The headlights of the bus reflected off the glass of the store window, she could make out the small sign “Greyhound” next to the “For Lease” sign. . “Are you sure this is Somerset?” She asked the driver, clutching her small carry-on bag and her purse tightly.

“Certain of it,” the driver said, looking at her from the rearview mirror.

A tall slender man with dirty jeans with a hole in the toe of one of his tennis shoes sat up from the bench he’d been laying on. He picked up a small suitcase and headed for the bus. He'd obviously been waiting to board. As he stepped onto the bus, he asked her, “Are you Patience?

“Yes,” she said, unsure what to make of this man.

“Thank god, you must be my replacement, I’ve been waiting out here for three days for you.” He said as he handed her a set of keys.

“The agency just hired me two days ago,” she said, remembering back to the interview. She’d applied out of desperation, she was on the verge of being homeless, the courts had denied her appeal to stay longer. Her landlord didn’t want to hear her sad story, three days was all she was given. The job sounded like an answer to her prayers, it came with a place to stay and a small paycheck. It was only supposed to be until the contractors arrived and started working but apparently the owners had trouble getting workers to stay more than a day or two. Now at a loss on what to do with the property, they just wanted someone in there to make sure no vandals destroyed anything or squatters decided to move in.

She took the keys from him and headed to the exit.

“If you’re smart you’ll stay on the bus and forget about this job,” he called after her. He then turned to the driver, holding out a small bundle of bills, “I’ll give you $50 in cash if you’ll take me to the next stop on your route. I’ll be happy to purchase an actual ticket there.”

“What’s wrong with the place?” she paused by the open exit door, and looked at him.

“It’s haunted, full of ghosts. I didn’t believe it at first but after a week, I was certain of it. Told the agency to send someone else to look after the old building, that was three days ago. I ain’t been back since then, been sleeping out here, waiting for you to arrive.”

The driver took the cash from the man, while he continued to look back at her. “What’ll it be miss? You staying or going? I got a schedule to keep.”

“I’m staying, thank you,” she said as she stepped off the bus.

A weak streetlight cut through the early morning fog as she stood in front of the gas station and checked her phone for the address again, even though she knew it by heart. . The soft glow of the sun was peeking over the horizon turning the sky a soft purplish hue. She tried to brush the wrinkles out of her jeans and readjusted the scrunchy in her hair before setting off down the street.

A few signs of life dotted the early morning landscape, a car pulling out of a driveway, maybe someone headed to work. A baby crying somewhere behind a curtained window. A screen door banging as a dog ran out into the yard. The sleepy town was waking up.

She reached the school just as the sun was rising over the horizon. She looked at the crumbling wall, a brass sign still visible “Somerset Conservatory”. She took in the beauty of the old architecture of this school, a corner stone said 1918 next to the large oak doorway. She saw a pair of garden gnomes, almost hidden by the tall weeds next to the building. “Well hello there,” she said to them as she pulled the keys out of her bag.

Inside the school, remnants of the school’s most recent residents were still evident. A hammer lay on the floor, a box of screws lay scattered. She continued to explore the small school. Most of the rooms were empty, the music room had a piano in the center of the room, a drop cloth on the floor. The room looked like someone had started to paint it but stopped after one wall.

Behind the school she found the caretakers cottage. Aside from a couple of rooms where the last caretaker had set himself up, the bedroom and the kitchen, the place looked like a museum, a testament to who might have once lived their life there. She stepped into a small sitting room with a rolltop desk. Brushing the dust off the tambour, she opened the top. Inside she found a couple of letters, and the personal journal of the original caretaker.

She sat down in one of the overstuffed wingback chairs and began to read. The journal was filled with fantastical stories of fairies and gnomes, much of it read like a children’s book. Maybe the caretaker was an author on the side? She wondered to herself as she set the book down and headed for the kitchen in search of something to eat.

Thankfully the last caretaker hadn’t bothered packing up any of the food he’d brought in so she was able to fix herself a simple sandwich and a can of soup for her dinner. It was as she was cleaning the dishes she heard the first tinkle of a piano coming from the nearby conservatory. She picked up the journal and headed to the music room.

As she walked down the hall, the lights flickered on and off and the windows started to rattle like there was a strong wind blowing outside. She steeled her nerves and continued towards the music room where the sound of the piano keys were much stronger now. It wasn’t a song so much as just angry banging noises, that seemed to get angrier the closer she came.

Stepping inside the room, the noises stopped and the room looked the same as when she’d peaked in earlier in the day.

“Hello,” she said to the empty room, “I’m Patience. I know you’re here, I heard you.”

For a long moment nothing happened, the room stayed still. “I found the book, this is about you isn’t it?” she held the book up to the empty room. Slowly, a small movement at the window. She looked up to see a small garden gnome looking in the window. “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you,” she said to the figure looking in at her.

From under the drop cloth a small figure crawled out, a tiny fairy with gossamer wings fluttered up to her. “Please don’t tell anyone we’re here,” the tiny voice said in her ear.

“I won’t,” she replied. She opened the window and the gnome followed by a second one climbed inside. She sat on the floor to be able to speak to them more at their level. More fairies came out from under the drop cloth and a few from inside the piano.

“You guys have been making everyone think this place is haunted, haven’t you?”

A gnome sheepishly nodded his head. The second gnome, she could see now this one was female, spoke “Don’t be mad at Charlie, it was my idea.”

“I wanted to say hello to you at the door,” Charlie said. “But Ginni wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Oh, you two were the ones in the weeds.”

“I told him it wasn’t a good hiding place, but we wanted to see who the new caretaker was. We didn’t expect someone to say hello to us as soon as they arrived.” Ginni said.

“They are just trying to protect us,” the tiny voice said next to her ear.

“I understand.” Patience said, setting the book down in front of her. “You guys lived with the original caretaker in the cottage, right?”

“Ms Jane was nice to us,” the tiny voice said.

“And then Ms Jane died?” Patience said, figuring out the rest of the story, “she died and you moved into the school because you didn’t like the new caretaker?”

“We were afraid they were going to tear the place down,” Charlie said, “We wanted to keep the workers away from here.”

“They aren’t trying to tear the place down,” she said as all the tiny faces looked up at her. “They are trying to restore the school, they want to make it a type of school for special children. I saw the paperwork for it in the desk with the journal.”

“Ms Jane told us she wanted a place for her niece, Rosemary to go. Rosemary could see us, when we asked her how, she said it was because Rosemary was special. So will all the children who come here be special like Rosemary?” Ginni asked.

“They might be, I don’t know. I know some of the kids will be in wheelchairs, some might be blind, they will all be special in their own way.”

“Oh we like children, they are a lot of fun,” a tiny voice said next to her.

“Can’t adults see you too? Like me and Ms Jane?” Patience asked.

“Most adults will ignore us or convince themselves they didn’t see us,” Ginni said.

“Must be a trick of the light,” a tiny voice said mockingly.

“Oh I see, so even if they see you, they don’t believe in you.”

“Most adults don’t like anything they can’t explain away if it doesn’t fit into their world view.”

The group talked for over an hour, Patience explaining her situation and listening to theirs. By the end she’d invited them to come move back into the cottage with her, even promising the fairies they could live in the top shelves of the kitchen cupboards, just like they had when Ms Jane lived there.

By fall the school welcomed its first students to the delight of the fairies and gnomes. Patience made them promise to only play with the children when the kids were not in class or in the middle of studying. Patience stayed on and grew into her job as caretaker for the school, she even began writing a journal of her own in hopes the next caretaker would be just as welcoming to her magical friends as she had been.