The woman was terrifying yet beautiful all at once; like a lion or gorgeous view from a great height. Willow branches swayed around her, almost longingly. Getting so close, but never actually being able to brush up against her enchanting face. Ivy had slowly crept up over the years, leaving marks of time like wrinkles of age. Weeds jumped up in the cracks splintering the pathway and pavilion encircling the mysterious Ivy Lady, and dying roses climbed the gate that shielded the view from the outside world. The brick wall was so covered by willow branches and climbing vines that if you didn't know it was there, you'd walk right on by, completely oblivious to the mystery within.

          Maia had spent many hours staring at this strange figure. Sitting on a bench made of matching marble. She shivered and pulled her light, denim jacket more tightly around her. It was the middle of August; the sun was shining gloriously in the sky and everywhere else it was well over eighty degrees out. But it was always cold here. The stone forever frigid, sending chills up her spine when she brushed her fingertips over the smooth bench or against the bare arm of the ivy covered enchantress. The young girl let her eyes drift once more over the haunting place she'd been so drawn to since childhood before getting up and pulling her bag over her shoulder, bending a little at the weight of the books she always carried with her.

         As she followed the narrow pathway back to her father's farmhouse she let her thoughts wander back to the day she had first found her magic spot.

        Her parents had been yelling again, yelling far too loud for her little six year old ears to handle. So she walked out, meaning only to sit in the yard till they were done. But minutes started to feel like hours and time dragged slower and slower till her childish attention span could take no more. Maia could feel the urge to get up, run, dance, explore, do something. Anything.

           The little girl had started walking, simply wandering, through the bordering trees; not daring to completely enter the forest. Not yet. Maia danced along with the willow branches, laughing and swaying to the music of the wind. She twirled with the dry, fallen leaves as they were lifted into the air, jumped over streams, and climbed up the tallest rocks; feeling as though this were the perfect place for her. It might have been minutes, it could have been hours; but it felt like mere seconds to little Maia. Soon she was further into the woods than she had ever been before. Yet, she was never afraid. Not even briefly did she feel panic or terror at the fact that she was far, far from home.

        Millions of colors flew through the breeze as Maia bounced through dead leaves and the last of the summer's blooms. Then, falling, stumbling,  over some unseen rock or branch. The immediate pain of skin being torn off by the friction of hitting the dirt; but it wasn't dirt at all. It was stone, stepping stones. Like the kind her grandmother had in her garden, leading up to her bird bath.

       Slowly Maia began to brush the leaves and twigs away, revealing a magnificently patterned circle of stone. It was a gorgeous design with wildly curved grooves and smooth swirling marble. Once she had uncovered the first intricately carved stone she fumbled around for the next till her knuckles scraped against the rough edge or her fingertips found the dips and swirls of the surface. Crawling on her hands and knees she became so absorbed in her quest to find whatever the mysterious path led to that she cracked her forehead against the bar of a gate. It had been so well hidden that she thought it would just move; like all the other branches and brambles that had gotten in her way. Her raven colored, curly locks became entangled in the thorny rose vine and she struggled to remove herself from the scraggly plant.

         As she backed away slowly the form of the wall and gate began to appear in her eyes. You could only just barely see a few of the rusty, once white, iron bars of the gate and a few bricks, paled and worn from the years, peeking through the waves of climbing vines, as green and alive as the grass below her feet, and climbing roses that looked as if  they were clinging to life as tightly as they were the wall; but the chill autumn had begun to take effect and the leaves began to droop, the petals withering. Death stood near, waiting to pluck the blossoms from their stems and add them to his own meadow; somewhere far away where men couldn't trample them or cut them away.

        She stood, with scraped palms and bleeding knees, before the gate. It seemed to loom over her dainty size. Slowly, ever so slowly, she approached the gate, careful to keep her hair and sleeves away from the snarly thorns and tangly vines. Maia's hands trembled as she hesitantly started to push back the wild plants, searching for a way to open the gate.

    Her fingers slipped and slid over and through the bars, almost frantically searching for a latch or opening. Her heart leapt when she felt the edge of the gate,  but her joy quickly melted when her longest finger brushed the outline of what could only be a keyhole.

     So this is it, she thought to herself, All that work just to be shut out.

      The child's lip began to tremble as she slid down the wall and sank to her knees. She wasn't a whiny girl; never once had she cried or begged for something, no matter how badly she had wanted it. But just this once, she had longed for something, wanted it so incredibly fiercely and couldn't stand to not have it. The hot stream of tears felt like they were burning trails into her young face, as if they would leave scars that would show people that this girl knew what it felt like to really want something, to love something so much that even just the idea of it brought you so much happiness and relief. But the loss of it, even if it hadn't been yours yet, was so tremendous the grief crushed you like a foot crushes an ant hill. At only six years old the girl felt her first heartbreak. Anybody who stumbled upon her would feel so much pity for such a strong girl broken by such a thing as a locked gate.

      Using her sleeve Maia wiped away the salty tears and scrubbed her dripping nose. Mama can't see that I've been upset, or else I'll have to tell her about my gate and its my secret now. I have to protect it. If she knows how far I went she'll forbid me from going out alone. These thoughts churned inside the six year old's mind as she slowly stood, using the wall to support her shaking knees.

      Curling her hands through the ivy, she let more of her weight fall against the wall; not caring about the thorns that were tearing and digging into her. A chill ran up her suddenly, sending her petite body into shivers. It feels like wind blew straight through the wall!! Like magic! But that's impossible.... Right? Unless...

      With renewed curiosity Maia once again got on her hands and knees, pulling away ivy and roses; searching for a missing brick or crack. Anything that would let her peer through the strange wall to see what lied beyond. Finally she pulled at a rose that seemed more stubborn than the rest and an opening appeared; not big enough to fit through, but almost. She slipped her head and shoulders through and the young girl's eyes were filled with wonder. The clearing was huge and completely encompassed by the looming wall.

     Instantly Maia knew she had to get inside, had to see what was hiding behind the tall grass she couldn't see over from her low vantage point. While wriggling back out she noticed that some of the bricks were crumbling and loose. Perfect for pulling apart. Using a fallen twig, Maia separated one one of the bricks and pulled it out. A smile crept onto her face as she slowly began to make the opening wide enough to crawl through.  One brick, two bricks, soon there was a small pile next to where she was crouched and a hole big enough to scooch through with ease before her.

     Ducking her head as she entered the clearing, for a moment she was almost afraid to stand. What if its nothing like I imagined? What if its just an empty clearing? The thought chewed on her mind, nagging her. The feeling of fear and potential disappointment  weighing down on her. Maybe it would be better to just sit outside the wall and pretend I'm inside; dancing with fairies and playing fetch with my tigers.

     Don't be silly, she snapped at herself, if I think like that I'll always be disappointed. No, it's time for me to think like a grown-up. Slowly she rose, her legs aching and protesting from the long time she had spent hunched over. Warily she looked around the large space. Maia then realized it wasn't a clearing at all, but a garden.

    Tiger lilies, alive and thriving in every color imaginable, lined the inner wall; their blossoms pointed towards the center like map arrows leading a lost soul home. Rows of peonies made pathway type lanes, four to be exact, meeting in the center and joining each other with arches of tulips. Creating an effect like a sun with four branching rays reaching towards the very edge of the garden. At the end of every lane was a gate, each made if different materials. The one Maia had originally struggled with, white iron, and three more, one as shiny and pale as true pearl.

     But that's foolish....

      The next was made of rowan branches.

     Where would you find that much rowan....?
      The last looked like pure silver, bright and untarnished.

      In the center stood a woman, tall and proud, as if the garden was her creation. But she did not look happy, her eyes seemed to look down on Maia, cold and unforgiving. It looked as though she were wearing a dress of ivy, only her hands, neck, and stony face were exposed. Rose buds were opening in her wavy, frozen hair, creating a red hued crown.

       Awestruck Maia sat cross legged looking up at the Ivy Woman. Yes that would be her name,  the Ivy Woman.

     Throughout the last eleven years Maia had taken care of the garden, weeding and primping it, always looking over her shoulder at the Ivy Woman; almost expecting the disapproving look in her cold eyes to soften. So many hours had been spent, restoring the gorgeous garden to its original splendor. But never, not even once, did she even consider touching the ivy or roses. Everything else in the garden seemed domesticated and willing to be tamed, but those, those were wild and perfect. No matter how much maia longed to see what lie under the cloak of green she never dare disturb it.

    Pastel colors swirled through the sky as the sun began to rise, unable to sleep Maia had snuck out to sit on her cold bench. She pulled her pajama sleeves over her fingertips and turned the volume up a little as the first bars of her favorite song traveled through her earbuds...

     "Waking, sitting up right..."
     
    For the first time, Maia met the Ivy Woman's gaze. The lyrics beating in her ears...

      "I cannot help searching for what my memory found..."

       Her feet were moving forward before she really knew what she was doing, closer and closer until she was right in front of the woman that wandered her dreams and nightmares. Maia looked her over once more.....

       "You're a layer in my clothes made of ivy and gold..."

       Hands outstretched,  fingers entwined in the greenery...

      "Stop and think it over, smiling moving closer..."

      With more force than she ever thought her petite little body could contain, Maia yanked. Piles of ivy fell at her feet, trying to tangle itself about her legs....

       "Though it stopped just as it starts..."

          Stepping back and looking up Maia saw the true beauty of the woman, who now looked young without without her ivy wrinkles. Smiling to herself she started to put all the vines in a pile to clear away later. As she picked up the last bit the rising sun glinted off a piece of metal in the grass.

       Pushing the long mix of grass and weeds aside she squinted, looking for whatever had caused the flashing. A small plaque lay in the grass, almost completely covered in spongy moss. Pulling away the layer of earth, she struggled to make out the eroded words, tracing them with her fingertips, trying to make them out...

       "But that is not what you are..."

       Her lips formed the words but no sound escaped. Maia tried again and again. Her hands shook as she traced the words again.

      "Mairead Ivy Rose," her voice sounded strange and foreign. 

     My name, why is my name in this garden, this old old garden? Then it hit her. Mairead isn't JUST my name. I was named after my great grandmother, at grandfather's insistence. Everyone's always called me Maia though. Mairead is just so.... old....

    So this really was her garden, Mairead Ivy Rose's garden. For so long she had locked up her secrets and emotions, sharing them only with the garden and the words in her books. But now they were pulled away, just like the ivy.

     Tears of joy flowed down her cheeks as she realized that she was always meant to find this garden. It was always meant to be hers.

     Maia sat in her bench for awhile longer as the sun reached the clouds and for the first time felt its rays warm the cold stone beneath her. Just before she left Maia looked over at the Ivy Woman, her great grandmother,  one more time. In her marble hand, glinting in the sun, was a set of keys. One with a handle of iron, another of pearl, rowan, and the last of what Maia was now sure was pure silver. She took the keys and clipped each one to her charm necklace, knowing she would only ever use one but keeping the others as comfort and proof that this was her place.....

      "You're a layer on my clothes, made of ivy and gold....."

The lyrics to the song quoted in this story belong to the song "Ivy and Gold" by the Bombay Bicycle Club.