Out of The Woods (24 page)

Eden’s arms were wrapped around Athena’s neck, her face tucked down. She was humming softly. Athena looked straight ahead, her neck stretched long as she swam. Halley opened her mouth but could make no sound.

The boat was close. Trance’s thin, dangerous smile made her jaw clench. He plied the oars. The boat surged forward.

Halley drove her right heel hard into Athena’s side. It took the horse by surprise. She immediately curved around the pressure, shifting direction to swim downriver.

Halley glanced over her shoulder and saw Trance working the oars furiously. They were nearly abreast. He lifted one of the oars from the water. He held it like a baseball bat, ready to swing. Halley could see it all happening, in an instant, an irretrievable moment: he would aim for Athena, a deadly blow to the horse’s smooth beautiful head. Smash her, as he’d smashed the carp by the river. They would be pulled under by the weight of the dead horse. They’d drown.

Trance cocked his body back. He would destroy everything!

The boat swept up next to them. Eden kept her head low. Athena swam. Trance began the swing.

The world stopped.

But Halley was fast, and unpredictable. Trance believed her a sparrow; he was unprepared for an eagle.

From Athena’s back, she launched herself, pushing off with her legs. She slammed into him, knocking him off balance. His smell – fetid, damp, dead – was upon her. But only for a moment. Her jump propelled her into him, and then beyond. She landed in the river with a tremendous splash.

The cold stunned her.

Seizing the moment, Trance reached out to grab for her. “Here, take my hand. I’ll help you aboard the boat…you could drown…” His expression was terrible to behold.

“No way!” she shouted.

Before he could react, she dove and pulled herself deep underwater. She held her breath and pulled forward with long strokes. The water tasted like the first rain of spring. Once her hands moved within the reeds at the edge of the river bank, she cautiously raised her lips above water to take a breath. Slowly, she rose up out of the water, keeping her knees bent, careful to stay hidden. She looked downstream, and felt a strong pulse of dread. Trance was pursuing Eden and Athena.

Underwater, something slid slowly across her calves, something warm and heavy. She froze. The water near the reeds was murky. She couldn’t see through it. She kept absolutely still. A long thin ripple disturbed the river’s smooth skin. It was moving away from her. Her relief was short-lived. It circled and moved back towards her. Fast.

A fish, let it be a fish, she willed.

But the head that emerged from the water was not that of a fish. It was a snake! It flicked its tongue, and then fixed her with its yellow staring eyes. It reared higher, twelve inches of the snake defying gravity, the rest flattened along the water’s surface. It widened, became suddenly and ominously hooded. It opened its mouth and hissed from deep inside its throat. Its long white hollow fangs became visible, its forked tongue tasting the air. It was not just a snake. It was a cobra!

Godlike, it swayed above the surface, as if enchanted by some gypsy snake charmer, before sinking and disappearing into the murky water. Halley swallowed. The ripples reappeared on the surface – they were moving towards her!

Suddenly, a scream split the air. At the same time, a forceful wind struck Halley in the face. The surface of the water was broken. A moment later, an eagle arose. It was gripping the cobra tightly in its talons. It flew away, its thick legs extended backwards, holding the snake by its mid-section. The snake whipped about, but it could not get to the eagle.

Halley scrambled to shore. She looked downriver. Trance’s boat was closing in on the others. He plied the oars. Halley pursued them along the riverbank.

Eden kept her eyes fixed upon Trance. He was more frightening than anything she had ever seen. He was the man from the basement and Bad Dad and her brother when he beat her up; he was her nightmares that never went away. She wanted to cry out for Mommy, but Mommy was gone. Biting her lip, she forced herself to remember about heroes. The Lone Ranger. Superman. The Incredible Hulk. Batman. Heroes were the good guys. And the good guys always won.

She took a deep breath. She was the Good Guy. Even though she was terrified, she would be brave.

Carefully, she lifted herself onto one foot, and then pushed up with the other leg, until she was standing on both feet, wide-stanced on the horse’s broad back. Athena’s back was slippery. She gripped with her toes and the balls of her feet, reassured by the feeling of height. A moment later, Trance caught up, and made a lunge for her. She simply leaned forward, held on, and swung herself around Athena’s neck to hang below her, her legs dangling in the cold water.

Athena sensed what she must do: she turned parallel to the river’s current, and resumed her course across the river. Trance couldn’t turn as fast. He was unable to follow, and his boat was quickly swept away.

Athena and Eden climbed the river bank.

Halley watched the boat slip away, eventually turning a bend in the river and moving out of sight. Her leg ached where the stray branch had hit her; her hair dripped coldly down her back and made her shiver. Even so, she felt strangely elated. Eden and Athena had crossed a few hundred meters further downstream. Halley ran to join them. Athena lifted her nose in the air and whinnied.

Halley looked at Eden with wonder. “Are you all right?”

Eden nodded, her eyes wide. They sat down to dry off in the sun, back to back, to gaze at the river. They were quiet for some time.

Looking towards the mountains, Halley felt the familiar pulse return to her forehead. “The baby,” she said aloud.

“You haven’t mentioned the baby in a really long time.”

“I just felt her again, stronger than ever before.”

“Do you know where?”

“The mountains.”

“What about Trance?” Eden said.

“He won’t be back today. But soon, I’ll have to face him. I’m nearly strong enough. Let’s focus on the mountains.”

A clearly visible ridgeline would make for easy climbing, and she pointed it out to Eden, tracing the way with her finger across the range. “There. We’ll start the climb just there.” It looked challenging and would require skill as well as strength. The thought made her very tired. Lying on her back, she let the sun warm her, soaking up its golden light.

The sun shifted overhead, and the shadows began to lengthen. It was too late to travel further, so they decided to spend the night where they were, by the river.

With a sense of calm unexpected after the battle with Trance, they slept. The
hussssh
of rushing water over rocks was a soothing lullaby.

The next morning at sunrise, Halley and Eden gathered themselves, ate the last of the Peters Monkey Bars, drained and refilled the canteen at the river, and began to walk. Athena followed just behind, nibbling at undergrowth.

They had not been walking long when Halley sensed a change in the air. Athena had stopped, her head and neck turned to observe something in the far distance. A sudden cool breeze from the West made the horse lift her head higher as she sucked in the air. She was suddenly lithe and light-footed, a coiled spring awaiting release.

Halley gazed at her with a mixture of sorrow and joy. With slow steps, she approached the horse, following the direction of her gaze. A herd of horses was just visible in the distance. They had stopped and were watching the little group. A loud whinny split the air as the lead stallion summoned her; Athena’s answer resonated with an echo of the wild. She turned to face Halley, as if seeking permission, her nostrils flaring in and out. Reaching out, Halley gently stroked the flat of her palm down Athena’s nose, around the curve of her jaw, along the bold sweep of her neck.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She patted the horse gently on the shoulder, and then took her hand away. It was a farewell.

Athena paused a moment and nudged Halley in the belly, as if saying,
Sure? Are you sure?

Halley nodded. “Go.”

In a moment, she was off. Her tail flicked at the air as she galloped lightly towards the herd. Halley watched the puffs of dust arise from each foot fall, watched the sunlight play on her white coat, and in the sound of her movement heard the echo of the horse’s freedom.

“I love to see her run like that,” Eden said.

“Now we’re both free.”

They watched as she rejoined the herd, as she touched noses with the lead stallion. Halley felt another piece of herself, long missing, slide back into place. Eden stepped away and appeared to be fascinated by the frogs at the edge of a small stream.

“Ahem.”

Halley started and turned: a very old gentlemen was standing next to her, also watching the horses run in the distance. Halley’s mouth went dry. What was he doing here! Where had he come from! Her eyes sprinted over him. He was familiar. In a moment, she took him in, and knew he was wrong.

Though old, the man’s posture was upright – he stood as if he could stand for hours without discomfort, as if his joints bore him well. His skin was the deep, weathered brown of an old sailor. Like Halley, he was lean, with a similar strength to his build. His calves in particular were still thick and powerful. He was dressed simply: tan shorts held up by a brown leather belt; a blue crewneck t-shirt; old, dusty sandals. Between his teeth, he held a brown pipe, and he sucked at it as he watched the horses.

The pipe was okay. It belonged. It was the only thing that belonged. The smell of the smoke was sharp, that of an inexpensive tobacco, but was appealing in the way familiar scents often are. His hair was white, fine, old man’s hair. It would be soft to touch. His blue eyes peered mischievously from a nest of wrinkles. They were the marks of a person who’d spent a lifetime smiling. These smile lines were wrong too, like almost everything else about him. Smile lines? They were not what she’d expect.

Halley consciously drew her mouth closed, and stood staring, looking as though she were trying to process some impossible algebraic equation.

The old gentleman simply watched the horses run. Finally, he looked at Halley, and removed the pipe from between his teeth with one hand. “Ahem,” he said, clearing his throat again. “Hello, Halley.”

Tears came to her eyes.

“Dad?”

Her voice was a whisper.

It couldn’t be. He’d been dead for fourteen years. And Dad had dressed like a country gentleman. This fact seemed, oddly, more important than the fact of his death. Her father would have been in his tailored tan raincoat. He’d be wearing his fine woolen slacks and a long-sleeved shirt with a collar. He wore this every time they went to see the horses. He didn’t believe in slovenliness.
My father in shorts and sandals? Impossible.

Still, he was her father. Halley’s legs were trembling. The old gentleman reached out a hand and touched her shoulder. She stared at the hand, at the thick, straight, strong fingers. The smell of pipe smoke drifted around them.

“Even your hand is wrong.”

“You will be all right,” the old gentleman replied.

The words made her ears ring; the crow, the one she had met at the very beginning of her journey.
He had brought a note
. It had said exactly that: “You will be all right”.

The world shifted under Halley’s feet. The old gentleman left his hand on her shoulder, and placed the pipe back between his teeth. He puffed, and she stood trembling in the cloud of familiar smoke. In time, the trembling ceased. A little while later, she could speak again.

“But…” she said, not meeting his eyes, “but, you are dead.” The word ‘dead’ felt slippery on her tongue. “I remember. When you died. A part of you was with me on the train when I was trying to get to you. A part that wasn’t in the hospital. I knew you had a choice and I held you and said
No, don’t go
but you chose to leave. I… I felt you go.”

The words held the dry, brittle kernel of anger she had carried all these years. As she spoke, she felt the hard kernel swell and burst open. “You had a choice. I know you did…”

She bit the inside of her cheek. He had left before she was ready; he had left her unprepared, and unprotected.

He took the pipe from between his teeth and held it between two fingers. “I know, love. That day. That horrible day.” He looked away from her, out to where the horses ran. He rubbed his chest, as if, even now, it still pained him. “I’m sorry, love…I just couldn’t stay,” he finally said, shaking his head. “My heart would never have worked properly again. I know it was sudden…” He pressed on her shoulder, his fingers strong.

“Sudden…” Halley said bitterly. “It wasn’t sudden – it was impossible.” Her eyes overflowed.

The memories had never faded. Memories were supposed to fade. The grey of his hands on the clean white sheet; the knuckles that had been deformed by arthritis; the strangely over-white half-moons on his fingernails; the down-turned lips; the thinned hair that was not quite white anymore but an inexplicable yellow. Pulling the strip of ECG paper off and rolling it into a tiny tube and tucking the tube silently into her pocket because it had recorded his last heart beat, and telling no one about it ever; it was something he would have done himself. His heart had stopped beating and they’d never known why.

He puffed at the pipe. “I couldn’t face being incapacitated, being dependent. I would have been in your way. And you were all that ever mattered. Love, you were what made my life worthwhile.”

She took a deep breath and rubbed her hand across her face. “You wouldn’t have been in my way. You might have saved me.”

“Ah, but Halley…I knew you would save yourself.”

Halley was silent, overcome. It helped explain his leaving.
You believed in me.

She thought about what else he’d said, about not wanting to be dependent. That had been his way. He’d been strong and silent in the face of tremendous pain.

She stared at the man. The words were important. But more important was the fact that he was dressed wrong. It made her doubt him. There was something funny about the way he spoke too. She pondered what he could have said that made her think that, as he watched the horses. She played his words over in her head. It was the nickname. He had called her “Love”. Her father had always called her “Sweet”.

The elderly gentleman spoke. “You’re right. I am not the father you knew.” He said it as if reluctant to explain. He met her eyes. “I am who your father would have become. Had he lived. Had he had time enough…to become…” The old gentleman stopped. “I am who your father has become. In you.”

With that, he let the pipe fall to the earth and pulled Halley into a close embrace.

Halley didn’t hug him back.

The old gentleman held her away.

“I have watched you since I left. It taught me what I’d never seen in life, that you needed me to tell you the things I took for granted that you knew. Like the fact that I love you.” Before he spoke again, he glanced around quickly, as if he sensed danger. “Listen carefully. I must tell you something.” He held her an arm’s length away, his long straight fingers placed gently on her upper arms. “When you were very little, I frightened you.”

“What?” Her body tensed.

“I frightened you. I’m sorry. I thought it wouldn’t matter. Not if I loved you well the rest of your life. But it did. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. One day, you will face it. Then you will hug me back.”

She tried to relax her body, but couldn’t. “At least you loved me well for the rest of my life.” She tried to smile; the old gentleman did not smile back.

“I never could tell you how I treasured you. Not in words. It wasn’t my way. But I did, Halley, I treasured you. By God, I did.” He squeezed her upper arms gently. The palms of his hands felt warm as he looked her full in the face.

He drew a deep breath; what he was about to say was very important.

“You must see all of who I was,” he said. “You must let me step down from this pedestal you have placed me upon. I was only a man. A father. I made mistakes. You must see all of me now. You have no need to fear my anger any more.”

Halley swallowed. “Angel parachutes,” she said impulsively.

“What, love?”

“Angel parachutes. That’s why I blew the seeds off the dandelions – I was helping the angels get to earth,” Halley said. It was odd to feel like a child again in his presence.

The old gentleman smiled. “By God, you’re right! I didn’t know that then – it made me so furious that you were purposely ruining our lawn – but I can see now. That’s exactly what you were doing!” He looked into the distance. “The world can always use a few more angels on the ground.”

The horses were galloping in the distance and the white form of Athena caught Halley’s eye. Her father followed her gaze.

“Athena,” he said. “I gave her that name when she was born. Do you remember?”

Halley nodded.

“I never told you why,” he said. His eyes disappeared into their nest of wrinkles. “Athena was a Greek goddess – the goddess of wisdom and war. She was grey-eyed too, just like your Athena. Not as hairy though, I’m sure. And she certainly didn’t have a tail.”

He laughed and this made Halley laugh too.

“Athena,” he continued, “was a protector of heroes. That was the reason I named your horse Athena. I thought it a fitting name for a horse that would carry you.”

“That explains my name too.”

“Yes. Do you remember? I told you when you were very small. Halley means
hero
.”