The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky

by David Litwack

  Helena reached over and brushed aside a strand of hair that had tumbled across the little girl’s eyes. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.” She turned to Jason. “Would you please take her outside for a few minutes? I’d like to visit with Sebastian alone.”

  Sebastian waited until the two were gone and the door to his office was closed. “I’m sorry to have upset the little girl. Is she always this skittish?” When Helena kept staring at her fingernails, he bent his head, trying to slip beneath her gaze. “What did I do wrong?”

  Helena looked up, eyes pleading. “Couldn’t you skip the interview? She was incarcerated at the department for over a month, interrogated several times. She’s afraid it might be the same here.”

  “Ah.” Sebastian shuffled over to the built-in cabinet that filled his bay window, and poured a cup of tea for each of them from his favorite teapot. He’d found it a year ago while browsing the antique store in town. Artists at the farm, who tended toward modernism, made fun of it as too baroque, but something about it had caught his fancy—perhaps the puffs of clouds set in blue with the rosy-cheeked cherubs nestled on top.

  After bringing the teacups to the desk, he returned to the cabinet for Lizzie’s bell. He slipped his index finger through the oval that formed its handle and gave it a shake.

  The ring startled Helena. “What’s that for?”

  “This is Lizzie’s bell. Everyone on the farm knows it. I use it to mark all sorts of occasions—a ritual, they might call it, where Kailani comes from. In this case, I rang it to commemorate our first cup of tea together. I’ve been ringing it for each new member since I came here.”

  “May I see it?”

  “Of course.”

  She took the bell, let her fingers glide along the scalloped edges of its handle, and studied the etchings on its surface.

  He’d stared at them many times himself, trying to decipher their meaning. Sometimes, he’d found flowers mingled with serpents, others the runes of a long-lost language or the writhing of lost souls. At times he believed it was magic, though he kept that thought to himself.

  “Why is it called Lizzie’s bell?” she said.

  “You’ll find I like to tell stories, Helena, but the story of this bell is one I don’t share easily. Perhaps when we know each other better.”

  He accepted the bell back and laid it to rest in its usual spot, then waited until she’d taken her first sip. There was something soothing about tea.

  “I trust you don’t view me as an examiner,” he said, “and this farm is certainly not the department of separation, but it does need to be managed. We mostly get people who have some wound that needs healing, though occasionally someone comes for the wrong reason. It’s my job to understand how each arrival fits in so nothing will upset our little world. That’s all.”

  She leaned forward, placing a hand on his desk, her lips stretched into a thin line. “Couldn’t you make an exception for Kailani?”

  He reached across and patted her hand. “I’ll tell you what, Helena. Why don’t you and I talk? We’ll see if you know enough about the others to satisfy my curiosity.”

  After she nodded, he opened the top drawer of his desk, pulled out his supply of tissues, and placed the box within her reach.

  When she looked perplexed, he said, “Just in case,” then gave an extra bob of his brows.

  She finally smiled.

  ***

  Helena began to relax. Her mother had spoken fondly of Sebastian, and now she could see why. She accepted the tissue box and gave a little laugh. “It has been a difficult summer.”

  “So I’ve heard. I was saddened to hear about your father.”

  “Thank you.” She slid back in her chair and sat upright, as if interviewing for a job. “There, I’m ready. What would you like to know?”

  He lifted the teacup and let it hover between the saucer and his mouth. “I’ve been managing the farm now for twelve years. I’ve learned most people come here with a gap in their heart. If I were a believer, I’d say a gap in their soul. My job is to help fill that gap with work, with an art or a craft they love, or with relationships they form here. Whatever’s needed.” He paused to take a sip.

  A gap in her heart. She had a gap, and he clearly knew it.

  “When I was younger,” he said, “I managed big construction projects—industrial and commercial developments, highways, the occasional bridge or dam. Now I manage Glen Eagle Farm. It’s not that different. A good manager gets to know the people he’s with, assigns them appropriate work, and leaves nothing to chance. I just need to understand how each of you fits into our community. Let’s start with you. What is it you like to do, Helena Brewster? What skills do you have? What inspires you?”

  “There’s not much to say about me except what I learned in university—nothing useful to the farm unless there’s an interest in physiometry.”

  “Your mother said much the same when she got here. Yet in the past weeks, she’s developed a knack for crafting jewelry—already sold a few pieces at the co-op in town. She’s even learned to sew and now makes clothing for some of the others. Maybe you should apprentice to her and learn a craft or two.”

  Learn from her mother—something unavailable to her as a child.

  “Yes, of course,” Helena said, though she guessed Sebastian could see right through her.

  Next she described Kailani’s story. The two of them would need to work together and stay close. She reminded him of her status as Kailani’s legal guardian, designated as such by the tribunal until the asylum hearing.

  Sebastian finished scribbling on a small yellow pad and looked up. “And Jason?”

  “What about Jason?”

  “I understand you’ve known each other since childhood.”

  The corner of Helena’s mouth curled into a half smile. She tilted her head to one side and pictured her and Jason as children, strolling hand in hand along the cliffs. “That’s right. He used to walk me home from school every day.”

  “And how do you think he can contribute to the farm?”

  “Oh no,” she said. “It’s not like that. He didn’t come here to be a farm member, but to support me and Kailani. He has a job at the Polytechnic Institute and needs to work on it while he’s here.”

  Sebastian tapped his pencil on the desktop three times and set it down. “Then we have a problem. Glen Eagle Farm’s not a guest house. It’s a commune that depends on the productivity of its members to survive. Everyone is expected to contribute.”

  Helena stared past Sebastian’s right shoulder. On the wall behind him hung a painting of the great house in winter. Below it on a narrow table sat a flowerpot with an orchid growing in it. A cluster of three shiny leaves filled the pot and a single long stem sprouted from them, exploding at its top into a spray of blossoms. Each blossom had four white petals arranged in a whirl around a center of violet. If she squinted just right, the blushes of violet on the side petals became eyes and the center took on the look of a purple mouth with an orange tongue sticking out at her.

  “Jason’s on an important project,” she said, “something that will make life better for everyone. All he needs is a desk and a comm link, and he can work remotely with his colleagues. He won’t be any bother.”

  “He still needs a cabin, a place to sleep. And he’ll consume our food.”

  “What if I worked extra hours?”

  “I’m sorry, Helena, but it’s a hard and fast rule. The goods we produce here aren’t quite enough to pay the bills. We get some support from the generosity of the Friends of Glen Eagle Farm, former members and others who appreciate what we do, but even with that we barely get by. Everyone must contribute.”

  Helena grimaced and sucked air in through her teeth. She and Jason had only just rediscovered each other. He was her glimmer, the hope of healing the gap in her heart. She wouldn’t stay without him, but that meant Kailani would....

  “Please, Sebastian. There must be a way.”

  He reache
d across and nudged the tissue box closer.

  Only then did she realize her eyes had begun to tear. She blinked twice, took a tissue and dabbed at them, then crumpled the tissue and fumbled for a place to dispose of it.

  Sebastian took it from her and with a flourish of the wrist tossed it into a wastebasket. “I’ll tell you what, Helena. Let me talk with him, and I’ll see what I can do. If there’s a way to make it work, I’ll find it. Now, before we start the tour, do you have any questions for me?”

  She shook her head without looking at Sebastian. Instead, her eyes flitted about the room: in the painting, the snow blanketed the roof of the great house; on the teapot, the cherubs nestled on their cloud; Lizzie’s bell rested in its place; and the face on the orchid had reappeared.

  She could almost hear it laughing.

  ***

  When Helena swung open the screen door, she was met by the afternoon sun filtering through the trees. The dappling of light and shadow confounded her vision and her eyes needed a few seconds to adjust. Once they did, she needed additional time to sort out the scene before her.

  Her mother sat on the top step of the porch with Kailani by her side. In the space between them lay a box filled with semiprecious stones—the raw materials for her mother’s new avocation. She grasped an amethyst between her thumb and forefinger and held it up so waves of purple rippled across the delighted child’s face.

  Jason looked on, beaming.

  When not in the lab, her mother had always worn the unofficial Polytech uniform—pressed slacks and a stylish but conservative blouse. Now, a wrinkled housedress drooped to her ankles, covering the tops of well-worn shoes caked with the remains of a muddy day at the farm. Her chestnut hair had reverted to gray and hung unkempt to her shoulders. Most surprising, her mother was playing with Kailani. Playing in a way she’d never played with Helena.

  Helena let the screen door close with a bang. “Hello, Mother, I see you’ve met Jason and Kailani.”

  Her mother held up a hand, indicating she must finish telling the tale of the stone. Moments later the story ended, and she restored the stone to the felt compartment reserved for it in the box.

  “Hello, Helena,” she said without looking up, fumbling for the next stone, a sliver of amber. “Yes, Kailani and I have met. She’s everything you said and more. Give us a moment, dear. I promised to show her the amber next, and then the tiger’s eye. I didn’t think you’d be out this soon. Sebastian can go on sometimes.”

  Only when the final stone had been put away did her mother get up, brush the dust from her housedress, and focus on Helena. She grasped her warmly by the arms and pulled, but Helena stiffened, leaving some distance between them.

  Her mother stepped closer to fill the gap and gave her a peck on the cheek. “It’s wonderful to finally meet your friends, and I’m glad to see you too. You look well.”

  Look well? Her mother had been playing with rocks on a farm while she grieved for her father. “You look well too, Mother. I’m surprised.”

  “Well, let’s say I’ve had time to think on the farm, to meditate on the nature of things, and I’ve found a certain peace.”

  Helena caught Jason eyeing her. She could read the question forming in his mind. After all she’d told him about Martha Brewster, he’d discovered a saint.

  “I wish I could say the same,” she said.

  Her mother patted her arm. “Give it a while, dear. People are so driven these days. They don’t take time until it’s too late.”

  She pressed her lips together, afraid the thoughts simmering in her mind would boil over.

  Jason came up beside her and slid his hand up and down the small of her back, massaging lightly.

  The great house door swung open, and Sebastian burst into the silence. He glanced from one to the other, then rubbed his hands together as if preparing for work. “Good. I see everyone’s met. Are you all ready for the tour?”

  When no one else answered, Jason said, “Yes.”

  Helena glared at her mother before following Sebastian down the stairs.

  Chapter 14 – Glen Eagle Farm

  “My first project,” Sebastian said, waving his staff at the barn. “It’s where all the work gets done. It was in tough shape when I got here, but I knew the farm’s future depended on it.”

  Jason gazed up at the clapboards tapering to the peak of the gambrel roof and the eagle-shaped wind vane swaying above them. When he looked back, Sebastian seemed to have fixed on him as the one most likely to care.

  “We reinforced the frame, replacing the rotted sills and the main carrier beam with steel, and punched a big addition out the back. Then we coated the whole thing with so much red paint, it outshines the other buildings to this day.”

  “He won’t admit it,” Martha Brewster said, grasping Jason’s arm to get his attention, “but there’d be no barn without him. The farm was nearly bankrupt before he got here, and he rescued it by using his own savings.”

  “Ignore her, Jason. Those are old stories.” He nonetheless seemed pleased they were still being told.

  The inside of the barn was more impressive. The front opened into a high-ceiling dining area, exposed to skylights. Behind it was a stainless steel kitchen, where food was prepared, preserved, and packaged.

  “We sell vegetables in season from a stand on the highway,” Sebastian said, “but year-round we sell jams, baked goods, maple syrup, and almost anything coated in maple sugar. Not every member’s creative. If they have neither aptitude nor desire to do crafts, they tap trees, peel apples, or prepare food for sale—whatever helps with the running of the farm. Everyone contributes.”

  Jason wondered about Sebastian, a man who seemed capable of more. Why had he ended up rescuing a broken-down farm? And how had they ever functioned without him?

  Next, they moved on to the two-story addition, which housed a dozen studios, all with large windows in the southern wall. Sebastian explained that they used the first floor for crafts requiring heavier equipment, such as woodworking, sculpture, ceramics, and stoneware. The airy loft contained rooms for the more delicate arts like painting, flower arranging, jewelry making, and quilting.

  Kailani skipped from studio to studio, fascinated by every project. As she passed, each artisan set down their work and smiled.

  In the third room, a silversmith with safety goggles pounded a metal blank into foil with a flat wooden mallet, striking the sheet until it became paper-thin. Then he switched to an even smaller mallet and tapped with the pointed end, making overlapping circles in the silver until they resembled fish scales. As Kailani stared wide-eyed, he wrapped the foil around a wire frame so it became a fish with no eyes.

  When Sebastian tried to move her along, she said, “But the fish will be blind.”

  “I assure you, Kailani, my friend here has always found eyes for his fish, and is likely to do so again, whether you’re watching or not.”

  As Jason approached the next room, a wave of heat hit him from a small oven.

  A tiny woman sat on a stool by the fire, holding a metal rod with a piece of molten glass at its end. When Kailani stepped closer, curious as always, the woman turned. Her face was almost birdlike, with no chin and bulging eyes, made more prominent by the glow from the flame.

  Without a word, she motioned for Kailani to sit on a nearby chair and withdrew the molten glass. After rolling it on a metal bowl to give it shape, she poked with a pair of tongs and prodded here and there until a head, a tail, and four legs appeared. Then with a final tap she gave it eyes and held it up for Kailani to see.

  “A horse,” the girl said.

  The woman nodded.

  Kailani cocked her head to one side. “But can you make it a unicorn?”

  Martha looked on amused, but Helena seemed bothered. She rested a hand on Kailani’s shoulder.

  “There’s no such thing as unicorns,” she said. “It’s a myth, even in the Blessed Lands.”

  Ignoring Helena, the glassblower placed the horse
back into the oven. She gave it two quick turns, withdrew it, and with a single pluck at the horse’s forehead, a horn appeared.

  “See.” Kailani beamed at Helena. “There are unicorns if you believe.”

  Martha winked, but Jason noted Helena wasn’t smiling. The gloom that descended on the great house steps had followed her on the tour. She’d been wandering around in a daze, glaring whenever her mother said a kind word to Kailani.

  After leaving the barn, they followed a dirt road to a pergola, its roof laced with vines, some still bearing late summer roses. On either side hung wind chimes of every shape and size.

  “I encourage each artist to create a unique chime,” Sebastian said. “With only one condition: it has to harmonize with the others so when the wind blows there’ll be no discord.”

  At the far end of the pergola, a crescent of two-unit cabins was arrayed around the sprawling branches of an impressive beech tree.

  “Come see our sentinel tree, Kailani.” Sebastian reached out for her, but she shied away.

  “Go on, Kailani,” Martha said. “Sebastian doesn’t bite.”

  Helena shoved in front, blocking her mother’s way. “It’s all right if she doesn’t want to go.”

  “I was just trying to—”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  Kailani froze, caught between them until Jason stepped in and led her to the tree.

  She glanced up at the branches. “A sentinel tree? Why’s it called that?”

  “A long time ago,” Sebastian said, “someone noticed how it stood guard over our cabins, and gave it that name. I’ll bet you have nothing like it in the Blessed Lands.”

  “No,” she said. “It’s so... big.”

  “Plenty of rain helps. But wait till you see it at night. Spotlights shining through the branches make it look magical.”

  Next came a tour of the cabins. All were the same: small, clean, and well kept, with a clerestory to let in light. In good weather, the high window could be opened using a pole with a latch hook on top. Each unit had a door with a slide bolt to ensure privacy. Jason and Helena were assigned the unit adjoining Kailani’s, so they would share a common wall.