Home Sweet Home

“Is that finally the last one?” Aaron asks from behind his fortress of boxes. I set the last box from the truck atop his old writing desk.

“Yes.” I say, a smile lighting up my face. I closed the door behind me and turned to take in the sight. Yes it was a huge mess with all our belongs still in boxes stacked haphazardly around the front room, but it was beautiful. Because it was theirs. My smile grew as I took in the sight of Aaron trying to create some type of organization from the chaos.

“You know,” I say, leaning over the boxes stacked between my new husband and I. “They delivered our bed yesterday.”

“Uh-huh,” Aaron replies not looking up at my obvious display of bosom.

“Well, while you were getting lunch, I found the linens.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And I made the bed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Want to christen the house?” At this he drops the box he was moving and looks up. His eyes widen as he finally takes in my body language. I giggle at the cartoon look of love (or lust) in his eyes.

He doesn’t say anything. Just steps toward me and before I know it, he has me over the shoulder and we’re going up the stairs.

He pushes the bedroom door open and suddenly I’m on my back. Looking up at the love of my life from our very soft, very comfy new bed. And he claims me.

That first night, we only leave the bed for snacks and fun in the kitchen. We decide tonight we celebrate, tomorrow we unpack. It was glorious.

The next morning, I’m woken up by the smell of caffeine wafting through the open door. My husband is nowhere to be found. So I dress and head to the kitchen. That’s where I find him. Sitting at the bar with two cups of coffee. I’m practically giddy as I grab my favorite My Little Pony mug from its resting spot.

“Best idea ever.” I manage to say through gulps.

“What?” Aaron asks with a laugh. My caffeine addiction is often a source of comedy for us.

“Unpacking the coffee maker first…genius.”

A look of confusion crosses his face. “I didn’t unpack it. I assumed you needed a caffeine hit last night and unpacked it. Isn’t that why your mug was in the sink?” I blink at him.

“Maybe,” I say, unsure. I’ve been known to sleep walk in the past. I hope the stress of moving didn’t cause an episode. There’s no telling what else I did. Like put all the take out menus in the refrigerator, which is where I find them.

I turn to Aaron with the menus in my hand. “Sleep walking?” He asks. I nod. “Oh well, it always goes away again. Let’s not worry. Deal?”

“Deal,” I agree.

And so I try not to worry about it. But it’s difficult. We spend all day unpacking and putting things away. Our night is spent in bliss. The next morning, I’m disheartened by evidence I was still sleepwalking. If the episodes didn’t stop, I’d have to see Dr. Free again, and, even though he helped, I kinda hate the man. But thankfully, I have four months for the episodes to stop before I have to think about calling him.

But after two weeks, it still seems like episodes are happening. I’m sitting in our lovely decorated den, just staring into the fireplace, going over all the things Dr. Free had taught me to find the source of the stress to stop the episodes. I was failing miserably when I noticed something weird about the fireplace. I called Aaron to come take a look.

Together we find the seam. With a little elbow grease we’re able to move the fireplace a few inches. Then Aaron uses the fire poker as a wedge and the fireplace completely moves from the wall. Well, actually, the wall the fireplace is attached to moves revealing a hidden door. We look at each other, excited to see what lies in our new secret room.

I reach for the door knob and give it a slight turn to find…it’s locked. Hmm.

Aaron decides he’ll call the realtor to see if they know about the door and if they have a key. I sit back on the couch and stare. It’s fascinating. We knew the house was old, but I didn’t think it was old enough for a prohibition room.

It had been at least ten minutes since Aaron left to contact the realtor when I heard a click. I jumped up so fast I fell over the back of the couch. I shouted for Aaron to come. He arrived just in time for the mysterious door to swing open. I grabbed his hand and we clutched each other tight as the door opened.

And there was this thing. Humanoid but not. The ears were pointed. The smile wide. The cheeks rosey. And it was about two feet tall.

“Hello,” it cheerfully called. “It’s about time you found the door. I thought you were missing all my clues.” It said in a faint Scottish accent.

Aaron and I looked at each other. “What clues?” He whispered.

“Oh, the unpacking and cleaning up I’ve done. Of course I’m not officially helping. You’ve yet to leave out a treat. I prefer cookies with milk. Thank you.” It said cheerfully.

Again, Aaron and I exchange a look. This time I ask, “I’m sorry, but we don’t know what you mean?”

The thing laughs. “Oh. I forgot. These modern times. I forget people don’t remember the fair folk. I’m a brownie.” It declares proudly. “I go by Shet and this is my home. I do the cleaning and things while you sleep. All in exchange for sweets and cream.” Now its face goes serious. “And I prefer cookies with milk. I love homebaked, but those packaged ones do in a pinch. Now, you just leave them here by my door each night before bed. I’ll get them and get the home in order.” Here it pauses. A smile once more on its face. It seems to want confirmation.

Aaron and I once more share a look. If this means I’m not sleepwalking but a Brownie has been doing those odd things, I’ll take it. Aaron seems to agree. “Umm, we have some Oreos if your hungry now?”

Again it, Shet, laughs. “Perfect.” And then it strolls by us. The door and fireplace moving back into place. We follow it into the kitchen, where we all have Oreos and a glass of milk. Shet told us all about the fair folk. They’re mostly extinct or in hiding. She was one of the last still interacting with humans. It was a story as sad as it was fascinating. I decided then and there that she’d be family…and that’s what she became.

I’m now eighty-four, writing down memories so I don’t forget. And Shet, she’s the same as ever. Now taking care of the house where my granddaughter lives. Still enjoying cookies and milk every day. Still bringing a small pinch of magic into our lives.