The Forgotten Ones

with you,” I called over my shoulder.
    Aunt Jessie was talking on the phone when I walked up. I looked around for Gram and saw her surrounded by a group of my mother’s old friends, including Joanne. I was grateful that they were there to reassure her.
    When Gram saw me, she excused herself from the ladies and hurried over. “Oh sweetheart, how are you holding up?” she asked, placing her palm on my cheek.
    “I’m fine. But what about you?”
    “I’m terrified, Allie-girl. It’s not like your mother to wander off for this long,” Gram said, glancing over at Pop.
    “We’ll find her Gram,” I said. I knew Liam could hear me from where he stood on the sidewalk. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

    My mother lies in a bed, swathed in gauzy fabric, her eyes closed in peaceful sleep. The room is quiet, and warm light comes from globes suspended in the air. A young woman with scarlet hair approaches her bedside, carrying a platter of fruit and a golden cup. Her blue gown looks straight out of the Middle Ages with floor-length, open sleeves and gilded embroidery on the hems. She bends to place the platter on a table by my mother’s head, her hair tumbling over her shoulder.
    Another woman with mahogany curls and a similar mauve gown appears on my mother’s other side. She laughs as she smooths my mother’s hair back onto her silky pillow.
    Suddenly, both women straighten up as another walks into the room. Her glistening blonde hair flows to the small of her back. She takes the golden cup in her hands and brings it to her curved mouth. After she takes a sip, she trickles a few drops of liquid onto my mother’s lips. As soon as it touches, my mother's eyes open. She stares dreamily at the women surrounding her. She doesn't look afraid—she looks content.
    I opened my eyes, and rubbed my palms across my face before looking at the clock.
    4:43 a.m.
    I must have fallen asleep on the couch while waiting to hear from the police.
    It took a minute to clear the cobwebs from my head. I could still almost smell the ripe fruit and hear the laughter from my dream. I reached over and patted the end table until I found my cell phone. I clicked it open and tapped a text message to Liam:
    Where are you?
    Not ten seconds later, my phone beeped with a message:
    Right outside.
    My eyebrows furrowed. Had he really waited for me?
    I stood and walked to the window that looked out on the woods next to the house. A sliver of the moon still hung low in the sky, but it was too dark to see anything.
    I sent another message:
    What are you still doing here?
    After a brief pause, my phone beeped again:
    Niamh went without me.
    I looked up from my phone and out into the trees. I squinted and saw a tiny bit of movement in the woods. Slipping on my flip flops, I hurried out the sliding door. The sky was streaked with the lavender and peach light of early morning as I walked toward the spot I’d seen the movement.
    “Good morning.”
    I jumped as Liam appeared out of nowhere beside me. “How did you do that?”
    He chuckled, the sound so quiet I barely heard it. “I told you—we’re fast. Too fast for you to see.”
    I closed my eyes and inhaled. Nothing should surprise me anymore.
    “Why didn’t you go with Niamh? And why are you standing in the woods at this hour?” I asked, glancing up at him.
    He looked toward the sky as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It didn’t feel right,” he began, his accent thick. “Leaving you here didn’t feel right.”
    My eyes widened and I swallowed hard to hold back the biting comment that came to mind. “What about my mother?”
    “Allison, this is all happening so fast and I know you’re frustrated.” He swallowed, shooting me a pleading look.
    “You worried about what I might do, didn’t you?” I said, the realization striking me as I spoke.
    He cleared his throat and shrugged. “You’re the first daughter I’ve ever had,” he said.
    I rolled my eyes. “All right, fine. Does this mean you’re taking me to fairy land?”
    Liam sighed. “I suppose it does.”

    The screen door bounced a few times before it shut behind me as I walked back into the house. I smelled coffee brewing and heard dishes clanking in the sink. As I passed the den, I saw my mother’s violin sitting in its case, open on the coffee table. It looked like she had just been about to take it out before she’d disappeared, not up in her room at all.
    Gram sat at the table, idly stirring a cup of coffee in