The Goblin

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds appeared in the blushing sky. With their arrival, pink flower petals fell from their depths for a solid hour each night. With the petals came a knowledge of things beyond the average person’s ken, but such was not the case with Aoife. Even though she was sixty-six, she awaited the petals each night for she knew they held the power to change her life.

This evening was no different. From the bedroom window, Aoife could hear the chirping of crickets and the see the pink petals floating across dew-filled air, heralding the midnight hour. In anticipation, she froze. The flimsy curtain billowed in the breeze, floating about her, mimicking the clouds.

Bong….Aoife heard the chime of the grandfather clock. Two more strokes before midnight. Aoife held her breath and peered at the sky, a fervent prayer on her lips. Despite her plea, only the crickets responded, seeming to mock her long-awaited desire for more.

Disappointed, Aoife sighed. She was about to seek the solace of her bed when from the grounds below, a movement caught her eye in the darkness. She squinted, attempting to identify who or what it was, but any further movement eluded her. She closed the window, surmising it must have been an animal.

The loud sound of a knock sounded in the silence. Startled, Aoife quickly pulled her shawl about her shoulders. Who the devil was here at such a late hour? Candle in hand, she made her way down the rickety staircase as a light rap on the heavy paneled doors came again.

Pausing before the door, Aoife attempted to sound braver than she felt. “Who goes there?”

“Seamus. I’ve come a long way to see you.” A man’s voice, thick with an Irish brogue, answered.

Aoife took three steps backward. Who the devil was Seamus? What could he want with her? Surely he didn't expect a woman, all alone, to answer the door for a stranger.

With forced bravado, Aoife barked, “I don’t care who you are, be on your way, I’ve no need of you this night.”

Quiet ensued for long minutes before the man spoke again, his voice oddly laced with humor. “Are you quite certain, Aoife? I’ve heard you’re longing for something new, and I’m prepared this eventide to help with such an endeavor.” At her silence, he added, “I promise another opportunity will not come again beyond the light of dawn.”

A million questions surfaced in Aoife's mind. How did this stranger know her? What could he know about her longings?

Enlightenment suddenly struck. The wondrous purple clouds and pink petals had surely sent this man, whomever he might be. Without further contemplation, she swung the door wide.

Aoife studied the man standing before her. His hair was thick, a vibrant red, and his emerald eyes twinkled in the moonlight as he returned the look she gave. He was tall, lean, and dressed immaculately in dark clothing and knee-high boots. He held a riding crop though there was no horse in sight. Aoife’s mind raced. Was Seamus here to harm her or to help her? Well, 'twas only one way to know.

“Well, come inside if you must,” Aoife said, moving aside so he could enter. “I’ll put the kettle on for tea.”

“Oh, sweet Aoife, do you not have something a wee bit stronger? It’s been a tumultuous journey,” the stranger said, doffing his hat and laying it upon the table.

Aoife eyed the man but nodded, pointing for him to take a seat at the table. If indeed the pink petals had sent him, she had no time to waste and would gift him whatever his heart desired. From the cupboard, she pulled a bottle of amber-colored liquid and two glasses. She’d likely need a strong dram of whiskey, too.

Placing the drink before him, she noticed he held the riding crop across his lap as though his life depended on it. She took a seat across from him and drank from her glass of whiskey, hoping it would steady her nerves and allay her fears.

“Oh, but you’re a good woman, Aoife,” Seamus said with delight, following suit and drinking of the whiskey.

Aoife studied him. While somewhat odd in appearance, he was attractive, and certainly charming, too. She cleared her throat. “About the pink petals, Mister Seamus….”

“I insist you call me Seamus." He smiled, an engaging one full of mirth. "Indeed, Aoife, your time has come. The pink flower petals have favored you, and I am at your service.”

“I’m not sure I understand. What could you possibly do?” Aoife asked, perplexed.

“Do you not know, Aoife?” Seamus said with a wink. “I am a goblin and ready to bring your desires to life.” He smiled. “Ah, but I’m guessing you’ve not met a goblin before dearie.”

Aoife shook her head. She had, of course, heard many a story about goblins, but nary one had ever made an appearance at her door before tonight. It was about damn time.

Aoife drained her whiskey. “Well, I’m ready and have been for a very long time,” she said.

“I like your spirit, Aoife,” Seamus said and drained his whiskey. He held his empty glass out, and Aoife served him ample more.

Aoife’s heart lifted. Here was her chance. In sixty-four years, she’d lived mostly alone. Despite the fact she’d married at sixteen, she’d had to bury her husband ten years later. In ten years, he’d never proven to be more than a friend. She’d given birth to and raised three sons, but now they seldom spared time to visit. Her life had been lonely. She had only been comforted by the memory of a long lost love. How different things would have been had she married Paddy. Foolishly, she’d thought her husband could offer more. Finally, she’d been gifted the opportunity to recapture lost love. Aoife’s heart swelled with joy. She could be young again, with Paddy. She stood and smiled at Seamus.

“Let’s get on with it. I told you, I’m ready,” she urged.

“Are you sure, Aoife? Be careful with you wish for, lass. You will not be able to travel back or between the two worlds. You won't see your children again. and your life will be completely different,” Seamus cautioned.

Aoife’s scowled. “I don't see my sons now! I’ve got my life to live, and I told you, I’m ready.” She couldn't wait to be with Paddy again.

Seamus carefully lifted his riding crop. “All right, Aoife. If you’re sure, I’ll give you your heart’s desire, make you young again, and you'll be wife to your lost love, Paddy.” His eyes grew serious. “May you be happy, Aoife.”

And with a wave of his riding crop, time changed in a pink-tinted flash.

****

Aoife awoke to roosters crowing. The sun was breaking through dingy curtains when she opened her eyes. Confused for a moment, she bolted upright in the bed, remembering well where she was supposed to be. Looking down, she saw long strands of brown hair instead of gray ones. Joy filled her - she was young again. Still, she was alone, and it was not what she'd expected.

Suddenly, Paddy burst through the door, his hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled and dirty. He was unshaven even though it was past dawn. It was obvious to any observer he’d slept in his clothes.

“Aoife, the kids are hungry,” he barked, apparently irritated by her still being in bed. “Why aren’t you up?”

“Paddy,” she stuttered. “I’m so happy to see you.” A smile lit Aoife’s face.

Paddy spun about, glaring in disbelief. “Happy to see me, are you? Well, how about being happy to see your six hungry wee ones in the next room! They’ve been awake and ready for breakfast since sunup!” He made no effort to disguise his irritation.

“Of course, Paddy. I’ll see to it immediately.” Aoife smoothed her hair into a bun and threw the covers wide, growing suddenly self-conscious as she emerged from the bedsheets. Six children? How in the world had that happened? She blushed a bright red. She knew precisely how it had happened, but still, six children?! Obviously, they were still very much in love, so Paddy’s impatience must have stemmed from hunger.

Aoife opened the door to find six bright-eyed, red-faced children between the ages of one and twelve. Small fingers tugged at her apron as she tied it around her waist. Tears streaked the faces of at least two children begging to be held. Not taking the time to address their individual needs, Aoife quickly lit the stove. It wouldn’t do to upset Paddy further. Despite the chaos, she smiled. She and Paddy would have this evening to reacquaint themselves.

Aoife spent the day performing a variety of chores: cleaning, cooking, gardening, tending kids, and washing clothes. In addition, Paddy expected her help in the fields. Aoife assumed he’d decided to farm instead of helping with his father’s mercantile business. While it didn’t make much sense, Aoife reminded herself money wasn’t everything. The love she remembered with Paddy had been spectacular and would carry them through anything. Still, she couldn’t wait to sit down after supper and find out more about this life she found herself in. It was all somewhat unexpected.

Later that evening, Aoife felt as though she had a moment to herself. The children had been fed, washed, and were now abed. She glanced at Paddy, who sat slowly rocking before the hearth, smoking his pipe and reading a book. He seemed oblivious to her presence.

Aoife pushed stray hairs back from her face. She was sure she looked a fright. She was hot and tired after the busy day. She hurried outside where the air was cooler to gather her thoughts. Pulling the kerchief from her head, she dipped it in the water pail, using it to freshen up. She’d change for bed and then ask Paddy to sit down for a long, much anticipated conversation. Butterflies of anticipation filled her stomach at the thought.

So as not to interrupt Paddy while reading, Aoife quietly reentered the house and moved to the bedroom. She changed into bed clothes and brushed her hair, deciding to leave it down. Paddy had always loved her long hair and stroked it affectionately. She couldn’t wait for him to show such affection and whisper sweet words of love again.

Entering the room, she thought Paddy still read from his book, but on closer inspection, Aoife learned his head hung down as he snored softly. Paddy had fallen asleep, and Aoife's heart warmed at the sight. It had been an exhausting day. Still, there was much she needed to say to the man, so she must wake him.

Aoife knelt before the rocking chair. “Paddy. Wake up. Please wake up, dear Paddy,” she said, lightly touching his knee.

Paddy jumped, opened his eyes, and sputtered. “What’s wrong? Why’d you wake me?” He stood upright, pushing Aoife’s hand from his knee. “Damn! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me, woman?” he barked, clearly exasperated with her.

Surprised by his anger, Aoife stood and studied him. This was not someone she remembered so fondly from youth. No, this was not the Paddy who had lingered in her memories for so long. What kind of man had he become?

“Paddy, I just want to talk,” Aoife said, lightly touching his arm in reassurance.

“Talk? When you know how tired I am, Aoife?” He pried her fingers from his arm. “What is it now? What could you possibly want to talk about? This better be good, Aoife, because I’m tired of your nonsense.”

Aoife stepped back, staring at Paddy in disbelief. Despite giving birth to six children, she knew she still made a pretty picture. She had believed their reunion would be more pleasant, especially in view of the six sleeping children they’d created together, but it seemed that time had not been a friend to them. Never had she been spoken to or disrespected in such a way.

Aoife squinted at Paddy and poked his chest hard with her finger.

“Who the devil do you think you’re talking to, Patrick Michael McLeod? How dare you speak to me like that?! I’m your wife and the mother of your children - six children, that is! And while we’re talking, please explain why we’re working so hard on this farm instead of you helping with the mercantile business?”

Paddy was clearly confused. “Are you daft, woman? We lost the store after Pa died five years ago. This farm is our only means of putting food on the table and a roof over our heads. You’re talking nonsense!” Still shaking his head, he headed to the bedroom. “I’m tired and going to bed. I’ll hear no more from you tonight, Aoife McLeod.”

Shaken, Aoife sat in the rocking chair, staring into the fire. It blazed a pink hue, taunting and reminding her of the pink petals. She had truly believed the petals would bring her a new destiny. She’d been so hopeful but that hope was gone now.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, but a dawning awareness filled her. Love was much more than butterflies in the stomach, affectionate strokes of the hair, and whispered, sweet words. She remembered the gravity she’d seen in Seamus’ eyes as he’d lifted the magic riding crop. He’d known full well she would learn her lesson too late.

Deciding she needed something for courage to face tomorrow, Aoife went in search of whiskey. She found it hidden high in a cabinet and poured herself a generous measure. She wondered if one bottle would be enough. Sitting at the table, she downed a glass and poured another. The amber liquid burnt as it traveled through her body. Hopefully, it would warm the chill that had invaded her body. Curse the bloody pink petals. Never had she been in need of drink so badly before.

****

Dawn was breaking and light streaming through the draperies when Aoife awoke, still groggy from the amount of alcohol she’d imbibed the previous night. The table was hard beneath her arms and head. She must have fallen asleep there instead of in the bedroom. Well, that was all well and good since she’d no desire to lay next to Paddy after their conversation - if one could call it that.

Rubbing her eyes, Aoife wondered why the sound of roosters and crying children did not yet fill her ears. Looking about, she stared wide-eyed at her surroundings. Quickly loosening her bun, she found gray-streaked hair. Relief filled her. She was no longer at the farmhouse, no longer Paddy’s wife, and no longer young and mother of six. She was back at her home where she belonged. It must have all been a dream!

Relief filled Aoife as she sank down in a chair. She could not wait to see her sons! Never would she have thought she’d be so happy to be sixty-four, living a mundane existence in an all-too familiar home while looking forward to seeing her children, but she was. Thank the heavens above it had been a dream - albeit a horrible dream, but still just a dream.

Tears filled Aoife’s eyes. She had been so foolish. She would never make another wish and she would never give Paddy McLeod another thought as long as she lived. Her husband, God rest his soul, had always treated her with the care and affection, his respect all too obvious in all he said or did. She wanted to weep, so intense was the breath and scope of regret. Her husband must have loved her even though he didn’t stroke her hair or whisper sweet nothings in her ear. More to the point, she now realized she had loved him, too. The irony of the situation did not escape her. She’d learned her lesson and wouldn’t forget it. Life and love were much more than trivial, small things; they were the depth and dimension of years well-lived while shared with a comfortable friend. Love was respect and devotion, loyalty and friendship.

Aoife sat at the table a long while. Perhaps she ought never to pick up the bottle again, she thought, stifling a laugh. She stood, and as she reached to put away the bottle of whiskey, she stopped abruptly. Before her, on the table, was not only her empty glass but another one, and beside it lay a man’s black hat.

Aoife reached to lift the hat from the table and held it closer. She found bright, red strands of hair stuck to the dark material. Seamus, the goblin was real. Did that mean what she’d experienced had been real, too, and not a dream? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to damn the pink petals. If the magic petals had truly brought Seamus to her world and given her an opportunity to revisit a lost youth, at least they’d seen fit to restore her life when she’d realized her mistake. She’d never look at those pink petals that rained from the sky every night at midnight in the same wistful way again. They were far more powerful - and wiser – than she’d ever been. Indeed, Seamus had been right - best be careful what you wish for.

A loud knock sounded, and Aoife could hear laughter coming from the other side of the heavy doors. Cautiously, she made her way to the door and opened it. To her surprise, six men and women entered, laughing while each hugging and kissing Aoife in greeting.

“Morning, Mum. What’s for breakfast?” they all shouted in unison. “We’re starving.”