Deidre's Faerie Tale

"You are so not normal."

I looked up from where I had been digging in the dirt with my mother's gardening trowel at Heather Quinn. She gazed down her narrow at me, her blonde hair in two pig-tails, and top lip curled in disgust.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"You're spending your whole summer vacation digging holes in your back yard instead of doing fun stuff.

"This is fun," I insisted.

"No, it's weird," Heather snapped. Even at nine-years-old, she was a bitch. "I was gonna invite you to go to the pool, but you're too dirty to be seen with." She turned on her heel and began walking out of my side yard, back to the sidewalk.

I stared after her a moment, then shrugged and went back to digging. "It's out here," I muttered. "I just know it."

Honestly, Heather was right. Compared to the other kids in my Deluge, Georgia neighborhood, I wasn't normal. I was the only non-white kid for miles in every direction. I was a cinnamon-hued, dark haired anomaly.

Even at that age, I had realized that I wasn't like the other kids in my school. I knew I wasn't black, at least...not like my mama. She had smooth mahogany skin and kinky black hair that she had to press once a week.

My hair was softer, straighter, and longer, and my skin was lighter than hers. That could only mean one thing, my father was white. I'd never met him, my mother refused to discuss him beyond telling me that he had loved me. I just knew.

In my mind, not only was I too light. My mother's ears didn't look like mine, her ears were small and round and mine were just slightly larger and pointed. My mother was 5'4" and by the time I turned ten, we were eye-to-eye.

Then, there was the reason that brought me to dig in the yard for the entire three months of summer vacation between third and fourth grade...the voice in my head. There was a whisper in my dreams that told me that there was a ring waiting to be found in the earth surrounding my house. It sounded crazy, and I knew that I probably shouldn't mention the hearing voices thing to anyone, even my mother. When she asked what I was doing, I just told her I was digging for treasure. Technically true, but I still felt guilty feeding her the pirate fantasy instead of coughing up the truth.

I didn't find the ring that summer. I made sure to fill in the pot holes I'd made and help my mother re-seed the grass before I had to go back to school. Then, the summer between seventh and eighth grade Billy Wiley got a metal detector for his birthday. I offered him five bucks to let me borrow it and I found the ring in less than twenty minutes. It was buried in the flower bed, under the peonies.

The ring was gold with a huge emerald set atop the band. I never wore it on my finger. My mother had been outside when I'd dug it up. I tried to get her to put it in her jewelry box, but she insisted that I keep it. She even gave me a gold chain to put it on. That's when I decided that being "not normal" was not really such a bad thing. From that day, the necklace and ring never left my neck.

***

"Bye, mommy," my six year old daughter Ella chimed.

"Have a great day, honey," I said giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before she slipped out of the door. She shut the door, gave me a wave and a huge grin that made me fall in love with her again. I blew her a kiss and watched her walk a few paces before turning back to watch the brake lights of the SUV in front of me.

Before I could put the car in gear, there was a knock on my window. I jumped a mile. I'd never been accosted in the drop off lane of Polk Elementary School before.

"Yeah?" I asked powering down my window.

"Are you Deidre Ellette St. Germaine?" the woman towering above me asked.

"Who wants to know?" I asked glancing at the clock on the dash. I had to leave soon or I'd be late for work.

The woman bent down and smiled. I immediately didn't like her. Not only was she tall, she was slim and beautiful. Her hair was so black it actually looked blue where the sunlight hit it. Her dark green eyes were wide and honest. Her dark features only served to make her pale skin look almost transparent. I was momentarily struck by the fact that I'd never met a white person as pale as this woman.

"My name is Trilla," she said and I finally noticed her British accent. "I've come from England on your father's orders."

I gasped and felt myself go rigid. "I don't have a father."

"Yes, you do!" Trilla said shuffling the papers that she clutched in her hands. "Your father is King Dominic Edward St. Germaine, the late king of Ellyrinia."

My ears must not have been working correctly. "King?"

Trilla's green eyes dropped to the pavement. "Late king."

"So," I narrowed my eyes and watched her face for signs of a lie, "he's dead."

"Yes, he passed away last week. His will left explicit instructions for you to be found and apprised of his identity and yours. This envelope," she wrestled a manilla envelope from her pile of paperwork, "contains his majesty's will, a diagram of your family tree, and plane tickets to England."

I took the envelope just as someone leaned on their horn behind me. I leaned out of my window to scream at the woman in the red Honda minivan. "Gimme a break, lady! Just go around!" Trilla, un-phased by my outburst continued talking. "We would be so honored if you would come to Ellyrinia."

I gave a tired sigh. "Look, you're dropping some heavy shit on me right now. I'm late for work and I don't have any vacation time saved up to take this trip."

"Quit," Trilla said with a shrug.

I laughed. "Yeah, right."

"I beg you to consider visiting our kingdom," Trilla said tucking her black hair behind her ear.

I gasped. Her ear was pointed just like mine, only much longer and the point was sharper. She had at least five tiny gold hoops along the lobe. I touched my own ear and she smiled. "I'll think about it," I muttered.

"My number is in the envelope!" she called as I put the car in gear and pealed away from her.

***

I didn't go to work. Instead, I drove back home, well...back to my mother's home where we were living. Sure, I could afford a small condo or apartment for myself and my daughter, but I didn't have to. My mother had insisted that I move back home after I graduated college and let her help me raise my baby. I know I should have insisted on doing it on my own, but the idea of having a baby, and working to support the two of us, and pay off my student loans all alone was too much! Besides, my mama loved me and actually wanted me back home. Why turn down a good thing? Who needs pride when you've got a mama that loves you?

"Deidre?" my mother asked coming into the kitchen where I'd practically collapsed into a chair. I began pulling the papers out of the envelope and laying them out on the table in front of me. "What are you doing home?"

"I have to ask you something," I said, refusing to look at my mother. She sank down into the chair beside me. I could feel the heat of her gaze, but I still couldn't look at her.

"Go head'n ask then," she said, her southern accent drawing it out into one word.

"Was my father from England?"

She sucked in a sharp breath and I finally looked at her. Her dark eyes were perfectly round and beginning to fill with tears.

"Was he?" I repeated.

"Yeah," she breathed.

"Was he a king?" I asked pulling out a thick packet of papers held together by a staple.

"Not when we were together."

I pulled out the final paper which was actually a photograph. A white man with black hair and pointed ears smiled up at me. He had my slender nose and oval-shaped face...well, I had his. His hair was long, obviously past his shoulders. "He was a prince then?"

"Yeah," my mother said leaning forward to look at the photo.

"How in the world did you just up and meet a prince? You've never been out of Georgia!" My mother smiled even as the tears rolled down her face. "I was working at a fancy hotel in Atlanta. I was the hostess in the restaurant. He came through traveling and when he finished his business, he came back to Atlanta just to see me again." I let her take the picture from me. She traced the line of his jaw with a shaky finger. "I fell so hard for him, ya know? I just forgot about everything because I was so happy. Then, we had you and moved back here and I was even happier."

"Then he left," I said harshly. She snapped out of her dreamy haze and glared at me.

"You don't understand; he had to go."

"Maybe he did, mama, but he didn't have to desert us forever without a letter or a phone call."

My mother put her hand on top of mine. "He wasn't like Jordan," she said softly. "He didn't choose to leave. His family...his people...it wasn't the same as what Jordan's doing to you and his daughter."

I sighed and felt my shoulders sag. Maybe my absentee father wasn't the same as my daughter's dead-beat dad, but it sure as hell felt the same...like abandonment.

"Okay," I relented. "Will you go through this stuff with me?"

"What is it?"

"His will and some other stuff." I watched her face crumple with realization.

"He's dead?" Her voice was weak and wispy.

I nodded. "He sent a courier to give this stuff to me."

"Then, maybe you should go through it alone. It's not my business." She moved to get up from the table but I stuck my foot behind one of the chair legs, preventing it from moving backwards.

"Let's just go through it together," I said giving her my best I am not backing down stare.

Three hours later my mother had cried more than I'd ever seen her cry in my life and I was coming to a realization. I had gone my whole life thinking my dad was some asshole that hadn't wanted me. Nothing could be further from true. I read his hand penned letter a third time after my mother had excused herself to take a nap in her room.

My dearest Deidre,

Your mother, no doubt, has kept my secret all these years. She is an honorable woman and that is one of the reasons I love her. Now, daughter is my chance to let you know how much I love you and regret having to leave you and your mother. All those years ago when we three lived together I was the happiest I would ever be in this life. I wanted for nothing and had everything. You must know that my leaving was a choice I was hard-pressed to make. While America had become my second home, my country and my people needed me. It is thus for any ruler. Even if your heart calls you elsewhere, you can not abandon your own people.

I returned because my father and elder brother were killed by a rogue tribe attempting a coup. My mother had little choice but to send for me in order to rally our troops and defend our kingdom. Once I had returned, and succeeded in stamping out the insurgents, I had to remain lest our nation be viewed as weak and another coup staged. I would have preferred to return to you, and any requests to bring you to me were immediately denied. Our laws are absolute in this matter. Royals must marry royals and maintain the lineage.

Truly, my sorrow is now being felt by all in Ellyrinia, because I did marry another noble, but we were unable to conceive an heir together. I truly believe that my heart just wasn't willing. The people of my kingdom must upon my death deal with this quandary.

Daughter, I beg you return to the country of your ancestors and experience the wonder and love that I receive every day from our people. You will be seen as a royal, the only true heir to the throne and will be treated as such. My blood runs through your veins, dear heart, I hope you will embrace it and me and return to us.

Love

D.E. S.G.

I folded the letter in half and sighed. The sound was magnified by the fact that I was now sitting alone. This neat little explanation would have been nice ten or so years ago, I thought bitterly.

My cell phone rang in my purse and after a ten second debate, I answered it.

"Deidre," my boss Margie said, "Are you sick?"

"No," I answered quickly.

"Is your daughter or mother sick?"

"No," I repeated.

"Then why are you not at your station?"

I wrinkled my nose at the image instantly conjured by the word "station". It was a gray cubicle with an outdated computer a desk-top calendar, and a phone with extra large numbers. I worked for a warranty claims department for a very expensive vacuum cleaner company. While the products were grossly over-priced, they were essentially crap...complicated multi-pieced crap.

"Something important came up."

"More important than work?" Margie snapped. Of course she would think that, I fumed, the woman was twice divorced and came to work with cat hair all over her clothes.

"Yes, Margie. This is more important than work!" I waved the papers in my hand as if she could see them.

"If you're not in this office by one o'clock, you're fired." I swear I could hear the beginnings of a witch-like cackle in her voice.

I sighed. "Margo, you can't fire me." I could practically hear the self-satisfied grin spreading across her pinched face. "I quit!" I said ending the call and turning off my phone.

I swallowed the urge to call her back to apologize, instead I gazed at the papers strewn across the table. "I guess this means I'm going to England," I muttered.