Ian did not see Libby much after she first arrived. She and her mother had driven up the circle driveway late in the afternoon. They looked exhausted, no doubt a lot of it was the long international flight, but both of their eyes looked hollow and sunken. Libby’s mom, Caroline, was like an empty shell. The look on Libby’s face was ashen white and she appeared as though she had been punched in the stomach and had not quite caught her breath. True to their breeding, they were immaculately dressed; each hair perfectly in place. Lady Caroline appeared to have applied a fresh coat of make-up to her stony face.
Ian had caught a glimpse of the two getting out of the car from an upstairs window. He saw Lady Caroline, as she was called around Winter Haven, physically straightening “Elizabeth’s” shoulders and lifting her chin, preparing her to walk regally into the home.
By the time the family and a few long-time servants came out to greet them, they were ready to play the part Lady Caroline thought they should. Based on past interactions with Libby, Ian was certain that she would rather put on some play clothes and go out to the woods to cry or kick something. The girl he knew was a fireball; she was not only feisty but she also wore her emotions on her sleeve. He liked that he never had to guess what she was thinking or feeling, when she was not forced by her mom to be a china doll under glass, that is.
Ian did not dare look at Libby as she was hugged and kissed and told all sorts of encouraging things by adults who didn’t know what to do or say under the circumstances. Following them slowly and gracefully from the car was Etaina, Libby’s tutor and dance instructor that the Williams’s had sent over to make sure that Libby was learning the finer things of the Welsh culture and not being debased by middle class America.
***
After two weeks of seeing Libby only from afar, Ian began to wonder how long her seclusion would go on. The two ladies and Etaina took their meals in their guest quarters and for fresh air they went out to the walled-in, private gardens you could only get to through their wing of the house.
It seemed strange to Ian that his friend would not want to see him, and he began to wonder if she was being held captive against her will. When he found his dad tending to the flower beds one afternoon, he asked him about Libby’s unwillingness to come out and play. Ian’s father, Peter, got a tender look on his face and replied, “You’ll see her when she’s ready.”
So, Ian decided to enjoy his summer break and wait for her to come to him. Less than a week later, Libby did come out to play. Her timing for joining the boys could not have been worse. Ian and Reese were with Ewan, Gregory and Chris, engaged in man-sport near their fort in the woods.
The boys were taking turns competing to be the grand champion in using the slingshot with both their right and left hands, and Ian intended to make his skills known. Now, Ian knew in his mind that he was not supposed to care where he stood in the pecking order that exists among boys, but in his heart of hearts it really did matter. For the record, Ewan was best at right hand, followed by Ian, then Gregory, and so on. It was Ian who dominated left-handed because he spent the most time practicing.
They were moving on to archery and the typical bragging was taking place about who would come out the victor. Ian tended to be less talk and more action, while Ewan and Gregory bantered on the most. Ewan talked so strongly that Ian thought he probably intimidated his way to one of the top positions more times than not. However, it was Reese who had taken the endless hours of archery training and beat them every time.
Talk turned to who the phantom enemy would be that they were about to annihilate. They settled on Mordred the six-fingered, left-handed giant. Reese took on the name of King Arthur and, of course, no one argued since his real name carried the most clout in their group of friends. The rest of the boys grappled over the other less famous warriors of old.
After establishing their personas, the group of friends was no longer in a mere forest. The trees seemed to thicken and the sky grew darker in the eye of Ian’s imagination. They were now in a wood filled with filthy opponents. Ian looked at his comrades in arms, seasoned men of battle on either side of him. The boys stepped forward to glare at their targets attached to rotting bales of hay which had been placed at regular intervals. The piles of hay had transformed into men over nine feet tall with Mordred having been assigned to the one that was farthest from them.
At Reese’s signal, they raced towards their marks, lunging like rabid animals toward the brutal enemies they faced. They stopped at the line and took their place, careful to stand side by side so that someone was not hit with the rubber-tipped arrows. Even though they would not cut through skin, the boys knew it sure would hurt to get struck in the back by one of them. Countless times they had been warned by their mothers to “be careful or someone could lose an eye.”
Reese hit his mark twice by the time Ian had fit his arrow into place to take aim. Ian’s arrow hit the bale but not anywhere close to the target. The other boys had similar success, their arrows hitting the hay or the outer part of the circle. Reese declared himself “King of the Battlefield” once they had spent their five arrows each, and no one else had come close to hitting the target dead on every time.
As the boys retrieved their arrows, Libby stepped through the branches behind them with a hesitant look on her face. She was dressed to play. For the first time, Ian noticed the subtle changes that had taken place in the last year. Her dark hair was longer. She had also gotten taller and carried herself more like the skilled dancer she was becoming. Even more noticeable was the sadness that was wrapped around her like a cloak, making her appear like she could easily be broken if handled roughly.
Since Libby and Ian had been the closest among the group, her eyes sought out his and she offered an attempt at a smile. Her large eyes seemed to hold deep secrets and, growing larger, they pleaded with his not to look away from her. Ian stopped what he was doing to stare deep into her face. After a moment, he realized there were voices speaking around him and all activity had stopped. Libby looked down and began to drag the toe of her shoe back and forth in the dirt. When she looked up her face welcomed Ian but her eyes haunted him.
Reese broke the silence, “What do you want? You shouldn’t be here.” His words sounded like he was spitting through his teeth.
Her graceful eyes met Ian’s for a moment to see what he would do. They searched and quickly found their answer: he would say or do nothing to defend her.
The other boys began to laugh. It reminded Ian of a pack of hyenas. But Reese did not leave it at that.
“Your own dad didn’t want you. Why would we?”
Ian watched as horror washed over her like the winds of a hurricane. Her face went ashen and she staggered backwards slightly as though she had been physically struck. Ian waited for her to give Reese one of her typical tongue lashings or punch him in the nose like she did last summer. Instead, she turned and fled.
After she had gone, Ian’s heart felt like it had left his body. He was no longer a warrior but a scared little boy. He joined the competition for the next couple of hours but only halfheartedly, doing poorly at every game. He just wasn’t into it anymore.
Reese finally decided to call it quits and they all listened to him like trained dogs obeying their master. Gregory invited the boys for a sleepover, promising dessert and games, but Ian was not up for it. As they all split up to go ask permission, Ian made an excuse about not feeling very well and headed back home, trailing behind the others.
Ian took a route that led him slightly closer to the off- limits crescent and felt a pull to go nearer. He was so depressed he ignored the strange leading and went home. Before he went in for supper he looked all around the grounds in search of Libby, hoping to find her so that he could try to say something to make her feel better. After that failed, he scaled the wall of the private gardens and found that empty as well. Then to top off an increasingly horrible day he got scolded for being late for the evening meal.
After a quiet supper that Ian mostly left on his plate, Ian’s mom asked if he was well.
“I just want to go to bed,” was all he could choke out.
Going to his room, Ian held it together only long enough to find himself alone. The image of the look on Libby’s face played in his mind over and over as he sobbed. Wave after wave of tears flowed from his eyes as he realized he was just as deceitful as Reese for doing nothing to defend the already hurting girl.
Before sleep overtook him, Ian made two promises to himself. First, he whispered to the empty room, “I will find her and try to apologize.”
Second, he vowed aloud, “I will never again be the rotten boy I was today.”
Libby’s horrified face was the last thing he saw in his mind before he slept.