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6
Full of anticipation and excitement, I weave my way through the people of Balfour in search of my Father. He is standing on the far side of the bonfire, face lit with gold and yellow. He is talking loudly and laughing with several other men. Hollis’s father is among them. He is a fair-haired witty man, who seems younger than the men standing around him. I slow my pace and breathe deeply, calming my racing heart. I put my thoughts in order, so I can ask efficient questions. It annoys Father when I fumble and mumble through our conversations.
I approach and Father bellows, “There he is!” His big arms raise and grab me by the shoulders. I am confused for a moment at his unrestrained attention. He winks noticeably to the other men. They walk away, and I realize something is awry. Hollis’s father straightens his collar and follows the other men. Maybe I messed up a sword or tool in the workshop. Am I in trouble? My stomach churns and I choke back my fear of the oncoming conflict.
Father’s tone lowers, “I’d like to talk to you about something, son.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You’ll be of marrying age next winter. You and Hollis get along well. Have you considered her as your match?” He looks at me with serious eyes, scrutinizing my reaction. I flinch and blink, confused that I’m not in trouble. “I know you spend a lot of time with her.”
My throat aches as it suddenly dries out. I attempt to swallow. No words come to mind. I am floundering to say something. Shouldn’t he be talking marriage with Tolliver? Not me. I clench my sweating fists, frustrated at my inability to think quickly.
“What say you, son?” He smiles big, with eyebrows raised, as if doing so will force an answer.
“I will have to think about it,” I say finally.
“What is there to think about? She is your best friend. It is perfect.”
“I would just like some time—” I stop, contemplating a better excuse.
“Fine, fine, I know you have your own way of doing things,” he agrees, much to my surprise.
“Thank you, Father.” I breathe deeply and puff up my chest, feeling more like a man now that he is respecting the way I am.
As he walks away, I scurry to catch up. “I have a curious question, Father.”
“What is it?”
“I was wondering if you could explain to me how the floating lanterns work.”
“Oh boy, that is an explanation for another night.”
“I’m just curious,” I state as if it didn’t matter.
“Not now, Ledger,” he says. Father laughs loudly and shakes his head. “My curious boy.” I descend to feeling ten years old again as he pats me on the head and walks away.
Villagers are all gathered around the bonfire and I hear my grandmother’s voice, “Balfour searched high and low for the perfect place to settle and came upon a tree. Full of life and light, this tree sat in the center of a clearing that called to him. He brought the twelve families from the west to settle around the Harvest Tree. That first night many slept beneath its boughs and all across the clearing under the stars.” The old woman waves a bony hand at the night sky of black and white.
This season’s storyteller is Grandmother Huyana. Her name means falling rain. Grandfather said she fell into his life like the rain and soaked his soul with her compassion. I can’t help rolling my eyes at his sentimental words. Grandmother is the best storyteller among them. She makes the best parts more exciting and even sings the voice of Laurel who saved Balfour’s sister from drowning and eventually married him. My stomach tightens again as I listen to the tale of Laurel and Balfour’s wedding beneath the Tree.
I listen to Grandmother’s version of the story and marvel at the sparkle in her brown eyes. The bonfire’s flame lights her face, but her heart lights her eyes. “That first harvest brought plenty from the flat fields beside the river but with it brought a shocking sight. An island in the skies with winged people. Did they bring life or death? Balfour and two elders journeyed south beyond the briar to meet them. Their wings carried them down with ease, they accepted the presence of one another and we welcomed the Sky People of Ellery.
“While feasting around the Harvest Tree, they bestowed gifts upon each other. Rayven, the King of Ellery, gave garments of white and new instruments made from ram’s horn. Balfour gave Rayven a portion of our crops to take to their people atop the floating mountain. For it was all we had to share.
“They found their rhythm as Ellery came and went each harvest season circling our world with the moving winds and seasons. The shofars would announce the return of their friends and the anticipation of a feast, until one harvest season when the winds changed.”
Grandmother clears her throat and sips from her cup. My mind drifts back to the floating lantern. Can I possibly make a man-sized lantern? It would have to be enormous. I look around for an idea of where to start or what to build it from.
Looking directly at me, Grandmother continues the next few lines of the story holding my gaze. “During the last feast of peace between Ellery and Balfour, Rayven’s youngest granddaughter was lost in the woods around the village. No one had seen her for a full day and Rayven went mad—” Grandmother coughs and looks away from the fire. Grandfather reaches for her hand. I watch a look that flashes between them. A look of sadness.
Were they sad that Rayven went mad and started a war with our people? Is Grandmother too tired to continue telling the story? She catches her breath and continues. I notice a small glimmer of a tear at the edge of her eye.
“Rayven, bent with rage, declared war on our village.” Grandmother coughs again and again. I rise from my seat in concern. She leans into Grandfather and coughs into his tunic over and over. When she sits up there is an obvious spot of blood where she had been. Mother gasps along with many others around the clearing. I rush to her aid.
Grandfather gives her his handkerchief and motions for me to help. I guide her to her feet and she wavers. I catch her and scoop her into my arms. I am surprised I can lift her by myself. She seems lighter than seven-year-old Killian. I look at Grandfather, his white brows pinched with worry. “Take her to the cottage, Ledger.” I scan for my parents. They are gathering the children. Mother nods, telling me to go. I follow the path of petals as the moon guides our way back to the village.
I walk north around the outer circle of cottages as Grandmother has another bout of coughing. Inside, I set her frail body on the bed. Grandfather neatly tucks her in and strokes her wrinkly cheek, as Kava and Healer Clovis rush in with a medicine bag.
He gets to work sifting through his bag pulling out several bottles and a small mixing bowl. He is a little man with a round balding head. His tunic is too big for him and hangs loosely over his elderly frame. He hunches over the bowl grinding something and Kava adds a drop from each of the bottles. Her dark eyes are focused. She has been helping him all her life. Her mother died in childbirth and Clovis raised her alone. They work together seamlessly as though she can read her father’s mind.
Clovis shuffles to Grandmother with the completed tonic. His small hands hold the bowl to her lips and she swallows it down. Grandmother’s barking cough startles me. It twists my stomach in knots at the thought of her pain. Grandfather and Clovis discuss her condition. It is possibly a lung infection, something old people die from regularly. I clench my teeth and watch her trying to get comfortable in the bed. Grandfather assists her, adjusting her pillows.
“I’ll be right back, my dove,” Grandfather coos. “I must speak with Clovis.”
She half smiles and half winces.
He follows Clovis and Kava out the door. I wonder if they are talking outside because she is worse than he is letting on.
A single candle on the windowsill next to her bed flickers in the darkness. I walk to Grandmother’s bedside and touch her hand. Speaking over her body, I tell it to heal. Her eyes open, reading my face.
“Don’t be sad, little Edgy.”
I give a smile at the endearing nickname. I kneel beside her bed and hold her small hand for many silent moments until she speaks in a hushed tone. “Your mother has been telling me of your harvest time adventures.”
I look into her eyes to find any trace of reprimand. She knows of my rebellion against our people, but all I see is love.
“Keep her safe.” Grandmother’s exhale is long, and her eyes fall shut. I wait. It’s so long until she draws in a new breath.
I’m relieved she is still with me. “Keep Mother safe?”
She looks up and locks eyes with me. The name emerges like an exhale, “Alouette.”
My breath catches in my throat, shock sending my heart into an uneasy rhythm. I say, “I would never put her in harm’s way, Grandmother. She too is cautious when Balfour is awake.” I stroke her hand and continue, “She gave me this last harvest.” I pull a piece of fabric from my pocket. It isn’t white anymore. A grimy brown color, really. I guess I don’t keep my hands very clean.
I put it in Grandmother’s hand. “Dove-down silk,” she says, surprising me. I never told my mother about the fabric.
“How—”
“Oh sweet boy, there are so many things I know.” The candle reflects in her midnight eyes. “I shall tell you about them someday, but that tonic is making my memories distant and unreachable.”
“Another day, Grandmother.” I kiss her cheek and tuck her hand under the blanket.
“Tell me of Alouette’s family,” Grandmother whispers into the night. “I may fall asleep, just keep talking, it brings me solace to hear your voice.”
“Yes, Grandmother,” I agree. “Alouette’s father is advisor to the King of Ellery. She said he doesn’t have a trade because he is so smart they don’t need him to waste time on wearing down his body or hands when his mind is so brilliant. She described her mother much like I would have described you, Grandmother, in your more active years: intense and powerful. She manages the women of Ellery in childbirth.” I pause to check on her breathing. A small smile wrinkles up one side of her face and I continue, “Alouette is an only child. Apparently, they are only permitted to have one child now. She said it wasn’t always that way, but Ellery is quite full of people and they had to slow overpopulation. But she has several friends.” I decide I don’t want to share about her friends and skip to the story she told about the king’s family.
“King Halcyon of Ellery has two children. He is the only one permitted to have more than one child, to ensure an heir to the throne. It doesn’t matter male or female. But he has two girls. They are as different as night and day. The king himself can’t figure out how to handle them because they are so different. Alouette said there is much talk about the fact that they may end up in a duel for the throne after their father dies.” I quietly chuckle to myself. Grandmother looks as though she is sleeping now. Her face is limp and expressionless. I take the opportunity to talk about Alouette. “I don’t know what to think about what she means to me. We have been friends since I was twelve and each year I see her, she brings my mind to life. It’s like I’m not alive the rest of the year until I see her. But she must always depart too soon and I have no power to bring her back. There’s no way I’ll ever be able to come to her world. There’s no way our village would ever receive her. But I want her with me all the time.”
I notice the corner of Grandmother’s cheek push back in a small smile and I realize she has heard every word. With a sigh, I kiss her cheek. I notice movement outside the window beside me. The festivities must be over. I wonder if they finished telling the history of Balfour.
Grandfather enters the cottage with a whoosh of cool spring air. I inhale its sweet scent and meet him near the door. “She is nearly sleeping,” I whisper.
“Thank you, my boy,” he embraces me in his long bony arms. “Sleep well.”
I exit and walk around the side of Grandmother’s cottage toward home, grateful I get one last peek through her window as I go by. I turn the corner. There is Hollis. Her mouth is gaping, and her eyes are wide. Wild violets fall from her hands. I pause for a moment, unsure of what to do as the flowers hit the ground. She looks down at them and back at me, then runs off. Did she hear me talking about Alouette?
I want to hit something. I want to run away. I want to fly. But I am stuck. With big feet on the ground, my heart is in the sky and there’s no way to reach it.
