The bedroom my father had chosen for me was a large room. Larger than any I’d slept in before by a pretty wide margin, but somehow not so large that it felt too big. Like the rest of the house - at least, what I’d seen of it so far - it was decorated in warm earth tones, which gave it a cozy feeling.

The walls were, predictably, stained oak with a matching hardwood floor, and a few small throw rugs here and there. The room’s centerpiece was a queen-sized four poster bed that sat up against the middle of the wall to my right. It had a canopy of forest-green velvet which - as I moved into the room slowly - glinted with threads of silver and gold woven through it. A matching quilt covered the bed, with the end by the headboard piled high with pillows.

I heard the door click shut behind me, but was too entranced by the room to bother looking.

The bed’s headboard was a work of art in and of itself. It was darkly stained, and carved with the already-familiar oak and ivy pattern that I’d seen elsewhere around the house. Carved fairies peeked through the pattern here and there, so detailed that they almost looked as though they might come to life. A spherical bird cage, about the size of a football and made of what looked like polished silver, hung from the center of the canopy over the bed. Its little door was open, and was held that way by a very mundane wooden clothespin.

Directly across from the bed was a fireplace, not nearly as large as the one in the kitchen, but still of a fair size. A low fire crackled cheerily in it, but somehow wasn’t making the room oppressively warm.

There was a door on either side of the fireplace: the one to the left of it opened into a bathroom - I’d have to look in there and see if it was as grand as everything else I’d seen so far - while the one to the right revealed an empty walk-in closet. A short chest of drawers and a tall bureau sat side-by-side on the other side of the closet, with a small writing desk beyond them in the corner, its top rolled shut and a chair slid up neatly beneath it.

The far wall, across from the door, was dominated by a huge bay window that ran almost the whole length of the wall. It was broken up into five segments, the two outer ones and the center one divided horizontally into two panes of glass. The top sections were hinged and had small clasps, obviously intended to be opened outward. The other two segments were tall, single pieces of glass, that appeared to open outwards like doors, and were quite tall enough and wide enough for a person to step through comfortably.

Beneath that was a long bench-style window seat, covered in dark maroon cushions and a variety of small pillows. The cushions left two spots of bare wood beneath the sections of window that opened completely, evidently meant to be used as steps.

And outside the window…my brain refused to acknowledge what it was seeing, so I walked over and stared.

The window looked out on a grassy glade, with woods perhaps thirty or forty meters beyond. The sun was just beginning to set behind the trees, back-lighting the perfect green leaves - mostly oak and maple, or so it appeared - in shining gold. The sky was clear and blue, darkening ever so slightly towards twilight. A few puffy clouds drifted over, seemingly designed to accent the scene perfectly.

I turned to the Caretaker and pointed at the window, blurting out, “It’s summer out there!”

He nodded seriously. “Yes, Mistress. In every sense of the word.”

“But…” I turned back to the window, gobsmacked. “But…”

“But?”

“But it’s October!” I turned towards him again, my mind spinning as it tried to digest and make sense of this.

The Caretaker laughed gently. “Not out there it isn’t. Remember, not every door in the house opens onto the same place. The same can be said for many of the windows, such as these.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! It’s October all over the world!”

He smiled. “But not autumn all over the world.”

I pointed at the window again. “That is not a location in the Southern Hemisphere.”

“True.”

“So…what, this window does time travel?” I was beginning to feel that he was having a spot of fun at my expense.

“No, Mistress,” he shook his head firmly. “Time travel is technically possible, but strongly proscribed. It is both insanely dangerous and incredibly difficult.”

I decided to let that go. “Then where is that?” I gestured toward the window again.

“Elsewhere,” he replied cryptically. “I’ll explain everything to you in time, you have my word. But this is one of those things that you don’t yet have the framework to understand. For now, simply accept that outside your window, it’s summer.”

“Always?” I asked faintly.

“Always. Though sometimes it’s high summer, sometimes the end of summer with the leaves just starting to turn, sometimes the beginning of summer. But always summer, yes.” He smiled gently. “You can open the windows, if you’d like. There’s usually a pleasant breeze. But I’d advise against going out through the window until you’ve learned to defend yourself.”

I sat down on the foot of the bed, sinking into the quilt and the startlingly comfortable mattress. My head was starting to spin again. “Defend myself?”

The Caretaker crouched down in front of me. “You’re overwhelmed, Mistress, which is quite understandable. I think we should call it a day here. If you’d like, you may bring in your things, and I’ll put together an early supper for you. You can have it here in your bedroom, and just relax for a while.”

Shut out the world for a while, his tone of voice said.

I nodded. “That is a very good idea.”

When I opened the bedroom door, I expected to step out into the hallway. Instead, I found myself standing on the foyer balcony, overlooking the front door, which was down the stairs to my left.

I leaned heavily on the railing and put a hand to my forehead, feeling a bit disoriented.

“Well,” the Caretaker said as he came to stand beside me, “that’s convenient, isn’t it?”

“Very,” I replied weakly. “This is just too much to take in all at once.”

He nodded. “That’s why we’ll take a break now. You’ll eat, get some rest, and we’ll start fresh in the morning.”

As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned towards the front door and felt the cool, tingly sensation of the Caretaker’s hand on my shoulder. I turned to look at him.

He hesitated for a moment before asking softly, “You will be right back, yes?”

I blinked, surprised by how insecure and worried he sounded. “Of course. Why?” Even as I asked, I remembered my earlier, momentary urge to bolt for the front door and get out.

“I…” he shook his head slightly and looked a little bit sheepish. “It’s been very quiet and lonely here since your father died, Mistress. I was a little afraid that…what with you feeling overwhelmed and all…that you might just get in your car and drive away.”

“I confess,” I said slowly, “that the thought had crossed my mind.” I smiled at him, feeling the beginning of fondness towards him. I understood loneliness all too well. “But this place is far too interesting. Don’t worry, I won’t leave you alone here.”

His relief was practically a palpable thing. “Thank goodness.”

I looked at him for a long moment, taking in his features, and the look of hope that had appeared on his face at my words. I considered the strange kinship I was beginning to feel with him, and felt some relief myself that I would have such a friendly and intelligent guide to help me deal with all of the rapid shifts to my understanding of the world that I suspected were about to begin. “One thing first…You said earlier that it was up to me to give you a name?”

The Caretaker nodded. “That’s correct, Mistress. Each Guardian since I was bound to House and family has done so. My birth name is lost to the past…all I can vaguely recall of my life before was that becoming the Caretaker was a voluntary decision on my part. Though I can’t remember why anymore.” He sounded a little bit disappointed, but there was an undertone of resolve and acceptance to it.

I nodded. “Then I believe,” I said slowly, “I’m going to call you ‘Ken.’”

“Ken?” He looked bewildered for a moment. “Ah! I see! From the Old English word cennan…to ken, as it were. To know, or define one’s range of knowledge or sight.”

As he said it, he seemed to gain definition, as if he was coming into focus. His features solidified to the point where I could actually see the dark brown color of his hair. The outline of his body began to take clearer form, showing the faint details of a fairly modern-looking outfit of a button-down shirt and jeans, a look I’d always found pleasantly attractive on men.

“Very clever, Mistress,” he said, sketching a little bow. “I approve.”

“What…what just happened to you?”

“You Named me, Mistress,” he said. “All beings have a Name. It contains them, defines them, and clarifies their existence; it lets others communicate with them easily and understand them better. Names, thus, have power. In my case, it’s just a bit more literal than for mortals.”

I nodded, as if I understood what he was talking about.

Ken smiled. “Don’t worry about it right now, Mistress. All will be revealed and become clear in time. You have my word.”

I returned his smile. He was so totally earnest and warm that I couldn’t help it. “Thank you, Ken.”

He bowed a little again. “My Lady. If you’ll bring your things in, I’ll prepare you a light meal.”

I went out to the car, retrieved my suitcase and laptop bag, and went back inside. I was a bit surprised, and a bit relieved, to find the door to my bedroom now standing open at the bottom of the stairs on the right side instead of the top. It was, I admitted to myself, convenient.

Glancing around, considering the House - which was starting to take on capitalization in my mind - I politely said, “Thank you,” to thin air, then went back into my bedroom.

An hour later, I had finished a light - but comfortingly mundane - dinner made up of a delicious corned beef sandwich and a bowl of the best chicken soup I’d ever eaten. I was sitting on the window seat in my new bedroom…the sunset there had been exquisite, the twilight beautifully peaceful, and now the sky darkened to full night. There were stars in the sky, but I didn’t recognize any constellations. Before I could spend much time considering that, the night brought with it dozens of tiny dancing lights in a multitude of colors. There was something almost hypnotic about the beauty of them and their seemingly random dance above the grass and in the trees.

“What are those?” I asked Ken, who was just putting my dishes back onto the cart he’d brought them in on. “They’re too big to be fireflies, and too colorful.”

He drifted over to sit beside me, smiling. “Those, Mistress, are Fairies. The Russians sometimes call them Polevye, or field fairies, after their old god of the fields.”

I glanced at him and firmly resisted the urge to say ‘bullshit.’ Instead, I took a deep breath, looked back out the window, and said, “Fairies?”

Ken nodded. “Oh yes. Your mother loved to sit here and watch them at night. They can be a bit hypnotic, but only mildly so. It’s quite harmless, and completely safe to watch. You might find yourself drowsy after watching them for a while…your mother always said she slept better after doing so.”

A strange sensation rippled through me. I wasn’t sure if it was shock, or disbelief, or a sort of desperate longing. Perhaps it was all three mixed together. I froze in place, suddenly unaware of anything except the implications of his words.

I turned slowly to look at him. “Was this…” I couldn’t quite finish the question.

Ken finished it for me, smiling gently. “Your mother’s room? Yes, it was. From the time she was five, until she married your father and they took over the Master Bedroom together.”

I turned fully from the window and looked around the room slowly. “Is this…” Again, I couldn’t quite finish the question.

“Everything is the way she left it,” Ken said softly, once again finishing the thought for me. “She never changed it, and your father wouldn’t hear of it being changed after she died. He said he thought you’d want to see it this way.”

I nodded, trying valiantly to sift through the myriad emotions filling me.

“You can,” Ken said, “of course, change whatever you want now that you’re here. It is your room now. We could even find another room for you, if you’re uncomfortable with this one.”

“No!” I said quickly, turning towards him as warmth flooded me. A warmth I’d never hoped to feel, and which took me a moment to really understand. “No, this is perfect. I don’t want to change a thing.” I smiled at him. “This is home. I’m home.”

The relief and happiness on his face were unmistakable.