The Recluse Storyteller (13 page)

Red Hat felt cocky. He smiled through the pain of his smashed-in head. He finally had it. After all this time, he finally had it in his hands and nothing the cops said would matter anymore. No amount of prison time would be too long, if he did indeed end up in prison.”

* * *

The computer chimed familiarly, notifying Margaret of incoming mail. She lazily slid over and glanced at the sender.

“Mr. Tomsey.”

She didn’t open it and went over to the window, looking down at the motoring souls below—everyone in their own way fulfilling their dreams and desires whether voluntarily or forced. Margaret had neither. She had no destination, no planned vacation around the corner that made the mundane tasks bearable. She only had stories that haunted her.

The twins, both sets, wouldn’t leave her mind.

In the apartment down the hallway, Pam and Sam felt bad about their escapade that had made everyone on the second floor of their building leery towards Margaret—or at least more leery than usual. They wanted to make it up to her, but they knew that their plan must be fool-proof.

One evening, when their mother was out at a PTA meeting, they decided to make their move. Once their mother cleared out of sight into the bustling city, both of them went over to Ms. Pritcher’s and rang the doorbell. Margaret peaked through the spy-hole and suddenly swung the door wide-open, like a mother hen greeting her chicks. She almost had a smile on her face.

“Ms. Pritcher,” Sam started. “We just wanted to apologize for last week. We didn’t mean to get you into trouble.”

“Yes,” added Pam. “We really enjoyed ourselves.”

“And the ice cream,” added Sam to which Pam glanced over, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t we, Pam? Didn’t we enjoy the ice cream?”

“Yes, of course.”

Margaret remained unmoved but happy. She could have stared at these two all day long. Their lovely faces entranced her but also twirled her into that familiar melancholic mood.

“And we would love to hear more of your story.”

“Yes,” said Pam. “We’re very worried about poor Benjamin laying there by the tree. I can only imagine what Georgia and Gwen are thinking.”

“But I don’t understand,” added Sam. “Why didn’t Gwen see her father? Was he really real? Or did Georgia just imagine it? I’m quite confused about the whole thing, and I’ve been thinking about it all week.”

“Ice cream. Come in,” said Margaret.

The delighted girls glanced once more down the hall to make sure no one saw them, and then they walked in, closing the door behind them. They had two full hours until mother was expected home, and they planned on one long, sweet night of cream and storytelling. They sat in their familiar spots, and mere seconds later, each had a pint of chocolate-cherry-swirl in their hands. They clinked their spoons in a high toast, which made Margaret chuckle as she sat down in the easy chair across from them.

“Thanks for the ice cream, Ms. Pritcher,” said Sam. “This is way better than what we had for dinner.”

After having their heads attentive to their pints for several seconds, Sam glanced over at Margaret and asked, “Can we hear the story now?”

It would be easy for Margaret today. Her inspirations sat six feet away. She leaned her head back against a throw pillow.

* * *

“‘No. No. No,’ Gwen sobbed, kneeling over the motionless Benjamin. A second later, Georgia knelt beside her, arm flush against her sister’s shoulder with no malice or defensiveness in either of them. Their only concern was for their brother.

“‘Please Benjamin. Please God. Please Daddy. Please. Benjamin. Benjamin,’ cried Georgia.

“Gwen picked up the precious bundle and swayed him gently back and forth, rubbing off the blood from the cut in his forehead. Georgia hugged her sister and swayed alongside. As they hovered over the root of the great crab apple, a familiar presence stood looming from behind. They could both feel the tingling through their beings. They could feel the warmth and the love of many Christmas Eves, snuggled close together by the family fire. They could feel the warm sunshine and the fragrant flowers that spruced up the dead prairie every spring. They felt it all, but they dared not turn around because they doubted their senses and feared that the other would not feel it.

“‘My children,’ whispered a voice inside their heads. It was a hollow echo, like a sound vapor that faded in and out. It startled them with an equal measure of hope and fear. Gwen could not believe her ears, even though her heart submitted to her hope in agreement. Georgia couldn’t contain herself anymore.

“‘Papa?’ she said aloud, still looking at Benjamin in her sister’s arms. ‘Papa?’

“‘My children.’

“‘Papa?’ said Gwen, slightly turning her head to look behind her.

“‘Don’t turn around, my child.’

“‘Papa, why did you go away? Why, Papa?’ cried Georgia. ‘Gwen so wanted to see you, and then we had a fight. And now Benjamin is hurt. Oh Papa, what should we do?’

“‘Don’t worry, my children.’

“‘But Papa, Benjamin. Poor Benjamin.’

“‘Fear not. Georgia, do you remember the light you saw across the sky this morning?’

“‘Of course, Papa. I knew it was you. I knew it was telling me that you were coming home today. And then I saw you. I knew you were coming.’

“‘No, Georgia. That light was not for me nor Benjamin. But do you remember what I told you? At the table, under the tree, do you remember?’

“‘I will never forget it, Papa. I will never forget it.’

“‘Good. Tell Gwen, and never forget.’

“‘Papa, I’m scared. What about Benjamin? What about Benjamin?’

“‘Don’t worry, Georgia. The light was not for him. I love you, my children.’

“The thickness lifted, and they remained on their knees, begging God for divine mercy on poor Benjamin’s soul.

“‘Georgia, I’m afraid. Was that really Papa? I don’t understand. What was it he told you under the tree?’

“‘He told me to be brave. Gwen, we must be brave.’”

* * *

Margaret paused and put her head down to look at the twins. They were enraptured by both her story and ice cream. In unison, they leaned in towards the recluse storyteller and asked with eager eyes what would come next. She put her head back against the pillow.

* * *

“‘Gwen, we must be brave.’

“At that moment, Benjamin coughed and opened his eyes. He looked dazed for a moment, like he was trying to recognize where he was. Then he looked deep into Gwen’s eyes and belted out the loudest cry that echoed through the valley.

“‘Waaahhhhh!’ he wailed joyously. Gwen and Georgia smiled and cheered and hugged each other. It was a miracle. Their brother had come back to them. They laughed and hugged him as he continued to cry like the colicky baby he was. Every shrill pitch reinforced his vigor and aliveness. Every teardrop signaled the renewing, cleansing, life-giving flow that overwhelmed their beings. Their brother had returned.

“‘Gwen, I’m so sorry for fighting with you.’

“‘No, Georgia. I’m so sorry for not believing you. You are my sister. I need to trust you. I’m sorry.’

“They hugged each other some more as they rocked the wailing youngster back and forth.

“‘Let it out, Benjamin! Let it out. Ring it through the hillsides!’ yelled Georgia.

“‘Ring it through the valleys!’ shouted Gwen.

“‘Ring it through the world! Our brother’s alive. He’s alive.’

“‘Yes!’

“Their rejoicing continued for a few more minutes. Eventually, Benjamin, exhausted, tucked his head into his wet blanket and fell asleep, occasionally sobbing pitifully like a whimpered cry of a puppy. They laughed each time he hiccuped out his distress only to immediately fall back asleep.

“‘Let’s go home, Georgia.’

“‘Just wait one minute. I want to look at the tree one last time.’

“She walked over to the spot where she had sat on the chair and talked with her papa. She knelt down in the grass and looked out over the vast horizons. Gwen came over and put her hand on Georgia’s shoulder.

“‘Is this where you met Papa?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘I wish I could have seen him.’

“‘You will. I know you will. He’ll come back to us just like he did today.’

“Georgia folded her hands like she did in Sunday School and looked into the sky in the same direction which she saw the flash the night before.

“‘Thank you, Papa. Thank you for taking care of us. Thank you for watching over us. We love you.’

“‘Come back soon,’ added Gwen.

“The girls both had tears in their eyes. Georgia stood up and grabbed Gwen’s hand, and the three of them started their long trek home.”

* * *

Margaret paused again and sighed.

“Ms. Pritcher,” asked Sam. “Why do you look so sad?”

“Yes, I love happy endings.” added Pam.

“No ending. No ending.”

“It’s not over? Well, what happens next?”

“Yes, we really want to know. We have a little bit of ice cream left, and our mom won’t be home for another thirty minutes.”

* * *

“They remained hand in hand the whole way down the expansive hill they had climbed earlier in the day. They traded carrying Benjamin on and off as he continued to snooze like he never had before. When they reached the open meadow near the base of the hill, they saw it for the first time. Smoke. Billows of black smoke rising out over the clump of trees which shaded their small wooden house.

“‘Fire. Gwen. Fire!’

“Georgia sprinted on ahead, jumping over Poor Man’s Creek and running past their small barn. Their house was completely engulfed in flames. The front door was wide-open and the roaring flames had already penetrated through the roof. Georgia stood, mouth open, crying to the heavens in horror, helpless to do anything. Within seconds, the main beam of the roof came collapsing down. Everything was gone.

“Gwen reached Georgia’s side a few seconds later and stared into the inferno—the unforgiving light which now casted a shadow on their lives. Down the north-side road, the one that their mother had used that morning to go to the market, came the Thompson’s horse and buggy. Mr. and Mrs. Thompson were sitting in the front as they pulled up alongside the girls.

“‘Girls, are you all right?’ asked Mr. Thompson.

“‘Yes, sir. We are not hurt.’

“‘I’m so glad you got out of there,’ replied Mrs. Thompson as they both got down out of the buggy.

“‘We weren’t here. We had a picnic up on Harper’s Hill today, and we just got back and saw the house in flames. Where’s mother?’

“‘You mean you haven’t seen her?’ asked Mrs. Thompson looking concerned. She put her arms around the girls and looked over at sleeping Benjamin.

“‘No ma’am. We haven’t seen her since she left this morning. I thought she went with you.’

“‘She did. We brought her back about an hour ago. Then about twenty minutes ago, Tommy McGuiness came riding over and said that he was up in the meadows and saw the house fire. He came to report it to us since we were the closest neighbors.’

“‘Stay here, kids. Rachel, come,’ said Mr. Thompson.

“They walked over towards the house, keeping a safe distance. As they approached the front of the house with the wide-open door, they saw something strange. A lantern, overturned, sitting beside a pile of wood ash with burning embers.

“‘Aahhh!’ gasped Mrs. Thompson, as she saw through the smoke a body, badly burned, laying on the floor by the chair. It was motionless.

“‘Oh my,’ said Mr. Thompson.

“‘The poor girls. What will become of them?’

“‘Let’s get them out of here,’ he said, turning toward the girls who had inched closer to them. ‘Come along children. You’ll be coming with us today.’

“‘But what about Mother? Where is she?’ asked Gwen.

“‘Girls, we need you to be brave.’

“If ever a word was overloaded with meaning, ‘brave’ topped the list—an ominous phrase from an apparition, calling them both to heed and endure, triggering inside them emotional fear that would not soon subside. And then Georgia remembered Papa’s other words.

“‘The light was not for them,’ repeated Georgia. ‘The light was not for them.’”

* * *

Pam’s cell phone rang.

“Hello? Oh, hi, Mom. Yes, everything is fine. We’re just … watching TV. No, my voice is fine. No, I haven’t been crying. Well, we did see this sad show on TV. You’ll be home in fifteen minutes? Okay. Love you too, Mom. And Mom, we really do love you. Bye.”

Sam stood up.

“We have to go, but we must know what happens to Georgia and Gwen.”

“Can we come back some other day?”

“Yes,” said Margaret in her robotic manner.

“Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Ms. Pritcher,” said Pam.

“Goodbye,” mimicked Margaret.