A Midsummer Night's Fling

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Aithne

My excursion into the village with Dierdre was a success, and I felt like I didn't have a care in the world. With a light spring in my step, I couldn't keep the smile from my face as I softly sang a favorite tune. Swaying to and fro with the melody, I added a flourish and twirl when I passed by my father's office.

The door was closed, but I knew he had a keen ear, and I paused waiting for his voice. Fingering the velvety petals from the wild flowers displayed on the hall table, a fleeting thought of Hadrian entered my mind.

I wonder what kind of plant life blooms in the world of Fae.

"Daughter, is that you?" The question was somewhat of a routine between us, and I offered him my dutiful response.

"Yes, Papa. May I enter?"

"Of course, my dear, of course."

I pushed open the door and smiled at the sight before me. My father sat behind a simple wooden desk with piles of papers and ledgers scattered before him. As I came to sit in the soft cushioned chair in front of him, he replaced the feathered writing tool in the ink well.

"You look tired. Have you eaten today?" I studied the room closely. I knew there were days he'd get so caught up in whatever business beckoned him he would forget to take his meals. Sure enough, placed to the side of him was a tray of barely touched cheese and bread. "Papa! Did we not talk about this? You cannot work all day without proper nourishment."

He was wise enough to look bashful as his ink stained fingers removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt. As his only daughter, it fell to me to care for him after my mother passed, and his forgetfulness tested my patience. I adored my father, but scarcely a day went by when I didn't want to shake him. His repentant expression proved he knew it as well, and acknowledging my worry, he winked. My heart softened, and I began to laugh. "What am I going to do with you? Truly?"

"I don't know, my dear. I suppose continue to love me and know you will always be needed." His eyes twinkled as he smiled and rested back in his chair. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Aithne."

I leaned forward to brush my hand over his, careful not to disturb the mess on the surface of the desk. I returned to my chair and glanced about, trying to make sense of things.

"So what captured your attention so thoroughly? Are affairs going well?" I didn't know much about the merchant business only that my father had retired to govern over the accounting aspects of things while my older brother, Owen, managed the physical. Owen was currently abroad bartering for goods, and I missed him terribly. His letters, although few and far between, were always filled with wondrous tales of exotic places and excitement.

"Things are as they should be. I honestly just lost track of time." My father paused, smiling as he peered over his glasses. "But it seems I'm not the only one with a preoccupied mind. There's something different about you today. I can see it in your eyes. What adventure have you been on?"

I spoke a little about my successful quest for ribbons and the local gossip I'd overheard. It caused him to laugh, especially as I relayed the never ending antics of young George. In his pursuit to win the hand of Caitlin, one of the tavern workers, he'd accepted the challenge to a drinking competition. An hour and numerous empty tankards later, he'd stood to declare his love and affections only to pass out cold. The tale ended with his snores threatening to loosen the foundations of the building.

"Why does he not just tell her plain and simple?" I asked once my father had stopped chuckling. "I've seen how she looks at him. His shyness is for naught."

"People are peculiar. Sometimes it is difficult to speak from the heart—especially when we fear being turned away. Sooner or later George will run out of ideas, and they will talk. Mark my words."

I recalled my encounter with Hadrian. Even though he had rendered me speechless, my hope was that I'd always be able to speak what was in my heart. I was determined to make the most of our visit tomorrow. My cheeks flushed with heat as a mental image arose of us kissing—his hands softly touching me.

The response wasn't missed by my father either.

"That's an interesting color you have there. Did something else happen while you were out?" He peered at me closely, and I blushed again under his scrutiny. "A boy! A boy has caught your fancy!"

I covered my face, trying to decide how best to answer. I could never tell him about Hadrian, especially the part about him being Fae. It was the one sore point between us—my endless fascination with them and his wish for me to grow up and cast such fairytales aside. I hated telling my father untruths, so I chose to remain silent.

He took my refusal to answer as an invitation to come to his own conclusions. "William. I bet he's the one that has you tongue-tied and quiet. He's a fine boy. I approve!" I tried not to jump as his hand slapped down on the desk. I knew who he was referring to, and a memory of the handsome son of the local blacksmith entered my mind.

I'd grown up around William, and he'd quickly become a friend who also loved running in the fields and catching frogs in the muddied ponds. He tagged along with my brother and me when we fished, and helped chase fireflies on warm summer evenings. He'd been one of my truest friends, but as I entered womanhood, things slowly changed. Our closeness went from familiarity to awkwardness and then he began his apprenticeship under his father. We still talked and laughed whenever we saw each other, but it wasn't the same. The mention of his name now caused a pang of sorrow to move through me. I missed him.

I needed a change of subject, so I arose and retrieved my ribbons. Knowingly, my father didn't broach the topic of William again, although he offered a smile which caused my face to flush again. He was incorrigible.

"Look what Dierdre and I bought today from Old Bertha." I held the different colored strands up to my hair to display them. "I'm going to weave them through my braids for the festival. Won't they look pretty?"

"Not nearly as beautiful as you." His response came out somewhat choked. "Have you heard anything about whether you are chosen to play Mother Earth in the ceremony?"

"Not yet. The announcement will be made in two days' time. Deirdre thinks for certain it will be me. What do you think?"

It was a grand honor to be chosen by the mayor, and my heart raced at the thought of it being me. For as long as I can remember, an old druid ritual—the wedding of Mother Earth and the Sun King—was performed at each Midsummer Night's festival. Tokens were exchanged as a symbol of the turning of the seasons and the meeting of Heaven and Earth. For months, I lay in bed and pondered this night, praying my name would be selected.

"This is your year, Aithne, I just know it. Your mama was the same age when she participated in the rite. It is only fitting you be the same." His words comforted me, and I was hopeful.

I came around the desk to place a soft kiss on his whiskered cheek. "And I bet you made a handsome Sun King too, Father." My parents had been childhood sweethearts, and the night they both performed the ceremony was the night he asked for her hand. No two people loved so deeply and completely as them. It was a story I loved to hear him retell.

"Who knows maybe you'll meet your future husband. Maybe William?"

I slapped his shoulder. Even though the idea of being wedded to William was appealing, it didn't stop a flash of Hadrian's features from replacing the thought. My imagination and belief in all things whimsy governed common sense once again.

"Who knows, Papa?" I headed toward the door, and paused long enough to watch him pick up his papers. "Dinner will be within the hour. Try not to marry me off before then." I blew him a kiss, and left the room as he softly chuckled.

While I moved through the house and prepared the evening meal, my mind flittered back and forth, and I began to hum.