WHEN YOU WISH UPON A FAIRY

WHEN YOU WISH UPON A FAIRY

Ireland, 1853

I wiped salty tears from my eyes, using an old, embroidered handkerchief that had been my mother’s. I sat on my lumpy iron bed examining the letters — MR, which stood for Maura Reilly — that had been clumsily sewn into the cloth. It was one of the few remaining items belonging to my parents that had been given to me after they’d died during the potato famine, and I’d come here to live in the orphanage when I was twelve.

It was getting wet and ruined. But what did it matter, really? Ruined handkerchief, ruined life; end of Shauna Reilly’s story.

I was an orphan of sixteen years, well past the age of being cute, loveable, and therefore, wanted. And it was visiting day at the orphanage for couples wanting to adopt children. If only someone would take me home with them.

The nine other girls who shared my bedroom had already wandered off to a breakfast of gruel with watered-down milk. I would join them and pretend I hadn’t spent the last ten minutes crying. If asked why I was tardy I would say I was reading a sad story, had gotten carried away with the sorrowful tale, and had lost track of time. Best to stick as close to the truth as possible since I was already known to be a bookworm, precocious, and easily distracted by fanciful stories.

So, I stood up, straightened my dress, placed the handkerchief in my pocket, and trudged downstairs.

“I’ll expect all of you to be on your best behavior when the couples arrive,” Miss Hogan was saying. I found my place at the large wooden table in the makeshift dining room and sniffed the air that was filled with the aroma of slightly burned oats and weak coffee. “They’ll be here in less than an hour, so eat up and then finish your chores. Quickly now, chop, chop. Summer days are long, but don’t go on forever.”

After we’d eaten breakfast and completed our chores, we played games at the table. The boys joined us, so we’d all look like normal, happy children.

Kathleen Dunne, a shy six-year-old with blonde curls, sat down next to me. She sucked her thumb greedily, while she watched me turn cards over as I played a game of solitaire.

A few minutes later my heart thump-thumped in my chest, as I watched the prettiest woman I’d ever seen walk through the door. Her pink striped gown looked brand new, and her gleaming brown hair peeked out from beneath a straw bonnet trimmed with feathers. A handsome man wearing a gray wool suit strolled in beside her. Were they headed my way? Yes, they were!

I sat up tall and smoothed my too-long bangs behind my ear.

“Well, what do we have here?” The man asked, taking a seat beside me. The woman sat down in the chair next to him and offered me a broad, toothy smile.

“It’s just a simple card game,” I answered, grinning back at the pretty lady.

She continued smiling at me. “It looks like you’re winning.”

“Well … yes.” What was I supposed to say? I was playing against myself. I couldn’t exactly be losing, could I? “We could play something else if you’d like.”

The man and woman looked at each other and smiled. “What about hearts?” The man asked.

They sat and played with me for a whole hour! Finally, they stood up to leave.

“Oh! We didn’t even introduce ourselves,” the woman said. “I’m Mrs. Irene Sullivan and this is my husband, Joseph.”

I stood up and shook their hands. “I’m Shauna Reilly. Nice to meet you.”

“And who is your little friend here?” Mrs. Sullivan pointed to Kathleen.

Kathleen took her thumb out of her mouth long enough to grant them a toothless smile.

“Kathleen Dunne, say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan.”

Kathleen didn’t say anything. She just waved, then jumped up and ran away.

“We’ll see you next Saturday,” said Mrs. Sullivan.

Next Saturday? They were coming back.

*****

True to their word, the Sullivans returned the following Saturday and then every weekend after that. We played cards, strolled outside and sometimes just sat and talked. Shy Kathleen always sat beside me, saying nothing. She just sat there staring at Mrs. Sullivan and sucking her thumb.

Life went on like that for several weeks, but the Sullivans never asked to adopt me, or anyone else. None of the other couples did either.

Out of pity for us, Miss Hogan took us for a day at the beach in Donegal.

When we got there, we all just stood staring at the waves, breathing in the scent of the fresh, salty air, disappointment evident on many faces.

“Oh, look, Shauna, there’s the fairy bridge,” Kathleen said, pushing her long blonde curls off her face. “Let’s go look!” She trudged through the soft green grass, making her way toward some huge boulders beside a tall bluff and a rickety wooden fence.

A fairy bridge? I hadn’t come all the way from the orphanage to chase after fairies. They weren’t real, for goodness’ sake! But she was only six, and it wouldn’t do to have her wander off and get lost.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” she said after I’d rushed to catch up with her.

I glanced at the lopsided well made of small rocks. “Oh, it’s, uh, nice.”

“Do you think we should make a wish?”

“I don’t have a coin.”

“Neither do I. A rock will have to do.” She reached down, picked up a small gray pebble, threw it in the well, and immediately ran back toward the beach to join the others.

I lingered, staring down into the well.

What if it is magic and what if wishes do come true? I scooped up a handful of pebbles and dropped them in one at a time. Plop, plop, plop went the water in the wishing well as each tiny rock broke the surface.

As I stepped back to reach for another handful of stones, I noticed a girl wearing a luminous green silk dress standing nearby. Where had she come from? And how had she snuck up so quietly? She looked overdressed for the beach.

I caught my breath when I got a good look at her. She was beautiful. Long copper ringlets flowed down her back.

“You’re supposed to make a wish.” Her voice sounded musical as if she were playing the flute. “People wish for the thing they want the most, then throw a penny into the well. If you don’t have a coin, a rock will do. The fairies won’t mind.”

“How do you know?” I asked her.

“Oh, uh, I live … nearby.” She pointed to the overgrown grass.

I glanced around at the barren land surrounding us. “Where exactly?”

“No matter. What have you got to lose by making a wish?”

What did I have to lose? I picked up a small smooth stone and held it above the water. “I want a family,” I whispered, picturing Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan before tossing the pebble into the well.

A noise, like a clap of thunder, sounded from a few yards away. It seemed strange considering the sky was clear and blue.

When I looked up again the girl was gone. In her place sat a small mound of shimmering powder in all the colors of the rainbow. A breeze blew by, lifting the powder into the air. The powder formed what looked like a tiny rainbow floating along with the wind.

“Shauna! There you are! Time to go,” the headmistress, Miss Hogan called.

I ran to join the rest of the group for our journey back to the only home I’d known in four years.

That weekend, the Sullivans visited again. And went home. Alone.

Miss Hogan started taking us to the beach on a regular basis. Despite my misgivings about superstition, I found myself standing beside the wishing well every time we went.

“Your wish still hasn’t come true.” It was more of a statement than a question, spoken from the mouth of the beautiful girl in the green silk dress.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

She smirked. “That’s none of your concern.”

“That’s quite an unusual name. I’ve never met anyone named That’snoneofyourconcern before.”

A small laugh escaped from her ruby red lips, followed by a hint of a smile. “All right. It’s Daphne.”

“Daphne,” I repeated.

She crossed her arms and sighed. “Shauna, wanting to be with someone simply because of what you might get from them is not a good way to live. You must be willing to give as well.”

I snickered. “Oh, yes. An orphan has much to offer.”

Daphne shook her head impatiently. “You have much to offer and you are not the only needy orphan. Remember that when the Sullivans visit.”

“How do you know their names? Or mine?” I asked, turning away from her in anger. When I turned back, she was gone. A tiny rainbow floated in the place where she’d stood.

When the Sullivans came to visit on Saturday, I remembered Daphne’s words. I’d never included Kathleen in the game and had not asked the Sullivans any questions about themselves.

“Have you always lived in Ireland?” Mr. Sullivan told me about growing up in Dublin but wanting to move out to the country to raise a family.

“That was when we realized we couldn’t have children,” Irene Sullivan said. “When we bought our home and couldn’t fill the rooms.”

“You can borrow my dolly,” Kathleen said, patting Mrs. Sullivan’s arm.

“How sweet you are,” said Mrs. Sullivan.

“Kathleen was born in Dublin,” I said. “That’s why she’s so shy. She doesn’t know anyone here.”

“Why, you’re a stranger here just like us. Would you like to show me your room, Kathleen?”

They wandered upstairs together.

An hour later the Sullivans left with Kathleen. Her doll trailed along behind her as she gripped Mrs. Sullivan’s hand.

They took Kathleen and not me? I rushed outside to play in the back garden, and I didn’t cry. Not too much, anyway.

That evening I made good use of my mother’s old handkerchief as I cried myself to sleep. So much for thinking of others. Doing so had left me with nothing.

When Miss Hogan took us to the beach again, the wishing well called to me. “My wish didn’t come true, but Kathleen’s did,” I spoke into the air. It wasn’t clear whether Daphne could hear me or not, but she was bound to appear soon, so I sat in the sand waiting.

“You’re angry.” She appeared a moment later, sitting beside me, weaving a basket.

“Why shouldn’t I be? You’re a fairy and I did what you said but Kathleen got adopted. Not me!”

“Then you weren’t meant to be with the Sullivans.”

My blood boiled. “I made a wish! You promised!” I stood up, stomping my foot.

“A wish is merely a request. There are no guarantees.”

“You might have told me that before!” I shouted. “You want me to help people but I need help too. That’s why I’m here, you, you, arrrrgggggh!” I grabbed a heavy stone and threw it into the well. Hard. That would teach her. But she vanished into floating fairy dust and all I received for my outburst was a soaking wet skirt.

Everything was the same, week after week at the orphanage with couples coming and going, adopting the cute, young children, which made room for more cute, young children, which left me all alone.

Until Billy Kennedy, one of the new young boys took to clinging to me as Kathleen had. He didn’t have much to say, so I didn’t mind. At least not until the O’Malleys dropped by.

Mrs. O’Malley was a large woman with graying hair who wore unfashionable, yet sturdy, brown clothes. Her husband’s hair was thinning, and he walked with a cane. They were middle-aged! Who wanted to go home with them?

One thing was in their favor: Mrs. O’Malley’s cooking. She strolled in with a large pan of gooey cinnamon rolls. Their scent greeted us before she did. For children subsisting on porridge and dry, stale bread, her sweet treat seemed sent from heaven itself.

“This is absolutely delicious,” I told her after finishing my first helping and wandering over to fill my plate a second time. “I’ve never tasted anything so good. Ever.”

She looked me over from head to toe. “Good. You could use some fattening up. What sweets might you be partial to? Orange cakes, seed cakes, lace biscuits, ginger biscuits?”

My jaw dropped so far, I’m sure it came close to skimming the tops of my old leather boots. “Anything you bring will be welcome, I’m sure.”

And so, my relationship with Mrs. O’Malley began.

The following Sunday Mrs. O’Malley stopped by with a huge batch of freshly baked ginger biscuits. Every child in the orphanage quickly surrounded her. Once everyone had eaten a biscuit or two, they wandered off to play or chat with other visiting couples. I lingered, eating my fill. We only got sweets on holidays.

Little Billy Kennedy still stuck to me like glue. He leaned his head on my shoulder and placed his arm through mine.

“Where’d you learn to bake so well?” I asked Mrs. O’Malley.

“I’m the cook on the farm where we live.”

My eyes brightened. Maybe the O’Malleys weren’t so bad after all. “You own a farm?”

She took a deep breath. “Not exactly. Our landlord owns it. But we are blessed in that he has provided each of his workers with a small plot of land and a good-sized cottage. We’re looking for a child willing to work for their keep. They’ll be able to go to school too. The schoolhouse is but a mile away.”

She smiled at me and then at Billy.

So that was the catch. They needed extra workers. I sat where I was, taking in all she’d just said.

She eyed the adventure book on my lap, with a pirate on the cover. “You’re awfully bright. You’ve probably had some schooling yourself. Am I right?”

I nodded. “My grandmother was a schoolteacher. She taught my mum, who taught me.”

“We’ve got plenty of room on our farm. We’ve got cows, chickens, six feisty roosters, and two plow horses.”

Why was she telling me all this? Then it hit me. The O’Malley’s were just like the Sullivans. They didn’t want me. They wanted someone young and adorable who’d grow up to be big and strong. They wanted Billy.

“It sounds wonderful,” I said, trying to be polite. Then I stood up. “I’m going to read my book now.” Billy clung to me. “Only one person can read a book at a time. Why don’t you stay here and keep Mrs. O’Malley company?” Billy looked uncertain until I handed him another ginger biscuit.

I sat in the far corner of the room and opened my book but read not a word. I kept stealing glances at Mrs. O’Malley and Billy sitting together and giggling.

The following Sunday Mrs. O’Malley brought blueberry scones. You could smell them all the way across the room when she arrived.

I sat alone again reading another pirate book. I longed to wander over and snatch a scone off the plate but why bother? Her treats would end soon enough.

While several other children surrounded her, nibbling away on their treats, I caught her stealing glances at me as she sat with Billy glued to her side. Mr. O’Malley noticed her looking at me, too, and wandered over in my direction.

“Nellie’s scones are mighty tasty,” he said when he reached me. “It’d be a shame for them to go to waste. What could be so important that a young girl doesn’t have time to eat her fill of them?”

I shrugged. “I guess I’m still sad that Kathleen left.” I wasn’t about to tell him the real reason I was so sad. That I was afraid I’d be left hurting again when the O’Malleys adopted Billy.

Mr. O’Malley seemed to understand my need to be alone. He patted my shoulder then wandered back to his wife and whispered something in her ear. She frowned, shaking her head, then placed a few scones into a cloth napkin, wandered over to me, and placed them on the table in front of me.

“For later,” she said. “When your appetite comes back.” She stood for a moment looking down at me but said nothing more. After a moment she said, “See you next week.” Then she left.

At our next beach outing my feet took me straight to the wishing well. I sat on the ground staring into the air.

“Why won’t you give the O’Malleys a chance?” Daphne said, appearing suddenly.

“Why should I? They’ll only leave with Billy and not me.”

“You know this for sure?”

“No. But I’ve been at that orphanage for four years. I know how things go. The young, cute ones leave. The plain, older ones stay.”

Daphne paced back and forth. “You’ll have to leave the orphanage in two years when you turn eighteen. Do you really want to end up on the streets? Selling flowers or who knows what?”

I let out a heavy sigh. “No. But that’s probably what will end up happening to me anyway, so why bother trying to befriend the O’Malleys?”

“If you try then you’ll have no regrets. You won’t be plagued by doubt, guilt, or self-recriminations.”

I looked her over from head to toe. What did a vision of perfection know about living in an imperfect world? “The O’Malley’s are old. And if I went with them, I’d still have to work on their farm.”

“What’s wrong with a bit of work? Remember, you reap what you sow.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Good will always find its way back to one who gives freely. Maybe not right away. But … eventually, it will.”

I scowled and stomped my foot. “Eventually! I don’t have until eventually to find a family!”

She left me standing there, whining to the wind.

On Sunday, the O’Malleys were back again. The cake they brought was topped with creamy white icing and smelled like freshly squeezed lemons. But I didn’t care. I stayed in the corner with my book. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. O’Malley paid me any mind.

I glanced their way when they were leaving. They were looking over some paperwork and seemed disturbed by what they were reading. They shook their heads and frowned as they left. With no one.

A few days later we were back at the beach. I waited for Daphne at the wishing well and took a deep, angry breath when she appeared. “The O’Malley’s left again with no one.” My eyes bulged. “I thought you helped people?”

She shook her head. “I help people use the gifts they already have. You’re smart.”

Tears pooled in my eyes at her words. It was true. I was smart. But where had it gotten me?

“How will that help me?”

“Ask the O’Malleys if they need help with their adoption papers.”

Adoption papers? Yup. For Billy. What did you expect, you imbecile?

I nodded, unable to say anything, for fear of crying.

Daphne disappeared leaving shimmering fairy dust in her wake.

I spent the next few days thinking about what Daphne had said. Even if they didn’t take me, Billy deserved parents. And how would withholding parents from Billy give me parents of my own?

When the O’Malley’s arrived on Sunday I walked straight up to them. “Hello there.”

Mrs. O’Malley pursed her lips. “You can read well, right?”

I smiled up at her, holding my book in the air. “That’s why I read so much.”

She leaned toward me in a conspiratorial whisper. “Could you help us? We can barely understand these papers. And we don’t want Miss Hogan to know we’re unschooled. She might not let us adopt anyone.”

My heart leaped in my chest. So. They really were ready to adopt Billy. “Sure, I can take a look. Maybe you can put them in your handbag while I bring you upstairs to show you the rest of my book collection.”

Her eyes squinted together in confusion, but then she seemed to understand. “Oh, right. Shauna, could you please show us your book collection?” She stated rather loudly.

I helped the O’Malleys fill out their paperwork while we sat upstairs in my room. When it came time to write in the name of the child they wanted to adopt, they said, “Billy. We want to adopt little Billy.”

Of course. Just like I’d already known.

Why did tears sting my eyes when I wrote down Billy’s name? And why did Mrs. O’Malley look so sad when I handed her the completed papers?

“Here you go, Miss Hogan,” Mr. O’Malley said when we all went back downstairs. “Do you think Billy could come home with us today?”

“Of course. I’ll have him get his things.”

When they were leaving, Billy held me in a tight embrace while the O’Malley’s watched from a few feet away.

Mrs. O’Malley gave me a hug also. “I wish you were coming with us too.”

I nodded, trying to keep the tears at bay.

“We’ve got plenty of room on our farm, you know.”

Why was she rubbing it in if she wasn’t going to adopt me?

“Maybe I’ll get to see it one day,” I said, choking back a sob. “You take care of Billy.”

She started to leave then turned back. “I can’t leave without asking her,” she whispered to her husband. “I’ve got to know.”

Mrs. O’Malley rushed back over to me. “We’d like you to come with us, Shauna, but only if you want to. If you want to stay here or wait for another family, we’ll understand.”

I gave her a huge hug. “Can you wait a minute while I gather my things?”

*****

I asked if we could stop by the beach on the way to the farm. “I just have one quick thing I need to do.”

They waited in the carriage as I raced up to the wishing well. “Thank you, Daphne,” I spoke into the air. “And you’re not just beautiful on the outside. You’re beautiful on the inside.”

Daphne appeared a moment later. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I’m going to teach the O’Malleys to read and write.”

“Good for you.”

“You were right. I do have something to offer.” I paused for a moment, tears welling up in my eyes again. “I’ll never forget you.”

Daphne disappeared before I finished speaking, but I think she heard me. A shimmering rainbow of fairy dust followed me on my way back to the wagon.

****