by Han Nolan
Clare blinked at him and touched his face, then dropped her hand by her side. "I don't need to know what you've done. That's what's on the outside. I try to look inside; you see better that way. Archibald Lee Caswell, you have been chosen."
Archie put his hand to his face where Clare had touched him and wondered, Is Clare right? Have I really been chosen? Maybe God had spoken through his grandfather on his deathbed. Maybe it was God who had called him a saint. Looking at Clare's beaming face, hearing her words, he felt anything was possible. His grandmother was always talking about people in the Bible who had led sinful lives, and then God touched them and they became holy people, saints even. Was he one of them? He looked at Clare. "But how are we supposed to live like Jesus? You mean exactly like Jesus, wearing sandals and toga things and preaching and wandering around and living in the desert?"
Clare sat down on the ground, pulling Archie down with her, The two of them sat cross-legged facing each other leaning in toward each other: "I mean we give away all our possessions. We cannot serve two gods, and possessions are like gods."
"Wow!" Archie said, straightening up, shocked at the idea. "You're willing to give away your bike and stuff?"
Clare looked down and ran her hand over the grass between them. "I'm willing to give up everything for God." She looked up. "Aren't you?"
Archie thought about his bike, Giant's XTC NRS 1. It was Mountain Biking Magazine's Bike of the Year and his all-time dream machine. It was the first time in his life that he felt he got the exact thing he wanted, not some cheap copy, not some used-up, make-do-for-now thing but the real deal—the same bike that Armory had. If his grandmother would let him, he would sleep with his bike—he loved it so much. Then there was his computer: He didn't have the same love for it as for his bike—it wasn't beautiful to him the way the bike was; it didn't thrill him just to lay his eyes on it the way his bike did—but it did keep him from feeling isolated. He did his schooling on it, and he got information on it, like the computer art programs he had discovered.
Archie thought about his art and then asked, "Drawing isn't considered a possession, is it? I love art. I've got to draw. I couldn't give that up. Believe me, my granddaddy tried that one already. Giving up the computer would be really tough, okay, but giving up drawing and biking—my mountain bike—that would be like giving up my life."
Clare took one of Archie's hands in hers and shook it. "But don't you see? Those are the first things you need to let go of then. We have to get rid of all the things that block us, that keep us from seeing God."
Archie pulled his hand away. "'Seeing God'?"
"Isn't that what's happened to you up here already? Maybe you didn't see an old man with a long white beard, but you did see God. Why else were you worshiping the trees? You want that experience again, don't you?" Clare scooted closer to Archie, and she spoke with whispered urgency. "What if we could feel that way, have that holy feeling all the time? All the time, Archibald, not just once. Don't you want that?"
Archie had watched Clare talking to him. He thought she was beautiful. She looked at him with such eagerness and earnestness that Archie couldn't resist her. She looked as if she was already seeing God before her as if she could see God in him. He said, "I wonder what it would be like to have that feeling all the time? I wonder if it's even possible?"
Clare leaned forward and grabbed Archie's shoulders. Archie braced himself with his hands on the ground to keep from being pulled into Clare's lap. Still, their noses almost touched. "Yes! It's possible," she said, "and I know the way."
Chapter 9
CLARE EXPLAINED HER vision to Archie. They would give away all their possessions, and they would begin to pray without ceasing. "I read it in a book," she said. "It's called The Way of a Pilgrim. Only we will be saying a different prayer from the one in the book. We're going to say it three thousand times, to start, every day. And it's best to say it outside for now. We must be present to the real world around us, not the artificial world of buildings and houses."
Archie felt overwhelmed by her proposal and listened to her in stunned silence. He loved the way she looked at him, as though he was someone special and wonderful, and he loved her certainty about everything. He wanted that. He wanted to feel sure about something in his life. With Armory gone and his grandfather dead, nothing felt sure anymore.
Clare said to him, "We will pray these words, Be still and know that I am God, and each time we say the prayer we will think about its meaning. It's important to consider what it means each time—three thousand times every day."
"Okay," Archie said, shocked to hear himself agreeing with her. Was he crazy? Was she?
"And we will dress simply without adornment, like monks, and we will eat simply—rice and beans and vegetables with nothing added, and no meat."
Archie rubbed his stomach. "That one shouldn't be too hard."
Clare stood up and dusted off her hands. "That's enough to start, I guess. Once we've done all that, I'll tell you the next stage."
Archie stood up, too. "'The next stage'? There are stages?"
"Of course." Clare pulled the rubber band out of her hair and redid her ponytail. She missed some of the hair and it hung down around her small face, framing it. Archie wanted to fix her hair for her not because he thought he could do a better job but because he wanted to touch her hair. He had a strong desire to feel in his hands the strands, warmed by the sun that had come out while they were speaking. He reached out to touch her hair then decided the touch might be sinful, and he let his hand drop to his side.
They started back down the mountain with Clare in the lead and Archie trotting behind, listening to her plans. They were to call each other every day and report on their progress. They were to pick one outfit that they would always wear and give away the rest of their clothes. They would not watch television or listen to the radio. They would read only the Bible or other holy books of wisdom. They would get together and do their prayers every weekend until school let out, and then they would meet every day.
While Archie listened to all of this, a line from a song ran over and over in his mind: "It's the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine." Then he thought of all his CDs, all the great music he would have to give away if he actually followed Clare's plan, and he didn't feel fine at all.
When they reached the bottom of the mountain and Archie saw his house, he remembered with dread the promise he had made to his grandmother and asked Clare if she would come in and meet her.
"Oh yes, I need to tell her something. Thanks for reminding me," Clare said, leaving Archie to wonder what she could have to say to a woman she'd never met, and hoping that his grandmother wouldn't be rude to her.
Clare headed toward the house as though it were her home, striding ahead of Archie and walking through the door without hesitating or waiting for him to lead her inside. Archie scrambled to keep up and reached the foyer just behind Clare.
Clare took a look around, glancing left at the living room and right at the kitchen. She ran into the living room and said, "Look at all these beautiful flowers and all these plants!"
The plants stood on the coffee table, and the side tables, and in the two window seats, and lined up along the mantelpiece. Clare leaned over and smelled the Easter lilies that sat on the coffee table. "These smell wonderful. If I close my eyes, it's a warm sunny day out and the birds are singing and there's a waterfall in the distance."
Archie stepped forward. "You see all that just by smelling the flowers?"
"Mmm," Clare said. She went around the room, moving from plant to plant, flower to flower like a bumblebee sampling the nectar. "Are these your grandmama's beautiful flowers?" she asked, her nose in the daffodils.
"Yeah," Archie said, surprised himself by all of the plants. When had his grandmother moved them out of the back room? "My grandmama used to just keep them in one room, the guest bedroom. My granddaddy didn't like plants growing inside. He said plants and animals belonged outdoors. I always wa
nted a dog. A farm needs a dog, but my granddaddy said he wouldn't let it inside, so I refused to have one." Archie sniffed one of the daffodils, noticing it didn't have much of a smell. "Anyway, as long as he didn't see them, my grandmama was allowed to have the plants in the house."
"Well, she has a real gift, doesn't she?" Clare said. "You know, I always think the most beautiful souls reside inside people who can make things grow like this, don't you?"
Archie was about to answer but then his grandmother spoke from the doorway. "Why, thank you, honey. I appreciate that. You must be Clare."
Clare stepped forward and offered her hand. "And you're Archibald's grandmama, Emma Vaughn Caswell. I've been wanting so much to meet you."
Emma Vaughn looked surprised. "You have?"
Clare turned around and looked at all the flowers and plants. "They're such a comfort, aren't they—the plants. Like old friends, I would think," she said.
"Why, yes!" Emma Vaughn replied, and Archie noticed her face flush with pleasure and surprise. He, too, was surprised. His grandmother seemed just as taken with Clare as he was. She sat down on the couch and asked Clare and Archie to join hen.
Clare sat next to Emma Vaughn and patted the seat beside her. "Come on, Archibald, and sit, so we can get to know your grandmama better."
Did Clare know how little he knew his grandmother or was that just some figure of speech? Archie sat down beside her wondering what she would say next.
"This is where Mr. Silas Benjamin died, isn't it?" Clare asked, turning to face Archie's grandmother: He sure hadn't expected her to say that. He watched his grandmother to see if she would break down crying or get upset with Clare for bringing up such a touchy subject.
"Well, yes, it is," Emma Vaughn said, her voice solemn. "I'm not sure I've done the right thing bringing all these plants out here, but it seemed such a pity to keep them in the back room, and like you said, they are a comfort."
"Of course they are," Clare said, glancing around again at the flowers. "And you've filled this room with life. That's important. A room needs that; a house needs it. Don't you think?"
"Yes, yes I do."
"And it's important that you do the things that give your life meaning, and I can see, Miz Caswell, that gardening does that for you."
Again a pink flush of delight spread across Emma Vaughn's cheeks. "Well gracious me, child, aren't you a surprise? Except for the kitchen herbs and these plants here, I haven't done much gardening in a long while. When I was much younger I used to dream of creating a marvelous garden here on the farm."
Archie couldn't believe the expression on his grandmother's face. She had a faraway, enraptured look, as though she were seeing paradise before her: She told Archie and Clare all about her girlhood dreams, and for the first time in Archie's life, he saw his grandmother as a person, a real person with her own hopes and dreams and disappointments. He had never heard his grandmother open up to anyone the way she was opening up to Clare. In a matter of minutes, Clare had her laughing and crying and divulging things Archie never would have guessed in a million years about his grandmother, She confessed that being married to Silas had been a full-time job, and she'd never had the time to create much of a garden. She said she had always loved cats. She had grown up with them as pets, and she had been so sad when she married and Silas refused to let her have any house cats. Clare even got her talking about his grandfather's prophecies and how sorry she felt for him. She told Clare how hard it had been for his grandfather to accept all the changes in the town he had loved so much, and she told her almost whispering, that Silas drank too much.
Archie sat listening with his mouth dropped open in shock. By the end of the conversation, Clare had convinced his grandmother that she should return to her gardening and take over one of the greenhouses on the property to grow the camellias she loved so much. "But first," Clare added, "you need to get your leg looked at."
Both Archie and his grandmother looked flabbergasted.
Archie said, "What's wrong with her leg?" and at the same time his grandmother asked, "How could you know about my leg? I've told no one."
Clare smiled. "I saw you limping when you came into the room, and when you sat down you bit your lip like it hurt an awful lot to sit. It's your leg, isn't it? Your right one."
"I hadn't even noticed," Archie said. He leaned forward in his seat to get a better look at his grandmother. "Grandmama, is this true?"
"Well, yes. Yes, it is. I thought it was just my sciatica acting up."
Clare said, "But you know it isn't. That's why you've got so much worry. I can see it in your eyes. You need to take care of that leg and let a doctor look at it, and all your other worries will take care of themselves. You've got a greenhouse to fill and a cat or two to add to your household, and Archibald here to love."
Archie and his grandmother looked at each other and Archie saw tears in his grandmother's eyes. He smiled at her and looked away, touched by the love he felt coming from her At that moment he felt closer to her than he'd ever been before.
Before Clare left, Emma Vaughn had promised her that she would make an appointment with the doctor and would begin planning a garden and clearing out the greenhouse for her camellias. Archie wondered if his grandmother had forgotten her plans to move in with her lady friends. If she had, he wasn't going to remind her of it.
Archie walked with Clare out onto the porch, and when he had closed the door behind him so his grandmother couldn't hear he asked her "What did you do in there? Her face is all lit up like a Christmas tree. I've never seen her like that. I never knew all those things she told you." Archie shook his head in wonder. "I just never knew."
"I'm just seeing her Archibald, and loving who I see. That's all." Clare hugged him good-bye, then ran to her bicycle and rode away, waving as she pedaled down the drive.
Archie waved back and watched her until she rode out of sight.
Chapter 10
THE DAYS PASSED AND Archie didn't do any of the things Clare had told him he must do. He thought about what he was supposed to be doing a lot, daydreaming instead of doing his schoolwork, asking himself if he could ever say that prayer three thousand times in one day, in one sitting. How long would it take him? He watched the television and wondered what it would be like not to see his favorite shows anymore, especially the old reruns of the Laurel and Hardy shows and Star Trek.
Archie looked at all the drawings he had taped up on the walls of his bedroom. While his grandfather had been alive, Archie had kept his drawings hidden in his closet because his grandfather had once torn up a whole morning's worth of work after he discovered Archie had been in his room drawing instead of out baling hay with Clyde and the other workers. Archie had tried to explain that he had lost track of the time, but that was no excuse. His grandfather grabbed the papers in his fist and shredded them and left them on the floor of Archie's bedroom for him to pick up. Because his grandfather was gone, Archie felt it was at last safe to take his drawings out of hiding and spread them all over the room by taping them to the walls. How could he give up the pleasure and comfort his drawings gave him, especially since he had the freedom to draw and display whatever he liked?
Archie sat at his computer and stared at the screen. He knew that if he and Armory were still writing back and forth, he wouldn't be able to give up the computer even for a day, but now he wondered. Armory hadn't written him at all to apologize or explain what had happened on the phone when Archie had called. Archie wrote him once to see if he could find out, but Armory had never answered him and so he gave up. He realized the friendship was over.
He wondered what Armory would think if he told him about Clare. How would he describe her? Armory wouldn't believe him if he told the truth. He'd tell Archie that Clare was crazy, that the whole saint scheme was totally insane. When Archie thought about trying to explain everything to his old friend, it did sound crazy, even to him, but when he thought of Clare's visit and the way he had felt when he was with her—special and acce
pted, loved, even, just the way he was; skinny, lost Archibald Lee Caswell—her vision made perfect sense. Didn't she say he had been called? Didn't she say he was rare? Why then was he hesitating? He wanted to do it, didn't he?
Archie couldn't get the memory out of his head of that day up on the mountain when he'd been down on his knees before the pines. He couldn't get rid of the memory of that feeling he'd had up there, and he wanted to experience it again—experience God. He wanted to see Clare again, too, but what if she was wrong? What if he wasn't "rare"? What if he hadn't been called, and it was just his grandfather's way of getting to him one last time? What if he tried to do the things Clare had told him to do and he failed? He hated the thought of disappointing her—and God. He wanted it to be as easy as the first time, but no matter how many times he biked up the mountain and sat on the boulder eating a lemon, that wonderful, holy experience never happened again.
The only thing easy for Archie was giving up meat. That was one rule he could follow. His stomach wouldn't let him eat it. He told his grandmother not to cook him any more meat or poultry or fish.
She looked horrified. "What will you eat then? You're already skin and bones. You need your protein; you're a growing boy."
"I'll eat grains and beans and vegetables," he said.
His grandmother set her hands on her hips. "Well now, why don't you just go on out there with the cows to do your grazing and I won't have to cook at all."
Emma Vaughn had changed. She had made a doctor's appointment, and although she had to wait until her doctor got back from his vacation, just making the appointment had taken a load of worry off her mind. She had also started cleaning out the greenhouse, and she whistled in the mornings when she cooked breakfast and sang in the bathtub in the evenings. The greatest change, though, was that she spoke her mind and in no uncertain terms, and even though that meant she got after Archie every so often, he was pleased with the change and grateful to Clare for the way she had helped his grandmother.
