Orphans of Stone: HomeComing: A Curious Middle Grade Fantasy

by Rae Craig

  Irritated at everyone and everything, she pedaled furiously away from the village, not caring where she ended up. With gravel flying, she pulled up short onto the ring road. In front of her the river burst out of its canyon in the encircling cliffs, splitting into a fast moving river to the left and a lazy backwater to the right. She pedaled along the backwater, getting as far away as she could in this confining valley. Pumping so fast that her breath came in gasps, she flew up over the hump-backed bridge where the creek branched off. No wonder the whole valley flooded at the same time; the water was all connected.

  The rough ring road curved around an ancient rockfall that had split off from the cliff above.

  A two-rutted trackway twisted upward between the car sized boulders. Harriet got off her bike and explored up the path, running her hands along the grooves worn into the granite boulders to either side of the trackway. In the ruts under her feet and in cracks along the track’s edge, the glint of shiny stones caught her eye. Squatting, she used her fingernails to pry out slivers of black obsidian.

  About half way up, a tilted boulder provided a wide valley view and a place to catch her breath. Below her, the ruts of the trackway continued across the field, heading toward the barn and silo she knew were the Deffers. This must be the lane that ran into the creek next to their barn. Harriet’s fingers itched to get her archaeology trowel and dig into the grass covered ruts. Would she find more obsidian? What else? What could that tell her about the people who lived here long ago?

  Harriet’s legs had a tingly, tired feeling from fast pedaling, so she rested her head back on the rose speckled boulder, closed her eyes, and soaked in the morning sun.

  Without conscious thought she drummed a loose crystal against the boulder. “BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.” Harriet floated on rhythm waves, tingling numbness creeping up her arms and legs, filling her body. A voice from the ages echoed from deep inside her:

  “Once.

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

  BEAT----beat--beat.

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

  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”

  Above her, Harriet sees Har-ot two-eyes gaze out from the top of the rockfall, rapt in the moment of discovery, washed by the full moon. Har-ot’s one crystal blue eye and one fire-fly green eye shine out over the valley.

  Time unfolds. Har-ot sees the life-home of our-people.

  Har-ot’s gaze lowers to connect directly into Harriet’s eyes. Har-ot’s green and blue and Harriet’s browns link in recognition.

  Time expands.

  Harriet opened her eyes and sat up, in front of her not Har-ot two-eyes, but only the same valley view that had been there a moment ago, except now the sun shone from overhead. She would be late to Theo’s and she didn’t have time to go back and get her drum. Gravel flew from under her tires as she pedaled at racing speed.

  Theo shoved Harriet into her gloomy parlor. “No drum!? What have you done with my drum?” She ignored Harriet’s explanation, while she excavated coats, boots, and finally a cobweb covered drum from deep inside the entry closet.

  Harriet wobbled as she beat the drum, both because the stool was tippy and because she was still gasping from her bike ride. She learned more of the Three Sisters bard, but nothing special happened. Harriet did not live in the story. At the end of two hours, when Theo shoved her out the door, the old woman had tears in her eyes, but whether from sadness or anger Harriet did not know.

  At the Rose garden, they discovered seven more reclining stones, one with another hole and six without holes, laying like open flower petals around the folly. Ella threw a final armload of branches into the cart. “I hope that horrible Stevie’s right about the maps.”

  Harriet remembered Stevie behavior at Grandma’s concert. “I’ve got a feeling Stevie’s very good at hearing things, especially if she can use that information for her kind of fun.”

  After Dana and Ella went home, Harriet washed up in the Grotto. Her all-day empty stomach talked to her while she pulled her damp hair into a ponytail.

  She thought about Har-ot two-eyes: Har-ot with one green eye and one blue eye, Har-ot, who seemed both girl and boy. Har-ot, who Harriet thought of as a real person and not just a character in a bard. Har-ot, who felt like a friend.

  Low sunlight flashed into Harriet’s eyes as she parked outside Debski’s tavern. A hunched over, white haired man sat on a bench near the door, rocking his head from side to side, keeping time to a silent rhythm. A rubber tipped cane rolled off his knee to the sidewalk and she recognized their neighbor, Pete Lori. Someone must have guided him here and she hoped he had help to get home.

  Harriet knelt down to place the cane back into Pete’s dry knobby hand and asked about his garden. He spoke with animation about planting new tomato varieties, his whole body rocking from side to side. He made her promise to visit soon.

  As Harriet opened the tavern door, she watched Pete walk to where the gravel road edge met the pavement, his head tilted as if listening. He confidently crossed to Empire Everything and headed home, following the line where the gravel and pavement met.

  Could a person see with their ears and feet instead of their eyes? What would that feel like?

  Inside Debski’s, people leaned comfortably on a wood bar surrounded by large animal paintings and enormous stuffed fish displayed on the walls. They joked with a tall, auburn haired woman while she dusted bottles on the mirrored back bar. Because the door’s jangling bell often signaled an interesting arrival, everyone’s faces swiveled toward Harriet. Although she didn’t know Harriet, the woman’s face lit up in recognition. She had up-tilted eyes, one pottery blue and one grass green, in a face you wanted to know better. She waved Harriet over to her parents who sat at a table next to a lemon tree.

  Sitting down, Harriet explored a shelf under the table top. Deep scratches and nicks felt worn by time. “What’s the purpose of this little shelf?”

  Dad said. “When people play Escape they get rowdy and drinks go flying, so it’s safer to put your drink down there.”

  Wonderful cooked onion smells and loud sizzling sounds drifted from a wood enclosure at the far end of the bar. Through its doorway Harriet watched a young woman flipping burgers into the air and catching them with a spatula to nestle back among browning onions. A display case filled with golden hamburger buns separated the grill from the bar.

  Harriet’s admiration of the décor was brought to an abrupt end when her stomach growled louder than the conversation coming from the bar. A woman in stained overalls turned to stare at her. Harriet was embarrassed. “Where’s the menu? I’m starved.”

  Dad tried not to laugh. “There’s no menu. There’s one thing to eat and that’s hamburgers. Everyone knows exactly what they’re getting here.”

  Mom smiled. “The burgers are small, so I’ll take four.”

  That’s the biggest meal Mom had eaten in months. “I’ll have the same.” Harriet announced.

  Dad said. “And orange pop all around, straight out of the bottles. Today is a special day because we live in Shi-octon again and Menja and Tomas are here too.” He oozed the satisfaction of plans made and accomplished, but not actually boasted about.

  Harriet realized he had planned for Menja Donnellson to move into the Jameson house all along. Was that true of the Matta’s too? Was that part of the plan? After all, Ella said her parents never wanted to move back here before. And what about Rosa and Dana? Why choose now to move back to the valley?

  Dad walked to the bun case and motioned his daughter to follow. “Har
riet, meet Deb and Kate. They make the best hamburgers.” The women smiled-- Kate with the tilted eyes of her mother, but in a rich brown instead of two-eyed.

  Deb said. “We get set in our ways here. New faces will shake things up.” She gazed into Harriet’s eyes. “Do you like to fish?”

  Harriet certainly had not expected that question. “My brother and I used to fish with Grandpa Jameson, but he liked river fishing and I prefer pond fishing with a bobber.” Dad’s eyes darted toward Mom at the table, but she was talking to the overall clad woman and hadn’t heard her daughter.

  “Well, Jimmie, there’s no fish in Glenmere because they’d be cooked, but the creek has nice fishing holes and the backwater is pretty calm. You can try there this summer.”

  “If I bring a valley map can you show me where the best spots are?”

  “Sure, Jimmie, stop in any time. The orange pop it extra cold and I’m almost always here.”

  Kate had their order ready. On the way back to the table Harriet murmured. “Jimmie?”

  Dad laughed. “That’s Deb; everyone she likes is her little Jimmie.”

  Harriet counted the burgers as she passed them out. “There’s four extra.”

  A tall woman hurried through the back entrance. She waved at them while talking to someone coming in behind her. Stevie’s sly face smiled across at Harriet as she stopped to order at the grill. The tall woman continued to their table.

  Mom studied the woman after hugging her. “Menja, I’m glad you came. Afterall, you did have to eat, so a little time away from unpacking won’t hurt.”

  Menja complained. “I’m famished. Donnell worked me too hard today, as usual.”

  They laughed, slipping into a well-known friendship.

  Menja turned to Harriet. “Harriet, you remind me of my mother. I always envied her blond hair with that rich brown complexion.” She tugged on her own short brown hair. “Compared with her I felt washed out and boring.” But Menja looked anything but boring with her handsome hooked nose and russet complexion

  Harriet was embarrassed but pleased. She wasn’t used to anyone admiring her looks. People usually paid more attention to her intelligence than her hair and she was not pleased by how much she enjoyed the compliment.

  Menja said. “I walked up here with Stevie Gribes and she tells me great things about how well you play the drum. I look forward to Tomas playing with you; he made a drum too.”

  Harriet knew Stevie would not give her a compliment unless it gave Stevie an advantage. Menja believed the girl was sincere, but Harriet knew better.

  Stevie sauntered up to the table. “What a lovely family group.” She raised her full sack. “Thanks for inviting me to join you, Dr, Menja, but I’ve got to get these burgers back to Mom and Aunt Georgie. Maybe next time.” She grinned, savoring the power to ruin this moment for Harriet. “Bye, Harriet, see you at Helen Hoier’s concert. We’ll learn our music for HomeComing and I’m sure you’ll be the star.” She strolled out the back door with a look of satisfaction on her face.

  Menja said. “What a delightful girl. But then her mother was always good company.” She turned to Harriet. “You’re fortunate to make a caring friend so quickly.”

  Mom searched her daughter’s face for a reaction. Although Menja was fooled by Stevie’s act, Harriet didn’t think Mom was.

  They dug into their hamburgers. Plenty of grilled onions peeked out from under the bun and the crunchy on the outside, juicy on the inside burger tasted smoothly spicy. Yellow mustard from a jar on the table was the best she had ever had, which said a lot, because Harriet loved mustard as much as Clarence hated it. She remembered hiding the mustard jar in her lap at meals, but he always smelled it out.

  Harriet swallowed her last mouthful. “Where is Tomas? Can’t he get into the tavern with his wheelchair?”

  “He’ll be here tomorrow. Today is his last day of school.”

  Harriet figured he went to a special school. She imagined lots of wheelchairs in the halls, with quiet, well behaved children. They would need ramps everywhere and special bathrooms with wide doorways.

  Thinking about the possibility of making maps, Harriet said. “Will he come to Dad’s project group tomorrow?”

  “Yes, and he wants to meet you. We had no relatives living near us in the city, so this will be a treat for him.”

  Harriet said. “I’m worried about the steps at the schoolhouse. Do we need to move class somewhere else?”

  Menja smiled a broad, amused grin like she knew a secret. “I’m sure it won’t be a problem.”

  After two hamburgers Menja announced. “It’s worth moving back here just for these.”

  Mom added. “And Stratt’s orange pop tastes great, especially out of these little bottles.”

  The talk turned to plans for Menja’s office.

  Dad said. “Dr. Donnellson’s old office is exactly how he left it; Mother never let anyone touch it. You’ll be able to use the parlor and the front room for your offices, as well as the small kitchen and bathroom, but his private study is locked and I’ve never found the key.”

  Menja swiveled toward Harriet. “All this talk of my plans. What have you been up to?”

  Harriet told her about the scent bottle. It made an entertaining family story with the connection to Grandma Carrie and Dr. Don.

  Menja said. “Dana and Ella sound like great friends.”

  Harriet didn’t know what to say. She could tell Menja was thinking about how Tomas would fit in.

  Menja said. “I could eat one more hamburger. Anyone else want one?”

  Dad did, but Mom and Harriet were full to the brim.

  Harriet thought about Har-ot. When Theo Laird barded on May Day, had Dana and Ella lived with Har-ot in their minds like she had? Did they think Har-ot was a girl or a boy? And what was it with all the bicolored eyes?

  The adult’s talk seeped in between her thoughts.

  Dad said. “I’ve been thinking about worklearners too. Helen coordinates the assignments, but there’s organizing to do first.”

  Menja laughed. “If I know Helen, it will be done well. She hasn’t made a mistake in all her years as Shi-octon treasurer.”

  “Growing up as her daughter was a challenge.” Mom laughed. “I was expected to be every bit as competent as she was.”

  Getting back to the office plans, Dad said. “Giffin’s have visitors now, so they can’t move their stock out of the shophouse for a few days.”

  Menja was disappointed. “Well, while we wait for that, we do need to plant the vegetable garden and there are some changes to the property I’m considering. I’ll talk to you about that first of course.” She nodded to Dad.

  Harriet burst out. “You won’t cut down the old maple tree!”

  “Absolutely not. Donnell and I played on that tree and it was large even then. We attached ladders to get to the higher branches.”

  Harriet said. “When I was little Grandma Jameson showed us the boards nailed to the tree. She said Dad used them to climb higher, but we were too little. We used the lower knots and bumps to climb up to the first wide crotch. I thought I was so high.”

  Menja smiled. “I remember doing that. Your dad and I climbed higher as we got older. I look forward to Tomas doing the same.”

  Deb came over and leaned forward with her hands resting on Mom and Dad’s chair backs. A gigantic stuffed fish loomed over her head from the wall behind her. She smiled around the table. “Now that you’ve rejoined the valley, don’t be strangers.” She tapped Dad’s shoulder. “I remember when we were Harriet’s age there was a contest right at this table for the most hamburgers eaten at one time.” The adults traded looks and laughed, Dad embarrassed as well as amused.

  He argued. “No one said they had to stay down!” They all laughed, this time Harriet too.

  She could imagine the scene. Stories like that made her mom and dad seem like real people and not just her parents.

  Mom said. “You know we’ll be back soon.”

 
Chapter Nineteen

  Dad’s Project Group

  The next evening, while Harriet and Mom cleaned up the kitchen, Harriet asked. “Why didn’t Dad let me go with him?”

  “He wants to arrange the school desks and supplies. He’s been planning these classes for a long time.”

  “I could’ve helped.”

  “He wants to treat you like everyone else.”

  Pedaling toward the village school, she had a sudden urge to visit Bryn Towers. Flickering light reflected out through the open doors of the forge while inside Bryn plunged a red hot horseshoe into her trough, steam and water exploding almost to the door. The blacksmith noticed Harriet and pulled off her protective hood, sweaty ringlets clinging to her head.

  “Here’s one of my champion bike riders.” Bryn came over and sat on the bench next to the door, stretching her arms over her head. She patted the seat next to her.

  Harriet perched on the edge and plunged right in. “I need to buy a bike from you and pay for it a little at a time.”

  “Don’t you like the one you have?

  “I love it, but I know someone who needs a bike.”

  “I don’t sell my bikes and I decide who gets them.”

  Harriet’s face fell as she stood to go. “Thanks anyway.”

  Bryn called out after her. “Who is it?’

  Why would she need the name if she wouldn’t sell Harriet the bike? She shouted back in frustration. “Fread Tuttle.”

  Harriet didn’t know how to get along with people. She could not do that gentle convincing thing Clarence was so good at and now she had ruined Fread’s chance of getting a bike. Ella or Dana would have done a much better job.

  The school house stood in the middle of the large grassy lot where weekly Market was held. The white building rose two stories high with large windows and a bell tower. She climbed the wide stone steps and went through the double doors below the tower. In the entry hall, twin stairways rose up to either side and a wall of storage cubbies faced her. When Grandma Jameson taught here, some of her students must have been very tall to use the highest cubbies.