It was past noon when Esther freed herself from the heavy pull of sleep and fragmented dreams, and opened her eyes. By then, a pale light stained the floor and set the water in the jug by her bed sparkling. Even the cold in the air had lost some of its jagged edge.
Esther rubbed her crusty eyes, then peeled herself out of the warm cocoon of blankets and sheets. For a moment, she remained seated on the bed, staring at her hands on her lap. The hands that had dared to touch a wolf and care for it all through the night.
Her gaze fell upon the shawl hanging from the back of a chair. It looked as worn as her. The lilac color had darkened with mud and the faint dampness still hadn’t left its threads. She stepped up to it and brushed her fingertips over the tight celtic knots. Some of them were tangled with wisps of fur. As she pulled out a few muddy, gray strands, she hoped he was alright.
A knock on the door made her let go of the shawl. Esther glanced at the mirror, at her unkempt appearance that couldn’t possibly be taken care of in two heartbeats. Her hair tangled and bushy, her eyes shadowed with purple half moons beneath the lids. She reached for the comb,pushed its teeth into her hair but gave up at the second knock, and put the comb back on the dresser. She answered the door.
Bethany stood before Esther in a plain gray dress and a navy blue cardigan. Her hands were sheathed in gloves and a small black hat perched on top of her head, tilted, like a little bird.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast,”Bethany said as she sailed into the room, her gait steady despite her thinning legs and shriveling bones.
“I slept in.”
“I can see that.”
Esther noticed the deepening folds on Bethany’s forehead as she took in the sight of the room. Crumpled sheets, pillows with head shaped dimples, boots tossed off beneath the bed but still quite visible. When Bethany’s eyes turned towards the chair and the shawl, Esther’s pulse jumped. She crossed the room and folded the scarf into a quick bundle.
“Is the dress new?”she said, “It suits you, Grandma.”
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Is it... Wednesday?” Esther pried the closet open and carefully tucked the shawl inside. “I haven’t been very attentive to the calendar lately.”
“It’s your mother’s birthday.”
A heated needle passed through Esther. She turned to see Bethany tugging at the corner of the sheet, smoothening it over the mattress. The curve and frailness of her bent back made guilt stitch deeper inside.
“I… I’m sorry, it just slipped from my head.”
Bethany passed her hand over the wrinkles on the pillow and straightened.
“I’m going to visit her. If you want to come along, be quick.”
Silence and a blue haze cupped the cemetery, setting it apart from the rest of the bustling world. A gentle snow coated the earth white, and every now and then, a slab of stone peeked out its gray head, reminding her that a person lay beneath. Cold and alone, forever still.
Esther tailed after Bethany, her gaze touching gingerly upon the faded headstones, some cared for, many neglected. There was a grimy cherub sitting upon one, playing a flute made of stone. A song for a child perhaps, she realized with a block of ice in her heart. As she walked on, it melted, cooling the blood rushing through her body, leaving goose pimples on her arm.
With passing years, she’d forgotten the hollow where her mother was laid. Her mind had simply retained an image of a hole that went deeper and deeper into the earth and showed nothing but darkness.
Esther stopped when Bethany did.
They had come to a headstone which was cleaner than the rest. It had a name etched on it, a name that evoked nothing for Esther. She had no memories attached to ‘Mary’.
Bethany bent down with her hands on her knees and reached out to the stone. Her fingertips brushed the dampness coating the surface.
“I can’t remember her voice anymore,”she said. “I’m the last person who knew it. I ought to have remembered.”
Esther crouched down. She poked at the frozen curls of fiddlehead fern that pushed through the soil around the grave.
“Was it a gentle sort of voice?”
“It was somewhat like yours. But not quite.”
Esther touched the stone, her fingertips brushing Bethany’s trembling ones. Her heart cinched tight. In that moment, she ached to tell Bethany that she too had put a child in the grave, only, there were no memories or words left behind, just a silence that still lived deep inside her. But the words would not align coherently. Some slipped from her, some cut her tongue with their sharp edges.
She remained quiet, her hand slowly straying away from Bethany’s, back to the warmth of her lap.
“My father must remember her voice,”she said.
Bethany grimaced as she rose and brushed a hand over her dress.
“Let’s go home.”
Esther remained still. Wind made the shadows of the bare branches shiver on Bethany’s dress.
“Is he alive somewhere?”
“I don’t know.”
“Sometimes I wonder what kind of a man he was.”
Bethany’s voice took on a raspy edge as she looked sharply at Esther. “Those are old wounds. Don’t scratch at them. I’ve told you all that you needed to know.”
“Then why am I still missing so many pieces?”
“Well, none of us are whole. We’re all missing something or the other, and that’s how it’s going to be– That’s life. Are you coming home or should I go on ahead?”
Heat flushed Esther’s cheeks. “There is no reason to get so angry, Grandma. Or is there? Not that you would tell me.”
Bethany shook her head. She turned and walked away, weaving her way past the headstones. Her figure grew smaller and smaller until it was a tiny gray dot against the white.
Left alone, Esther sat down on the damp grass by the headstone, her arms crossed against her chest. A small bird came to rest on a branch, shaking off the snow. It feathered down on a grave leaving dark, wet spots.
“I’m sorry,”she said, her eyes still caught on the bird. “I forgot your birthday and I was mean to your mother. You see, she gets on my nerves all the time. She hides things from me, even those that belong to me. Was she the same with you? Did she forbid you from going into the woods? Did she stop you from chasing your dreams? Were you like me? Is that why you fell in love anyway?”
The bird fluttered, traced an arc against the gray sky and landed on another branch. It tilted its head and chirped.
“I think I’ll get going now.”
She stood up, regretting that she had no flowers to offer, no wreaths to add a touch of color to the drab gray that seemed to spill everywhere. Come summer though, the wild flowers would gently take over and lure in butterflies and dragonflies. They would sway and dart, their wings shimmering in the sun. Mary won’t be as lonely then.
When Esther returned home, Bethany was still sullen. She was sitting at the chair close to the fireplace, her gaze lost in the blaze. Something about the expression made Esther think of glass close to shattering.
“Are you alright, grandma?”she asked gingerly.
“There’s tea in the pot.”
“You want it?”
“No. You take it. You don’t look well.”
That seemed to be a white flag being waved her way. Although she did not feel up to it, Esther went to the kitchen and warmed the tea. While the pot steamed, she removed her gloves and put them in her pocket. Her palm against the hot cup of tea was soothing. As the tea trickled down her throat, it occurred to Esther that someone was knocking at the backdoor. Cup still clasped in one hand, she opened it and found Lark standing before her.
He shifted from foot to foot, bubbling with quiet joy. “ I found something in the woods,”he said. “Would you like to come see?”
“A wolf?”she asked, setting down her cup with a clatter.
Lark looked startled and quickly shook his head.
She gave him a sheepish smile. “Then let me finish the tea first.”
Lark and Esther trudged through the woods, their steps singing of crunched, wet leaves, splitting twigs and powdery snow. Now and then, he stopped and looked at the small chalk marks on the trunks of the trees.
“You’ve learnt a lot, haven’t you, Lark?”she said.
Lark looked pleased but gave a shrug.
They stopped at the sight of an old, twisted tree. Lark glanced at her, then stepped to the hollow which was wide enough to fit in a curled up person. It was overflowing with leaves and pinecones. A squirrel skittered out, rushing up the tree in a flash of brilliant orange.
“I hid it here,”he said, reaching inside. From the dark hollow, a tangle of bony white branches emerged-- shed antlers, she realized. They spanned the length of her arm and curved up on both sides.
“You can touch it,”he said, holding it up.
Esther stroked the white bone. It was dry, etched with several fine lines. She imagined the creature holding it as a crown on top of its head, a proud reindeer perhaps.
“It’s beautiful, Lark,”she breathed. “Johnny would be proud of you.”
“I can’t show it to him.”
“Why?”
He hesitated. “I took his sling so he got mad at me. I haven’t talked to him yet.”
She gave him a gentle smile.
“He must’ve forgotten it already. Johnny always did. You see, when I was younger, I got lost in the woods. He was the one who found me. He shouted at me, but then he forgot and we were friends again.” Esther’s gaze lifted over his head, at the hazy distance where something lurked. She knew who it was. She knew those calm eyes well now. But Lark didn’t.
Esther put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a pat. “Now, come, it's time to show your Papa how smart you’ve gotten. Let’s go home.”
Lark look unsure but he lifted up the antlers in both his hands. She did not let him turn or glance back.
While they traced their way home, a single thought echoed in her head: She was relieved he had made it through the night.
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