Rebecca & Heart

by Deanna K. Klingel

  “I think I might know where she’s gone,” says Charlie.

  “I’ll get my bumbershoot and join you,” says Butler. The wind comes suddenly from the North, and I slip unnoticed under the flap of Charlie’s haversack.

  “Where do you think she’s gone?” Butler calls, bracing against the wind.

  “Follow me,” shouts Charlie. “I know her favorite places to go. But, she should have been back hours ago from there.” Charlie takes off and I hang on under the flap. He stops occasionally to take a breather and call through the rising wind. We listen for her answer, but there isn’t one.

  We are near the top of the tallest hill. The hill is an ancient cemetery. Mossy slabs of stone, worn smooth by centuries of wind are scattered on the hill top behind rusted gates. Charlie calls again. The roaring wind is the only reply.

  Charlie slips into the cemetery between unhinged gates. He tromps through the underbrush and checks between the gravestones. Fog moves toward them, born on the wind from the cold sea, miles away. Charlie calls again, and slips back through the gates.

  “Let’s look the other side. We’ve talked about exploring there sometime, but we haven’t gone there before.” The wind on the hill is so strong, poor Charlie can hardly get his words out before the wind shoves them back into his mouth.

  Down the back of the hill the wind is considerably less. Charlie looks around, taking in the layout of the new place.

  “Nowhere here, really, to hide or play. Where could she be?” Charlie calls again. I hear the desperation in his voice. Butler takes up the call, sounding as frantic as poor Charlie.

  “Wait. I think I hear something,” Charlie says. We press against the wind. The fog rolls down the hill pursuing us.

  “Do you hear it? Barking, I hear barking.” We all hear it now. As fast as we can move, we follow the barking. Every few meters Charlie stops and yells “Heart!” The dog barks his reply.

  “There he is, Butler, I see Heart. Over there.”

  I can’t see him from where I am under the haversack flap, but I worry when Charlie doesn’t say he sees Rebecca.

  Before I know it’s happening, Charlie flings his haversack on the ground. Lucky for me it lands on the bottom or I’d have been a smashed fly. I wiggle out from under the flap and adjust to the gray light. Charlie is on his knees next to Heart who is digging like crazy. Dirt is flying everywhere.

  “What’s he doing?” Butler shouts over the whistling wind.

  Rain begins to fall. Charlie flips his hood over his head and bends over. Heart continues to dig. The dirt is piling around him.

  “It’s an old cistern,” Charlie calls. His voice echoes down the tiled walls of the deep hole. “I think Rebecca must be in there. Heart knows it; he’s trying to get to her.”

  “What are we going to do? We need to go for help.” I’ve never heard Butler sound so scared.

  Charlie reaches for his haversack and dumps the contents on the ground. “We’ve everything we need right here.”

  “What is all that? What are you doing? Where’d you get that? Do you know what you’re doing?” Butler’s voice gives away his worry. Charlie ties knots in a rope, quick as anything. He wraps it over his shoulder, around his middle, between his legs, a knot here, a knot there. I’ve never seen anything like it. Well, perhaps a spider, but certainly not a boy!

  “It’s my rescue and survival kit. It’s from the Boy Scouts. Lord Baden Powell came to my troop in the city. A real gentleman he is. Says class doesn’t matter when it comes to emergencies. Survival puts us all in the same stew. Says everybody, even poor boys like me, need to learn to survive and to rescue. There. I’m ready.”

  Butler and I stare in amazement. Charlie is wearing a vest made of rope and knots. He hands the other end of his rope to Butler.

  “You need to find a small tree or sturdy stump to act as a belaying pin, you know, wrap the rope around to lower me slowly. Wait till I light my torchlight.”

  I want to see Rebecca and I hover over the open cistern, waiting for Charlie’s light. Heart barks a worried sound, but stops digging. Charlie shines his light down the shaft and climbs over the edge. The boy has courage, I’ll give him that.

  I follow the beam of light, planning to follow Charlie. Oh no! Webs! Everywhere, webs and oh no, I can’t go there. I’ll be dinner. I’d never get out alive. I plop down on the pile of Heart’s fresh dug dirt and pout and hope.

  I hear the hollow sound of Charlie’s voice echoing up to Butler.

  “A little more; that’s good. A little more, please. Easy does it. Stop. I’m down.” Then it’s quiet. The rope falls slack in Butler’s hand. Heart falls to the ground whining. Butler paces and waits for more instruction, running his hands through his hair and over his chin, needing to have something to do. I hover over the hole hoping to see what’s going on.

  I fly back and forth over the opening, looking down, but all I can see is Charlie’s anorak. He’s bent over talking. I hope he’s talking to Rebecca; I hope she hears him. I hope she can answer.

  The rope is suddenly taut again. “All right, Butler. Pull, and swiftly.”

  Butler tightens the rope in his hand. He checks that it is free to tighten around the tree. “’Right-o then. Here we go.” He steps back and begins to reel in the rope. I feel so useless.

  “Butler, can you hear me?”

  “I hear you, Charlie.” Butler is breathless.

  “Move close to the hole. Rebecca is nearly there. You need to grab her when you see her.”

  Butler looks a bit perplexed. How can he move forward and reel up the rope at the same time? Oh dear, why am I so small?

  The seconds seem an eternity.

  “I see her,” Butler shouts.

  “Don’t loosen your grip,” Charlie calls up the tunnel.

  Butler mumbles to himself, wraps the rope firmly around his hand. He drops to his knees and continues to reel in the rope. Leaning over the hole as far as he can, he grabs Rebecca’s pinafore strap and drags her into the dirt.

  “Well done!” cheers Charlie. “There’s an emergency blanket in my gear,” Charlie calls. “Wrap her in it. Then get the rope down here to me so I can get out!”

  Butler sorts though everything in Charlie’s heap of equipment. “I don’t see a blanket,” he calls down to Charlie.

  “Doesn’t look like a blanket. It looks like a square of tinfoil. Open it up. Get her wrapped in it. She’s cold.”

  Butler runs back to the haversack and sorts again. He finds the little block of tinfoil, opens it up and wraps it around Rebecca. He tosses the rope down the hole.

  “Tie it tight around the tree,” Charlie yells.

  Butler ties it around the tree and runs back to Rebecca. He picks her up and holds her to him to warm her. The wind is still blowing. Rain starts and stops intermittently. Fog moves across the hillsides in soft creamy folds.

  In a few seconds Charlie has climbed by himself up the rope, hand over hand like a human fly. I couldn’t have done it any quicker myself. He dashes to Rebecca.

  “Wake up, girl. You have to wake up.”

  Scrambling to his equipment he chooses a few pieces. I’ve no idea what he’s doing, but he seems to know perfectly well what to do. I dare say Baden-Powell would be proud. A little pot of bouillon is soon steaming on Charlie’s little camp stove. Butler looks thoroughly impressed.

  Rebecca stirs. She fights the confinement of the tinfoil blanket and Butler’s arms. She frees her arms, puts her hands over her ears, and bangs her head up and down.

  “Oh dear,” Butler said. “Not this again.”

  “What? What’s she doing?” Charlie asks, while preparing to serve the bouillon.

  Heart moves in close and leans against Rebecca. He lays himself across her.

  “Good boy, Heart,” Butler whispers.

  “Sit up then, if you wish, but stay covered up,” Charlie said in a loud voice over the wind.

  Heart nuzzles Rebecca’s cheek and she stops moving.

 
She drops one hand to his collar. She looks around.

  “Here you go, ‘becca. It’s hot broth. Sip it careful like. Go easy, girl. You need to get warmed up so we can get on home. Supper’s soon ready, ya know? You gave us a scare, you did.”

  Rebecca sits up and stares at Charlie. Then she takes the broth and sips it.

  For the first time since we left home, my little heart is beating normally. I believe our girl will be fine.

  Charlie stores his gear. Butler buttons Rebecca’s sweater. Charlie fastens the foil blanket over Rebecca’s head and shoulders and clips it in place with a toggle he’s made. Clever boy, he is.

  “Right-o, then, let’s go home.

  “We need to walk as swiftly as possible to keep Rebecca warm,” says Charlie quietly to Butler.

  Heart begins to trot and Rebecca walks faster to keep up.

  “Well, what do you know about that?” Charlie says. “Is Heart like her guardian dog or something?”

  “Yes, I think you could say that,” Butler answers. Charlie doesn’t know the half of it.

  We arrive home cold and wet and somewhat out of breath. Well, at least that describes the other three. I rode quite comfortably under Butler’s umbrella. Everyone is relieved and happy we are at home.

  “You should have seen the lad under fire; he was brilliant, I tell you, brilliant.”

  “Oh, Charlie, how can we ever thank you?” the mother asks.

  Charlie shrugs and smiles shyly. “It wasn’t anything, really. Lord Baden-Powell says a cool head in a time of crisis is as important as the skills. I’m happy I could help. And what of the dog? He’s a hero! He took us straight to her.”

  “Hip hooray for Charlie, hip hooray for Heart; hip hooray for Butler,” everyone says. I raise my six tiny feet in the air and say hip hooray for us all.

  Chapter 19

  Charlie and Sophie

  “Your sissy’s an odd one, isn’t she?” Sophie says to Carrie.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well now, I don’t mean anything by it. I’m just observing it as a fact. Passing no judgment; just saying I’ve noticed is all.”

  “Well, I suppose she does seems odd to others. We’re used to her. To us she’s just Rebecca. It’s just how she is.”

  “I knew a chap like her once.”

  “You did? Really? Like Rebecca?”

  “He was a school mate in Chelsea. Only walked sideways through the doors. Wouldn’t touch anyone or talk to anyone. Rubbed his hands together all the time. He wore his shirts inside outside because he didn’t like the neck tag or the seams to touch him. Pretty odd, don’t you think? He’d never wear socks even in winter. And I hear it was a ruckus to cut his hair. But, here’s the kicker. He knew more than the teachers. The math teacher says his mind is like a photo camera. He opens the book, looks at the page, and snap, he’s got it. He reads all the time and everything he reads he remembers. He knows all the cricket and rugby stats forever. He knows how Parliament votes on everything, and knows all the kings’ historical speeches by heart! He’s odd, but he’s wonderful. Like your sissy is.”

  “Does he still go to your school? Mummy says they tried Rebecca in school once, but it didn’t go too well.”

  “He doesn’t come to school anymore because he’s gone to the States. His church in Chelsea raised some money to send him to a specialist who is making a study of odd people. Teacher says there are others like Colin who all have different traits that are odd. They’re going to help him so he can have a more ordinary life. So, I won’t see him anymore. Maybe your sissy should go to the States and get herself fixed.”

  “Fixed? But, there’s nothing broken.”

  “Well, not fixed, then. I didn’t mean like that way, you know. I meant someone might help her, that’s all. She’s really a sweet girl. Perhaps for Colin and Rebecca, it’s not them that needs fixing. Maybe it’s the rest of the world what doesn’t understand ‘em. You see my point?”

  “Now, there we can agree. I think Heart’s the only one that really understands Rebecca.”

  “Heart, the dog?”

  “Yes, that’s right,” answers Carrie.

  “Don’t take me wrong about this, but I think the dog has some strange behaviors of his own. Perhaps they understand each other; they seem well-suited.”

  Carrie looks away and ponders that remark. “Yes. Yes, I see that, too. Perhaps you are right.”

  The two girls look toward the house as the “Pathetique Sonata” eclipses all other sounds in the garden. I crawl to the top of the rose arbor and my wings sway with Rebecca’s piano music.

  The months are going quickly past. Rebecca likes her days to be all the same, of course, but the rest of us, well, we just carry on. We keep up with the war news, work in the garden, play, collect samples of everything, and make jars and jars of jams, jellies and preserves. The four children get along famously and learn a lot from each other. The mother teaches them their school subjects. I’ve had a thoroughly adventurous time as well, old fly on the wall that I am.

  Sophie displays an interest, and perhaps a talent, in the kitchen. Rebecca watches as Cook instructs Sophie who wants to learn to make jam. Rebecca spends more time with Charlie, however, collecting rock specimens and studying insects. Rebecca studies Charlie’s books.

  “In just a few days the Red Cross transport will drive through the country sides of England collecting the city children to return to their homes. So, I think it’s time the rest of us return to the city also,” the father says. “I need to get back to work, Carrie back to school, and the rest of us must get on with our lives.”

  “I enjoyed having them with us, Mummy. It was a good idea after all, even though I voted against it. I’m glad they came.”

  “I loved having Charlie and Sophie with us for these months. I think Rebecca enjoyed it too, didn’t you, Rebecca?” the mother asks.

  Rebecca whispers “Yes,” picks up a small carton and goes out the door. Along the rock wall in the yard, she lines up all the small rock samples from her little box. She lines them side by side with the exact same length between each specimen.

  “Quite a collection you have there,” the father says.

  Rebecca picks up a small twig from the ground. Beginning on one end of the rock collection she points to each sample, naming it.

  “Tree agate, black agate, phiroza agate, cobra agate; yellow jasper, dark jasper, red jasper, fancy light jasper; red aventurine, dark green aventurine; amethyst, moonstone, rose quartz, white quartz; unakite, blood fancy stone; amber, ammonite, blue glass.”

  Charlie comes to the door and looks out. He watches Rebecca move from one end of the collection to the other. When she points out the last specimen, the father says, “Bravo, Rebecca. That’s wonderful.”

  Charlie is stupefied. “How’d she do it?” he asks the father. “We looked them up in my rock hound book. One time; just once. I wrote them in my notebook. How’d she remember all the names? How could she? She didn’t even write them down.”

  The father put his arm around Charlie’s shoulder.

  “We don’t understand most of what Rebecca does or doesn’t do. Not how, not why. Many normal, typical things most children do, she doesn’t grasp, or isn’t interested. But, this I can tell you. She can do a lot of very amazing things that we can’t explain. So, we just marvel at her, and carry on. This would be one of those times, Charlie. Thank you for being a friend to Rebecca. Having a playmate has been a new experience for her.”

  “Aye, sir,” Charlie says softly, still watching Rebecca.

  There’s much to be done in the next few days. There’s clothes to wash, iron and mend, outbuildings to close up. The last of the winter’s garden will be harvested and the dirt hoed up. Cook has promised to show Sophie how to make the gingersnaps she’s grown fond of. Charlie wants to get his collections organized and packed safely for the trip. Then, sadly, the packing will begin.

  I hop from activity to activity, hovering in the kitchen, riding shotgu
n on the hoe handle, and resting on the screens enjoying the last of the country fresh air. We’ll be going home a day or two after Charlie and Sophie leave. Just enough time to empty the cupboards, cover the furniture, and shutter the windows.

  I sense this will be my last sojourn to the country. I’m much slower than when we arrived. I’ve outlived all my family members by several seasons. I’m not complaining, mind you.

  The transport has arrived. Where is everyone? I fly slowly around the house and find them all in the rose garden posing under the trellis for a photograph. The transport driver is the photographer. Charlie and Sophie are front and center, with Carrie and Rebecca acting as book ends. Heart sits beside Rebecca. Behind in the center is the mother and the father, with Cook, Butler, and Gardener standing beside and behind. A perfect family portrait, it is.

  Oh wait! I want to be in it. I buzz off to the front and land lightly on Rebecca’s white blouse where I can surely be seen in the finished photograph.

  “One more for good measure.” Click.

  Sophie hugs Rebecca who stiffens, then relaxes. Charlie gives her a quick cheek kiss. “Bye, then,” he says. “Take care, girls. See you again sometime.” Charlie and Sophie both hug Carrie.

  “Take care of each other,” Carrie says. “I’m so glad we got to know you both.” Tears are gathering in Carrie’s eyes.

  The mother and the father hug the two children and tell them how they’ve enjoyed their stay. Cook hands Sophie a tin of the gingersnaps.

  “Share them with Charlie.”

  Good bye. It’s been fun, I say from my hidden spot on the wall, and wave one of my arms.

  As the transport pulls away, the children press their noses against the glass. Rebecca raises her hand high in the air and waves. Everyone notices, but no one mentions it. I see her lips say a quiet “goodbye, friends.”

  Chapter 20

  Red Cross Lady

  The family prepares the country house to be closed up. Sheets cover the furniture and personal items are packed and loaded into the motor car. Our journey home begins. I tuck onto the rear window ledge and pretend I’m not claustrophobic. Rebecca leans her head against the window and sucks her fingers. Her vision lingers over the meadows and she looks sad to me.