Part 21 (1/2)
And if there was a little dust on the banister, that only added to the charm.
”I got to pick out my own bed,” Jessie was telling her. ”And once everything settles down I can pick out wallpaper if I want to. That's where Daddy sleeps.” She pointed to the right, and Ana had a glimpse of a big bed under a jade-colored quilt-sans pillows-a handsome old chest of drawers with a missing pull, and a few stray feathers.
”He has his own bathroom in there, too, with a big tub that has jets and a shower that's all gla.s.s and has water coming out of both sides. I get to use the one out here, and it has two sinks and this little thing that isn't a toilet but looks like one.”
”A bidet?”
”I guess so. Daddy says it's fancy and mostly for ladies. This is my room.”
It was a little girl's fantasy, one provided by a man who obviously understood that childhood was all too short and very precious. All pink and white, the canopy bed sat in the center, a focal point surrounded by shelves of dolls and books and bright toys, a snowy dresser with a curvy mirror, and a child-sized desk littered with colored paper and crayons.
On the walls were lovely framed ill.u.s.trations from fairy tales.
Cinderella rus.h.i.+ng down the steps of a silvery castle, a single gla.s.s slipper left behind. Rapunzel, her golden hair spilling out of a high tower window while she looked longingly down at her prince. The sly, endearing elf from one of Boone's books, and-a complete surprise to Ana-one of her aunt's prized ill.u.s.trations.
”This is from The Golden Ball.”
”The lady who wrote it sent it to Daddy for me when I was just little.
Next to Daddy's I like her stories best.”
”I had no idea,” Ana murmured. As far as she'd known, her aunt had never parted with one of her drawings except to family.
”Daddy did the elf,” Jessie pointed out. ”All the rest my mother did.”
”They're beautiful.” Not just skillful, Ana thought, and perhaps not as clever as Boone's elf or as elegant as her aunt's drawing, but lovely, and as true to the spirit of a fairy tale as magic itself.
She drew them just for me, when I was a baby. Nana said Daddy should put them away so they wouldn't make me sad. But they don't. I like to look at them.”
”You're very lucky to have something so beautiful to remember her by.”
Jessie rubbed her sleepy eyes and struggled to hold back a yawn. ”I have dolls, too, but I don't play with them much. My grandmothers like to give them to me, but I like the stuffed walrus my daddy got me better.
Do you like my room?”
”It's lovely, Jessie.”
”I can see the water, and your yard, from the windows.” She tucked back the billowing sheer curtains to show off her view. ”And that's Daisy's bed, but she likes to sleep with me.” Jessie pointed out the wicker dog bed, with its pink cus.h.i.+on.
”Maybe you'd like to lie down until Daisy comes back.”
”Maybe.” Jessie sent Ana a doubtful look. ”But I'm not really tired. Do you know any stories?”
”I could probably think of one.” She picked Jessie up to sit her on the bed. ”What kind would you like?”
”A magic one.”
”The very best kind.” She thought for a moment, then smiled. ”Ireland is an old country,” she began, slipping an arm around the girl. ”And it's filled with secret places, dark hills and green fields, water so blue it hurts the eyes to stare at it for long. There's been magic there for so many centuries, and it's still a safe place for faeries and elves and witches.”
”Good witches or bad ones?”
”Both, but there's always been more good than bad, not only in witches, but in everything.”
”Good witches are pretty,” Jessie said, stroking a hand down Ana's arm.