Sighing, he put the joint aside and moved closer to her. He put his finger beneath her chin and gently turned her head towards him. His eyes were dark and serious, “You are much more than soft company. I thought you knew how enchanted I am, sweet Faery. You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
Lilly shrugged and pulled away slightly. In the glow of the candlelight, Roland saw the glint of tears on her face. “I’ve written something for you,” he whispered. He picked up his mandolin, strummed and begin to sing softly.
“Moon drops they fall on a red heart candle.
Gifts of love touch me again.
My Lilly bud blooms in our sacred union, her gentle hand telling me when.
Her secret life flowers in the late night hours.
Robed in her indigo blue, gently she waits by the old iron gates,
my inner life she sparks anew.
She stands in the moonlight, pale soft and lovely,
shadowed in pastel delights.
She catches my eye and fills me with wonder,
our loving lasts all through the night...”
A smile played on Lilly’s mouth, her sudden attack of fear and doubt diminishing as she lay back on the furry pillows. The heartfelt lyrics, written for her, touched her deeply. Her mind began inserting flute flourishes and trills, filling out the music.
Suddenly Roland stopped. “Wow, wait a minute, I have something for you. Well, you can see if you like it. If you do, it’s yours,” He rummaged around in the dimly lit bus, opened a chest under one of the beds along the wall and removed a long, dark case. He handed the case to Lilly, “Check it out, see what you think.”
Lilly’s breath caught as she opened the case. Candle light gleamed on a silver flute. Lifting it from the case, she snapped it together and checked the finger pads. Bringing it to her lips she played. The tone was perfect. She ran through the scales and played a little piece she knew from Mozart’s Magic Flute. Roland grabbed his mandolin and led them into a Celtic tune. Lilly’s eyes closed as she easily blended her flute into the ancient Celtic music.
Emerald green hills, standing stones, an ancient tor and a sacred well filled her vision. The smell of heather filled her senses. Transported, riding the wave of music and magic, their energy blended creating light and color. Ancient carvings of fanciful creatures and intricate knots danced in their shared visions as the two musicians balanced between the worlds.
The music played itself out and they opened their eyes to sunrise in New Orleans. “Now I remember how I know you,” Lilly said. Roland put his mandolin aside and gently reached for her. Their lips joined, as they moved into the ancient dance of ecstatic love.
Lilly woke in the late afternoon to the clip clop of hooves. A mule drawn carriage, overflowing with tourists, rolled down Frenchman Street. Roland, lying nearby, smiled. Lilly smiled and leaned in to kiss him between his well defined brows. “I’m famished” they said almost in unison.
“Valentine’s restaurant is right out the door, I’ll be happy to buy you a meal, my lady. First, let me ask, ‘Is this your flute?’“
It took Lilly a moment to answer as her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. “From the look on your face, I’d have to guess it is,” Roland said, handing her the silver flute.
Lilly held it close and looked up at him, “Where did this come from? How can you give it to me?”
“It came from a musician friend of mine in San Francisco, Jake. He has a beautiful tenor voice and added lyrics to our music. Jake started the bus tour with us. By the time we reached Tucson it was obvious he was not into the tour. He found out his old lady back in California was pregnant and all he wanted to do was go home. He left me his flute, which he said he couldn’t play worth a damn, told me to use it, find a home for it or sell it. I can’t imagine a better home for the flute than with you. If you feel it is your flute, then it truly is. What do you say?”
Lilly’s face lit up, “I can barely believe it, I’ve found my magick flute. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
They stood up straightened their clothes and head for the door of the bus. Lilly put her hand on Roland’s arm, “Wait a second, I need to ask you something. In the song you played for me, you called me Lilly. Why did you use that name?
Roland’s head tilted to one side. A quizzical look drew his brows together. Isn’t that your name?
“How did you know that. I’ve told everyone my name is Lyla. It is part of my disguise.
Roland smiled and kissed her hand, “I’ve thought of you as Lilly since the day we met. The name fits you better than Lyla. It’s beautiful and perfect for you.” He stood silently for a few minutes.
Lilly shook her head in amazement. “You are full of surprises” she said, as she nudged him, “Are we going to get something to eat?”
Roland took her hand and looked into her eyes, “I have something to tell you, Lilly. You know the blue birth mark I have on the back of my neck?”
Lilly nodded, smirked and said, “It is a tattoo, right?”
Roland shook his head, “No it’s not a tattoo. It’s a remnant from my past life. My grandfather, my dad and my brother all have similar markings. I feel comfortable talking to you about this because I know you are a supernatural being yourself. Your Fae magic is strong. It is strange bayou Faery magic, but I recognize it. I know the idea of being with a Druid won’t frighten you. Am I right?”
Lilly took a
