Nathaniel, glanced at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“That lovely bit of blues. I assume you were referring to Wendel.”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Nathaniel’s eyes never left the ground before him as he struggled to make the last few steps home.
“Well, I never had you pegged for a blues singer. Heh heh heh. But they say it helps.”
5
Nathaniel had been wounded in the fire more severely than he knew. Now, as he convalesced, he grew well enough to think beyond his own painful circumstances. He became aware of how much pain shrank his world, so that at times it seemed its sole occupants were him and his misery. But as he healed, it was as if more space had been created to allow room for new thoughts and friends. So as his pain diminished, his thoughts were drawn back to Wendel and Jid. He remembered how full his heart had felt when he saw young Wendel shivering and invited him to keep warm by staying close to him.
Nathaniel enthusiastically spoke with Birgit about young Wendel and how badly wounded he was. He told her of how he had fallen asleep wounded and burned but cuddled close to him, and how it had filled his heart in ways that were difficult to explain, but he was determined to try.
“I looked at this child, with his hideous burns, who had been so brave all afternoon, and how he was shivering … cold and wounded, and potentially orphaned. My heart just broke, and I didn’t know what to say.” Nathaniel fixed his gaze straight ahead but looked at nothing, except perhaps the memory he was now recollecting. “I looked at the boy and asked if he was cold.” Nathaniel looked over at Birgit, whose eyes were filled with tears. “Then the child cuddled up close to me and fell asleep, and so did I. I suppose we both passed out—we were completely exhausted in body, mind, and spirit. My goodness, Birgit! It was frightfully wonderful!” Nathaniel grew quiet and gently shook his head as if to break the spell he was under.
“I have never seen you so passionate.” Birgit moved closer to her husband. “I’m proud of you. I’m proud of your bravery, and I’m proud of how you cared for the little fella.”
For some strange reason, her comments intruded upon his reverie, but he understood she was trying, and so he smiled warmly and pulled her close to him.
Nathaniel had undoubtedly been profoundly touched by the experience, but to say he had been completely changed would be less than fair, and the longer he remained at home, the more this became clear to him. He knew that Birgit was aware of the changes he was experiencing, but he was not convinced she understood them, and admittedly rather selfishly, he was reluctant to speak about the experience. Birgit even tried to convince Nathaniel that her initial assessment of Mr. Leach may have been premature and unduly harsh, since she knew the old possum was so important to her husband.
She explained to a very surprised Nathaniel that it was Mr. Leach who had brought him home after Jid had taken custody of Wendel the evening of the fire. “He almost had to carry you, Nathaniel. You were so weak. He is …” she began. “How might I describe him? He is odd but he is real. The poultice he prepared with that gel from the plant was a remarkable remedy. So you are right. He is a wise, wise creature.” Then, as if she had forgotten to say something, she exclaimed with a peculiar incredulity, “And Mr. Leach neither wanted nor would take anything in return.”
She explained how their conversation had gone that night. “‘How can I thank you?’ I said.
“He just chuckled. ‘Heh heh. Thank me? Nonsense! Heh heh …’ Then he mumbled something like ‘Who’s thanking who? Heh heh.’ Or at least, that’s what I thought he said.
“‘What’s that?’ I asked. But Mr. Leach was on his way.
“‘Bye-bye … heh heh.’ That’s it! That’s all he said, except, you know, that nervous little laugh after almost anything he says.” Her eyes again were wet with tears, and she added, “But he is a good creature. He was good to you and to me.”
“Aw, come over here,” Nathaniel said with an inviting smile. She smiled back and lumbered over to her husband and nuzzled him affectionately.
The subtle change from summer to fall was becoming more pronounced as each week faded into the next. The liquidambar trees exploded into glorious hues of purple-red, persimmon, orange, and yellow. Even as the days were sunny and often quite warm, after sunset the temperature often dropped dramatically. And as fall dissolved into winter, rainy days in the hot and bone-dry eastern county were not uncommon.
Jid’s colony was accustomed to moving into the barn during the colder months because of the ample supply of feed for the horses and goats, with the only danger being an old cat who was so lazy the mice would nibble the food right from the cat’s bowl while the old cat slept. But the barn was no longer an option for them, since the fire had destroyed most of it. The only option Jid had seen for their colony was the McCorkle house. So, on the night of the fire, one by one the members of Cielo Creek slipped into the house through a crack in the crawl space hatch.
Once inside the crawl space, they found an earthen floor and plenty of space where they could nest among long strips of insulation that ran between the joists above them. This would provide them with shelter and warmth. Food was another matter. The mice discovered a cable in the crawl space that was threaded through a pipe, leading to a switchboard panel of some sort in a closet off the kitchen. They had gained access to the kitchen, and the mice of Cielo Creek were elated that they would have plenty of food throughout the cold months.
Still, Wendel was increasingly possessed by concerns about the house. “It is not safe. The McCorkles will kill us … ex-ter-min-ate us!
“Exterminate us, Wendel?”
“Yes, ex-ter-min-ate us. Kill us! Jid, we are unwanted here. We are pests!”
“What do you know, Wendel, of the Exterminator?” Jid was alarmed by Wendel’s words.
“I do know of the Exterminator.” He answered with confidence, facing Jid and staring sightlessly in his direction. “Anyone who is a student of the history of our mouse colonies knows what happened generations ago. They know that the Exterminator is a professional killer brought in from the outside to design a final solution for the pests that we are considered to be. And anyone who knows their history knows this final solution has been responsible for widespread death among our colonies, using whatever means possible. The Exterminator is cruel and heartless.”
Jid warned Wendel not to be reckless with his words, stating he considered them bizarre and unfounded. Jid then admonished him to cease from all his catastrophic projections. But at the same time, to protect the boy from those who found Wendel’s prophetic forecasts alarmist, Jid reminded others that the poor mouse had been through a lot.
When Nathaniel finally arrived for his promised visit, he could not remember exactly where Jid and Wendel had disappeared to on the night of the fire. The days were growing shorter, and Nathaniel arrived at the McCorkles’ property shortly before sunset. He remembered that the barn had sustained damage, but did not recall it to be as bad as it now appeared. The horses were in makeshift stalls with no protection from the elements, since the roof was mostly gone. The two goats wore collars with long leads attached to stakes in the ground, where there remained a few patches of green grass. Nathaniel was walking around the exterior of the house, lingering near the crawl space hatch, when he noticed the head of a small mouse peering through a crack in the hatch.
“Nathaniel, is that you?” Wendel’s burns were heartbreaking.
“It’s me all right.”
“Wait just a moment. Jid is with me.” Wendel ducked back into the crack, allowing Jid to exit first and then following.
Nathaniel and Jid greeted one another with little more than barely discernible nods and strained smiles. Nathaniel understood that the history between mice and rats was littered with incidents like those with his mouse-eating childhood friend Elwood. But the reunion with Wendel was quite different and filled with affection and expre
ssions of concern for each other’s health. Nathaniel noted, but did not mention, that Wendel’s face had been severely disfigured by the fire. Much of the fur had been burned away and did not appear to be growing back. More perplexing, Wendel didn’t look at Nathaniel when he spoke. Instead, he inclined his good ear toward Nathaniel, finally causing Nathaniel to worry about the severity of Wendel’s injuries.
“Wendel?” Nathaniel spoke caringly but also directly. “Wendel, can you see me?” Nathaniel asked.
“Wendel lost his sight in the remaining eye, Nathaniel. Not sure why,” Jid interrupted.
“No, I can’t see you. Jid is correct.” Wendel answered without a hint of self-pity. “The one eye I lost on the day of the fire, and as I was recovering from my burns, I just gradually lost sight in the other eye. Woke up one morning and realized I couldn’t see a thing and likely never would again.”
Jid looked sympathetically at Wendel and shifted his gaze to Nathaniel, shaking his head as if to secretly share the pity he felt for the small mouse, although it seemed little got past Wendel.
“I don’t want, nor do I need, anyone feeling sorry for me.”
“Of course not,” Jid said defensively as Nathaniel smirked.
“Jid.” Wendel faced the general direction where Jid stood. “I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but Nathaniel and I would like to talk. You know, we went through some hard times together and have stuff to talk about.”
“Oh?” Jid seemed a bit unnerved and irritated by the boldness of Wendel’s request, but he assented. “I understand. You have a shared tragedy, and it will be good for both of you to talk about it.”
Wendel smiled, nodding agreement as if Jid himself had come up with the suggestion.
“Wendel, you be careful,” Jid added, which Nathaniel thought puzzling.
“I will look after him, Jid.”
“Um, right.” Jid scrambled up the crawl space hatch and disappeared through the crack near the top.
When the two were alone, Wendel shared that since the fire, Jid had been acting peculiarly. He was overly cautious about some things and completely reckless about others. “I don’t know what is wrong.”
“Well, with all the tragedy that has come your way, I imagine that he’s feeling a bit overwhelmed.”
“I hadn’t thought about that,” Wendel remarked.
“That’s because you’re not an old man, like Jid and me!” They both laughed.
“Any permanent damage, Nathaniel? Are you healing up OK?” As they walked, Wendel pressed up close against his friend in order to follow his movements without fear of running into anything.
“I’m all right. Lost some fur, so it’s a rather pink-looking mug I’ve got now, not unlike yours, lad,” he said, rubbing his face.
“Ha ha.” Wendel laughed good-naturedly, and Nathaniel thought to himself how much this immature mouse had changed in such a short time. The boy had lost his sight and yet seemed possessed of greater self-confidence than ever.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Nathaniel asked.
“Nothing really having to do with the fire. I just thought Jid didn’t need to hover over me like he has been ever since the fire.”
“Wendel …” Nathaniel stopped and turned to look at the little mouse, whose burned face was honestly hard to look at. “Wendel …” Nathaniel started again.
“Nathaniel, like I said earlier, please don’t feel sorry for me. I have changed, I know. I am aware of it.”
“You have changed! Not just your physical appearance. It’s hard to say how. You seem older, wiser, no longer a pup, that’s for sure.”
“I want to tell you a secret. But you have to keep it to yourself.”
Nathaniel nodded, then realized he needed to speak aloud. “Sure. I’ll keep whatever you say between us.”
“I trust you and you know that.”
Nathaniel remained quiet and Wendel continued. “The night of the fire, you may remember Jid brought me inside the McCorkle home, leaving you alone outside. I thought this was wrong. You, too, were wounded. So, when Jid left me alone, I snuck back out to stay with you. You had saved my life. I wanted to be sure you were all right.”
“No! Really? Oh my. I should thank you. I guess I don’t remember much after you and Jid left.” Nathaniel was still stunned by how different Wendel seemed, and waited for him to continue.
“I sat with you awhile and just listened to you breathe. That way I knew at least you were still alive. As I waited, some creature—I think a possum, who said he was an old friend of yours—said he had come to get you and take you home. It scared the heck out of me. But then he kind of laughed and seemed all right and told me he was going to look after you. I do remember the old guy called himself Mr. Leach. When he said this, I asked, ‘Hey, how about me too?’ Then he laughed this peculiar laugh again … He kept doing that … Kind of odd.
“Then he said something really weird. ‘You have paid with your sight, little mouse, to acquire your vision.’ And then he laughed again and said, ‘You may not be able to see with your eyes, but your vision will be crystal clear.’
“I said, ‘What are you talking about?’ And then that little laugh again but no answer for me. And then, Nathaniel, he woke you, and the two of you walked to your home, I guess.”
Nathaniel was absolutely shocked and nearly speechless as Wendel finished his story and tilted his head as if waiting for his friend to say something. “Hey! Are you there, Nathaniel?” Wendel extended his front paw to feel for him.
“I’m here. Sorry. I just didn’t have any idea.” Then he laughed softly and said, “Well, the words certainly sound like Mr. Leach’s, all right. He’s an odd one but an odd one who should be listened to … always. He knows things, Wendel. I can’t explain, but he knows things. Sometimes the stuff he says sounds odd, but it’s always true in some way, even if it’s not the way you might expect. So I wonder what he meant when he said you’ve paid with your sight to acquire your vision.”
“Well, I’m not exactly sure, but I think I might be starting to understand. Seeing and vision are different. A vision seems to originate inside, while sight is about something outside, right? I can’t see outside anymore. I can only see what’s inside me, kind of like seeing thoughts or better. You know the word intuition?”
“Uh-huh,” Nathaniel answered.
“Kind of like when you know something is true or not, right or wrong, even though you have no facts to base that judgment on.”
“Yeah.”
“More and more I just have a feeling about whether something is right or not, and I feel it with such certainty. I suppose I feel something more now that I am no longer able to see it. Does that make sense?”
Nathaniel laughed. “Not to me, it doesn’t. But I bet old Mr. Leach would get it.” Then he added, “But you’ve been through a lot, Wendel. And things must be rather confusing.” As soon as he spoke the words, he wished he could take them back.
But Wendel shook his head. “No, that’s not it. I don’t know. Maybe it’s too hard to explain to someone who’s never had an experience like this. But get this: I can hear the two McCorkle men … You know, the two of them are brothers … I hear them from our place under the floorboards. I don’t understand their language, but I feel I know their intentions. I hear them use certain words that I know are dangerous to us—pests, infestation, and Exterminator. I don’t know what all of these words mean, but I do know … many of us know of the Exterminator and the suffering and death he has brought to mouse colonies throughout the area. You see, I have a physical reaction to these words each time they are used. I actually feel sick and as if we are all in danger.”
“I don’t know, Wendel. What’s happened to you, it’s difficult for me to understand.” And then he added apologetically, “And of course, I’m sure it’s difficult for you too. I don’t know if the loss of your sigh
t has disabled or enabled you.”
“I don’t suppose there’s anything to be done now. But hey … Nathaniel, do me a favor. Come visit me, OK? And if you see Mr. Leach, maybe he can give you some insight on what he meant by his cryptic comment!” Wendel laughed for the first time since their visit had begun, and Nathaniel was glad to see that all these changes had not stripped him of his ability to laugh.
“Sure, I’ll visit. And don’t get so upset about those brothers. I mean, what are they going to do? I’m sure everyone will be just fine.”
The two offered their goodbyes, with Nathaniel requesting Wendel send his best wishes to Jid.
As he made his way toward home, an upbeat song came to mind, and he started singing to himself.
Walking down that dusty road,
engaging what I could,
left my house, saw a burning mouse,
now I needed something good.
I found a friendship in the fire,
burnished in the fire,
a friendship in the fire,
a blind mouse and a liar,
and I feel like I’m confused.
Must be them senior blues.
Uh-huh, those senior blues.
Maybe it’s your mind you losed.
No, it’s just the senior blues.
He laughed after he finished, but he felt a vague sense of discomfort as well that was difficult for him to put his finger on. Something about the words to his songs made him uneasy. They seemed to just come, but he wasn’t sure he understood them. Who’s the liar? he wondered. Is that me?
6
It had been such a long time since Nathaniel had seen Mr. Leach, and yet lately it seemed he was encountering him over and over and, curiously, almost always when Nathaniel wanted, no, needed to see him most.
“Mr. Leach, I had no idea that Wendel came back outside to stay with me on the night of the fire.”
Nathaniel's Got the Blues Page 5