A Holiday Bedtime Story

Antonio lived in a narrow commercial building in downtown Olympia, the capital of Washington State. Upstairs stood a tiny apartment that held a sagging leather chair that, after forty years, fit his body comfortably. A threadbare blue Afghan spread over the back. Next to it sat a space heater. Both were positioned by the one window which overlooked 4th Avenue and the small city traffic that shopped there. In the middle of the apartment was a tiny kitchen with a sink, a hob for cooking, and a small refrigerator. Opposite it, the tiny bathroom with a shower. Finally, tucked in the back sat a single sagging bed covered in gray sheets and a wool marine blanket.

Every day, Antonio felt grateful that his father, long gone, had purchased the narrow building because on the ground floor nestled his shop. He loved his work, though it was becoming harder.Antonio was now in his early eighties. His hand curved with arthritis. His once six-foot frame bent from age. His hair white and sparse on top stuck every which way since he kept running his hands through it when he was working. Yet he loved his work. For forty years, he made what had once been the most sought-after toys, especially as presents for the winter holidays. Trucks fashioned by his hand out of walnut, cherry, pine, and oak once gleamed with linseed oil on pristine shelves. A bevy of jack-in-the-boxes out of which popped small animals covered in rabbit fur or, when he could afford to purchase some, mink so soft a child would just cling to the fox or bunny or puppy. Each had a different and individually carved small face. He carved big toys and small toys that now sat on dusty shelves, unwanted and unpurchased. Antonio didn’t know if he could even keep his shop open anymore. He barely made enough to pay his taxes much less keep his place heated and food on the table, not that he had an actual table. And he was lonely.

With a heavy sigh, Antonio put the tools of his trade on his workbench. Maybe a walk would perk him up. If he had no one to love and be loved back, at least he could go out among the small crowd to enjoy some anonymous company. Donning his father’s old wool coat, Antonio stepped outside, locked the shop door and turned down 4th Ave. Early evening in December, the forty-eight-degree temperature felt cold. Rain rivered down due to an atmospheric river dumping water everywhere. Still, holiday lights were all over the city, sparkling up the streets with blues, reds, whites, and greens. The shop opposite him had strung a series of octopi in lights on the trees in front of their window. The smell of salt water drifted on the air as downtown was fronted on Puget Sound. Antonio bumbled along. He should have felt happy, but a grayness overtook him.He just felt sad, tired, out of touch with the times.

Cold, wet, chilled to the bone, he shuffled home deep in thought when an idea struck him. He needed to carve something brand new. He liked that idea. With renewed energy and a little hope, he picked up the pace to his shop. Once inside, he took the time to make some Earl Gray tea and toast, buttered just the way he liked it. He drizzled honey on top of the butter, then strolled through his wood stock. He needed the perfect piece. Around the back of the stacks, he discovered a chunk of an old cherry tree that had fallen last December. He’d found it on his walk in Watershed Park, a pocket of rainforest right in the city. Almost in a frenzy, he arranged his tools and began to carve. For the next five hours, Antonio concentrated putting all his skill and all his love into the piece. By one in the morning, he stopped. In front of him was his best work, a tiny house complete with windows that worked, a door that opened and closed, curlicues on the top. The roof was slate he had saved for years for a special project. He’d carved tiny dragons and fairies on the sides. When complete, it stood a foot and a half tall. He smelled the fresh wood chips and the linseed oil, which brought out the fine cherry finish. Satisfied, he set it on the bench to dry and, with a smile, hobbled up to his bed. As he slept hard from a good day’s work, he heard nothing of the skittering downstairs in his shop but by morning all was quiet.

At dawn, he shuffled downstairs to check out his new project. With a gasp, he found nothing in the spot where he had left it to dry. Frantic, he spun around to view the entire shop and spotted it on the counter in the front, a ray of sunshine lighting the front of the house. Startled, he noticed the shop window had been cleaned, so it was spotless and clear like the glass wasn’t even there. More, someone had painted stars in soft watercolors around the perimeter. Stunned, he plopped down on the stool behind the store counter. Gazing at the house, he noticed light inside. Leaning over to peer inside, he nodded. Sure enough, a light shone inside the tiny place. Maybe he was still in bed dreaming. To make sure, he slapped his hand on the counter. It stung. Yes, he was awake. But even more startling, he had heard a gasp. From inside the house. Sitting back, Antonio grimaced, his breathing fast. Scanning the shop, everything was the same except for the house on the counter with the ray of sunshine even though it rained outside and the sparkling clean window with the stars. He thought to open the little house door or lift off the roof to peer inside, but he kept thinking, oddly, that would be rude. Instead, he tentatively knocked on the door. ‘Oh,’ he heard from inside. He knocked again.

The door opened from the inside. A tiny creature poked her head out. She was beautiful, clothed in pink gossamer with a perfect circle of a face, porcelain skin, and deep blue eyes. She gazed at him as dumbfounded as he felt. Then she spoke, a lilting voice he could listen to all day. “You’re the carver, yes?”

He nodded, unsure of the circumstances. This couldn’t be real.

She continued, “The house is perfect.” When she stepped further outside the door, he noticed the wings, a gray translucent like spider silk with deep veins that complemented the soft pink of her dress. She fluttered them a little. “Do you think you could make a table and chairs for inside? I could really use them. I’ll need four chairs since my sisters will be here soon. We’ve been looking for a place to live and this is magical.”

Still stunned, he just nodded his head.

“You’re very kind.” And she went back inside, closing the door behind her.

Walking to his stacks of wood in a bit of a fog, he picked out an old walnut burl for the table and a plank of walnut to fashion chairs. He worked at it all day. By afternoon, he had them completed along with a bench for sitting in the living room. When he returned to the counter, he noticed it was spotless and had a small potted fern in the front. “Hello.” He didn’t hear anything, so got on his coat to walk outside.

He hustled down 4th Avenue to Washington St, where he turned right, finding the wool shop where one could purchase a wool-stuffed mattress and blankets and pillows. He bought a remnant of sheep’s wool, cured of course, incredibly soft, pure white, and hustled back with his purchase. When he arrived at his shop, a man and woman looked in the window. He nodded hello, unlocked the door. They followed him in. They checked out his wares, oohing at the tiny house and, miraculously, placed a set of alphabet blocks carved out of fir on the counter. “How much for these? They’re quite lovely.”

He was about to say twenty dollars when a small voice piped up, “Thirty dollars.”

Paying in cash, the couple left, still eyeing the tiny house. He felt they’d be back and that was good.

He turned to the house. “Thank you for the price increase,” a smile in his voice.

Since she didn’t respond, he turned to his workbench to cut the sheep’s wool to fit the small chairs and the bench. When he returned, the door was open, so he bent to peek inside. “Here are the tables and chairs, plus I made a bench for you for the living room.” Still, she didn’t respond. He peeked in all the windows. Unfortunately, she had left. No one was there. Saddened, he shuffled upstairs for his dinner and bed. He felt bone tired and fell into sleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Meanwhile, as the evening light swirled mauves and blues over the bay, Gwendolyn flew out of the shop to return to the small rain forest that was Watershed Park. Fey homes nestled in the crooks of soaring cedar trees and an occasional out-of-place rowan. Gwen landed on a bough of her oak tree. Opening the tiny wooden door, she tiptoed into the home. She had fashioned the space inside the tree with a little bit of magic. The oak swayed as her three sisters gathered around. “Well, any possibilities?” said Gresilda.

Gwen sat on a burl of wood gathering the blanket of hummingbird feathers around her as the chill of the evening seeped into the space. “We moved to the city because we each felt out of place in the country.

Her sister, Griselda, piped up. “It was too quiet and isolated. We want fun.”

Gwen frowned at her, “and remember, sister of mine, that you almost had us discovered by the Bigleys who farmed the land and wanted no nonsense. Not good.”

Ezmie hung her head, whispering, “Not all Bigleys are bad.”

Griselda popped in. “We are city fey now and how exciting.” She flew up toward the ceiling, her blue dress sprinkling dust, her chestnut hair tangling in her garnet necklace, but with a face- splitting grin.

That’s when Grumpy, not her real name, but a beloved moniker nonetheless, frowned. “Stop it, Griselda. They’ll hear you.”

“Oh.” Drifting to the floor, she curled on the wooden bench.

Quiet reigned as they each listened to the night sounds of the woods. The near-silent fluttering of owls on the wing, the scream of a mouse, the yip of coyotes, the musty smell of raccoons filled the evening breeze. Too often, these predators found the fey younglings ripping into their tender flesh for a quick, satisfying meal, devouring their bodies and their magic. This would not do. Now the fey numbers were diminishing. Although this forest was incandescently alluring, it was also dangerous with predators.

Gwendolyn held the gaze of each of her sisters in turn. “I think I’ve found a new home that, on first blush, feels safer.” She leaned forward. “I’ve been following a shopkeeper who lives in the heart of downtown, an old Bigley. His shop is warm and mostly unnoticed and very neglected. He makes toys from wood and sells them, although not very successfully. His place seems rundown.”

Grumpy interrupted. “But we can fix that.”

Gwen nodded with a smile on her lips given that Grumpy rarely said anything positive. Grumpy blushed, head down, returning a shy smile at her. Gwen continued. “When I went into his shop, he had just finished a new piece and get this, it was a house, beautiful, all cherry with doors and windows and solid, private inside, and just the right size for us. We could have an actual home.”

Grumpy interrupted. “We can’t survive without the forest, Gwennie.”

Shuffling in her seat, Gwen threw off the blanket. “We can bring the forest to us. And the man needs the help of our magic and he’s kind.”

The women fidgeted.

“And I bet he would make more houses for us.”

Griselda perked up. “OOO. We could each have our own house. How delightful!”

Ezmie slipped her hand into Grumpy’s. “I don’t want to live alone.”

“You don’t have to. We could help him and he could help us build a community of fey right under the noses of the Bigleys in the city. It could be perfect. We could bring in plants and small trees from the forest and create our own slice of the world.”

Grumpy raised eyebrows at Gwendolyn. “Though you paint a pretty picture, do you think it would work? This is a radical idea.”

“I’ve seen it with my magic.”

The four fey sat cross-legged, each lost in their own thoughts while a coyote’s howl moved closer to their location. It couldn’t climb the tree, but it could direct someone who flew or slithered to their nest.

Without a word, each sister hustled out of the door to fly to their kin and explain this idea.

The next morning, Antonio woke later than usual. He hefted himself up, took a shower, dressed, made tea but didn’t feel like eating. The morning quiet he had once loved now felt heavy. Hobbling down the stairs, he turned into his shop, startled. The dust had disappeared overnight. Shelves gleamed. Toys shined on the shelves. A display of one of his hand carved train sets with a tiny village to match, nestled in the pristine window with the watercolor stars all around it. He heard the tinkling of bells and smelled sugar in the air. Smiling, he hustled to the house and knocked on the door. “Hello?”

To his happy surprise, two heads popped out of the door and two more out of the windows. Their ‘good morning’ sounded like silver bells. Antonio smiled as big as he ever could.

The fairy who had initially occupied the house stepped out to fly in front of him, opposite his face. He felt the warmth of her smile. “Thank you for cleaning the shop and decorating the window.”

She fluttered. “You’re most welcome, but we couldn’t live in all this dust.”

He a puzzled look. “You’re going to stay?”

“Of course.” Her sisters fluttered out to join her. “You’re Antonio, and I’m Gwendolyn.” She pointed at the others. “These are my sisters. Ezmie, Griselda, and Grumpy. Well, not her real name, but it’s what we’ve come to call her, in love, of course.”

He bowed. “Pleased.”

“Do you think you can build more houses, and do you mind if we bring in more plants? We feel safe here since the forest isn’t always safe for us anymore. Too many people and predators, and I have a large family.”

Antonio giggled like the child he once was so long ago. “I can do that.”

Gwendolyn landed on his shoulder. “Great. Shall we pick out some wood?”

As the sisters winged their way to the stock of wood, flitting over one piece than another, Antonio grinned. Their laughter filled the shop and, as her family would soon arrive, there would be more. More than laughter even. He’d happily build all the houses they could need and if they liked, construct a fairy door into the shop just for them. Somewhere, deep inside him where his heart lived, he knew this magical moment was a gift. And, that someday soon, he would love and be loved in return. Slowly, a warm glow spread throughout his body so strongly that it almost burst out of him for, in time, he also knew they all would be a family.