Forest Born (26 page)
“So it is,” Rin whispered.
She was not that lone elm in the garden, not some far-flung cedar clinging to a wind-battered hillside. She was from a forest as old as the stones of the earth, pines protecting each other from wind, firs entwining roots and sharing rainfall, aspens sprouting from the same source.
“Rin!” Her nephew Incher spotted her from his perch in a tree. Without another word, he leaped to the ground and ran off.
After weeks away, to have home suddenly near made her heart flutter like a trapped bird. Her first instinct was to run off, so she took a breath and found true things to speak to herself.
You are allowed to be powerful. You are not Selia, and you are not
dark loathing. You have a strong core, reaching down deep, straining up
high, but with eyes to see and a mouth to speak. You don’t control the trees
or the people. You are the changed one.
By the time she could see the bough-heavy roof of her ma’s house, everyone was running toward her. All five brothers, five brothers’ wives, twenty-two nieces and nephews (the twenty-third carried), and Ma, white-shot black hair frizzing free of her headscarf. There was no way Ma could outrun the likes of long-and-lean Jef or Hinna of the forever leaping legs. So perhaps she flew, because Ma did get to Rin first, her hands reaching for her girl, and then Rin was inside her mother’s embrace.
It was like being lost in the rings of an ancient tree, how she seemed to be falling and yet warm and still and as secure as could be. There was no fear, no wincing away from herself. There was just Ma and Rin. And moments later, everyone. Hands slapped her back and rubbed her head, children hugged her legs, bread was stuffed into her hands and offered to her mouth, kisses and hugs and demands for news of Bayern and Razo even as others shouted all the news of the Forest.
“Rin, you’re not to touch a spoon or a rag for a week at least, you hear me?” said Sari, Brun’s wife. “We women have been talking about it ever since you left and not liking a bit the way things were.”
“That’s just so,” said Jef’s wife, Ulan. “We’ve been treating you like an old lady instead of the girl you are, and it’s not right. So you just take it easy for a time till we figure out how to treat the new Rin.”
“But I wanted—,” Jef started.
“Not a word, Jef,” said his wife. “You let her relax a time and just be. That’s what she needs. I mean, is that what you need, Rinna?”
Everyone looked at her now, question in their eyes, waiting for her response, and she could see that they did want to know.
“I don’t mind helping out still,” said Rin, “as we figure things out.”
Rin wanted to start the next day fresh and feeling like herself, whoever that was, to let home seep into her and nudge loose that scared little girl, to balance the dizziness and get her feet under her again. Part of that would be telling the truth to her nephews and finding Wilem, asking for forgiveness and trying to explain. That thought was chilly and hard, but good too in its way, because she knew it was right.
“I missed you lots,” little Hinna said, rubbing her face into Rin’s side.
Rin laughed. It tickled. “I missed you too, Hinna.”
Ma still had her arms around Rin’s neck, and she asked in her ear, “Are you staying, my girl?”
“I’m staying.”
Ma sighed, her breath scented with juniper berries.
Rin checked inside herself—strong in the middle, a core that stretched from her belly to her throat, hands touching others like leaves brush leaves, body close to Ma like the roots of great trees wrapped together.
I’m Rinna-girl
, she thought,
and I’m Agget-kin. I’m a tree-speaker
and a people-speaker. I’m Razo’s sister and Dasha’s, Enna’s, and
Isi’s friend. I’m many things, some that I don’t even know yet.
All the hands and voices pulled her into the clearing of the homestead and onto a seat by the fire. A hearty lunch stew filled bowls; laughter and excited chatter bounced off the trees. Rin was silent. She tried to read her own self as she often had others, and she saw much fault. How could her family know her when she never expressed a wish or an opinion? When she feared herself and hid behind her ma?
Slowly, carefully, she could change that. It no longer seemed a hopeless task. With her ma beside her, nieces and nephews hugging her legs, the voices of her brothers and their wives falling over her like rain, she was deluged in home. She felt so aware of her family, they seemed a part of her own body. They loved her, she knew. That was a place to start. Now it was her turn—it was time to let her family meet Rin.
The End
Many thanks to the following:
• Dean Hale and Victoria Wells Arms for their usual spot-on feedback and inspiration
• Deb Shapiro, whose publicity fu is strong
• Barry Goldblatt, a knight in shining armor
•
LittleRedReadingHood.com
, where my fan base begins
• My blog readers—squeetusers, who did a lot of buoying-of-Shannon’s-spirit through this tricky book
• Melissa Bryner Whiting, whose reaction to
The Goose Girl
first sparked the idea for this story
• Bonnie Bryner, Kayla Huff, “Big” Maggie Thatcher, Kindra Johnson, and Nikki Mantyla for loving my children while I wrote
• The King’s English, the Salt Lake County Library, and all those lovely book people everywhere who get excited about matching the right book to the right person
• Bryant, Thatcher, Gabe, Kira, Mari, Livie, Tessa, Ellie, Max, Levi, and Maggie, the children in my family, who were very much in my heart as I wrote this book. May good stories surround you, comfort you, keep you safe, and make you feel at home.