Orphans of Stone: HomeComing: A Curious Middle Grade Fantasy

by Rae Craig

  Harriet had already discovered Theo’s drum and beater and took them out to the back garden.

  The sun blazed from over the eastern cliffs, lighting up her face. Balancing on a flat rock by the back gate, she felt wobbly, like standing on Theo’s stool.

  “BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.

  BEAT----beat--beat.”

  The tone deepened nearer the drum’s center, so she tried making the first beat deep and the next two higher. Then she reversed that to high followed by deep, deep. That sounded right: more mysterious. Repeated over and over, the cadence formed a river that Harriet glided above, skimming the crests of the waves.

  Harriet lived in the rhythm as the sun rose into the sky.

  “BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.

  BEAT----beat—beat.”

  Ella touched her shoulder, gazing up into her face with concern. “You didn’t answer me. You stared straight ahead and I waved my hand in your face and you didn’t stop drumming or staring.”

  Harriet snorted. “You’ll get used to that. I’m supposed to practice all the time, but I can’t figure out how to take Theo’s drum with me on my bike.”

  Grandma opened the kitchen door to shake out a rug. “Why don’t you carry Grandpa’s old drum instead of Theo’s.”

  From the bandstand, a lively spring tune brought Harriet’s attention back to now. Bryn Tower drew her bow over a triangular stringed box like she would a fiddle and Mel Clark blew into a recorder with a mellow, dark tone.

  May caught Harriet’s eye and twitched her head, inviting her up on the stage. “Try my drum. I know you’ve played Theo’s, but mine is made for music, not just keeping the cadence.”

  Harriet sat with the drum cradled between her left arm, ribs and leg. It felt awkward because she had gotten used to standing while she practiced. She held the beater like a pencil and tentatively gave a couple of taps.

  May guided Harriet’s hand. “It’s easier with a loose wrist. Beat in the center and press up from underneath with your other hand to change the tone.”

  “BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.”

  She tried the barding cadence, discovering the perfect hand pressure to give the high and low tones she wanted.

  “BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.

  BEAT----beat--beat.”

  Harriet floated on rhythm waves, knowing she was losing herself in front of everyone and not caring.

  May said. “That will do for today.” Harriet stopped, but the rhythm echoed on in her mind. “Come to the store tomorrow after lunch; we’ll have your first lesson. You’ll pick it up quickly.” May settled the drum back against her bosom.

  Ella and Dana also sat with musicians. Bryn had Ella playing the stringed box that she called a psaltery. She held it balanced on her right forearm with the end resting against her belly. With her left hand she drew the bow, each string producing a different note. Dana blew into Mel Clark’s dark striped recorder, mellow tones drifting into a four note melody. They got instructions for their lessons too. It was just assumed they would be there, which could be irritating, but even Harriet had been interested rather than annoyed.

  Walking toward Glenmere, they scrambled over boulders that hid a tiny grey sand beach. Ella squatted and held a finger close to the lake’s surface, pulling back in surprise.

  Dana said. “Dad says Glenmere is dangerous on this end because of the hot springs.” They followed the shore along a rise leading to a high point above the water.

  Dana said. “The lake drains out under this hill.”

  “Look.” Ella said. “It goes right under us.” She flopped on her belly to get a better look down the stone retaining wall. “The water goes into a cave,” She ran to the other side of the hill and looked down a steep slope. “and comes out over here.”

  Harriet said. “I don’t think it’s natural; I see a door.”

  They scrambled down the steep slope on the outlet side, searching for a way to explore the cave.

  “Ding-dong.” The dinner bell rang.

  Dana gazed up at them and announced. “Food.” They ran all the way.

  With high expectations, they chose from the potluck dishes, especially loading up on Grandma’s pesto pasta. Reaching their seats before the adults, they helped themselves to the fried chicken, cold mint water and lemonade that were already on the table. The adults joined them and there was more eating than talking.

  Grandma nodded at Harriet’s plate, which still held a few bites of food. “Your eyes too big for your stomach?” Everyone laughed, because they had all overestimated their appetites.

  Herm said. “The pigs will eat well tonight.”

  The three mothers placed brown paper packages in front of their children and stood behind them waiting.

  Harriet untied the string. Her hands froze in place. She had wrapped Clarence’s hidden photos in that same stiff brown paper and she had not thought of him once since she had arrived at the May Day celebration. No. Make that before she had left for the Rose garden.

  The other two already held up their gifts and their parents were laughing and sharing memories about their own May Days long ago. But Harriet’s parents still waited for her to even open the package. Mom’s smile faded. Harriet drew in a breath and folded back the flaps.

  Inside, finely woven cloth lay in neat folds. Harriet picked up a short golden shirt with elbow length sleeves, decorated in bronze beads. Underneath rested a heavy skirt made of dozens of rawhide cords hanging from a cloth waist band. Each cord was strung with metal beads, some in bright colors. Sunlight flashed off the beads and the skirt made a pleasant metallic rustle with each movement.

  Dana pulled his knee length tunic over his head. Colored beads created swirling patterns and the bottom fringe hung with more colored beads. A cloth belt with a buckle embossed in rings settled at his waist. Ella’s shirt and skirt were made like Harriet’s, but with painted beads creating spirals of contrasting colors.

  Grandma explained. “Generations have worn these clothes on May Day. Each family saves them for the next generation.”

  Because it was a warm day, they had worn tank tops and shorts, so the costumes slipped right over. The cloth was not as itchy as Harriet had feared, but instead soft and lightweight.

  Music drew them to the bandstand. Mel Clark stood apart, playing a simple fresh melody on the striped recorder, making Harriet think of Threda Mac’s wildflower garden bursting with color. Harriet, Ella, and Dana joined the other young people gathered around the May Pole. All were dressed in beaded costumes. The girls wore a simple ring of flowers in their hair and the boys a leafy head band. May, Bryn and Mel launched into a toe tapping song from ages past, the melody repeating over and over, each time swirling a bit higher.

  Girls grasped the white braided ribbons and boys the green, stepping out from the pole as far as the ribbons allowed. Girls alternated with boys, boys facing one way and girls the other. Skipping to the music, Harriet ducked under the boys’ ribbons the first time around and the boys ducked under the girls the next. Their costumes flashed in the sunlight and beaded fringe jangled in time to the music. When the pole became covered in woven ribbons they reversed and unwrapped them. Music kept up the pace and the watchers clapped time. Round and round, each time a different pattern. They laughed and sang something about ‘remembering us on May Day’.

  The music stopped. The dancers stepped away from the pole with their ribbons taut in front of them. Each girl and boy gave a smart snap to their ribbon, gazing up expectantly. Ella, Harriet, and Dana looked at each other and snapped their ribbons too. With a sharp pop the pole’s crowning flower wreath broke loose and slid down Ella’s ribbon and with a second pop the fern wreath broke loose and slid down Dana’s.

  Ella whispered desperately to Harriet around the boy standing between them. “I broke the May Pole! What should I do?” Her eyes grew dull and lifeless and Harriet knew what that led to. Nori Matta walked up, took the wreath off the ribbon and settled
it on her daughter’s glossy black hair.

  “You are May Queen, Ella. Enjoy yourself.” Nori’s chin quivered and her smile was unsteady, not with sadness, but joy. She settled the wreath on her daughter’s head and retreated to join Herm, who looked fit to burst.

  On the other side of the May Pole, a surprised Dana examined the fern wreath as if it had fallen from the sky. A proud Hetric Rethic walked up and placed the wreath on his son’s head.

  The musicians changed tempo, the young people danced and the watchers sang a rolling song that calmed their spirits. On their final trip around the May Pole the dancers concentrated on following the weaving pattern exactly, creating green and white diamonds that covered the pole. Nori Matta and Hetric Rethic came up to tie off the loose ends.

  Musicians with modern instruments joined the others on the band stand, adding a lively sound to the music. May Pole dancers mixed with everyone else in front of the bandstand, dancing and clapping to the swirling, rowdy melodies.

  Because Ella was May Queen and Dana was May King, they danced every dance, often taking the lead. Harriet joined in the line dances and reels, polkas and jump-abouts, with no time to stop and think.

  When the band finally took a break, May Giffin stepped forward. “Due and Vani Stratt have a bumper crop of strawberries this year and Gerry and I made a bumper crop of ice cream. And,” She paused. “… Joan Geis made shortcake.” At the mention of that shortcake people shared expectant smiles. “So, there’s strawberry shortcake for everyone in the dancehall.”

  Cheers were followed by a mass movement away from the bandstand. Harriet watched Nori and Ella walking arm in arm, Nori smiling down at her daughter.

  “Of course, she’s pleased.” Harriet thought. “Her daughter is May Queen. But it was just luck; it could have just as easily been me.” She didn’t get what the big deal was about being May Queen, you didn’t earn it. She walked slow so Ella and Dana would be out of the dancehall. When Harriet came out carrying a bowl of warm buttered shortcake covered with strawberries and ice cream, Dad motioned her over to the table crowded with their three families. She sat next to Mom at the far end.

  Dad leaned over to discuss something with Rosa Rethic and then turned to include all of them. “With our families settled in, it’s time to get back to our regular study routines. We’ve always done special interest projects in our family, like an archaeology dig in a long abandoned out-house pit. Since there are several home schooled people about the same age in Shi-octon, it would be fun to have a project group meet once a week in the school house.”

  He looked from Harriet to Ella to Dana. The other two looked back with interest, but Harriet stared at her empty bowl. It was obvious the adults had decided to do this, so what did it matter what she thought.

  Sitting across from her, Dana nudged her foot under the table and raised his eyebrows. She did not look up.

  Everyone joined the conversation except Harriet, but she did listen and admitted that some ideas were interesting, but did it have to include people she didn’t know or want to know? Like that girl, Stevie.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Bonfire

  Dad left the table and Harriet followed. Near the bonfire Reen Deffers and May Giffin settled down, pulling their chairs close together. Harriet stood behind them watching Dad and Hetric Rethic rearrange the wood to collapse in on itself as it burned.

  Reen and May leaned their heads together as if to keep their conversation private, but then shared their opinions with such enthusiasm that Harriet couldn’t help but hear. Reen said. “Ella Matta made a beautiful May Queen, with that dark bobbed hair, blue eyes, and sweet smile. The picture of spring.”

  May added. “People thought Harriet Jameson would be May Queen this year, what with her long valley connections and family tragedy, but the wreath is always caught by the person who needs it most, not by the one we think should get it.”

  Reen said. “That’s certainly true in this case. Threda Mac tells me Ella had major health problems before they rejoined the valley. Being May Queen is exactly what she needed; did you see her face light up?” She leaned closer to May. “I remember when we were twelve and Heart Donnellson caught the wreath. Her mother had passed to memory after a long sickness and Heart had to help Dr. Don take care of the house, the garden and even help with his patients. That’s an awful lot for a twelve-year-old who just lost her mother. Being May Queen gave her a boost right when she needed it.”

  May nodded. “Did you see Harriet Jameson’s face? She tried to smile for her friend, but it was forced. I hope trouble’s not starting there.”

  Reen shrugged.

  Harriet slunk away. A low rock lapped by Glenmere invited her to sit. She held her hand close to the water, surprised again at how hot it was. While she sulked on the rock, darkness descended, torches stuck into the ground providing flickering light.

  Reen and May had made her feel selfish, and that made her angry, but it was true: Ella did need to be May Queen. From what Harriet had heard on the Matta’s porch, Ella needed this. That made her think of Grandma Jameson: had she become May Queen because she needed it, like Reen said?

  May had mentioned their family tragedy and that meant she knew about Clarence’s death. Did everyone know? Did they blame her? Her ability to swim like a fish had not been enough when it counted.

  Under one of the torches, their three families sat together talking and laughing—even Hetric Rethic. She knew it was time to join them, but when she got there, Dad walked away. He took a position right in front of the bonfire along with three other people spaced evenly around the mound. They held wooden clubs straight out in front of them, not quite touching the wood pile. Harriet couldn’t find Mom so she stood apart. Expectant silence gathered in the darkness.

  Theo Laird emerged from the black edge of night; walked with measured steps to stand facing everyone in front of the unlit bonfire; and raised her drum high over her head, beating loud and slow: “BEAT----BEAT----BEAT.” Softer: “BEAT----BEAT----BEAT.” Softer still: “Beat----Beat----Beat.” Three times a whisper: “beat----beat----beat.” After a long, hushed silence, Harriet thought she had finished, but with a final thunder-like “BEAT!” all but the torch directly in front of Theo snuffed out.

  No one moved; no one talked; Harriet held her breath.

  Torch light illuminated Theo’s face, exaggerating her already sharp features, sinking her eyes into shadows. She settled her drum between arm and chest. The drum’s cadence echoed through Harriet’s mind.

  “BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat-beat.

  BEAT----beat--beat.”

  Rhythm hangs like mist in the valley. Is it real, does she imagine it, or has Harriet’s heartbeat become one with the cadence?

  Theo Laird raises her face to the sky and intones in a voice from the ages:

  “Once:

  BEAT----beat—beat.

  Har-ot born at end of summer.

  Har-ot two-eyes, two-ilk. Har-ot final child of our-people’s ancient home.

  Only Har-ot two-eyes sees life-light surrounding all things.

  BEAT----beat--beat:

  Sea raiders strike. Sea raiders kill.

  Our-people and their Brydger cast out. Their island home lost.

  BEAT----beat--beat.

  Our-people search fourteen summers for new life-home.

  Fourteen summers to learn and grow for Har-ot two-eyes.

  BEAT----beat--beat:

  Old Bridger passes to memory.

  Har-ot, only fourteen summers old, is new Brydger.

  Har-ot will lead our-people to their new life-home.

  BEAT----beat—beat:

  Two more summers of searching. No life-home found.

  Our-people weep, they have lost their trust in Har-ot two-eyes.

  BEAT----beat--beat.

  Our-people abandon their search. They prepare for their final end.

  No life-home to hold their memories: No life-light to welcome their essence.

  BEAT----
beat--beat.

  But, Har-ot’s hope will not die, Now alone, Har-ot walks toward life.

  BEAT----beat--beat.

  Far head, Life-light bursts into the night. Only Har-ot two-eyes sees.

  Life-light streams through the sky. Life-light calls Har-ot forward.

  BEAT----beat—beat:

  Har-ot sees life-light, Har-ot feels life-light, Har-ot hears life-light

  Har-ot two-eyes stands on the edge.

  BEAT----beat--beat.

  Valley spreads below, steep cliffs embracing it.

  Wide river circles green land. Boulders form path down.

  BEAT----beat--beat:

  Har-ot two-eyes, two-ilk leads our-people to their new life home

  BEAT----beat--beat.

  Joy.

  Once<>Now<>Always.

  Again

  BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT—beat--beat.

  Beat!”

  With that final thunderous beat, Theo’s torch snuffed to black. Seconds stretched like hours, Harriet frozen in place. Like that first day of bard training, Harriet had become one with the bard and had lived with our-people. She knew Har-ot was tall with one crystal blue eye and one fire fly green, but all that was fading. Was Har-ot a girl or a boy? Harriet no longer knew. Was Shi-octon the valley Har-ot had found? What was life-light? She had known these things in her bones while she had been part of that world, but now the knowing slipped away into the night.

  “BEAT!”

  Thrust high over his head, Dad’s torch burst into flame, blazing into the night. The other three people raised their torches high, each one instantly alight. Slowly, Dad stretching down and forward with the flaming torch. “WOOSH!” A touch to the stacked timber shot flames into the sky. In turn, each of the other people did the same. On the far side, the last person stepped forward, a figure smaller than the rest. It was Mom. She paused with her torch not quite touching.