The Pantry Door, Julie Steimle [read aloud books .TXT] 📗

been wiped away. It was just plain odd. But then Katy considered her grandmother may just feel relief that Katy had no reason to go into the magic room anymore.

“Go take the rest of your things to your room. Then after breakfast, I was thinking we’d drive north to Spanish Fork and see a movie. We can have lunch and dinner there. Does that sound good?” Her grandmother paused, with a cracked egg in her hands, holding the empty shells over a bowl she had dumped the contents in.

Shrugging, Katy also sighed. It was better than lingering around a small town without Nissa. “Ok.”

“Go change.” Grandma Schmidt returned to her cooking.

Katy turned, sighed again and did as she was told.

The Hello

Katy had been rather down since Nissa had departed from the small town. Though she enjoyed the movie, she would have enjoyed it more if Nissa had been there to see it with her. After the movie, they had eaten lunch and dinner in a restaurant, but somehow the food didn’t taste as good since she couldn’t tell Nissa about it. Katy just kept touching her bracelet, rolling the letter beads under her finger, reading over and over again Katie & Nisa, Best Friends—Friends Forever. She went to bed, looking up at the ceiling, wondering how Nissa was faring at boarding school.

On Sunday morning, Katy hardly noticed the Gibson boys her age making faces at her, or Carly Hillerman’s snide remarks. Their words and gestures were nothing more than the same blur of the Nissa-less world. Even the uncomfortable glances from Martha Sandberg and her friends didn’t register. None of it mattered to Katy. And that afternoon, Katy sat in the living room just making origami flowers and sighing to herself. Grandma Schmidt was oddly patient about it and made a chocolate cream pie that evening for dessert. In a way, Katy knew she was trying to lift her spirits.

When Monday came and they returned to the yard to cut the grass that had grown and trim the roses, Katy saw yet another pixie, whose appearance woke her from her stupor. The magic was not gone.

It was a more masculine type pixie. Different coloring and shape. He fluttered then landed on a nearby rose, standing about the height of Katy’s own hand. He blinked dark black eyes at Katy a few times, his hand tucked behind his back as he watched her pull weeds from the flower bed. Then he said with a humming buzz, “The tune you sigh is sad. Breathe something more cheerful.”

“Breathe?” Katy lifted her head, looking at him straight. “Don’t you mean sing?”

The pixie’s mouth curled slightly on the ends as he lifted off the flower. “Singing would be good too. But you breathe a song with every sigh, and the flowers are weeping.”

“That is the silliest thing I have every heard anyone—”

But the pixie interrupted her, fluttering near her face. She pulled back. “Can’t you hear them?”

Katy went immediately silent, tilting her head to listen. She heard the wind. She heard the boughs above her creak as the breeze blew over it. The grass rustled, and above where the birds flew, the hum of insects seemed to go in harmony, and then—incredibly faint, in a way she could hear the flowers weeping. Leaning closer, Katy listened more.

The pixie landed on the grass, setting his hands on his hips. “You bring your feelings with you and spread them all around. When you are happy, everything sings. When you are sad, everything weeps. Bring a happy song, for we wish to dance.”

He then lit off the ground and fluttered up into the trees. Katy could hardly hear him as he flew off.

“Kathleen? Is something the matter?” Grandma Schmidt hadn’t noticed the pixie, walking over to look at where Katy had been staring off into space.

Though she had told her grandmother about the magic room, Katy was unsure if she should tell her about the tiny, magic people in their yard. Biting her lip, Katy got up. “Nothing, really.”

Sighing herself, Grandma Schmidt tilted her head and said, “I think we’ve done enough yard work for today. What would you like to do this afternoon?”

Katy shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll read.”

Nodding, her grandmother sighed again and walked toward the compost heap to dump the grass clippings. “Ok. But if you change your mind, I’ll be in the house.”

Watching her go, Katy glanced back at the rose bushes. Three pixies stuck their heads out and watched Katy anxiously. Perhaps they were the ones making the weeping noise. Nissa did say pixies liked trouble.

Getting up, dusting her pants off, Katy marched back to the compost heap and dumped her weeds also. Then she walked right into the house, taking a deep breath. If there was anyone to trust, with Grandpa Schmidt gone and Nissa gone, it had to be Gran.

“Grandma?” Katy followed her into the kitchen where Grandma Schmidt was already thinking about lunch, opening the refrigerator. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the room up there. But—I have another secret.”

Grandma Schmidt turned her head to look at her, her face showing a comforting openness. “What is it?”

“You know that fantasy book?” Katy said.

Her grandmother nodded.

“In it are pictures of magic people and creatures. You know, things that aren’t supposed to be real. Imaginary. Only—” Katy swallowed hard, struggling to think of a way to say it, “I’ve been seeing the ones the book calls pixies, and uh, gnomes. Only they don’t look like the pictures.”

She waited to see what her grandmother would say. Grandma Schmidt certainly stared with wider eyes—somewhat shocked, yet not entirely.

Straightening up, Grandma Schmidt closed the refrigerator then nodded to Katy. “I see.”

“I’m not schizophrenic. Nissa saw them too. The pixies were the ones that chased Lloyd Gibson from our house.” Katy waited now, watching her grandmother.

Her grandmother leaned on the chair and nodded again, but this time she stared into space. While not exactly frowning, Katy could tell she was not happy with this news.

“Nissa said her father told her pixies are troublemakers, and I shouldn’t get involved with them. But they keep talking to me,” Katy added.

“And what do they tell you to do?” Grandma Schmidt asked.

Katy shrugged. “To play happy music. They want to dance.”

Her grandmother gave a small laugh and pinched the ridge of her nose. She then turned and walked straight into the living room. Katy followed her. Walking directly to the music cabinet, Grandma Schmidt took out her fancy skeleton key and opened it up, going straight for the glass case with her grandfather’s special instrument. She opened that next, taking the woodwind out then turning toward Katy.

“I think you had better use this one. Play two of your grandfather’s tunes.” She set the pipe into Katy’s hands, patting her fingers gently. “The first tune should be Fairy Dance. The next tune Entering the Mound. Then bring me back the flute. Alright Kathleen?”

Nodding, Katy drew in a breath. “Ok, but—”

“Don’t ask questions. You weren’t supposed to get this flute until you were sixteen, but I think your grandfather will forgive me if I let you use it today for this one thing.” Grandma Schmidt walked to the front door and pushed open the screen. They both walked out onto the front porch where Grandma Schmidt gestured for Katy to find a comfortable place to sit. “I’ll go make lunch. As soon as you are done, come inside. And whatever you do, don’t talk to them when they leave. Understand?”

Katy nodded again.

Watching her grandmother go, Katy then glanced at her grandfather’s prized instrument. It was true. She had never seen any of those magical things until after she has used this pipe to chase Lloyd from the house, but then the pipe had come to her. Maybe the flute itself was magical, which would explain why the library book caught her eye.

Taking it in her hands, Katy cleaned her grandfather’s instrument and wet the reed in her mouth. Then lifting it to her lips, Katy played the first tune her grandfather had taught her—Fairy Dance.

Almost immediately, the pixies rose from the yard, perking up their tiny heads, their antenna twitching, keying into the sound. Their wings fluttered, lifting them high. Then, obeying the song, they danced—flying, twirling, whirling and spinning all around Katy, the trees, the flowers and the porch, skipping about with glee, each one dressed in pieces of spider web, dry leaves, and flower petals. Every pixie had a unique shape. All were dressed with leaves and petal from the plants around the yard, each one big-eyed and spindly-legged, with mischief sparkling in their smiles. Round and round they went. Up and up, they flew until the climax of the sprite melody where Katy concluded things with a brisk high note.

All of the pixies gathered around Katy now, grinning and panting, eager for more dance and more song. But she remembered Nissa’s words: they were trouble and mostly likely would cause her some if she meddled with them too long. So, Katy played the second song she ever learned.

Entering the Mound was beautiful from the very beginning, starting out light and happy, but leading on to a sleepier tune that sounded like a call from a real distant place. Each one of the pixies danced, lifting off from the porch, Katy’s lap, and shoulders. Fluttering overhead, the pixies waltzed their way into the air, as the sound of wind joined Katy’s melody. Then, forming a procession, the pixies danced together, flying into a hole somewhere at the base of their apple tree. They flew in like butterflies migrating together, but a few were left—stragglers with a mite more mischief than the others. They called to Katy to play some more. Several waved good-bye, asking her to come and play again. But Katy did not forget her grandmother’s words, and up until the final note of the song, she did not break off or say a word.

Exhaling, she lowered the pipe.

One fat little pixie flew up to her face and shouted, “You can’t be done yet?”

Stopping herself from replying, Katy turned and headed into the house, opening the front door. She heard its little buzz behind her say irritably, “Alright. I’m going already. Meanie.”

Katy would have said something then, but she stopped herself. Entering the living room, Katy crossed through it and walked straight into the kitchen. Grandma Schmidt had set two stacks of grilled cheese sandwiches on the table and was stirring some soup for them both. She set her finger to her lips, nodding for Katy to set the pipe on the table. Katy did, still saying nothing.

As soon as her grandmother took the soup off the stove, setting two bowls at each place, her grandmother sat down and motioned for Katy to bow her head. Deciding it was not a good idea to argue right now, considering the pixies just might come back if she spoke, Katy did as she was instructed.

Her grandmother said grace, then lifted her head and put her hand on the pipe. “You can talk now. It’s ok.” She got up and walked into the living room. “You could have talked as soon as you came inside—”

“Grandma!” Katy slumped her shoulders, realizing she had been played.