She always came in May.

For the past 100 years, every Everton daughter spent every night in May waiting on the grand back porch of the massive Everton estate, waiting.  It began at age 6, when tiny squirming toes would be shoved into sparkling shoes and lacy socks and even squirmier torsos and arms and legs would be wrangled into a mass of tulle, lace and bows (normally pink).  With a small tiara perched on the standard Everton curls, each daughter would wait, night after night, year after year.  The men in the Everton family used to look on in amusement, watching as everyone from the 89 year old Everton matriarch to the smallest Everton daughter spent their evenings on the porch, reading and sewing and painting.  And waiting.

In fact, it was such a tradition everyone in town knew about it.  They would joke with the Everton mothers at PTA meetings, tease the daughters in ballet class and nudge each other when driving by the Everton estate at night.  “There they sit,” they would say, their engines rumbling outside the grand steel gates.  “See them?  All sitting there like birds on a fence?  Just waiting.  Waiting and waiting.”

But no one knew what the Everton women were waiting for.  Except the Everton women themselves, of course.  For they were waiting for her. And she always came in May.

Always.

This year, this May, was a special May.  For little Sky  Everton had turned six on May 2.  And on her sixth birthday, after blowing out her chocolate cake and candles, she was finally allowed to go sit with the big kids on the Everton porch.

And she did.  Sit, that was.  After about five minutes, Sky was bored.

“Mom.”  She tugged on her mother’s sleeve, interrupting a dull and pointless conversation about knitting.  “Mom, what are we waiting for?”

“Sky, it’s not polite to interrupt.”  Her mother turned back to her aunt.

“But Mom, what are we waiting for?”  As the birthday girl with the birthday tiara, Sky was willing to risk it.  After all, her mother couldn’t put her in time out on her birthday.

“You didn’t tell her, Mary?”  Her aunt’s lips twitched, her own tiara slipping.

“No.”  Her mother glanced at her, then at her aunt.  “I thought it would be best for her to see for herself.  After all, it’s hard to explain…”

“You didn’t have a hard time explaining her to me.”  Her aunt giggled.  “Remember my sixth birthday?”

Her mother blushed.  “That was different.  I was nine and we were sisters.  Sky is my baby, my only girl.  I want tonight to be magical for her.”

“Oh, it will be.”  Her aunt bobbed her head.  “If she comes, you can count on it.”

“She will.”  Her mother nodded.  “She’ll come.  She has to.  It’s May now.”

“Who?” Sky demanded.  “If who comes?”

“You’ll see.”  Her mother smiled that infuriating knowing smile all adults required at 30.  “You’ll see.”

Crossing her arms, Sky huffed into her puffy sleeves and hunkered down in her chair.  Before she knew it, her indignation turned to exhaustion.  The next thing she knew, her aunt was shaking her shoulder.

“Sky,” she whispered.  “Sky, wake up.  She’s here.”

“Who?”  Sky’s eyes flew open.  “Who’s….ohhhh.”  He voice trailed off in a whisper, her sleepy eyes now wide open.

The midnight sky winked with bursts of golden lights that fluttered madly about the porch.  In the center of the storm of fireflies stood a woman.  Her golden hair stuck straight out of her head, the ends sizzling with white pricks of energy.  Thin wings beat from her porcelain shoulder blades, her long lean body draped in a black silken gown.  But her eyes–Sky couldn’t tear her gaze away.  When the woman returned her gaze, she felt a bolt of electricity zing through her, tingling in her toes and fingers.

“Ah, so this is the newest Everton daughter.”  Golden orbs blinked in her direction, the pale lips curving in a smile.  “What is your name, little one?”

“Sky.”  Sliding out of her chair, her sparkling shoes padded across the wooden porch.  “Who are you?”

The woman looked at her mother.  “You haven’t told her?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”  Her mother bowed her head.  “For her birthday.”

“It’s today?”  The woman looked surprised, her hair sizzling.  “An Everton daughter hasn’t had a May birthday in 20 years.”  She turned to Sky, her smile deepening.  “Little Sky, I think you might be more special than you realize.”  She extended a delicate porcelion hand.  “Come with me, child.  I shall show you my kingdom.  As a birthday gift.”

As the other Everton daughters gasped, the mothers and grandmothers mummered in both envy and pride, Sky gasped.  “I know!  You’re a firefly!  The queen, I bet!”

As the lights around her twinkled merrily, the woman’s eyes crinkled.  “I knew you were special, Sky.  I’ve been waiting for you, Everton daughter.  Won’t you come with me?”

Straightening her tiara, Sky grabbed the firefly queen’s hand.  Before her mother could admonish her to be polite or careful or not pick her nose, with a blink of white, they were gone.

Touching her own tiara, her mother took her sister’s hand and sat back on the porch.  Waiting.

For it was May, and that’s what’s the Everton women did.

She always came in May.

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  We have a week of whimsy coming up!  Don’t forget the writing contest ends Friday!

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