A Life Earthbound (4 page)

Quiet as always, she merely listened and sat down with him at the table, content to let him do all the talking.

As she listened, her eyes watched the fairies.

Hundreds of them flew around her, nothing more than glowing golden lights most commonly confused with fireflies. As they zipped across the surface of the dining table, various dishes and food items appeared, transported from the kitchen.

Sometimes Rhiannon would sneak into the kitchen, fascinated to watch them work. She loved it there, especially the small greenhouse that was connected to it that housed the vegetable and herb garden. She was fascinated with the fairies, even though most of the others never even noticed them.

She felt as if she had a secret friendship with them, even though they couldn’t speak her language nor did they pay any attention to her.

“Thank you,” she whispered as the fairies finished laying out lunch. And then they disappeared, off to clean the castle or wash the linens or prepare bread for that evening’s dinner.

“You know they don’t understand you, right?” Liam told her with a laugh.

Rhiannon nodded, knowing he wouldn’t understand. She liked thanking them. Her mother had raised her with impeccable manners and it was always proper to thank those who served you, even though Serendipity never took her manners quite this far. Rhiannon silently hoped that one day her mother would see her doing it and then would praise her for being so considerate.

Tucking her thought away, she reached for a ham sandwich and an apple as Brock entered the room, Blythe on his hip.

“But I want chocolate cake!” Blythe was yelling at the top of her lungs, tears already in her eyes.

Brock just laughed. “Babycakes, you ain’t getting chocolate cake until dessert. You’ll have to settle for some applesauce and a cheese sandwich until then.”

She pouted, but quieted down. She really liked cheese sandwiches and the thought distracted her from the chocolate cake.

Brock sat her down beside Liam and then took the seat beside her. He fixed her a plate and with a loving smile, he tucked her napkin into the collar of her bright orange shirt, then placed a quick kiss on her nose. She giggled and dug into her sandwich.

Rhiannon watched out of the corner of her eye, feeling an emotion she couldn’t describe rush through her. Years later, she’d understand it was envy. Pure, yet undeniably healthy, envy.

As if to further perpetuate this strange feeling she had, her own father entered the dining hall, looking distracted and stressed. He sat down across the table from her and hurriedly grabbed a turkey sandwich and a scoop of potato salad. Without even acknowledging anyone else, he began to eat in fast gulps, as though he were late for something.

“Looks like you’re getting some gray hairs there, Rohan,” Brock commented, smirking in between bites of his giant roast beef sub.

Rohan glared, his green eyes sharp with disdain. “Some of us take our work seriously, Brock. Gray hairs are only an occupational hazard.”

Brock chuckled, shaking his head as he took another bite of his sandwich. As he swallowed, he looked back over at Rohan, a dangerous fire in his eyes even though his lips were still curved. “Betcha my girl doesn’t like screwing an old man. Tell me, does Serendipity ever call out my name while you’re fumbling around in the dark, knowing, as you do, that you can never be me?”

Rohan paled as his eyes widened and shot to his daughter, who was watching him curiously. He turned back to Brock, furious.

“There are children present!” he managed, fighting to hold back the urge to throttle the man then and there. How dare he say such disgusting, vile filth in the presence of the children?

“That’s enough, Brock,” Serendipity said sternly as she entered the room, having heard the exchange between her husband and her ex-lover. She glided along, taking a seat beside Rohan, her cool blue eyes on Brock.

Brock watched her, unable to hide the lust in his eyes.

“I apologize, Serendipity.” He bowed his head slightly, although it appeared more as a challenge than in repentance.

She tilted her head so she was looking down at him, her lips parted slightly as she let out a soft sigh. It was also a challenge and the message was understood. There was still fire between them, although neither would do anything about it. They both did their best to assure themselves that they were long past their desire for each other.

Turning to her husband, Serendipity patted his arm.

“Calm down, Rohan. Your daughter does not need to see you losing your temper,” she said coolly as she spooned salad onto her plate. She drizzled it with a meager amount of balsamic dressing and then poured herself a small glass of fruit juice.

Rhiannon watched her mother’s every movement, noting how she held the juice pitcher, how she held her fork, how she looked when she chewed. She was determined to emulate her.

Liam had already turned to Blythe and was busy tickling her. When Rhiannon noticed, she shifted away from them, feeling lost and excluded.

Three days later, she stood in the Greenhouse, mesmerized.

Her father’s work area was referred to as the Greenhouse, even though it was not a house for growing plants. On the contrary, he referred to it as a house for growing the Earth.

It was a rectangular structure attached to the far east side of the castle, with glass walls and a steeply arched glass roof with a few panels pushed open to the sky, letting in glowing rays of sunlight. Ivy crawled up the walls on the outside, spreading its thin, leafy arms greedily across the glass, covering nearly half of the building.

On the inside, stepping stones were laid across the ground with bright green moss lining the spaces between. There were small, verdant fruit trees lining the walls and various plants growing in pots scattered throughout. Her father’s many experiments and projects were also housed here, including his dabbling in new breeds of trees and crops. On three separate corkboards were his charts and graphs showing animal migration patterns, earthquake data and monthly plans, and his hundreds of detailed, scientific drawings of his creations. There was a drafting table in the corner, covered with his latest work.

In the middle of the room was a small pond that appeared bottomless, its dark depths a mystery to her. It was lined with stones, almost more like a well. It showed her father a scale model of the Earth so he could do his work.

She’d been here only a few times before, but today was the first day he was going to begin teaching her how to use her powers. She was even more excited than she had been attending class for the first time. This was, as her father stressed to her, the most important role she would ever have in this life.

“Come here, Rhiannon.” He motioned toward the board with his latest drawings on it. One of the drawings she noticed as she approached was of a lovely, vivid purple flower.

He pointed at the flower drawing and glanced at her, his eyes patient.

“This is a new breed of flower I’ve designed. It’s in the viola family. I’ve developed it to have larger petals and leaves enriched with additional vitamin A, vitamin C and antioxidants. The viola species is used for medicinal purposes and I have created this breed to be much more potent for that use,” he explained, watching her closely. “I am going to show you today how to create it, and how we can select where they will grow. Are you ready?”

She nodded, her hands politely clasped in front of her. He led the way toward a small table near the pond that held a good-sized ceramic pot filled with rich, moist soil.

There was a chair beside the table, and without a word he lifted her up and set her on it so she could see the pot more clearly. The thrill she felt at having him hold her, even though it was brief, stayed with her as she watched avidly.

“I want you to watch me first and then I will show you,” he instructed as he held out his hands inches above the soil. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Rhiannon kept her eyes glued to the soil, eager to watch the flower bloom.

A few seconds later, green tendrils slowly crept out of the dirt, spiraling skyward. Leaves began to bud and sprout from the stems, soft and diamond shaped. Rohan opened his eyes and examined the progress of his creation. They seemed to brighten to a more lucid, vivid green–almost as if they were glowing, as he continued to direct the growth of the plant.

Suddenly, a final stem rose from the ground, a bud appearing at the tip, and Rhiannon watched eagerly as the bud began to open, almost in a dance as it swayed and curved into its final position. The petals opened to reveal a glorious, vivid purple flower, complete with tiny black dots and a yellow core. The petals were diamond-shaped, matching the leaves.

Rhiannon stared in fascination, even after Rohan was done. He watched his daughter’s fingers twitch, and could tell she was eager to touch it but would not do so without permission.

“You can touch the flower, Rhiannon,” he said, smiling at the pleasure in her eyes.

She reached out tentatively and brushed her fingertips over the purple petals in a caress.

“I want to know how,” she said, looking at him with eyes much too serious for a girl so young. “Please. Teach me.”

He nodded. “Hold your hands over the soil.”

She did as he requested, her eyes still on his.

“I want you to close your eyes and imagine you are inside the dirt, burrowed deep down where it’s dark and moist. Imagine the seed growing out of nothing.” He paused for a moment, waiting for her. “Have you got it?”

She nodded, her eyes closed in complete concentration.

“Good. Now imagine the stems growing from the seed. Guide them up to the surface, but go slow, don’t rush. Nature prefers to take her time.”

Rhiannon felt the odd sensation of power tingling in her arms, pulsating deep within and surging out of the palm of her hand. Even though visibly it appeared as though nothing was happening, in her mind’s eye she pictured the seed and its subtle progress of becoming a lovely flower.

When she opened her eyes, her flower sat next to her father’s. It was slightly smaller and the petals were odd sizes, but otherwise it was a perfect replica.

Concerned with the defects in the flower, she focused harder, wanting to make it perfect. Rohan watched in amazement at her attention to detail and marveled at his daughter’s determination. He had been blessed with a prodigy and her ambition humbled him.

“Excellent,” he said when she’d finished and glanced up at him expectantly. A tiny smile graced her face at earning his praise.

Lifting her down from the chair, he set aside their flowers and led her over to the pond.

“Now that you’ve seen how we create one flower, let me show you how we transplant them.” He stopped in front of the pond and held out his hands, knowing Rhiannon would stand patiently at his side and watch.

Summoning the power deep within, he beckoned a smooth orb from the depths of the water. It seemed to appear from nothing and then rose, glasslike and spinning, into the air over the water. It was nearly the same diameter as the little pond, roughly three feet, and as it spun it began to take on the appearance of the world. Continents appeared, green and brown, while the oceans turned blue and the clouds wisped over. When it was complete, the globe ceased to spin and sat still, hovering over the pond.

Rohan glanced down at his daughter, pleased at the wonder on her face. She looked as though he had performed a miracle, and nothing had ever made him feel more important.

“The point of using the globe, Rhiannon, is that it allows us to monitor everything we do for the Earth. We not only use it to plant and grow flora or plant life, but we can also keep track of and maintain the fauna, or animal life. This will be your most useful tool, once you are ready for it. All the charts, the drawings, the planning…none of it matters without this.” Inspired, he smiled at her, earning a small smile in return as he lifted his arms again and, using his hands, spun the globe around until China was visible. “Now, let’s go ahead and plant these violets.”

Rhiannon watched in astonishment as her father pointed his index finger, barely a few inches above the surface of the globe, and tiny white lights the size of grains of sand materialized from the tip of his finger and floated toward the land. As each light landed on the surface, it stayed lit, showing where he had planted the seeds. After placing at least forty separate lights, he pulled his hand away and examined his work.