happen," Jules said. "You aren't crazy, Liv. This may be difficult to understand. Bean is a fairy."
Liv chuckled, shook her head, and wrinkled her nose. "What? Um, yeah, no. That's impossible." She sipped her coffee and watched Jules, hyper-aware of his lack of surprise at this baffling supernatural occurrence.
"You've had fairies here all along. I saw them the first time I visited Fanta Flower Farm. Marcus attracted them here. He planted flowerbeds in circles and left libations for them. Marcus was very connected to the world of fairies. He didn't tell me specifically about Bean, but I know of others that counseled him on matters of flowers and life. It's one of the reasons why the farm was so successful."
"Is that why he was always leaving milk and bread out in the field? I thought it was for the deer and didn't know why the hell he'd want them coming near the flowers. Why didn't he tell me?" How puzzling that her husband could keep something so amazing from her.
"He knew you would think he was insane, and you were drinking too much. Plus, the fairies decide when they are to be known and by whom, and they told him that it wasn't your time. You needed a clear and right state of mind to interact with them," Jules said.
"I'm awestruck. If I hadn't seen the fairy myself in my sobriety, I would not have believed any of this." Liv said. They sat in silence, sipping their coffee for a good long while.
Liv said, "What does this Bean fairy want from me? Do you know? Why now?"
"Well," Jules paused with introspection that seemed to go beyond rational thinking. "You might have the opportunity to ask her, but for now, just listen. Offer libations. I think she's here to tell you that it's time for you to heal. The most important thing for you to do is believe that she is real, or Bean will disappear."
Each week after that, Bean appeared from time to time in the garden, when Liv placed freshly baked bread and sweet local milk on the stump at the edge of the rose rows, in the same place Marcus did. Bean instructed Liv to plant individual flowers, bring a particular book to one of her neighbors, and go on a Vermont vacation. Bean wouldn't answer Liv's questions. Liv asked, "Why are you here? Who are you?" Bean always responded with a directive. "Do not cut the milkweed. Leave it for the butterflies."
Bean didn't use vocal communication. It sounded like words. Liv learned the guidance came through her heart and mind, not her ears. The only sound was a delicate fluttering hum.
Liv was knee-deep in dirt and thought about Bean's latest visit and directive: More time. Liv looked up from the garden to see Jules coming up the driveway. He parked behind the maple and hopped out, wearing crisp jeans, a short-sleeved collar shirt, and muck boots. He popped his trunk to retrieve a box and walked over to Liv, removing his aviator sunglasses as he spoke.
"Hey, Liv. Sorry it took so long for me to get here today. So, Bean asked for more time, huh?"
"Yes. You said you understood that. More time for what? What did she mean?"
"Here," Jules held out the box containing a flat of herbs. "Bean meant thyme. Fairies love that shit."
Liv smiled then burst out laughing. She laughed so hard that Jules laughed too until their stomachs ached. Tears welled up in Liv's eyes.
"My God, Jules. I've been so damn serious since Marcus passed. The grief was literally unbearable. I don't know how I stayed sober through all of this. I think it was Bean's visits and your encouragement. Now I understand what Bean wants. She wants me to be happy. To be present and live my life. Thank you for showing me that."
Jules smiled. "You got it, Liv." He hugged her. "I think Marcus sent Bean. I've thought that since the first time she visited, but I needed you to discover that yourself. I couldn't take away your pain. I could only help you process it."
Liv took a deep breath and smiled in the bright, warm sunshine. She took the flat from Jules, and together they planted the thyme.
©2020 Amy LaBossiere. all rights reserved.