Philip's Investigation

By Donna and Toni

With so many sick in town, every able-bodied person was enlisted to help care for the ill. That included the priests. One of them tried to go let the MacDonald girls get some rest themselves as they nursed their very ill sister, Faith.  Father Alec, who had never been in the best of health his entire life, quickly succumbed to the flu himself. He had gone over to help with Faith, but had to be taken home when Grace determined that he too was running a fever. Ralph and Philip got him into his bed, and after one of the doctors checked him over, set about taking care of him. 

"Why don't you go spell Grace and Hope so they can catch a nap?" Ralph suggested as he bathed Alec's fevered brow. "I can handle things here." 

Philip nodded, and headed over to Faith's house. He knocked on the door, and as he waited, he sent up a prayer that the influenza vaccine that Dr. Shepherd was working on would be effective in stopping the spread of the disease any further. 

A very tired looking Hope opened the door. "Good eve' ta yah, Father," she said as she curtsied politely. "How is Father Alec, the poor dear, doing?" Philip assured her that he was being well taken care of, and that he himself was there to give her and Grace some time to catch up on some rest themselves. 

Hope smiled thankfully and escorted him up to Faith's tiny bedroom. She was drenched in sweat, and shaking almost violently with the chills that were racking her body. Seeing Philip, Grace looked up with that same tired, thankful look. 

She also bid him good evening, and the young priest told her to go and have some dinner with Hope and get some sleep, he'd watch over Faith for a while. They offered to bring him up a plate, and he accepted thankfully; as the women left the room, he couldn't help thinking back to when he'd first met Faith. She'd looked so startled, then accused him of not being what he said he was...a small smile touched his lips, as he made sure she was covered well enough. With that done, he took out the small missal he'd brought with him, and very softly began to recite some prayers for the sick. 

Faith's eyes fluttered open, and she seemed disorientated and lost. "Gideon? Where did ye gang? The wee folk are askin' fer ye!" She clutched at her covers then tried to sit up. "Can't leave them alone...," she mumbled as she slid off her bed and onto the floor, her shaking legs unable to support her weight. 

Fortunately, there was someone there who could certainly support her weight, and Philip, reflexes honed by years of work with the Legacy, got up quickly and caught her. "Whoa, Faith, take it easy, now; you're not goin' anywhere. Gideon is being taken care of by Katherine and Connor, until the epidemic is past and he can come back into town." He saw no reason to go into the plans for the marrow transplant and worry her even further. He got the young woman back into bed and covered her again, watching attentively to make sure she didn't try to get up again before he resumed his prayers. 

She thrashed around, her normally *proper* English reverted back to her native Scot. It was similar to Philip's Irish, but he had to almost struggle to understand what she was saying. One of the words she repeated the most was the one for *wee folk* or *fairy kind*. And she kept calling several women by name. Women that Philip knew did not live in town.  

Wringing out a cloth in a bowl of water sitting on her dresser, Father Philip bathed her brow and wiped her face. She sighed softly and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she opened them again. "Faither? Am ah gang ta dee?" 

Thanks to the antibiotics, he could truly say, "No, Faith; I believe you're goin' t'be fine. But you're very sick now, and y'have to rest, not be gettin' yourself upset about th' wee folk. I'm sure they can take care of themselves." Of course he was talking about the ones that had inhabited her feverish dreams; since they weren't really there, he was sure they'd be able to take care of themselves. 

She managed a weak smile. To give her further reassurance, he put on his stole and anointed her with oil, saying the prayers for the sick over her. Afterwards she smiled again and thanked him. She started to look like she was going to drift off to sleep, but her eyes fluttered open. "Faither? Take me keys and gang ye ta th' garden, wa' ye please? Tell Fiona and the wee folk that ah ha' no forgotten them." She motioned to the key ring sitting on her dresser. And with that, she closed her eyes and went to sleep. 

He looked first at the sleeping girl, then at the key ring; finally, with a small sigh, he said to himself, "What could it hurt?" He knew the garden to be real, because it was how he himself had arrived. Surely, checking it out just to make sure everything was as it should be in there wouldn't take a great deal of his time, and then he could come back and tell Faith, when she woke, that he'd been to the garden and things were fine.  

Putting the keys in his pocket, Philip went downstairs and told the others that Faith was sleeping, and that he just had to run out for a minute or two and would be right back. He left the house, going around to where he knew the garden gate was, unlocked it, and crawled through the little door. Once there, he stood up to his full 6 ft. height and took a deep breath of the refreshing air there; he knew full well why Faith liked this place. There was a peace there, not to mention the cooler air, unlike anything else he'd found since his arrival. 

As he took a deep breath, his nose twitched. The odor of something cooking wafted through the soft breeze. Something sweet.  Curious, Philip followed his nose to the source, and to his surprise, found a tiny thatched cottage nestled amongst the greenery, its door open invitingly. As he went closer, wanting to investigate, a tinkling sound like that of little bells seemed to fill the air around him. 

Between his formative years growing up in Ireland and his time with the Legacy, he'd come to expect almost anything. The bell-like sound stopped him in his tracks, but he didn't seem to feel anything evil about it; on the contrary, he felt only "good vibes", as one of the boys from his parish would have said. He remembered what Faith had said about the wee folk and faeries, and remained calm, saying out loud, "All right; is it that y'don't want me to go inside the house? I c'n handle that just fine, I'll stay right here. And if it'll ease your minds as t'who I am, Faith MacDonald sent me here, t'make sure everything was all right. My name is Father Philip Callahan, and y've nothing ta fear from me." He hoped that would help, though he still had the strangest sense that there was nothing to fear from whoever the presence was around him either. 

As he stared into the thick foliage, trying to see who had laughed at him, he heard another laugh behind him, this one very human sounding. Turning around, he saw a tall, elegant looking woman dressed in a simple shift standing in the door. "Dia duit, Father," she said, her blue eyes sparkling in the dimming light of the garden. "Me name is Fiona. What is this I was hearing about the Lady Faith sendin' ye to the garden? Why was she not able to come herself?" 

To his credit, he stared at her for only a moment, his eyes a bit wide as he wondered if this woman was one of the little lights that he'd been trying to look at. God knew, he thought to himself, she was certainly beautiful enough to be an ethereal being! He swallowed, then cleared his throat, and replied, "Dia is Muire duit, Fiona. She's very sick right now; most of Edan is suffering from influenza, and she's caught it. She'll be all right, but she was too weak to be up and about, so she asked me to come in her place." He was doing a very good job of remaining calm, for which he silently thanked God.  

She seemed to be studying him, her blue eyes testing the purity of his soul. "What are ye standin' there fer? Come on in. I'll wet the tea."  She turned and went into the house.  

He followed along behind her, stopping in the doorway and saying softly, "The blessing of God on you and this house." 

"And that of Jesus, Mary and Patrick on you as well. Come on in and be welcome. Wipe your feet!" The last was said in a stern voice that was so typical of Irish women, he felt a stab of home sickness for the Emerald Isle.  She was setting a plate of freshly cooked oatcakes on the table, along with a thick strawberry jam and five cups. Five?? Why were there five cups? 

However, Philip Callahan had had it drummed into him by his mother from his infancy not to be nosy and ask too many questions, especially of one's host or hostess, and so he took an oatcake and just smiled, "Thank ya, Fiona. They smell wonderful; remind me of home." 

"Sit down then," she said, pouring the tea. Looking up, she smiled. "It's ok, Vanessa, you can come in!" Father Philip stood up as a beautiful blonde woman clad in an almost transparent shift that sparkled softly in the lamplight of the cottage came inside.  

Fortunately, Philip was nowhere near as shy as Father McBain; he'd had a normal life, including dates with women, before he'd joined the priesthood. But he was just shy enough to blush often, especially when seeing a woman dressed this way, and he could feel his cheeks heat as he looked at an interesting decoration on the wall, wanting to calm down a little before he tried speaking to the new arrival. 

He was so intent on not looking at the newcomer that he almost missed the shy approach of two more women, one blonde, one dark, but both beautiful and as the other one, very scantly dressed. "He's pretty," Hydra said reaching out to touch his dark, wavy hair. "Do we get to play with this one?" Fiona just about choked on the tea she was sipping. 

Philip turned even redder, if that was possible, and wiped his mouth quickly, then put his napkin down, telling Fiona, "Perhaps I'd better go, now that I've delivered m' message. It was wonderful meetin' all you ladies....goodbye, now!" He started to head for the door, hoping they wouldn't think he was rude. They were just all making him nervous! 

"Don't go!" the three fairies all called out at the same time, reaching out to stop him. Fiona was laughing so hard she could hardly speak.  

"Sorry ladies," she managed to gasp. "He's a priest. And priests are celibate." 

The three looked at each other. "Celibate?" Endora asked in a confused voice. "What is that? Can you cure it with your water, Hydra?" 

Poor Philip was now so embarrassed he couldn't speak; he just stood there, the three lovely (and barely dressed) women standing around him discussing his celibacy like it was a disease! He looked at Fiona helplessly, silently asking her to help get him out of this! 

"Don't worry, Father, I will explain it to my friends," she chuckled. "They mean you no harm, but even so, you had best go. Gideon was safe from their curiosity about such things, but you, I'm afraid are fair game." She bagged up some of the hot cakes and a little pot of the jam. "Go with God, Father, and give Faith all my love. I will keep you all in my prayers. When it is safe for me to come out, let me know." 

"I will, and thank ya, Fiona, for everything. God bless ya." Then he turned to the three rather disappointed looking faeries – somehow he just knew that was what they were - and said to them, "Ladies, it was a pleasure meetin' ya." He wasn't sure what kind of a religious goodbye to offer them, if any, so he just left it at that and left the cottage with his hotcakes and jam - and his virtue - intact, before they could get him to change his mind! He crawled back through the little door and went back to the sisters' home with his little package; he knew he could tell them he'd been given the cakes and jam by one of the parishioners who'd bumped into him on the street, and that he knew for a fact they were not only safe to eat, but very good as well! But most of all, he had to tell Faith what had happened, when she awoke. 

As he once more took his place of vigil by the sick girl's bed, Philip could not rid himself of the vision in his head. Not of three scantly clad fairies, though they had been lovely indeed, but of a beautiful, dark haired Irish woman with dancing blue eyes that had sparkled in the light of the setting sun standing barefoot by her cottage door.