by Ron Sexsmith
Grimsby had set out on his woodland march earlier that morning dressed in his Sunday best and leaving The Willow Tree in the capable hands of Gerty and Charlisle. The ever-thoughtful Gerty had even packed him a generous lunch of cucumber baguettes, pears, almond butter cookies, and a flask of wine to help brighten his journey. (All of which he had consumed within the first ten minutes!)
Well, just a half an hour from town he was, and moving along at a pretty good clip, when his foot met with some immovable object, catapulting him through the air and tumbling ox over plough down a steep embankment, lastly into a fresh pile of bear droppings. “OOF,” he groaned ’neath an audience of convulsing trees. “What the devil?” he wondered while rolling himself over and back on to his feet again … which took some doing.
Then, looking up from below, he could see at a glance the most likely cause of his tumbling.
Now, if falling down the embankment was easy, then clawing his way back up to the path seemed at first impossible (for a man of his age and circumference, at least). Fate, happily, would prove merciful that day. For it took only a few false starts before he was seen panting and wheezing back to where the slapstick tragedy had begun.
And so it was, after much grunting and groaning, that Grimsby finally rose to his feet while brushing himself off as best he could. His “Sunday best” looking more like his “Monday worst,” he couldn’t help but laugh in spite of himself. “Not exactly the impression I was hoping to make.” He chuckled and wiped his brow with a faded handkerchief.
Then, looking down from above, he could clearly make out P. Hedlight carved into the side of an old rustic cart!
“Well, I’ll be,” he said with hand thoughtfully placed on chin. And although the cart, which had been stuck in the mud and frozen in place all winter, seemed at first impossible to excavate (for a man of his age and circumference, at least), luck happily would also prove merciful that day. For it took just a few hard yanks before he had freed it from its earthly grip and none the worse for wear. “So where’s the boy?” he wondered to himself while perusing his immediate vicinity.
But then, noticing a small clearing in the trees that seemed worth investigating, he soon found himself tiptoeing through a maze of branches with both eyes fixed on the ground.
And it wasn’t very long, either, before he stumbled upon Deryn’s rifle, too, right where he’ d set it down that fateful autumn day.
“Wonderful!” said Crad, now feeling like a sort of amateur sleuth. But as he bent down to retrieve the rifle, a dark wind circled up and blew through his thin hair like a comb. And to his horror, on the bark of an old twisted tree, the face of Eleanoir suddenly appeared! Recognizing her immediately, Grimsby shrieked loudly, dropping the rifle, which in turn discharged, causing him to leap and then dive for cover into a nearby bush!
But after a few moments of cowering, Crad tentatively poked his head out, only to find her face still glaring back in all its menacing glory. “What do you want from me?” His voice shook with fear. Next time he looked, however, the bark began to morph into that of another face he instantly recognized. “Mertha?” he gasped through a web of trembling fingers. “Is that you?”
His sister spoke not a word but looked sadly at the foot of the tree. With astonished eyes he followed her gaze down until they arrived at what appeared to be a shallow grave. A grave, he feared, that must certainly contain the body of young Deryn Hedlight. “No!” he gasped. “This is all so terribly sad!”
Kneeling beside the humble mound, Crad moved his hands over the dirt as he began to pay tribute to an unlucky boy, who much like his own sister, never got the chance to grow up. “You were a good boy, weren’t ya?” he offered, not really knowing what to say. “Your mother loves you, of course. In fact, she hasn’t stopped looking for you! I don’t expect she ever will.” He sighed before continuing. “Well, I’ll be seeing her very soon, and I just want you to know that I have your things. Your gun and your cart. I’ll make sure she gets them … you can count on me.”
With that Crad rose stiffly until he stood over the grave and honoured Deryn with a moment of silence. The faces of Merthaloy and Eleanoir had faded, much to his relief.
And what with the daylight fading, too, he quickly gathered up all of Hedlight’s belongings and headed back to the trail that would ultimately spit him out of the woods and on to Hinthoven in the springtime. But what a grimy-looking Grimsby it was that emerged as the sun submerged beyond the meadow. And unbeknownst to him, he was leaving it in much the same way that Deryn had entered it! Carrying the rifle and even pulling the cart Pearson Hedlight had cobbled together once upon a time. It seems they had more in common than either one could’ve ever imagined. Upon reaching the tree-wrapped NTHOVEN sign, Crad took out a pocket knife to cut away a few of the imposing branches until it hailed HINTHOVEN again for the first time in ages. “There,” he said, clearly pleased by his untapped pruning abilities as he limped toward the sleepy candlelit town of Hinthoven now flickering in the distance, “that’s much better.”
A whole calendar page had been flipped over since Deryn first arrived at the Hinterlund farm. As expected, Tressa had lovingly attended to his wound, and, what with it being a superficial one, it had healed beautifully into a thing of the past. His new life with Claira was more joyful than either one ever dreamed. For one was seldom seen without the other, and though she’ d always dreamed of having a horse of her own, nothing could turn the curious heads of the Hinthovians more than the sight of young Claira Hinterland riding into town on a deer. She had just turned sixteen, and though it took some persuading at first, her father had not only agreed to let Deryn stay on indefinitely but had even consented to the occasional trip into town, providing they were home before dark. Claira felt light as a feather on Deryn’s back, and it was with enormous pride and precaution that he squired her about the town.
Even the shops of Hinthoven had all but adopted them as local celebrities. The bakery, for example, always saw to it that Deryn got a special treat of his own and fresh water to drink. Her favourite dress shop even tied a colourful green bow around his neck (which he wasn’t at all convinced suited him). But no trip into town would be complete without first checking in on his poor mother. Claira never fully understood how this tradition got started, but she loved it just the same. For she could plainly see that somehow a deep connection existed between Mrs. Hedlight and Lucky. (Which reminds me, Lucky’s the name Claira gave to her pet deer!)
As for Maggie, she greatly appreciated these visits and always looked forward to them. For other than Griff and Gruff, nobody ever really stopped by. This was all about to change, though, and sooner than she or anyone else expected! “Would you like more tea, dear?” asked Maggie as Deryn curled up in his usual corner.
“Yes, please, it’s the most delicious tea, Mrs. Hedlight!” remarked Claira in all honesty.
“Why, thank you! You know Deryn could drink a whole pot all by himself!” Maggie fondly remembered. “And afterward he could fill the whole chamber pot!” To which both laughed merrily.
T’was in the midst of this merriment when there came a light rapping on the front door. Maggie glanced at Claira in astonishment, as though some miraculous event had just occurred. “Now who could that be?” she asked, looking at Lucky, who appeared to shrug with uncertainty.
“Only one way to find out, Mrs. Hedlight!” said Claira. “Answer it!”
Maggie moved sprightly to the door and squinted through the peephole. “Well, I’ll be!” she said, hastily unlatching the chain and pulling open the heavy wooden door. “Why, Mr. Grimsby, as I live and breathe!” she said, clearly startled by this unexpected visitor.
Grimsby poked his comical face in through the doorway, first winking at Claira, before producing a visible double take at the sight of a deer in her living room. “Oh, you have company,” he said. “I can come back later if —”
“Nonsense, Mr. G
rimsby,” Maggie interjected. “I may not have the biggest house in town, but I can certainly fit one more in here!” she enthused, patting him on the back and helping him out of his overcoat. “Claira, I’d like you to meet Mr. Grimsby!” she said, just slightly out of breath from wrestling with the aforementioned overcoat. “He owns a charming little tavern on the other side of the woods called The Willow Tree!”
“It’s lovely to meet you,” replied Claira with an even more charming curtsey.
“And this here’s our special friend, Lucky!” continued Maggie, who could not recall ever having so many guests at one time.
“Well, he must be special,” said Mr. Grimsby, who could not recall ever seeing a deer indoors before, as he knelt down (with great difficulty) to give Lucky a pat on the head just as he had done with Jupiter not so long ago. “You’re a good boy, aren’t ya! Yes, you are!” he said before rising (with even greater difficulty), yet somehow managing to park himself on a low tuffet near the fireplace. Deryn’s old seat, to be exact!
“So what brings you to Hinthoven, Mr. Grimsby?” Maggie inquired as she poured him a fresh cup of tea.
“Please call me Crad,” he replied. “And, well, to be honest, I’ve come to see you,” he said with a flirtatious wink.
“You have?” said Maggie, looking back at Claira with even more astonishment than before. “Well, I’m flattered, but why come all this way to see an old bird like me?” she asked, genuinely mystified as Claira beamed back at them as if it was the most adorable thing she’ d ever seen.
“I’m afraid it’s somewhat of a private matter,” Crad explained, nodding first at Claira, then over at Deryn, who, to his astonishment, nodded right back at him! “Well, you see,” he said, looking once more at the unusual deer before continuing, “on my walk here, I literally stumbled upon a few things that I believe may have belonged to your son.”
Maggie raised a hand to her lips and gasped. “Well, anyway,” he cleared his throat before proceeding, “I’m staying at The Fist and Firkin, do you know it? It’s just around the —”
“Know it? I wish I didn’t know it!” interrupted Maggie with no small amount of scorn before adding, “Now, Mr. Grimsby, I mean Crad, there’s a lovely bed and breakfast not too far away that would be much more suitable than that godforsaken place.” She fumed while recalling her own unpleasant experience there. “You would like it!” and jabbed him in the chest hard with her finger.
“I don’t doubt it,” said Grimsby. “But you see, I’ve been sleeping above taverns my whole life. It’s where I feel most comfortable. Sad but true,” he explained and then smiled at the ground helplessly before resuming. “Well, like I was saying, I found these items, you see, I would’ve brought them with me, but I wanted to see you first … to talk.”
“Whatever did you find?” wondered Maggie, her mind racing with both hopeful and fearful thoughts. Deryn, for his part, was pretty sure he knew what it was Grimsby had stumbled upon, but as he looked over at Claira, she was now rising from her chair.
“I suppose we should be going, Mrs. Hedlight,” she said, stretching her arms up to the ceiling. “We’ll give you two a chance to get caught up.” A considerate gesture to be sure, as Grimsby nodded and smiled back appreciatively at her.
“Well, if you must, dear,” said Maggie, now rising to give Claira the warmest hug, which never failed to make Deryn smile inside. “But thanks ever so much for stopping by. And please, give my best to your father, won’t you? He’s such a wonderful man!”
“He is indeed,” replied Claira before turning to Deryn. “Go on, Lucky, say goodbye to the nice lady!”
Maggie gave him a kiss on the snout and whispered, “You’re my special friend, you are. Now you get this lovely girl home safe, you hear?” To this modest request, Deryn simply nodded as if to say, “But of course!”
“This one here understands everything we say!” Maggie chuckled and shook her head. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” The peculiar traits of the deer sent Maggie and Claira into fits of girlish laughter. Grimsby’s face, though, seemed more troubled and less amused.
He’s like no deer I ever saw, he thought and wondered if witchcraft just might be involved. And so, after this sweet round of goodbyes, Claira and Lucky were soon heading for home as the sun crouched down into the fields. Like Maggie, Claira could see in Lucky this unique ability of not only understanding her but also of conveying whatever he was feeling. It was as though they had their own secret language.
These were the thoughts occupying her mind as they rode out past the crossroads and on to the countryside. Deryn’s thoughts, however, were all of his mother, Mr. Grimsby, the found items, and whatever else they might be discussing back in town.
As they reached the farmhouse, the sound of soft crying could be heard coming from behind a stoic tree. Claira immediately hopped off and stepped lightly toward the source of the sadness. “Tressa? Is that you?” she asked while peeking ’round the tree trunk. And clearly surprised by this delicate ambush, Tressa was forced to collect herself as quickly as she could.
“Oh, it’s you!” she said, wiping away a tear and attempting a smile. Claira couldn’t recall ever seeing Tressa so upset, which made it all the more upsetting.
“What is going on here?” she asked in a fresh panic. “Why are you crying? Is Father okay?”
“Yes, he’s fine. Don’t mind me,” Tressa insisted. “I’m just being foolish.”
“I don’t understand,” said Claira. “Where’s Father?”
“He’s inside, but please don’t tell him you saw me crying, please!” Tressa implored, clutching her shawl with both hands.
Claira backed away slowly in a fog of confusion before turning, then running toward the house. And Deryn, who was feeling every bit as unsettled, followed close behind until both disappeared through the back door, which slammed shut like a heavy textbook.
“Father!” Claira called out fearfully.
“We’re in the kitchen!” he hollered back cheerfully.
We’re? thought Claira and Deryn in unison. And as they raced to the hallway just outside the kitchen, another voice could be heard mingled in with that of her father. Deryn could’ve sworn he recognized it from somewhere, but before he could give it any more attention, Magnus himself appeared in the hall to give them both a welcoming hug. (Which was unusual in and of itself!)
“Is everything okay, Father?” asked Claira with concerned eyes.
“Yes, everything’s fine,” he replied and laughed for no apparent reason.
“Have you been drinking?” she demanded. “You’re scaring me!”
“Haven’t touched a drop,” he said, grinning mischievously. “But I have met someone!”
“You’ve met someone?” repeated Claira. “But who? And how?” (Wondering if it had anything to do with Tressa’s tears.)
“You’re not the only one who went into town today,” he playfully spoke. “In fact, I looked everywhere for you, but you were nowhere to be found,” he added with mock suspicion. “Where have you been all day, Miss Hinterlund?”
“Well, we went to visit Mrs. Hedlight,” answered Claira as if in a trance. “She and Lucky have really hit it off.”
“Is that so?” said Magnus. “And how is our Mrs. Hedlight?”
“Um, she’s fine, but Father,” her voice now lowered to a whisper, “whoever did you meet?”
“Right! I almost forgot!” he said while providing a rare glimpse of the pearly whites behind his trademark grin. Then, taking her by the arm, he led Claira into the kitchen as Deryn began to immediately buck and bleat with the utmost distress. Disturbed by this unexpected reaction, Claira looked over at her best friend with eyes full of fear before turning at last to meet her father’s mystery guest.
“Claira Hinterlund,” he announced with an exaggeratedly formal air, “I’d like you to meet the lovely, the enchanting M
iss Eleanoir.”
We now rejoin Maggie and Crad getting reacquainted over tea. Lucky and Claira had just left for home, leaving behind a space that could only be filled by shy glances and awkward bits of conversation. “She’s a lovely girl!” said Maggie, fidgeting with her hands and looking up at the ceiling.
“She is indeed!” replied Crad, scuffing his feet and looking down at the floor. “And that deer is quite something, too,” he added before reclaiming his low seat in the corner.
As he did so, Maggie dragged her chair to the farthest reaches of her tiny living room so as not to appear overly flirtatious. It seemed like ages since she’ d been in the company of a gentleman caller, and so she couldn’t quite recall what the proper etiquette might be. “Ever since I met that deer, Lucky, I’ve felt strangely comforted,” she further explained. “As you can imagine, it’s been quite a challenge just getting my hopes up every day, ever since Deryn went missing. But whenever I see Lucky … up they go!”
Crad smiled and sipped his tea, which slurped much louder than he’ d intended. “Mmmm,” he enthused, looking at his cup as though it held the answer for it tasting so good.
“So these items you mentioned?” Maggie inquired. “You say you stumbled upon them?”
“And how!” said Grimsby, chuckling at the memory of it. “One of them sent me rolling, quite ungracefully I might add, down a very steep incline.”
“Oh my! Were you hurt?” asked Maggie, who upon closer inspection did notice a few rips and tears in his apparel (not to mention some curious stains).
“I’m fine, really, Maggie, all things considered,” said Grimsby. “I come blessed with extra padding!” (Here he performed a brief paradiddle on his overflowing belly to demonstrate.) “Except for these torn clothes and some wounded pride, I think I came out of it rather well!” he laughed while inspecting one of the many scratches on his lower arm.
