A Short Story: The Girl Who Watched for Elves (Once Upon a Time Today 0.0) by Heidi Garrett

Author:Heidi Garrett [Garrett, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Half-Faerie Publishing
Published: 2013-10-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 4: Two Lives in One

“The remaining years in my father’s home, passed like a dark enchantment. One long colorless blur—”

“The first ten cards show your foundation,” the reader said, “but something changed. The next ten cards represent your present, and your future. Look how different they are from your past.”

The young woman pointed to the first card on the top row—a single bejeweled cup overflowed with water, clouds, and doves. “What does that card mean?”

“The Ace of Cups? It’s a card of blessings. Blessings received from holding love in your heart—”

“Could the Ace of Cups be interpreted as grace?” the young woman asked.

“Yes, that would be an excellent interpretation.”

The young woman laughed as her gaze pinged back and forth, between the last card on the bottom row, and the first card on the top row. “Watching for elves.”

The reader’s eyes tensed with questions.

“My grandmother’s name is Elva,” the young woman said. “Elva is also an Old English word, meaning ‘elf’. Everything changed when I found her.”

*~*~*

The yellow cab pulled up in front of a small, dilapidated home, sinking into the garden that surrounded it. The girl, who’d grown into a distrusting, but hopeful, young woman, watched wide-eyed, as a petite figure, in a white ruffled blouse and plain black skirt, flew out the front door. The old woman didn’t pause on the porch, nor did she stop when she reached the bottom of the steps.

By the time the young woman had exited the cab, the white-haired woman stood beside her, squinting through thick glasses. “Heather, is that you?”

The young woman could only nod.

It was the first time, in over two decades, she’d heard her name said with love. She let it sink in.

A stout man, wearing house slippers and a five o’clock shadow, came out of the house.

“That’s your Uncle James,” her grandmother said. “James, help her get her bags.”

She only had one.

The woman clutched Heather’s arm. “Let’s go inside.”

Unbelieving, that this odd, but welcoming pair could be related to her, the young woman followed them into their home.

Sitting on their sofa, a strange thing happened to her body. The sharpest edges of her knees and elbows softened—the grit, lodged between her bones for years, whirled away, and the steel, that made her heart as dangerous as a hand grenade, smelted.

She’d finally made it home.

Grace.

*~*~*

“Your relationship with your grandmother must be very special,” the reader said.

“It is.”

“But it hasn’t fixed everything, has it?”

She hated to admit there were still gaps in her life. “No.”

The reader tapped a card. There was an image of an old man brandishing a lantern in the dark. He walked with a staff and wore a pointed hat. “In many ways, you’re still alone, searching.”

“It’s true. My grandmother doesn’t live in this city, and I only visit her once a year.”

The tarot reader nodded. He pointed to the next card. A mysterious woman, dressed in long robes with a strange horned hat on her head, gazed from it. “Whatever you’re seeking, you’re going to find it.

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