by Rae Craig
The mill stood high in the center with lower extensions on each side, the one facing the village with only a roof and no walls. The building’s walls did not quite reach the ceiling and Harriet figured that was for air flow during the sorghum boil-down. A shiny metal pan as big as a truck laid on the ground next to the mill’s open doors.
“Procure an edge and we will ambulate it in.” They grabbed the pan’s rim and Sunny led them inside. A rectangular stone foundation filled the center of the room, with metal grates suspended near the top of the hollow interior. The pan exactly fitted on top and they pulled their fingers out right before it clanked into place.
“Blondie girl, go and procure my pliers from the desk.” Sunny jerked his head toward the door behind him.
Harriet figured he meant her, so she opened the door and entered what looked like a lived-in cabin: a bed in the corner, a chest of drawers stuffed with clothes, and a desk piled high with junk under the window. Moving a massive dictionary out of the way, she excavated a pair of pliers. It was lucky the handles were sticking out or she never would have found them. As she turned to leave, she bumped into a telescope on a stand and the scene out the window caught her attention: a full view of the outlet tunnel, doors standing open. Peering through the telescope, she could see every detail of the tunnel entrance area. Their comings and goings might be hidden from the village, but not from Sunny.
She went out and handed him the pliers. He tightened the clamps holding the pan to the foundation. As he walked them out, he ordered Tomas. “You sign up for worklearners with me this fall. With the sorghum boil-down and the sunflower seed dehulling, there’s plenty to learn, especially deciphering constant dilemmas with the old apparatus.”
Tomas said. “I’ll tell Jordy; he loves machines.”
Sunny’s brows drew together into a stubborn shelf. “No, you work with me so I can examine you.’
Ella rushed to smooth over the conversation. “Tomas, remember you told Dad you’d worklearn at our farm this fall.” She forced a stiff smile.
Sunny stomped back into the mill.
Biking to the quarry along the ring road, they peddled at top speed over a humped rise, unexpectantly flying up into the air before landing with a jolt.
“I’m doing that again!” Ella turned around to peddle furiously back over the rise, flying up even higher, before landing gracefully.
His head tilted in concentration, Tomas watched. After Ella soared back over to land next to them, he looked at her with new interest. “You’re a natural; what you could do in a bike park would be amazing.”
At the quarry, a cable system connected the stone works building on this bank to the quarry on the other bank, where a raft-like boat swayed in the current. Jordy stepped out from behind a boulder onto the boat and grabbed the lower cable to pull himself across. Dana hopped off his bike and hauled on the cable on this bank to help him.
Jordy climbed out of the boat. “Hi you guys.” He pulled a rock from his pack. “See what I found? I can’t figure out what it is.” He set a conical rock on the pulley mount, rotating it to show off the ridged sides. “It was hanging from the ceiling of a shallow cave.”
Ella said. “Do you collect rocks in the quarry? What kinds are there?”
Harriet could see her friend gearing up for a collecting adventure and realized she thought it would be fun too.
On an old upturned boat, Jordy rolled out a length of brown paper covered in notes and sketches. He placed his finger at the upper corner. “Here’s where it came from.” He set the rock on the paper to mark the place. “And over here,” Sliding his finger to the center. “Is where they hit a spring; that’s why there’s water running into the river.”
Dana leaned over, “What’s this.” pointing to a heavy line winding between Jordy’s notes.
“A path up to the cliff-top. I’m going to map up there too.”
Harriet interrupted. “Got to go. Talk to you later, Jordy.” If he started talking about his map they would be here forever.
Ella said. “Let’s take New River Road; it’ll be faster.”
Since that is what Harriet was planning to do, she raced ahead.
The turnoff came up quickly and she took it at a fast, but safe speed, until her wheels caught the graveled road edge and her world flipped. She spun out onto her side with her legs tangled in the bike. The other three skidded to a stop.
She didn’t feel any pain, only embarrassment. If she’d been alone no one would even know about this, but now she had to act thankful for their help, when all she really felt was angry embarrassment. Her left hip stung and her jeans were shredded.
Harriet plucked at the torn denim. “I’ll need a new pair of jeans.”
They walked their bikes through the still, heavy woods that bordered the river, Tomas telling Ella about tricks she could do on her bike. Harriet’s jeans rubbed on her scrapes so she held the cloth away from her skin. Cowslips carpeted between the dark trees where the flooded river had recently surged. Harriet remembered the cowslip entry in Ella’s flower guide: waxy yellow flowers are used to calm over-excitement.
Emerging out into the open fields, Harriet’s chest tightened. She would see Hetric Rethic for the first time since May Day. Her bike fall had taken more out of her than she admitted and now she would have to be social and pleasant.
They laid their bikes next to the massive double maple tree. Menja was wiping off a table between the birch trees behind the house and motioned them over.
“You’re just in time.” She looked at Harriet. “The bratwurst will be done soon if your dad will allow us to eat them. I think he considers grilling a work of art.”
Harriet pulled her pant leg away from her oozing scrapes.
“Harriet, that needs attention.” Menja led Harriet into the house and through the living room, avoiding a large chest of drawers covered with trophies. In the bathroom she leaned against the claw foot tub and gingerly pulled down her jeans. Menja cleaned the scrapes and placed a clear film over them. “This will stay on for a few days and you can shower right over it.”
“Thanks, it doesn’t sting now.” Wheels rolled by in the living room.
Tomas spoke through the closed door. “Mom, I’m taking the buns outside; Donnell says he’s ready.”
Menja cleaned up while Harriet pulled up her pants. At least her underpants didn’t show through the holes. Menja hurried outside, giving Harriet a chance to stop and look at the trophies. They all had miniature wheelchairs attached and ‘First Place Junior Division- Wheels of Steel NWX’ engraved on a metal plate.
Outside, Dana and Ella waved from a picnic table over by the maple tree. Harriet piled her plate with two brats, potato salad, and her favorite watermelon pickles. She joined her friends at the same time Tomas wheeled up.
“Well, cousin, Mom says you’ll live.” He moved his heaping plate from his lap to the table and used his arms to float himself like a weightless cat from the chair onto the bench. He said to Harriet. “You look like pictures of my grandma.”
Dana said. “My dad has a wood box on his desk your grandmother made.”
Tomas said. “Yeah, we have one with reddish chips inlaid in spirals.”
Ella said. “Are they rose crystals from the granite here?”
Tomas said. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen those yet. Where are they?”
Harriet said. “All over, but you will have trouble reaching them with your wheelchair.”
Tomas patted his wheelchair like it was his favorite horse. “Lucy can go almost anywhere and with my braces I can even climb cliffs.” He gave Harriet a good natured grin.
Harriet felt awkward. She was working hard to be kind, but doing it all wrong.
Ella jumped in. “Well then you can go to the grotto, and of course the Rose garden.”
Harriet tried to catch Ella’s attention. Would she tell him all their secrets? But Dana smiled at Ella as if he wasn’t concerned.
Tomas looked around. “The big maple tree
is still here.”
Harriet said. “No one would dare cut it down.” But that was just what she was afraid of. Memories lived in that tree. Climbing with Clarence to where the tree divided into two enormous trunks was an early memory.
They all finished eating, the adults sitting back sharing memories and making plans. Harriet walked to the maple and climbed up to stand on that first wide crotch, looking down at the others. Now maybe Tomas would understand why he needed her help.
He pulled himself up from Lucy by holding onto knots in the thick bark, then glided up and swiveled on his butt to sit next to her.
Ella was delighted. “You climb like a squirrel!”
Tomas said. “I was champion rope climber at my school.” He looked up at Harriet. “You’re right, no one would dare cut down this tree.”
Harriet was confused. Where was the poor handicapped boy she had expected. Tomas wasn’t handicapped at all and he was majorly irritating.
They sat together at the foot of the tree. Tomas said. “Will Jordy be at Helen Hoier’s concert? He can help with Lucy’s wheel adjustments.”
Dana asked. “Why Lucy?”
“Her real name is LUC3, but after we said that enough times, it just became Lucy.”
Menja called. “Dessert is ready.” On the adult’s table red raspberries and creamy tapioca pudding mounded up in matching bowls. “Stratt's has the biggest raspberries I’ve ever seen.” Menja lined up empty bowls. “Eat your fill; Tomas makes the best tapioca.”
While Harriet dished out her dessert she thought: What couldn’t this boy do? Instead of needing help, he was good at everything.
Harriet swiveled to head toward their picnic table and stumbled, splattering her dessert all over. Strong hands grasped her shoulders and she stared down at stout, square work boots standing toe to toe with her canvas shoes. With heart pounding reluctance, she tilted her head up to gaze directly into Hetric Rethic’s concerned eyes. Deeper and deeper she fell into his brown eyed nothingness and the world around her disappeared.
Harriet plummets into darkness, below her a point of light spreads into glints of sunlight reflecting off rippling water.
She stands next to a horribly familiar creek. In front of her, the Harriet-she-used-to-be balances across a fallen tree suspended over the gentle stream.
Behind her on the bank, voices argue about who’s turn it is next on the tree.
She turns to them. “I’m next, but someone else can take my turn, because I need to check the babies.”
The voice that comes out of her mouth is not hers; it is her brother’s.
Harriet’s mind freezes. She is reliving her twin’s death from inside of him.
Through Clarence’s eyes, she sees baby ducks gathered into a soft yellow clump on an island up stream. The bedraggled runt of the clutch shivers down by the water.
The Harriet-she-used-to-be teases her brother as she climbs down through the upended tree roots. “Okay Clarence, you big mama duck, go take care of that dim-witted baby of yours.”
Sunlight flashes into Clarence’s eyes, making black motes race in from the edges of Harriet’s vision, congealing to black.
Her hearing came back first. Mom asked. “Will she be alright? What does this mean?”
Dad said. “Isn’t there anything we can do to make this easier for her?”
Grandma Hoier’s voice calmly answered. “You know our traditions. We must remain true to our heritage. We are already helping all we can.”
Harriet’s curiosity forced her to open her eyes. She lay on the couch in the Donnellson living room, where Mom, Dad, Grandma and Menja studied her intently. She felt uncomfortable, as if she had done something wrong. What a way to show Tomas her intelligence and abilities. First a clumsy fall from her bike, then fainting right in the middle of dessert.
Harriet sat up, explaining to Menja. “I guess I was still shook up from that fall.”
Menja said lightly. “You just need a good night’s sleep.” But concern was in her eyes.
Mom said. “We’re all tired.” She said to Menja. “The food was delicious. Donnell’s parents would be proud of what you’re done with their place in such a short time.”
Harriet got off the couch and felt unsteady, but not sick. Outside, Dana, Ella and Tomas waited at the bottom of the ramp.
Ella rushed up to meet her. “Are you okay?” She put her hand on Harriet’s shoulder as they walked down.
Harriet said. “I’m fine.” She turned toward Dana and Tomas so Ella’s hand would fall from her shoulder. She looked around, searching for Hetric Rethic.
Dana said. “I’ve never seen Dad so upset. He said he made you sick. Mom walked him home.”
Tomas asked. “What did happen?”
“I stumbled and your dad,” She nodded to Dana. “grabbed my shoulders to steady me. I looked up at him and that’s the last thing I remember.”
That is, except for becoming Clarence right before he died.
Tomas raised up on two wheels and got eye to eye with her. “Are you a wuss?”
She had been waiting for this; Tomas thought she was a weak, stupid person. She faced him squarely, planted her feet and shot back. “Fainting doesn’t make me a wuss any more than your wheelchair makes you a wuss.”
Tomas nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.” Menja called him over to the back door.
Ella said softly. “How about asking Tomas to work with us on the Rose garden”
Dana watched for Harriet’s answer. After a drawn-out silence she said. “Okay, but we can’t start till after lunch. I’m helping Dad that morning.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rose Folly Cleaning
This morning Dad wanted her to change the desk’s drawer handles. He said the ones that were on it were modern replacements and he had found old ones the right age. Loud whomping noises came from upstairs where Dad was beating the dust out of old rugs. Kneeling inside the store’s display window, Harriet waved to Dana riding by on one of his errands.
Dad had sold the entire dining room grouping from the front window and had to replace it. This desk was the centerpiece for an old fashioned library room with bookshelves, rug, and a broken-in, comfy leather chair. There were even leather slippers on the floor and a cozy robe draped over the chairback. After attaching the handles, she chose their favorite book, The Children of Green Knowe, from bookshelves in the creaky floored back of the store, opening it to the part where the mysterious statue comes alive and saves Toseland from the evil Knowe tree. She opened the book over the chair’s arm so people outside would see the cover and imagine reading it to their children.
Her next job was cleaning the books in the back of the store, but instead of focusing on that, the memory of ‘again’ drew her back to the desk. Stepping into the display window, she looked up and down the road, making sure no one watched. The document drawer squealed as she pulled it out and she stopped to make sure Dad had not heard, but the whomping continued. Under the compartment’s false bottom, ‘again’ written on the old slip of paper stared up at her, daring her to figure out what it meant. She had not removed all the drawers when she had cleaned, so she pulled them out and explored the empty desk cavity.
A folded piece of paper stuck out from behind an inside corner support. She found a knife in Dad’s tool drawer, gently wiggled it into the crack and the paper slid out. Unfolding it, Harriet found a handwritten receipt for a carved hiking stick signed ‘M Tuttle’. If this had been Fread’s mother’s desk, why in the world would they get rid of it? She put the receipt into the secret compartment along with ‘again’.
Harriet finished her dusting early and headed toward the Grotto. No one would be there yet and she would have time to practice her drum cadence. She didn’t know why Theo insisted she keep practicing, because by now she could keep the beat and do anything else at the same time. This morning she had beat the cadence with her left hand while brushing her teeth with her right.
Calm flowed from the
warm water into her soaking feet. She brushed away the gravel to her left, uncovered the rose crystal and turned her palm up to examine the shiny scar. When she touched the crystal, she remembered the flash of light and heat between her sliced palm and the crystal in the entrance passage. Harriet picked up her drum.
“BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.
BEAT----beat--beat.”
She closed her eyes and relaxed into the rhythm.
“BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.
BEAT----beat--beat.”
Harriet rose to standing, her wet toes gripping the rock surface. The spouting waterfall droned into the pool, its pitch rising and falling. Her vision locked on the water gushing out of the granite cliff.
“BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat. BEAT----beat--beat.
Once.
The Brydger and our-people sorrowed
Ancient memories gone, connection to Founders lost.
Father people die. Mother people sorrow.
BEAT----beat--beat.
Count-- three daughters of the Brydger.
Sister Ownlee, sister Oather, sister Threda.
BEAT----beat--beat.”
Harriet sank to her knees. The instant she had barded the name Ownlee, Harriet had become Ownlee watching over her wasting away father, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. Harriet was Ownlee, her hand resting on her father’s thin cheek, her hopes for his life fading away.
For the last weeks she had worked on the Three Sister’s bard with Theo, intoning the words over and over, but never once living in the story as she had during that first barding lesson when Theo had shouted “Full of connections!” and even the dogs had watched in fascination. More than once, Theo had turned away with tears on her face. Over and over Theo had made Harriet balance on the tippy stool, intoning the words with the correct loudness and speed, but no connection, the dogs snoring at her feet.
