Ch. 6: Stars on the Lake

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                      '''               Chapter  Six '''

'''                            Stars  on  the  Lake '''







<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  ice  that  had  formed  like  a  skin  upon  the  lake  grew  thicker  as  the  cold  continued. Forest checked  it  anxiously. Third Bay  was  always  last  to  freeze  properly,  and  Second  Bay  where  he  was,  usually  wasn’t  safe  before  January. First Bay,  north  of  him  toward  Winsted,  had  ice  fishers  on  it  already. There the  lake  opened  in  a  great  round  head  with  two  arms,  the  Resha  Beach  cove  and  Sandy  Cove  on  the  east,  and  at  the  farthest  point  north  was  the  double  spillway  crossed  by  Lake  Street,  and  the  boat  launch  and  beach. The early  snow  had  ruined  the  ice  as  far  as  skating  was  concerned,  but  it  could  be  walked  on. When he  heard  the  first  snowmobiles  on  First  Bay  a  couple  days  before  Christmas,  Forest  could  hardly  wait  for  school  to  finish  so  that  he  could  go  out  on  it.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  turned  out  the  ice  between  Summer  Rock  and  his  island  was  still  broken  and  open,  the  Narrows  being  subject  to  heaves  and  surges,  but  closer  in  to  shore  north  of  the  island  it  seemed  to  be  over  three  inches. Jubilantly he  relayed  Mom,  who  was  watching  anxiously  from  the window,  the  good  news,  and  she  finally  said  he  could  go.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Snow  lay  deep  on  the  ice,  but  here  and  there  it  had  blown  or  melted  clear  and  he  could  see  the  deep  blackness  of  clear  ice. He followed  the  snowmobile  tracks. After all,  if  it  hadn’t  split  under  them  it  wouldn’t  under  him. He came  to  several  active  holes,  all  with  lines  in  them  and  colored  flags  attached  so  the  fisher  could  see  if  any  of  them  bobbed. A solitary  man  sat on  a  wooden  crate  beside  a  metal  bucket,  out  of  which  smoke  issued  and  occasionally  flames. He held  his  hands  over  this  to  warm  them  now  and  again,  and  the  smoke  of  his  pipe  mixed  with  that  of  his  bucket. He was  bundled  up  in  furs  and  a  fur  cap  covered  his  head.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “How  thick  is  it?”  Forest  asked.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  about  three  down  your  end,  Forest,  but  more  like  six  or  eight  farther  north. The Long  Lake  is  unquiet,  even  when  he  is  left  in  peace,  and  seldom  does  all  of  him  freeze  before  middle  winter.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um…do  I know  you?”  stammered  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  fisherman  smiled. “Of course  you  do. You’re just  used  to  seeing  me  in  brown  leather.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           A  sudden  jolt  of  pure  joy  flowed  into  Forest. “Oh, it’s  you!”  he  exclaimed.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  I  get  in  as  much  time  as  I  may,”  answered  the  man  in  brown. “Most of  the  time  I  have  to  cut  firewood. You wouldn’t  believe  how  much  wood  it  takes  to  keep  one  room  habitable! My chimney  is  really  going  to  be  fun  this  spring. But I  banked  the  logs  well  enough,  and  they  should  keep  the  fire  alive  while  I’m  gone.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  you  live  by  here?”  By  the  lake,  he  had  meant.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No,  not  exactly.”  the  man  answered. “Although many  of  the  cottages  and  cabins  here  are  so  like  mine  they  almost  make  me  homesick. Not much,  as  there  is  a  lot  to  do;  Christmas  Eve  is  tomorrow,  you  know!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh  yeah.”  Forest  grinned  happily.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  tell  me,”  said  the  man  in  brown,  growing  serious,  “what  exactly  is  your,  ah,  persuasion,  on  Santa  Claus? You among  the  number  of  those  who  stay  awake  at  midnight?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That’s  kid  stuff.”  said  Forest  “You  know  Santa  doesn’t  exist.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  man  in  brown  chuckled. “There are  more  important  things  this  Christmas  to  keep  watch  for,  son  of  the  trees. Especially someone  with  your  eyes. It will  not  come  this  Christmas,  but  what  you  will  see  at  midnight,  ah  even  I  do  know. It is  a  dangerous  time,  and  a  blessed  one. Be watchful!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  ducked  his  head. The man  in  brown  unscrewed  a  thermos  and  poured  into  the  cup-like  cap  a  steaming  brown  beverage.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Here,  would  you  like  some  chocolate?”  he  said. “I brewed  it  just  this  morning.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  sure.”  said  Forest. He gulped  down  the  thick  creamy  mixture. “Wow. I’ve never  tasted  any  that  good. Where do  you  buy  it  from?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A  place  called  Merriweather  Farm,  point  of  fact. Nobody else  makes  a  better  mix.”  smiled  the  man. “We should  have  some  decent  snow  just  after  Christmas,  if  the  weather  holds. Have you  made  any  snowmen?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nah.”  shrugged  Forest. “It’s never  packing.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A  pity.”  the  man  sighed. “I see  so  few  imaginative  snowmen  these  days. Calvin and  Hobbes  sparked  some  brilliant  ones,  but  children  grow  old  and  tire  so  quickly  of  building,  and  even  old  masters  only  cobble  one  or  two  standards  a  winter. And the  new  children  build  so  seldom. Will any,  I  wonder,  arrive  at  the  Graves  at  all  this  year,  or  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  the  Bended  World  will  they  wait  in  vain?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  Bended  World?”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  know  very  well  what  I  mean,  Forest.”  the  man  in  brown  replied  sternly. “You and  I  both  know  the  scientists  are  wrong.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  have  all  that  math.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ah,  math.”  sighed  the  other. “Numbers, Values,  Coordinates. Spacetime and  quantative  mass,  singularity,  velocity  and  inertia,  extrapolated  forwards  and  backwards  in  time  and  in  motion  until  the  very  concept  of  reality  is  forgotten  to  them  and  all  sight  of  the  truth  lost,  and  I  must  turn  from  them  in  despair  and  speak  into  the  poets  and  the  writers,  to  bring  out  from  them  as  fiction  the  true  story  of  Creation,  and  relate  to  men  as  fantasy  what  they  once  called  reality. But so  changed  are  the  heavens  from  the  way  that  they  began,  that  all  trace  of  truth  is  lost  to  those  who  only  use  their  instruments.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  what  changed  them?”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  eyes  of  his  companion  were  weary,  distant,  as  if  oppressed  with  memory. “It is  so  vast,”  he  murmered. “The things  that  must  be  told,  they  are  as  huge  as  the  sky  and  your  mouth  just  cannot  chew  them. Be patient,  Forest. I must  grow  you  further. You must  see  these  things  by  little  and  little,  or  you  will  not  see  at  all,  even  one  so  keen  of  eye  as  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  I  understand.”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  understand,  no,  no,  child,  I  would  never  expect  that  of  you. Even I  do  not  understand  it,  not  entirely. I doubt  there  is  any  being,  even  He  who  was  once  foremost  of  might  and  majesty,  capable  of  comprehending  the  entirety  of  Creation. We must  seek  only  to  encompass the  little  province  of  reality  over  which  we  have  been  assigned,  for  no  more  is  expected  of  us.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Who  was  He? Is he  the  rider  of—“

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hsh!”  the  man  hissed,  lifting  a  gloved  finger. Forest started. “We do  not  speak  of him  unless  we  must. The Door  is  open. I fear  it  can  never  be  closed,  not  now. He knows  I  have  been  calling. I do  not  think  he  can  find  all  of  you,  but  he  will  hunt,  and  he  is  very  good  at  hunting.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why  does  he  hunt?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Because  he  hates.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  did  not  ask  any  more. Just the  answers  he  had  gotten  were  making  him  feel  both  cold  and  scared  at  the  same  time. If the  one  who  slew  the  Trees  was  loose,  he  did  not  want  him  to find  them.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Do  not  fear,  Forest.”  said  the  man  in  brown. “He is  not  yet  able  to  hunt  as  he  would  wish.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Who  are  the  rest  of  us?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  eyes  of  the  man  in  brown  filled  his. Slowly he  began  to  sing,  to  that  strange  mournfully  haunting  tune  that  he  had  murmered  once  before,  and  the  words  he  sang  made  Forest  feel  as  if  his  feet  were  frozen  to  the  ice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“You do  not  know  of  the  peril  ‘mid  which  we  stand, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">You do  not  know  of  the  dangers  of  this  land, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Roads that  are  made  by  no  mortal  being’s  hand, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Paths leading  nowhere  but  down.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           On  the  last  note  a  howling  wind  roared  up  the  lake,  up  from  the  hills  of  the  south. Snow devils  wailed  before  it. With twangs  and  groans  the  ice  protested  as  it  came,  and  Forest  felt  the  stress  cracks  shift  underneath  him. He bent,  shielding  his  face  with  both  hands  from  the  stinging  sheet  of  snow. When he  let  them  down  and  the  strange  wind  had  passed,  snarling  away  among  the  hills  north  of  Winsted,  he  saw  he  was  alone  on  the  ice,  as  if  the  man  in  brown  had  blown  away  along  with  the  snow.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad,  what  is  Midnight  Mass?”  said  Bell. “Mass?” said  Hunter  Light. “That’s something  the  Catholics  do. In fact  they’re  so  lazy  they  don’t  even  do  it  at  midnight  any  more—they  have  it  at  10:30!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Aww.”  Grumbled  Bell. “It would  be  so  cool  to  be  in  church  at  midnight  and  actually  see  Santa  show  up.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Aw,  come  on,  honey,  you’re  getting  too  old  for  Santa.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hey,  just  because  most  parents  do  the  filling  up  doesn’t  mean  there’s  no  Santa.”  Bell  protested  archly. She sort  of  half-believed  in  Santa,  in  the  sense  of  “Wouldn’t  it  be  interesting  if  he  was  real”,  but  not  the  same  way  as  she  believed  in  God,  or  in  trees. Or in  Forest’s  peculiar  dreams. Sort of  the  way  she  believed  in  a  really  good  story,  only  more  real. “Anyway,” she  went  on,  “Pastor  Miller  over  at  the  Methodists  is  holding  a  tryout  midnight  service,  just  as  an  experiment. Please can  we  go,  Daddy?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  all right,  I’ll  make  sure  I  get  enough  sleep.”  her  dad  grumbled. “I suppose  your  friend  Brooke  wants  to  sleep  in  and  can’t  drive  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She  isn’t  sure  she’ll  make  it,  but  she  said  she’ll  try.”  said  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You’d  better  rest  up  tonight,  young  lady. No watching  ‘Christmas  Carol’  at  10:00!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad!”  It  had  only  been  a  whole  year  ago  when  she’d  woken  him  up  by  putting  on  the  movie  without  checking  the  time. He rumpled  her  hair  and  plodded  into  the  other  room  where  he  sat heavily  down. Bell looked  at  him  with  concern:  he’d  been  coming  in  from  work  all  tired  out  a  lot  lately.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Christmas  Eve  Day  just  went  by  too  slowly. Bell took  a  nap  after  dark  at  her  dad’s  orders,  and  actually  did  drop  briefly  off. It felt  so  weird  and  exciting  to  be  getting  up  and  dressing  in  the  middle  of  the  night  and  then  going  out  in  the  cold  darkness  to  the  car. Her breath  smoked  until  the  heater  got  going. She loved  night  drives;  the  inside  of  the  car  was  so  dark  and  mysterious,  the  green  and  red  lights  on  dashboard  and  radio,  the  weird  flicker  of  streetlights  and  oncoming  car-lights. They got  to  the  church  a  little  late;  midnight  showed  exactly  on  the  clock  in  the  little  brick  ambulance  place  across  the  street  by  Mad  River,  on  the  corner  of  Lake. It had  a  small  tower  and  gabled  eaves. Dad pulled  over  opposite  the  privet  hedge. All the  spaces  on  both  sides  of  the  street  were  full. “You hurry  on  in  while  I  find  a  space,  honey.”  he  said  as  she  shut  the  car  door  behind  her.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           But  Bell  didn’t  hurry  on  in. The cold  clear  air,  still  and  motionless,  the  hard  sad  stars  so  far  above,  held  her  fastened,  gazing,  wondering. She so  seldom  was  out  on  a  winter  night. How strange  the  stars  look,  she  thought, and  the  church  up  against  them—it  looks  like  a  castle,  just  like  mine,  only  mine  is  more  so. An embattlement,  a  wall  of  castles,  curving  from  west  to  east,  curving  north  at  one  end  and  north  at  the  other,  as  if  holding  the  north  against  something  from  the  sea. Faintly she  heard  a  melodious  peal,  then  closer  ones,  until  down  the  street  and  then  overhead  the  church  bells  sounded  in  clanging  rings.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  was  midnight.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell’s  eyes  turned  as  if  drawn,  from  the  dark  tower  against  the  stars  to  the  privet  hedge  at  her  left,  and  the  two-foot-high  finger  of  stone  at  its’  end. In the  orange  streetlights  she  could  only  faintly  see  the  writing. Grooves showed  here  and  there,  but  the  grooves  looked  different. She walked  over  in  front  of  it  and  peered  closer.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           As  if  by  some  change  in  the  light  the  lettering  grew  clear  and  visible,  one  word  above  another  on  the  narrow  stone. She stared,  hardly  able  to  believe  her  eyes. For what  was  written  now  was  no  longer  what  it  had  been.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Temple  Fell 2  m.  Closed  till  MMXVII.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  came  suddenly  awake.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           A  quick  glance  at  his  alarm  told  him  why. The time  was  a  few  minutes  shy  of  midnight. Midnight of  Christmas  Eve.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  had  gone  to  bed  fully  dressed,  so  all  he  needed  to  do  was  put  on  hat,  gloves,  scarf  and  coat  and  hurry  downstairs  to  slip  on  his  boots. A look  at  the  dining  room  clock  showed  both  hands  resting  on  the  twelve.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">He opened  the  back  door and  slipped  outside.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           At  first  he  thought  the  cottages  across  the  Narrows  had  all  turned  on  their  floodlights. But looking  around  showed  that  he  was  wrong. The cottages  on  every  side,  far  as  eye  could  see,  had  all  gone  dark. Their porch  lights  were  quenched. Even the  streetlights  were  out.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  turned,  half  afraid,  towards  the  lights  upon  the  ice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Wavering  forms  and  figures  of  fire,  cold  fire,  silver  flameless  fire  and  blue-white  heatless  fire,  shifted  and  whirled  upon  the  glass-like  floor. The snow  that  had  been  there  was  gone. Enchanted the  boy  moved  forward  until  he  stood  under  the  oak,  and  though  it  was  the  same  the  dock  was  not  there,  or  the  pine  trees,  or  even  the  house  Forest  knew. He tore  his  gaze  away  from  the  dancing  forms  of  light  and  cast  his  eyes  about  the  island. House and  cars  and  bridge  were  gone,  and  ancient  oaks  just  like  the  one  he  stood  under,  ringed  the  isle,  and  rough-boled  chestnuts  with  a  few  great  leaves  still  upon  them  buried  tangled  roots  in  a  pavement  of  lovely  little  plants  with  white  and  dark-green  banded  leaves  and  pale  berries  at their  crowns;  pinkish,  and  red  as  well  as  white.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  turned  again  to  the  ancient  lake,  on  the  ice  of  which  the  stars  still  were  dancing  like  swirling  whips  of  graceful  flame. He had  never  seen  so  beautiful  a  sight,  and  the  tears  fell  and  froze  upon  his  face  unheeded  in  the  bitter  air. The lake  was  filled  from  end  to  end  with  whirling  light,  and  the  skies  above  seemed  an  even  roof  of  ink,  so  great  the  glow  of  the  gathered  stars. He heard  strange  shivering  laughter  like  falling  glass,  and  eerie  tingling  voices  like  ice  that  formed  of  frozen  light  were  singing  eerie  chants  and  melodies  not  meant  for  mortal  ears,  and  Forest  saw  the  great  dark  pines  and  mighty  hemlocks  lining  the  hills,  the  houseless  hills,  all  lit  blue  and  silver-white;  and  there  was  anger  in  those  trees.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  was  a  ripple. That was  all  Forest  could  ever  compare  it  to. It was  as  if  the  ice  and  earth  and  trees,  as  if  the  very  foundations  of  the  hills,  had  shifted,  as  if  a  ripple  went  through  their  very  natures  and  made  their solidity  for  an  instant  as  insubstantial  as  air,  a  ripple  through  matter  and  through  time. The stars  stopped  their  dancing  and  a  great  cry  went  up,  in  which  although  it  was  in  some  unfamiliar  language  he  could  make  out  one  word,  Wendthoay,  chanted  over  and  over  again. What it  meant  he  could  not  tell,  but  it  went  through  him  and  through  him  like  a  bolt  of  silver  ice,  and  then  he  was  aware  of  a  new  figure  upon  the  lake. Unlike the  others  this  being  glowed  neither  white  nor  silver  but  a  pure  and  ancient  blue,  and  he  moved  among  them  like  a  king  of  the  earth,  and  the  stars  bowed  to  him  as  he  passed. Forest could  not  blink  his  eyes,  the  tears  had  frozen  them  open,  and  moving  his  hand  he  wiped  furiously  at  both  his  eyes.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  snowy  dull  ice  that  had  been  there  before  met  his  gaze  as  his  vision  cleared  again. The orange  stars  of  streetlights  and  the  blue-white  stars  of  porch  floodlamps  gleamed  on  the  shores  and  formed  faint  streaks  of  light  across  the  snowy  ice. The stars  were  not  upon  the  ice,  they  were  in  the  air,  and  house  and  pines  were  around  him,  and  no  wintergreen  remained  on  Wintergreen  Island.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  could  not  move.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  stood  like  a  rock,  like  a  snowman,  unmoving,  unloving.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Dull  misery prickled  through  him,  keener  every  second  as  the  pain  of  loss  mounted. Tears dripped  from  his  eyes  and  froze  unnoticed  on  his  scarf  and  skin. The agony  of  waking  from  his  dreams  was  nothing  compared  to  this,  to  seeing  the  dreams  with  your  own  waking  eyes  and  losing  them  again. Jags of  torment  lanced  like  lightning  through  his  soul. He shook  with  its’  violence. He hungered  to  die. He was  tearing  apart. Could any  seeing,  could  any  vision,  be  worth  the  pain  of  losing  it?

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Two  hands  of  flame  seized  the  lightnings  and  shattered  them  asunder.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest.”  said  the  Man  in  Brown.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  pain  ebbed  and  eased as  Forest  sagged  in  the  man’s  grasp. Carefully he  was  borne  off  the  bad  ice  he  had  been  stumbling  toward  and  laid  out  upon  the  dock. The air  around  them  warmed  as if  they  were  near  a  stove,  and  snow  began  to  drip  off  the  rocks. Forest began  at  last  to  weep.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  Man  in  Brown  held  him  closely,  held  him  with  a  father’s  strength  as  the  boy  wept  away  the  last  dregs  of  his  torment. At last  the  sobs  became  sniffles  and  dried  up.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest,  I  am  sorry.”  whispered  the  Man  in  Brown. “I never  expected  you  would  see…so  much. I would  never  have  put  you  through  that. I am  sorry  I  told  you  to  watch.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “D-don’t  be.”  sniffled  Forest. He pushed  away  and  blew  his  nose  over  the  side  of  the  dock. “ ‘S not  your  fault.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “To  see  the  stars  as  they  once  danced  is  a  sight  few  can  bear  and  come  through.”  the  man  said. “Sometimes the  few  who  saw  it  would  go  insane. Most often  they  would  simply  die. Starstruck, they  were  called. But they  were  not  actually  here  this  night,  Forest;  what  came  to  you,  I  suspect,  was  the  memory  the  Long  Lake  holds  of  those  ancient  times,  which  not  grinding  ice  nor  breaking  flood  has  sufficed  to  block  away.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Please,  sir,”  said  Forest,  “can  I…can  I  go?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  and  sleep  well  and  dreamless  tonight,  son  of  the  trees.”  said the  man  in  brown,  placing  one  rough  warm  hand  on  Forest’s  head. “The memory  be  undimmed,  the  pain  come  no  more,  however  much  you  see. Paint it  in  all  its’  glory. I am  to  blame,  Forest. I sent  you  out  unguarded. To walk into  time  is  perilous  at  best.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Thank  you.”  Forest  murmered. He saw  his  bed  before  him  and  sank  into  it  already  half  asleep. Then peaceful  darkness  claimed  him.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hey,  sleepypie.”  Bell  said  into  the  phone. “Get your  butt  out  of  bed.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Such  language  from  a  Christian  girl!”  Brooke  mocked. “A Merry  Christmas  to  you,  too.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  well  you  slept  in  last  night  and  missed  the  show. Guess what,  Brooke. This is  not  funny. The creepiest  thing  happened  at  midnight.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ok,  serious  face  installed. Spill it.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  know  that  milestone  you  fell  over? You know  how  it  said  So  many  miles  to  Hartford,  so  many  to  Albany?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  I  think  it  was  26  and  67,  or  something. So?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell’s  voice  got  so  low  and  shaky  Brooke  had  to  ask  her  to  repeat  it. “The writing  suddenly  got  really  clear,  and  it  wasn’t  the  same  writing.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Whaa…?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Brooke,  please  don’t  say  anything. It was  scary. It said,  Temple  Fell  2   miles,  Closed  till—and  then  there  was  a  buncha  letters.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Roman  numerals? I hope  you  memorized  them!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Of  course,  do  you  think  I  could  forget  something  like  that?? It was…oh,  let  me  see…two  M’s…an  X…then  a  V  and  a  couple  I’s. Isn’t V  like  5?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  but  the  M’s…I   can’t  remember  what  they  stood  for. Oh, this  is  annoying. Say, do  you  suppose  that  explains  the  rhyme? When did  they  close  it,  you  know?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  don’t  know  when  they  closed  it! Just when  it  opens. If those  letters  are  a  date.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Well,  I  don’t  see  what  else  they  could  be.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I wish  we  could  find  that  kid  Forest.”  said  Bell. “He slipped  off  before  I  even  remembered to  get  his  number. Your fault,  you  know,  getting  me  started  on  girl  talk.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “His  last  name’s  Lake. Have you  tried  the  phone  book?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There’s  like  five  Lakes,  serious. Do you  even  know  his  parents’  names?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hey,”  said  Brooke,  “I just  remembered. Julian and  Deli  live  next  door  to  him,  and  they’re  on  W.  Wakefield.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That  narrows  it  down,”  said  Bell,  dragging  the  phone  with  her  while  she  fetched  the  yellow  NW  Corner  phone  book. She flipped  quickly  to  Lake. “Here it  is!”  she  crowed. “Want me  to  dial  it?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  Christmas  Day,  you’ll  like  not  get  anyone  in.”  said  Brooke.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  you’re  probably  right. Hey, you  taking  me  to  church  tonight? I went  to  yours,  you  can  come  to  mine.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Maybe  tomorrow. Tomorrow’s Sunday,  you  know.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hey,  I  got  an  idea! Why don’t  we  go  check  out  that  other  Baptist  church? You know,  the  one  the  rhyme  calls  1st  Church.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  that  one  has…hmm. It’s like  9:30  now. Why don’t  I  come  and….no,  that  won’t  do,  my  folks  are  having…Rats. It’s so  darn  busy  this  time  of  year. I don’t  think  we’ll  get  to  investigate  the  other  churches  until  after  New  Year’s,  Bell.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why  don’t  I  try  that  number  and  see  if  it  is  Forest,  then.”  said  Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Go  ahead. Call me back  real  quick,  cause  I  gotta  start  getting  ready.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  hung  up  on  Brooke  and  dialed  the  local  number  quickly. All at  once she  felt  really  nervous. What if  Forest  didn’t  remember  her? What if  he  got  tongue-tied  again?

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           A  woman’s  voice answered. “Hello-o?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,”  said  Bell. Her throat  got  all  tight. “Um, yeah,  is  Forest  there?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           There  was  silence  for  several  seconds. “Who??”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  did  I  get  the  wrong  number  or  something?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  woman  laughed. “No, no,  sweetie,  my  son  is  named  Forest,  it’s just…he’s  such  a  shy  boy  and  talks  so  little,  I  didn’t  think  he  had  friends. This is  about  the  first  call  he’s  ever  gotten. Is this  Julian?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um,  no,  my  name’s  Bell. Bell Light.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  woman’s  voice  grew  suddenly  strident  and  shrill,  almost  panicked. “Did he  put  you  up  to  this?! How did  you get  this  number?? You can  tell  him  I  had  quite  enough  of  his  games  and  he  can  see  me  face  to  face  if  he  has  anything  to  say!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ma’am? No, I…what…?”  Bell  stammered,  but  the  angry  slam  on  the  other  end  of  the  line was  replaced  by  the  buzz  of  the  busy  signal.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She  knows  me.”  Bell  muttered. “She knew  my  name. That was  just  super-freaky. What is  going  on  around  here?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           But  Brooke  was  able  to  shed  no  more  light  on  it  than  Bell  had.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  was  still  playing  quite  happily  with  the  Matchbox  cars  Uncle  Chris  had  given  him  when  Mrs. Lake got  the  call. Hearing his  name  he  looked  up,  but  Mrs. Lake was  still  talking  and  hadn’t  called  for  him. With a  strange  feeling  he  realized  the  call  concerned  him.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           When  Mom,  out  of  the  blue,  started  screaming  into  the  phone  and  slammed  it  down,  Forest  bolted  into  the  kitchen  in  time  to  see  her  face. It shocked  him  badly. She didn’t  look  like  a  grown-up. She looked  like  a  little  girl. A little  girl  who  was  in  a  tantrum.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That  was  for  me.”  He  didn’t  know  how  he  had  actually  managed  to  say  what  he  was  thinking.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  was  not!”  his  mother cried,  in  that  odd,  hysterical  voice. He hadn’t  heard  that  voice  since  she  fought  with  Dad. “It was  some….! The nerve  of  it! How dare  he  send  her  to….!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Who  was  it?”  said  Forest,  staring  at  her  harder.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It-it  doesn’t  matter! Why do  you  think  it  has  anything  to  do  with  you? He was  just  trying  to--!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Mom!”  roared  Forest. The shock  of  hearing  him,  of  all  people,  shout,  actually  reduced  her  to  silence. “Who was  it?!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  go  to  your  room! Now! I don’t  have  to  answer  to  you. I don’t  have  to  answer  to  anyone!  Do  you  hear  me?”  she  screamed.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  fled. Somehow he  knew  she  wasn’t  screaming  at  him,  but  at  whoever  had  hurt  her,  whom  she  thought had  just  called. There was  only  one  such  person  Forest  knew  about.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad.”  he  said  to  himself. He slammed  the  door. “She heard  from  Dad.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  flopped  facedown  on  the  bed. Maybe Dad  had  called  to  just  say  Hi. Maybe he had  meant  to  wish  Forest  a  Merry  Christmas. But Mom  had  gone  ballistic  and  ruined  any  chance  of  that  forever.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Dad  didn’t  leave.”  Forest  realized  slowly. “Mom drove  him  out.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           So  Mom  had  been  to  blame. But why? What did  she  think  Dad  had  done  to  her?

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Slowly  as  the  thoughts  churned  one  over  the  other  in  his  mind,  the  memory  of  last  night,  of  the  terrible  loveliness  he  could  never  represent  even  with  the  finest  paints  and  pencils, began  to  surface. It calmed  him. Remembering with  a  sudden  smile  the  new  paint  kit  his  aunt  had  sent,  he  hurried  downstairs  and  got  it,  glancing  anxiously  at  Mom’s  closed  door. He clattered  back  upstairs  and  began  to  draw.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           This  painting  was  for  others. This painting  he  would  show  to  Mom. If he  could  capture  even  a  shard  of  that  tremendous  sight,  it  would  make  her  happy  again.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           It  might  even  make  her  bring  Dad  back.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  holidays  passed  quickly  enough. Snow came,  just  as  the  man  in  brown  had  predicted,  a  minor  blizzard  of  13  inches  on  the  day  or  two  after  Christmas. Forest noticed  it  in  a  detached  sort  of  way;  he  had  finished  the  frame  of  ancient  oaks  and  island  rocks  and  was  at  last  in  position  to  begin  on  the  stars. Dancing spirals  of  human-shaped  light  that  sparkled  and  sprang  like  sun  on  new  snow.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Snowmobiles rampaged  up  and  down  First  Bay,  but  none  were  stupid  enough  to  enter  the  Narrows. Just as  New Year’s  arrived,  the  weather  turned  abruptly  warmer. The new  deep  snow  began  to  melt. Forest found  himself  getting  restless  again,  until  all  at  once  he  threw  down  his  pencil  and  headed  out  over  the  ice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Slush  squashed  pleasantly  about  his  boots,  deep  nice  slush,  and  ice  fishers  speckled  the  ice. One rumbled  by  on  an  ATV  but  as  Forest  didn’t  make  eye  contact  he  wasn’t  noticed. Farther up  he  spotted  a  pair  of  girls  strolling  in  his  direction  and  altered  course  to  avoid  them:  he  wasn’t  in  the  mood  to  pass  the  time  of  day. When he  glanced  their  way  again  he  was  startled  to  observe  they  had  altered  course  and  were  about  to  intercept  him. Lowering his  head  and  wishing  he’d  brought  his  hat  he  trudged  resignedly  onward.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  thought  it  was  you.”  said  a  soft  tart  voice  he  recognized. “Forest, right?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  nodded  dumbly. Bell smiled. She was  an  inch  shorter  than  him,  while  the  girl  with  her  was  taller,  with  yellow  hair  and  surprisingly  pale  blue  eyes,  startling  in  her  face. She smiled  too. “You remember  us?”  she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Bell  and  Brooke.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  nodded. “You walked  out  so  fast  we  didn’t  have  time  to  trade  numbers. We’ve been  trying  to  get  a  hold  of  you,  but  your  mom  totally  flipped  when  I  told  her  my  name. Brooke was  suggesting  we  just  mosey  over  to  the  island  and  knock  on  the  door,  and  that’s  when  we  saw  you  leaving  it. What’s grabbing  your  mom,  anyway?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“I don’t  know.”  said  Forest. “I thought  Dad  had  called.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  why  wo…oh. Divorced. I get  it. I guess  the  name  Light  doesn’t  go  over  well  with  her,  does  it? No matter. We gotta  talk,  Forest. You see  anything  at  midnight? Christmas Eve?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She’s  been  going  on  and  on  about  something  she  claims  happened  then.”  Brooke  explained. “It kind  of  creeped  me  out,  and  we  wanted  your  input.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“I saw  the  stars.”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  stars?”  said  Bell  blankly. “What have  they  got  to  do  with  the  Road?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  painting  it.”  said  Forest. “You’ll see  it then. It’s not  finished. What was  it you  saw?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There’s  an  old  milestone  outside  the  Methodist  church,  see,  and  normally  it  says,  Hartford  26  miles,  Albany  67  miles,  something  like  that. Well, they  had  a  service  at  midnight,  and  I  was  outside  just  before  I  went  in  and  I  looked  down  at  that  stone,  and  the  writing  suddenly  got  really  clear  to  see,  cause  you  know  normally  you  have  to  look  really  close  even  in  daylight  to  see  it. And it  didn’t  say  what’s  usually  carved  there.”  She  paused  impressively. “It said,  ''Temple  Fell  2  miles. Closed till  MM—um—XV—II.''  That  was  it.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Forest,  are  you  all  right?”  said  Brook. Forest didn’t  answer. His eyes  had  become  huge  and  fierce,  both  concentrated  and  frightened.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Things  are  coming  together.”  he  muttered. “Bell, who  told  you  that  rhyme  about  the  churches?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A…sort  of  an  old  guy,  well,  no  not  old  exactly  but  his  eyes  are  old, sort  of  blue  with  amber  at  the  middle. He always  wears  this  old  brown  leather  coat.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  smells  like  smoke.”  said  Brooke.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  know  him.”  said  Forest. “The man  in  brown. He told  me  many  things. So he’s  called  you  as well? Are you  of  the  five?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  think  we  are.”  said Bell.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “How’d  you  get  here,  walk?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Uh-uh,  I  drove  her.”  said  Brooke. “She’s from  Burrville.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Let’s  get  to  your  car.”  said  Forest. “We’ve got  to  get  over  to  Gilbert  High.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why? What’s over…”  Bell  was  saying,  but  Brooke took  a  long  glance  at  the  set  face  of  Forest  and  said,  “The  stone  bridge.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Forest  nodded  tersely. It was  a  long  trudge  through  the  slush  up  to  Second  Narrows  and  then  across  First  Bay  and  he  remained  silent  all  during  it,  except  to  answer  Bell’s  repeated  questions  by  saying  “You’ll  see.”  Brooke  had  parked  at  the  boat  launch,  and  Forest  got  in  the  back  while  Bell  sat  up  front. Brooke put  on  a  CD  of  Christmas  carols  and  soon  the  two  girls  were  singing  heartily  along. Forest smiled,  humming  under  his  breath  along  with  them. He seldom  dared  sing;  it  made  him  feel  horribly  conspicuous. They were halfway  through  “Good  King  Wenceslaus”  when  they  reached  the  bus  drive  beside  the  brook  under  Gilbert. Brooke parked  in  the  road. It was  Christmas  break  and  so  there  were  no  busses,  and  the  residents  along  the  road  had  plenty  of  room  to  get  by. Hopping the  guardrail  the  three  made  their  way  cautiously  down  into  the  brook.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           As  all  of  them  wore  waterproofs  against  the  slush,  they  ignored  the  icy  stepping  stones  and  waded  under  the  arch. Forest scanned  the  rough  mortar  patches  and  grey  stones  with  a  sinking  heart. He found  the  inscription,  however,  despite  his  fears,  and  the  girls  bent  close  to  read  it.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Let  all  who  enter  enter  well.”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  still  don’t  get  it.”  protested  Brooke. “Is Temple  Fell  just  a  misspell,  or  is  it  a  village,  or  what?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  and  Forest  gave  her  a  pitying  look. “I’ve run  across  ‘fell’  before.”  said  Forest. “It usually  means  ‘mountain. Like,

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           In  places  deep,  where  dark  things  sleep ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           In  hollow  halls  beneath  the  fells.” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">            <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“I  know  that  one!”  exclaimed  Brooke. “Far over  the  misty  mountains  old…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “To  dungeons  deep  and  caverns  cold…”  finished  Bell. “Yeah.  The Hobbit. That’s  where  I  read  it.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  in  James  Herriot.”  said  Forest. “Only there  ‘fell’  meant  the  big  rolling  mountains  of  Yorkshire. This Fell,  That  Fell—like  we  say  Case  Mt.  or  Haystack  Mt.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So  Temple  Fell  is  a—mountain.”  Brooke  said  slowly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A  mountain  2  miles  from  the  Methodist  church.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Drat  this  snow.”  said  Forest. “It’s too  soggy  to  hike  in.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  I’m  sure  it’ll  freeze  up  good  and  hard  once  this  thaw  ends.”  said  Bell  brightly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That’s  right,  always  look  on  the  bright  side,  Miss  Light.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  but  what  I  don’t  know  is  how  we’re  ever  going  to  find  this  place.”  Bell  went  on. “I mean,  I  suppose  we  could  measure  out  on  a  town  map  which  places  are  2  miles  from  the  church  and  then  get  up  high  and  look  around…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Maybe  we  should  wait.”  said  Forest. “Maybe we  should  ask  the  man  in  brown.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brooke  shrugged. “What with  my  job  and  all,  yeah,  winter  exploring  doesn’t  seem  such  a  good  idea.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Meantime  if  anybody  runs  into  our  old  friend  Brown,  make  sure  you  remember  to  ask  him  about  Temple  Fell.”  said  Brooke. “Let’s get  back  to  my  car. I have  to  drop  you  off,  Forest,  and  then  Bell  and  I  need  to  do  some  shopping.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Maybe  you  can  come  in  and  meet  my  mom.”  said  Forest.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  laughed  and  shook  her  head. “And have  her  flip  out  again  at  the  mention  of  my  name?”  she  said  tartly. “Your mom’s  probably  pretty  nice,  but  no  thanks.”

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Travel  Lane  skipped  a  little  as  she  headed  down  the  drive  to  check  the  mail.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  couldn’t  help  herself. The air  was  balmy  and  smelled  of  damp  snow  and  wet  bark  and  pine  needles. The sky  overhead  was  a  pure  gorgeous  blue. Everything was  strong  and  bright  and  clear. The poind,  its’  thick  ice  carefully  shovelled  free  of  snow,  looked  lonely  without  the  skaters  she’d  had  over  every  weekend. The surface  looked  soft  and  mushy  under  the  inch  or  two  of  meltwater. She hoped  the  cold  weather  returned  soon,  or  the  ice  would  be  unsafe.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           On  impulse  she  headed  off  the  driveway  and  along  the  trampled  path  following  the  raised  bank. The swampy  area  looked  so  different  in  the  snow,  even  in  melting  snow. She stood  by  the  canvas  tent  with  the  propane  heater  in  it  where  skaters  could  warm  up  and  rest  before  heading  back  outside,  and  laughed  aloud  at  a  blue  jay  that  was  scolding  her.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  is  good  to  hear  laughter  here.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Travel  jumped. “Oh! You startled  me. Where’d you  come  from?...and  do  I  even know  you?”  she  added  slowly. A tall  sturdy  man  of  indefinable  age  had  seemingly  stepped  from  nowhere  onto  the  shore  path. His dark  hair,  cropped  tolerably  short,  showed  streaks  of  grey. The brown  leather  coat  he  wore  was  open,  revealing  a  thin  shirt  of  stained  plaid  flannel. His face  was  lean  and  unshaven  and  rough,  but  with  a  quiet  sort  of  dignity  far  down  inside  such  as  she’d  seen  in  old  men. He had  strange  blue  eyes.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We  met  outside  St. James, if  you  recall.”  he  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh! That’s right. You asked  about  the  missing  statue. You also  said  you  weren’t  a  Catholic.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  man  chuckled  and  rubbed  one  hand  over  his  rough  chin. “I must  say,  I  like  what  you’ve  done  with  the  place  since  I  was  last  here. I’m not  even  sure  if  this  pond  was  here  then. Yep,” looking  around,  “the  Lanes  have  done  well. Perhaps they  have  done  too  well.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  my  dad  put  in  this  driveway  and  rebuilt  the  old  house  for  Grandmother  Lane,  and  our  house  next  to  it  is  brand-new.”  Travel  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  man  in  brown  nodded. He looked  around,  rocking  on  his  heels. His brown  corduroy  pants  were  streaked  with  wood  ash  about  the  knees. He had  great  leather  hiking  boots. “You have  a  lot  of  winterberry,  I  see.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Is  that  what  that  is?”  exclaimed  Travel. The swampy  ground  behind  the  berm  was  grown  with  clusters  of  ancient  twisted  bushes,  countless  thin  vertical  stems  between  them,  grey-green  of  stem  with  horizontal  whiteish  markings,  alternating  up  the  stem. The twigs  were  incredibly  kinky. A few  had  sparse  red  berries.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  that  is  winterberry.”  the  man  said  sadly. “Planted as  a  sign  of  power  to  hold  back  the  ancient  darkness,  they  no  longer  bear  fruit  and  are  bereft  of  efficacy. Too much  shade,”  he  said,  squinting  up  at  the  tall  young  red  maples  growing  thickly  among  the  winterberry.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  good  is  winterberry  against…whatever?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           He  smiled. “Intelligent questions  at  last! I had  expected  better,  but  unlike  him  I  will  accept  what  is  before  me.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  are  you  talking  about?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  are  the  only  one  I  did  not  call.”  said  the  man  in  brown. “With you  I  had  to  be  content  with  whatever  Lane  heir  was  around  when  I  arrived. The others  I  could  call,  and  replace  if  they  did  not  answer.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Are  you,  like,  from  some  ancient  secret  society  or  something  that…”  She  trailed  away,  feeling  foolish  under  the  humerous  look  he  was  giving  her.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  barber  shaved  the  mason,  as  I  suppose,  as  I  suppose,  cut  off  his  nose  and  popped  it  in  a  basin.”  he  said  gravely.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That  would  be  a  pretty  messy  basin.”  she  answered  dubiously.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ha ha  ha! Very good  poetry,  Travel! Why, entire  songs  could  be  built  from  out  of  that  messy  basin.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  laughed  despite  herself. “Ronnie was  telling  me  all  about  how  Middle-earth might  have  been  ancient  Europe,  and  you  know  the  funny  thing  was,  I  know  it’s  crazy  and  all  that  but  while  we  were  talking  it  actually  seemed  like  it  was  possible,  like  the  Lord  of  the  Rings  actually  happened. What do you  think?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You  wish  to  know  what  I  think?”  the  man  exclaimed. “Ah, that  is  a  strange  and  ungrantable  thing! All that  I  think  could  be  poured  into  your  mind  like  water  and  yet  when  you  were  drowning  in  it  you  would  still  not  know  the  half  of  what  I  think. But if  you  want  to  know  what  is,  why  that  is  a  horse  of  a  different  color.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “All  right,  then  did  it  happen?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  the  man  in  brown,  instead  of  answering,  started  to  sing  in  a  rollicking,  half-tragic  tune:

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“The man  in  brown ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">He went  to  town ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Upon a  summer  noon-day ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">The witch  in  white ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">She had  a  fright ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">When she  saw  the  man  in  brown  there. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">She said  ‘Alackaday! ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Have you  come  to  play? ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">I have  no  games  for  you,  sir! 

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">For the  Door  in  Night ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Has let  in  a  wight ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">And I  don’t  know  what  to  do,  sir!’ ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">‘Why, my  bad  maid, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">You must  be  paid, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">For it  came  at  your  own  calling! ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">So take  her,  old  wight, ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">And get  out  of  my  sight ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">For the  Road  it  is  a-coming!’ ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">She uttered  a  scream ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">As she  fell  in  the  stream ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Where the  Barrow-wight  was  rising ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Like a  shroud  of  night ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">She was  et  by  that  wight ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">And he  licked  his  lips  and  smiled. ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">‘Why, old  Arheled ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">We thought  you  were  dead ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">We’ve found  out  you  aren’t ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">and we’ll  stand  on  your  head!’ ” ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That’s  so  randomly  cruel.”  said  Travel. “Why would  he  just  hand  her  over  like  that?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  perhaps  it  would  have  been  more  tasteful  if  he  had  burned  her  at  the  stake?! What did  you  expect  him  to  do,  let  her  go?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She’s  just  an  old  woman.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Old  woman,  old  woman,  old  woman,  quoth  I… <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hey,  I  was  raised  to  respect  my  elders!”  she  retorted.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “That  assumes  that  they  are  worthy  of  your  respect.”  the  man  in  brown  answered. “No witch is  worthy  of  any  respect. Your grandmother,  on  the  other  hand,  is  worthy  of  much  more  respect  than  she  receives. Aye, even  your  father,  in  his  own  way. But in  most  cases  you  cannot  know  whether  your  elders  deserve  or  do  not  deserve,  and  so  you  err  on  the  bright side  and  show  them  all  respect.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Why  did  he  pay  her  with  death  when  she  asked  for  help?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She  did  not  ask.”  the  other  answered. “She called. And when  she  got  more  than  she  bargained  for,  did  she  repent? Did she  reject? Or did  she run  around  whining  for  stronger  magic  to  lay  the  monster  she  called  up?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  that’s  so  unfair.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  ways  of  fair  are  not  what  you  would  think.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Then  what  are  they?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Higher  than  the  houses,  and  higher  than  the  trees,  lesser  than  the  mouses,  whatever  could  it  be?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  haven’t  the  faintest  idea,”  said  Travel,  but  you  didn’t  answer  my  question.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  you  haven’t  answered  mine.”  he  replied,  his  odd  eyes  twinkling.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  yours  is  nonsense!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nonsense  is  sometimes  sense  and  sometimes  esnesnon. What you  must  do  when  faced  with  nonsense  is  to  look  around  in  it  until  you  strip  off  the  esnesnon.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “But  that  just  brings  me  back  to  nonsense.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Nonsense  is  not  always  senseless,  especially  when  it  joins  its’  hands  with  riddles.”  he  said. “What is  unintelligible  may  have  its’  own  meaning  elsewhere  and  seen  in  other  lights.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “My  name  is  kinda  like  that.”  she  muttered. “Tell me,  what  are  you  here  for,  anyway?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Primarily  for the  pleasure  of  your  conversation,”  the  man  laughed. “And to  look  at  the  old  place  again. It changes  so  much,  each  time  I  come,  and  yet  each  time  is  in many  ways  the  same. I am  not  altogether  disappointed  in  you,  Miss  Lane. You have  the  bond  that  is  essential  for  those  whom  I  must  call;  for  you  delight  and  wonder,  and  you  look  for  what  is  unseen. Well, I’ll  not  keep  you,  lass. A Merry  Christmas.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  a  happy  New  Year.”  said  Travel. She turned  toward  the  tent,  but  then  looked  back,  about  to  say  something. Words died  on  her  lips. The bank  was  empty,  and  only  a  sparkling  fall  of  fine  snow  met  her  gaze.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Isn’t  it  a  little  warm  for  powdery  snow?”  she  frowned.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  was  still  frowning  over  the  odd  episode  as  she  headed  back  up  the  driveway  with  the  mail. Grandmother Lane  was  out  on  her  porch  beating  rugs—she  had  taken  advantage  of  the  thaw  to  hurriedly  clean  her  house—and  she  paused  long  enough  to  take  her  mail.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Grandmother,  when  was  the  pond  made?”  she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “The  pond?”  the  old  woman  frowned. “I don’t  really know….I  always  remember  a  pond  of  some  sort,  but  I  think  my  father  made  it  deeper  and  wider  like  it  is  today…that  would  have  to  have  been  when  I  was  little. Maybe in  the  40s…I  was  born  1930.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">             Travel’s  eyes  widened.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What  exactly  is  winterberry? And does  it  have  any  power?”  she  said  quickly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Grandmother  Lane  gave  her  a  sharp  look. “Winterberry is  a  deciduous  holly,  of  the  ilex  family,”  she  answered. “As such  it  has  the  virtues  of  holly,  which  was  rumored  to  be  efficacious  against  witches  and  to  have  virtue  against  the  powers  of  darkness. Who spoke  with  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Um…why  do  you  ask?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “You’re  not  usually  interested  in  such  things,  child. And why  were  you  surprised  when  I  told  you  about  the  pond?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  was  the  mysterious  man  from  St. James.” Travel  sighed. “He was  down  by  the  pond.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  you  didn’t  invite  him  up?”  the  old  woman  shrilled. “He was  right  here  and  you  didn’t  take  him  to  see  me??”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We…I  kinda…we  were  talking  about  weird  things  and  then  he  just  went  off.”  Travel  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  old  woman  listened  sharply  as  Travel  related  the  bizarre  conversation. When she  heard  the  nonsense  rhyme  she  burst  out  laughing. “Oh, Travel,  what  have  you been  learning  in  these  schools?!”  she  spluttered. “You thought  that  nonsense! Oh gracious. I thought  I  had  taught  you  better. It’s a  child’s  riddle,  a  very  simple  one,  which  every  girl  knew  in  my  days. Can’t you  guess the  answer?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’m  afraid  not. Is it  a  cloud?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “No!”  Grandmother  Lane  cackled. “I must  admit,  that  ‘lesser  than  the  mouses’  line  is  new  to  me. But the  answer’s  a  star!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “A  star.”  Travel  repeated. “But the  rest  of  it…does  any  of  it  make  sense?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Grandmother  Lane  nodded. “It does  to  me.”  she  answered. “I’m not  sure  yet  who  exactly  he  is,  or  if  he  is  whom  I  think  he  is;  but  he  is  certainly  older  than  he  looks,  and  he  seems  to  know  what  the  voice  in  the  darkness  said  to  you. I suppose  your  father  and  I  are  going  to  have  to  prune  out  those  swamp  trees  once  it  freezes  back  up  again—I  hadn’t  attached  any  meaning  to  the  winterberry,  but  if  this  stranger  is  right  then  I  have  been  remiss. Why, back  when  I  was  young  those  bushes  used  to  bear  fruit  so  heavily  it  was  like  a  band  of  red  all  around  the  house. If we  remove  the  shade  they  should  be  bearing  again  by  next  winter.”

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  Midwinter  shifted  the  bassinet  to  her  other  arm  and  sighed. Summer was  getting  so  heavy!  Her  eldest  brother  Danny—well,  eldest  here,  with  Sam  away  in  college—was  picking  out  a  rosary  from  the  gift  shop’s  selection  and  then  she  was  going  to  saddle  him  with  Summer. Ronnie was  in  there  too  but  he  seemed  to  be  there  just  to  talk. Even if  he  wasn’t  saying  anything  at  the  moment.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  remember  when  I  was  a  baby I  used  to  have  one  of  these.”  Dan  said  abruptly  to  Ronnie,  looking  at  a  decade-rosary.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  I  remember  when  you  were  a  baby  too.”  said  Lara  sweetly. Dan rolled  his  eyes. Even though  he  was  only  13  he  stood  an  inch  above  Ronnie,  thin  and  serious  in  the  black  suit  he  always  wore  on  days  he  had  to  be  an  altar  boy. He had  curly  sand-colored  hair  and  a  half-asleep  look,  but  was  capable  of  carrying  on  an  intelligent  conversation  with  any  grown-up.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “When  she  wants  to  punish me  for  something  she  kisses  me.”  he  said  in  an  aside  to  Ronnie.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Come  here.”  said  Lara,  pretending  to  kiss  him. Dan avoided  her  and  rolled  his  eyes  even  farther. Ronnie was  laughing. “Oh!” she  exclaimed  abruptly. “I want  one  of  these,  I  need  a  new  one. You can  get  me  this.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “And  you  get  me  one  of  those  St. Christopher medals.”  said  Dan.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">“It’s a  deal.”  said  Lara,  holding  her  free  hand  out  to  shake. He shook  it  and  then  with  a  straight  face  held  up  his  two  crossed  fingers  for  Ronnie  to  see. This had  the  effect  of  making  Ronnie  bend  double  with  laughter. Lara glanced  at  him  suspiciously  but  knew  better  than  to  inquire  too  closely.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  paid  for  her  items  and  then  headed  off  to  find  Mrs. Midwinter and  unload  the  baby,  Dan  refusing  to  be  saddled. Her quest  successful,  she  glanced  around  to  see  if  anyone  she  knew  was  still  lingering  in  St. Joseph’s after  Mass,  when  she  smelled  wood  smoke.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Ah,  Miss  Midwinter,  a  pleasure  to  see  you.”  said  the  man  in  the  old  brown  coat.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  hi! Nice to  see  you  again,  um…sorry,  I’ve  forgotten  your name.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  is  difficult  to  forget  what  you  have  never  learned.”  he  replied. “Most people  seem  to  call  me  the  man  in  brown. Brown will  do,  I  suppose.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “All  right,”  she  said,  a  little  mystified. “But why  all  the  caginess  with  your  name? Are you…a  fugitive,  or  something?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  am  neither  homeless  nor  pursued.”  he  answered. “But I  have  enemies,  and  it  is  best  they  do  not  hear  that  I  am  active. Tell me,  have  you  mentioned  me  at  all?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Tell  the  truth,”  said  Lara  with  a  rueful  laugh,  “I’d  forgotten  all  about  you. I did  hear…a  sort  of  song,  a  song  in  the  wind,  a  song  about  the  stars. Does that  happen  to  you?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brown  gave  a  silent  laugh. “Things do  not  often  ‘happen’  to  me. Usually it  is  I  who  ‘happen’  to  others.”  Do  you  believe  in  ghosts,  Lara?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “If  you  mean  the  Halloween  kind,  no.”  she  said. “Ghosts are  either  saints  or  damned.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Or  in  Limbo.”  said  Brown. “If it is  permanent,  that  is,  and  not  a  mere  offshoot  of  Purgatory. Did you  come  to  Midnight  Mass?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It  was  10:30   Mass.”  said  Lara  tartly. “Ronnie told  me  one  priest  always  joked  that  people  call  the  rectory  and  say,  ‘Father…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “ ‘….what  time  is  Midnight  Mass?”  finished  Brown. “Yes, that  was  Father  Blanchfield. I never  knew  him  personally,  as  he  died  some  years  ago,  but  his  sardonic  humor  drifts  in  odd  places  and  comes  across  me  at  the  last. You looked  magnificent,  I  thought,  in  that  dress  of  shining  gold  with  the  lace  shawl. You looked  indeed  like  your  name.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yes,  what  does  Lara  mean?”  she  said  quickly. “You said  before  that  it  was  significant.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  said  that it  may  have  another  meaning  in  a  different  language,  Lara. You know  in  your  heart  what  it  truly  means  and  you  do  not  need  me  to  tell  you.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Then  you  already  know!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  know  that  there  was  a  man  who  had  no  eyes,  he  went  abroad  to  view  the  skies…”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “He  wouldn’t  see  very  much,  would  he?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  have  a  wee  sister,  her  name  is  Boo-peep.”  Brown  replied. “She wades  in  the  waters  deep  under  deep,  she  climbs  up  the  mountaintops  high  over  high;  but  poor  little  creature,  she  hath  but  one  eye.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  heard  that  somewhere…”  said  Lara  slowly. “Isn’t that  a  riddle?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Riddles  were  made  to  tease  men  with  the truth.”  Brown  answered  as  they  headed  down  the  aisle  and  into  the  vestibule. “Sometimes the  truth  that  they  found  was  not  the  answer that  was  given  for  it. But come,  your  family  is  already  heading  to  the  van,  and  I  have  to  get  home  and  make  sure  my  stove  is  alive. Sumac wood  is  so  undependable,  but  it  was  handiest. A happy  New  Year  and  a  Merry  Christmas,  Lara.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Today’s  Epiphany.”  she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Epiphany  is  always  on  January  6th,  for  that  is  Old  Christmas  and  the  twelfth  day.”  Brown  said. “You US  Catholics  are  lazy  and  prefer  to  lump  it  over  on  the  weekend,  regardless  of  date. Just as  you  eliminated  the  Holy  Days’  obligation  if  it  falls  on  Saturday  or  Monday. But the  Glastonbury  Thorn  always blooms  on  Old  Christmas,  and  it  ever  shall.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Lara  turned  and  headed  down  the  steps  to  the  van,  waving  a  quick  goodbye  over  one  shoulder. But the  man  in  brown  had  gone  inside  and  she  did  not  see  him.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  had  trouble  getting  to  sleep  that  night. It was  cold. Even though  she  liked  the  cold,  this  cold  was  different. It entered  quilt  and  flannels  and  chilled  both  flesh  and  bone  beneath. She sat  up,  shivering,  arms  wrapped  around  her chest,  but  she  was  still  cold. Gradually as  she  sat  there  she  grew  numb,  her  flesh  no  longer  quivered,  for  the  cold  was  in  her,  she  was  the  cold,  and  casting  back  her  blankets  she  leaned  on  the  window  and  looked  out. Dark and  hard  gleamed  the  sky  of  winter  high  above,  and  hard  and  bright  and  chill the  stars  stared  down  upon  her. She gazed  down  at  the  outside  and  she  was  no  longer  at  the  window,  but  somewhere  outdoors,    in  a  great  hill-field  that  fell  away  on  all  sides  save  behind. She was  unaware  of  surprise,  for  she  was  cold  and  it  was  her. Pine woods  rose  dark  and  silent  on  left  and  right,  and  in  front,  some  way  above  her,  a  mighty  crescent-shaped  waterfall  tumbled  in  countless  silver  columns  into  a  great  foaming  river  at  the  bottom  of  the  valley. The foot  of  the  falls  was  blocked  from  her  by  a  wood  of  strange  pines  at  the  base  of  the  field,  of which  in  the  night  she  could  see  little  save  their  outlines  against  the  bright  water. It was  unnaturally  bright  for  a  night  without  either  moon  or  stars,  shining  of  itself,  white  and  flashing  silver  and  pearl,  as  bright  as  light,  in  fact  it  was  light,  light  made  liquid  and  pouring  from  the  falls.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  stood  now  inside  the  ancient  pines,  and  they  smelled  sweet  and  strange  and  sharp  as  no  pines  she  had  known,  for  they  were  cypress  and  terebinth  and  others  she  had  never  heard  of,  and  they  grew  in  a  grove  that  encircled  within  it  a  basin  of  liquid light,  and  the  glare  of  it  lit  the  nearest  trees  dark  green  and  silver-blue,  and  yews  rimmed  the  shores. Ancient stones  so  stained  with  silver  light  as  to  be  luminous  themselves  lined  the  shores,  and  far  below  she  could  see  in  the  clear  brightness  the  basin  had  for  gravel  the  loveliest  white  pearls. And among  the  yews  grew  laurels  that  blossomed  blue  and  white  and silver,  and  a  silver  dew  dripped  eternally  from  the  black  branches  of  the  trees.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Now  figures  were  coming  down  the  winding  paths  among  the  silver  laurels,  and  they  were  fashioned  like  to  women  and  maids  of  enchanting  loveliness,  and  light  was  wound  into  their  hair  and  woven  in  their  dresses,  so  that  even  in  her  cold  Lara  felt  a  pang  of  awe. And other  figures  in  robes  that  were  wove  of  blue  flame  and  of  white  were  coming  from  the  other  direction,  figures  like  men  of  ancient  power,  and  all  of  them  so  mighty  and  so  fair  that  had  Lara  been  not  sheathed  within  her  cold  she  might  very  well  have  died of  delight. And every  one  of  the  Gods  bore  in  their  white  hands  a  pitcher  of  wrought  silver,  strange  and  beautiful  of  shape  as  a  lily-throat,  the  metal  taking  every  ray  to  fall  upon  it  and  sending  it  back  tenfold.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  the  Gods  drew  near  to  the  shore  of  the  basin,  and  like  great  burning  statues  they  stood  upon  the  shores,  and  the  maids  and  lords  that  served  them  brought  forward  their  burdens  and  held  them  to  the  Gods. And they took  seven  diamonds  that  gleamed  of  themselves,  and  they  took  seven  pearls  from  the  deepest  seas,  and  they  cast  them  down  into  the  basin  of  light. Again they  reached  into  the  burdens  that  their  servants  held  for  them, and  they  drew  forth  air-mists  caught  in  nets  of  silver  filaments,  and  they  drew  forth  wispy  dreams  snagged  within  spiderwebs  of  dew,  and  they  drew  forth  vials  of  bottled  cold,  the  cold  of  the  airless  voids, and  these  they  cast  in  also. A third  time  they  reached  into  the  burdens,  and  drew  out  clouds  wrapped  in  nets  of  fire,  and  dews  collected  from  the  Walls  of  the  World,  and  flowers  whose  tissues  were  of  light  grown  solid  and  living  that  had  been  picked  upon  the  Mountain  Above  the  Worlds,  and  these  too  they  cast  in. Then did  the  Gods  stretch  forth  their  hands,  and  with  rods  of  silver did  they  stir  the  fluid  light,  and  as  they  stirred  so  did  they  sing,  and  the  maidens  wept  their  tears  into  the  pool  for  the  deepness of  the  beauty  of  the  singing  in  the  language  of  the  Gods,  from  which  was  drawn  all  language  of  Elf  and  Mortal  Man.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  did  the  Gods  all  lean  forward,  and  the  Gods  dipped  their  great  pitchers  into  the  basin  of  light,  and  though  not  many  were  the  Gods  that  basin  was dry  when  the  last  pitcher  withdrew. And they  stood  upon  the  mountain  at  the  brink  of  the  falls,  and  as  one  they  raised  their  silver  pitchers  and  as  one  did  they  pour,  and  as  they  poured  they  gave  a  great  cry  in  that  language  every  syllable  of  which  shook  Lara’s  bones  like  thunder. Every stream  of  glowing  substance  that  poured  down  into  empty  air  from  the  mouths  of  every  pitcher  hung  suspended  in  the  darkness,  a  cloud  of  brilliant  droplets. Then suddenly  every  droplet  sped  apart  and  expanded,  and  as  it  expanded  it  threw  out  streamers  of  misty  light  like  burning  gas,  and  bodies  came  into  being  and  hair  blew  from  their  heads,  and  armour  flamed  upon  them,  and  power  flashed  and  sparkled  like  light  about  them.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Then  one  of  the  Gods  stepped  forward,  and  she  was  the  most  beautiful  and  glorious  of  all  the  women  there,  and  she  flung  out  her  hands,  and  lightning  leaped  from  them  into  the  hearts  of  every  Star. And they  leaped  erect,  and  they  lived,  and  they  bowed  before  her  and  did  her  homage,  and  named  her Kindler. Then out  into  the  airs  they  sprang,  and  suddenly  the  dim  black  sky  was  dusty  with  new  stars.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           And  Lara  walked  after  the  Gods  as  they  receded  down  the  hemlock paths  above  the  falls  of  light,  but  they  were  moving  too  fast  and  soon  their  shining  forms  were  gone. She paced  on  beside  the  bank  of  the  gleaming  river,  which  flowed  out  of  the  ground  in  a  gigantic  narrow  spring  as  long  as  the  river  was  wide,  and  the  new  silver-grey  dusklight  of  the  Stars  made  that  black  forest  now  a  place  of  pearly  shadow. She stood  in  an  open  glade  where  mighty  trees  rose  around  her  in  a  ring,  and  near  and  bright  like  airbourne  gems  the  new  white  Stars  gazed  down  on  her,  they  saw  her  gazing  up  to  them,  and  then  the  Stars  began  to  sing,  their  cold  thin  airhearted  voices  tingling  through  and  through  her  like  glass. Tears of  liquid  ice  trickled  down  from  her  frozen  eyes  and  froze  upon  her  pale  cheeks  as  she  listened  enchanted  and  unable  to  move.

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''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Starmaiden starmaiden  starhearted  starmaiden ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Dirlaha dirlaha  larahent  dirlondo ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Starstricken wanderer  wandering  everfar ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">near and  thar  dying  from  crying  and  pining  away  for  us 

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Stars in  your  eyes  dirla ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Stars in  your  heart  dorha ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">starheart now  lay  you  down  deep  in  the  underground ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">far from  the  stars  as  you  ever  could  long to  be— ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Hush! ''

<p style="margin: 1em 0px">''<span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">Lay you  down,  close  your  eyes,  lay  you  down. ''

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Frozen  tears  formed  icicles  from  Lara’s  chin  and  nose  as  she  stood  in  a  spell  from  the  songs  of  the  stars,  and  she  knew  that  the  cold  that  had  sheathed  her  from  the  Gods  was  not  able  to  sheathe  her  from  the  ice-singing  stars  far  above  her;  they  did  not  mean  it,  they  were  maliceless  and  unheartless  but  they  were  cold  and  merry  and  they  knew  they  broke  men’s  hearts. They could  not  help  it. All they  could  do  was  to  sing  into  slumber  starstricken  beholders  and  watch  curiously  as  they died  with  stars  in  their  eyes  and  with  stars  in  their  hearts,  and  there  was  sadness  in  their  song. She stumbled to  her  knees  and  laid  her  down  upon  the  cold  ground,  but  she  was  colder  than  it  and  felt  nothing. She tried  to  close  her  eyes  but  they  had  frozen  open and  she  could  not  shut  out  the  strange  eyes  of  the  stars  that  were  watching  her  die…

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  ground  lifted  her  up  and  she  was  moving,  she  was  being  carried  on  great  arms  down  into  the  trees,  and  the  eyes  of  the  stars  were  replaced  by the  eyes  of  Arheled,  who  gazed  into  her  frozen  lids  and  down  into  her  frozen  heart,  and  as  from  an  unguessable  distance  she  felt  response  begin  to  thaw  within  her,  her  eyes  begin  to  melt  and  heart  to  beat. Then they  stood  above  the  incandescent  river  and the  silver  glow  of  it  beat  up  into  the  rough  face  of  Arheled,  and  there  were  tears  in  his  ancient  eyes  as  his  mighty  arms  heaved  and  were  suddenly  no  longer  underneath  of  her. She felt  sudden  terror  cracking  the  crust  of  the  ice  on  her  soul,  and  then  her  eyes  were  filled  with  silver,  they  blinked  and  shut  and  opened  and  silver  fire  was  all  she  could  see,  and  she  was  wet,  and  the  warmth  of  that  wetness  cracked  the  spell  of  her  cold  and  thawed  into  her  from  without. Dimly she  was  aware  of  swimming,  of  being  tumbled  like  a  log  and  gasping  for  breath  and  breathing  light  as  well  as  water. Then she  was  able  at  last  to  see.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           She  was  nearing  the  brink  of  the  falls  of  silver  light,  pouring  eternally  down  into  a  great  crescentine  gulf  of  a  valley,  which  swelled  up  in  steep  bulging  fields  to  the  grey  house  of  Arheled  on  a  level  with  her,  and  then  she  was  falling  and  light  was  all  around  her  and  then  only  overhead,  shining  into  her  eyes. She blinked. It was  the  ceiling  light  in  her  room. She put  out  her  hands  cautiously  and  felt  the  solid  floorboards. Slowly and  warily  she  sat  up. She was  no  longer  cold  nor  sheathed  in  cold,  but  human  and  warm  again. As she  got  off  the  floor  she  observed  a  stain  like  luminous  water  where  she  had  been  lying,  but  it  evaporated  almost  as  fast  as  she noticed  it. She felt  the  boards  and  they  were  dry.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Now  I  know  how  Forest  feels.”  she  muttered  as  she  climbed  back  into  bed. And this  time  she  was  able  to  sleep.

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<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “So,  where  should  we  go  this  week,  Bellie  my  love?”  inquired  Brooke  airily  as  she  got  out  of  the  car  at  Bell’s  house.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I’d  really  rather  you  girls  go  to  the  Baptist  church  for  once.”  said  Mr. Light, coming  out  the  door  pulling  on  his  gloves. It was  a  bitter  January  morning  and  the  night  had  dipped  below  zero,  leaving  every  tree encrusted  in  a  strange  thick  silvery  frost. The air  was  breathless  and  bit  when  you  breathed  in.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  Dad! It’s only  been  two  weeks!”  said  Bell. They had gone  to  the  Episcopalian  church  last  week.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Yeah,  well  the  pastor’s  going  to  notice.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  can  tell  him  I  have  been  to  church.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Hunter  Light  rolled  his  eyes  and  gave  Bell  a  kiss. “You aren’t  the  one  who  has  to  listen  to  him.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “We’ll  go  to  Old  Baptist,  then.”  said  Brooke. “You know,  1st  Church  of  Christ.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Fine  by  me.”  sighed  Mr. Light, getting  into  his  car. “But next  Sunday  she  rides  with  me,  okay? I’m getting  lonely.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh,  Dad.”  said  Bell  affectionately.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           When  they  were  safely  underway  Brooke  asked,  “So,  like,  where  is  your  mom? I never  see  her.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  don’t  either.”  said  Bell  shortly.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Uh-oh. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t  have  asked.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “She  left  Dad  years  ago.”  replied  Bell. “It’s all  right. I stopped  being  bitter  about  it  a  while  back.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  never  all  right.”  Brooke  answered  earnestly. “Down inside,  you  still  miss  her  and  you  hate  her  at  the  same  time,  and  you  blame  yourself  and  wish  you’d  behaved  better,  and  sometimes  you  blame  Dad  for  not  stopping  her  or  driving  her  away.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Your  parents  divorced,  too?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brooke  was  pensive. “They came  close  one  time.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Oh.”  Bell  fell  silent.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Did  you  notice  anything  about  St. James?” Brooke  asked.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  dead.”  Bell  answered. “It feels  like  a  tomb. There’s one  odd  window—all  the  others  are  brilliant,  but  that  one  was  pale,  all  whites  and  greys. And the  niche  out  front  was  empty.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Come  down  and  play.”  muttered  Brooke. “What could  that  possibly  mean?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Maybe  Old  Baptist  will  make more  sense.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Winsted  was  cold  and  brilliant  in  the  strong  winter  sun. Brooke parked  on  the  street  and  the  girls  hopped  a  snowbank  and  headed  up  the  shovelled  paths. Bell walked  slowly,  taking  in  every  detail:  she  hadn’t  been  here  in  years. She looked  at  the  double  towers,  one  open  and  square  and  supported  by  four  columns;  the  other  circular,  the  belfry  tower  above  it,  with  the  high  round  arches  and  the  red  stone  trim.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Brooke,”  she  said,  pointing  to  the  belfry,  “look  at  that.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “At  what?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “There,”  said  Bell. “Under the  rim  of the  peak  there. Above the  arches. See those  funny  stone  inserts?”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           The  summit  of  the  belfry  was  a  conical  steeple,  with  a  rim  of  red  sandstone  running  around  its’  base. Set into  the  grey  rock  beneath  this  were  pendant  decorations,  four  vertical  poles  with  thicker  square  ends  like  mallet  heads  at  the  bottom,  then  two  slanted  bars  angled  away  from  each  other  with  level  squares at  their  lower  ends. Like the  clappers  on  a  bell. Four pendant  alternated  with  two  swinging,  all  the  way  around,  to  form  a  total  of  sixteen  pendant  and  eight  swinging  clappers.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “They  look  just  like  hammers.”  said  Brooke.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Hammers  and  urns,  say the  bells  of  1st  Church… <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">”  said  Bell. “I wonder…they  might  be  the  ones  to  smite  on  the  heavens.”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Until  they  are  broken.” <span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">  Brooke  agreed.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           They  went  inside. Bell barely  remembered  it;  she’d  been  little  the  last  time  they  went  here. The red  cushions  made  her  smile,  reminding  her  of  her  own  church. It was  much  larger  than  hers. Close to a  hundred  people  were  seated  in  the  carved  pews,  the  same  warm  gold  as  the  Methodist  church,  arranged  in  a  semicircle  rising  toward  the  back. Typical Protestant  theater  construction. Three aisles  divided  them,  carpeted  deep  red,  but  under  the  pews  was  ancient  wood  flooring. On the  left  above  square-panelled  wainscot  was  a  deep  alcove  with  a  gold-piped organ. Under this  the  choir  sat  in  a  crescent  of  blue  chairs,  robed  in  magnificent  red  vestments  with  a  V of  white  extending  down  the  chest. On the  right  were  the  huge  double  partitions  and  an  arched  green  marble  plaque  in  memory  of  somebody  named  Charles  Beecher  Holmes.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">The sanctuary  was  carpeted  the  same  as  the  aisles,  with  three  steps  up  to  it. It held a  flat  slab  altar  of  unadorned  wood  like  a  table,  a  carved  gold  font  to  the  left,  two  candles  with  a  gold  cross  between  them,  a  purple  cloth  with  gold-yellow  fringe  under  the  cross. At the  back  were  five  carved  chairs  of  dark  wood  against  a  paneled  wall. Five stained  glass windows—looking  like  they  were  painted—opened  above  this,  the  center  showing  Jesus  alone  over  a  table. At least,  Bell  assumed  it  was  Jesus  as  he  was  wearing  typical  Apostle  robes,  but  he  had  a  fair,  almost  effeminate  face. The other  windows  bore  a  collonaded  pattern. The woodwork  of  the  high  wall  opened  at  the  top  of  three  peaks  in  a  curious  design,  carved  like  three  erupting teardrops  with  a  fourth  drop  erect  behind  them. The ceiling  was  different  from  her  church  as  well;  two  great  arched  ribs  crossed  the  entire  dome,  creamy-white  with  water  stains. A big  gallery  curved  around  the  back  of  the  church,  above  it  a  deep-green  window  of  Jarius’  daughter  that  Bell  remembered  liking  the  color  of.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Announcements  were  solicited  from  the  congregation. Bell was  a  little  nervous  when  little  old  ladies  and  men  kept  coming  up  and  shaking  their  hands,  but  she  was  getting  used  to  it. The minister  was  stocky  and  youngish  with  foxy-style  long  hair,  sandy  brown,  that  came  over  his  ears,  a  short  beard  and  mustache,  glasses  and  a  ruddy  face  above  his black  cassock. Partway through  four  girls  went  up  back  where  they  waited,  whispering  and  giggling,  until  a  beaming  woman  got  up  and  stood  in  the  center  aisle  and  they  began  bustling  around  with  collection  plates. They wore  the  usual  tight  jeans  that  seemed  to  pass  for  Sunday  wear;  Bell  was  a  little  more  dressed  herself.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">After service  Bell  and  Brooke  were  heading  through  the  partitions  to  get  cookies. Brooke had  recognized  one  or  two  people  she  knew  and  Bell  pushed  on  ahead. The room  was  crowded. She noticed  a  head  of  lovely  curled  gold  hair  among  the  groups  of  people  talking  and  squeezed  by  to  get  at the  table. In doing  so  she  caught  a  glimpse of  the  woman’s  face.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brooke  came  after  her  and  found  Bell  standing  frozen,  staring  at  a  group  of  people  ten  feet  away. “What’s wrong?”  she  said.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Brooke,  we  have  to  go.”  said  Bell  in  a  strangled  voice.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “What? But I  thought  you  wanted  cookies!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “I  have  to  get  out  of  here.”  Bell  insisted.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Brooke  followed,  seriously  disturbed  now,  as  Bell  rushed  back  into  the  church  and  out  into  the  main  vestibule. Crooked neat  stairs  twisted  up  to  the  gallery  and  down  into  the  basement,  and  blindly  shoving  open  the  little  ornamental  gates  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  Bell  hurried  down  them. The tight  spiral  and  peculiar  balustrade  combined  to  lend  an  air  of  mystery  that  Brooke  felt  keenly  as  she  followed. Underground were  halls  with  old-yellow  pipes  along  the  ceiling,  dark  green  doors,  walls  that  once  were  white  but  had  yellowed  with  age. It was  like  a  catacomb.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  came  to  a  stop  and  leaned  her  head  on  one  of  the  door  frames. To Brooke’s  alarm  the  eleven-year-old  burst  into  tears.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “Bell! Bell, honey,  what’s  wrong?”  Brooke  cried.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           Bell  lifted a  face  travelled  with  tearstains. “That was  my  mother.”  she  choked. “My mom! All these  years  and  she’s  been  right  here,  just  across  town,  and  she  never  comes!”  She  broke  into  fresh  weeping. “I  hate her! She left  me! I hate  her!”

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           “It’s  all  right,  honey.”  said  Brooke  softly  as  she  put  her  arms  around  her  friend. The little  girl  buried  her  face  in  Brooke’s  bosom  and  bawled. And Brooke  felt  tears  come  into  her  own  eyes.

<p style="margin: 1em 0px"><span style="line-height: 115%; font-family: 'Times New Roman', 'serif'; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri">           When  Bell’s  sobs  had  died  down  and  calmed,  Brooke  wiped  her  friend’s  eyes  and  helped  her  bundle  back  up. “It’s all  right,  Bell.”  she  said  again. “We can  go  now.” “I don’t  ever  want  to  come  here  again.”  sniffled  Bell  as  she  allowed  Brooke  to  take  her  hand.

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