Rebecca & Heart

by Deanna K. Klingel

  This is going to be another long night for all of us, I think. Rebecca is sniffing softly. I know she’s worrying about Heart. Will she see him again? Little tear drops run to her chin. I think her heart is leaking.

  When Rebecca awakens from a dream of sitting with Heart and feeding him peas, she can’t go back to sleep. Moonlight floods the room. Nothing in the room except her empty stomach is familiar to her. She’s used to the smell of soiled linen, human bodies, factory smoke, and the garbage dump. Everything in this room smells like soap and flowers. Even she smells like soap and flowers. It isn’t unpleasant really, but not at all familiar, for either of us. We are engulfed in strangeness.

  She climbs out of bed. She’s startled when her toes hit the soft floor covering. Her bare feet are used to splinters of a worn wooden floor. She’s never walked barefoot on a rug before. She patters to the window and looks out at the lawn, white in the moonlight. She looks up at the stars and the moon. I want to tell her they are the same stars and moon that hang over Someplace Else. Perhaps it would seem more familiar. I want to tell her Heart is watching them, too. But, alas, the vast differences in our species.

  Below her in the bushes, Heart stirs. He’s not located a garbage dump anywhere in this neighborhood. I noticed that absence myself. Apparently this neighborhood doesn’t toss garbage. Heart has lived by himself all his life and managed just fine, but since he met Rebecca I don’t think he enjoys being alone quite so much. I think he misses her. I watch him poke his sad, lonely face out of the bushes into the moonlight. He drops his chin to his paws, and with a loud sigh, he tries to sleep.

  Rebecca looks down from her window and sees the movement in the bushes. Quietly she opens her door. She tip toes down the stairs, into the kitchen and opens the pantry door. I don’t do a lot of night flying, so I’m a bit nervous about all this going on in the dark house.

  I watch her, bathed in moonlight, slip dried peas into the pocket of her nightgown. She rips a chunk off the fresh bread intended for breakfast, and slips out the kitchen door. She breathes the sweet night air and moves toward the bushes. Heart sniffs the air, inhaling a strange new powdery scent. He growls.

  Rebecca hears the low growl and stands still. The bushes shake. We can see Heart sitting up in the moon glow. His amber eyes, glowing through the darkness, meet hers. He growls again. Then suddenly his tail thumps the ground. “Yes, Heart, it’s really her,” I want to shout. I fly celebratory loopty-loops. Heart’s tail waves wildly.

  He’s happy to see her, that’s for sure. He eats the peas and bread hungrily. He licks her hand. From Rebecca’s throat comes a little gurgling sound we’d never heard before. What is this? Heart studies her intently. Is she growling at him? Well, he did growl at her, after all, but that was before he knew it was her. What is this sound? What does it mean?

  She sits down on the dewy grass next to Heart and feels comforted. He lays his head down close to her, without touching her, and he is also comforted. The air waves around me are peaceful. I decide to spend the rest of the night on the rose trellis, under the stars.

  When morning comes, the kitchen is noisy, the busy center of meal preparations for the day. Cook notices the open pantry door and sees a few dried peas on the floor. She notices the torn bread. She rings for Butler to tell him to set out mouse traps. Then she goes about her business of the day.

  Upstairs the mother is planning an exciting day trip for Rebecca to the city to buy new uniforms and shoes for school. The mother is so excited she chatters about the plan, and everything else she could think of, to her sleepy husband. The air waves are rippling.

  She makes her list aloud, to no one but herself. She opens the big polished door of Rebecca’s room to awaken Rebecca to have breakfast, and leave for the city.

  “Good morning, little daughter; we’ve a surprise today. You must get up and have some breakfast. Oh! Where is she? She must have already gone down for breakfast.”

  Chattering all the way down to the dining room about all the fun they would have, she looks around for Rebecca.

  “Cook, dear, have you seen Rebecca this morning?”

  Cook wants to talk about the pantry mice, the dinner menu, and what lovely weather they’d have today.

  “Rebecca? No, hasn’t had her breakfast yet this morning. Ask Butler,” she suggests.

  Butler, busily polishing the silver, wants to talk about the need for some rain, and would she please speak to Gardener about removing his boots before entering the pantry.

  “Rebecca? No, I’ve not seen her this morning.”

  I think the mother is starting to look concerned. She hurries into the garden.

  “Good morning, missus,” the hobbling old gardener greets her. He wants to talk about his bunions, onions, and seed potatoes.

  I plan to spend the better part of the day with Gardener who is spreading manure around the roses today.

  “Rebecca? No, can’t say I’ve seen the young miss yet this morning.

  No doubt about it now, the mother is definitely worried. She wrings her hands and looks like she doesn’t know what to do. She drops down to the garden bench. Her heart begins to leak like rain down her face.

  “What if she has wandered away? What if she’s lost? Did she run away? Maybe she doesn’t like it here.” She sobs and talks to herself, while wringing her handkerchief.

  Rebecca and Heart hear this from the other side of the hedge and wonder what this might mean. What kind of sound is this? They look at each other. Their eyes almost meet. Silently they both decide to check it out. Together they crawl to the edge of the lawn and stand up near the hedge. I move from the trellis to the hedge.

  We see the mother hunched over on the bench weeping and sobbing, chattering to herself between sobs. We hear words like ‘alone,’ ‘child,’ ‘injured,’ ‘family’ and ‘home.’ Then the mother stops talking and weeps into her handkerchief.

  I watch Heart and Rebecca try to make sense of this behavior. Heart watches her body and knows all is not well. Rebecca saw others at Somewhere Else do this from time to time but she didn’t understand what they were doing. Yet, the first night here, in her new bed, hadn’t she done this, too? She was afraid she’d never see Heart again. Her heart leaked salty tears down her chin. Is this what the mother is doing? Is she afraid she’ll never see Rebecca again? Rebecca is figuring it out, all right.

  Chapter 6

  Heart and Rebecca study each other. Rebecca reaches out slowly and touches Heart’s neck. He sits still. She lays her hand on his head; he allows it. She’s surprised to find that it warms her chilly hand. His head is smooth, soft, and warm. She moves her hand down his shoulder. Bits of pine needles stick in his matted fur. He shudders as he feels her hand move down his neck, gently stroking him. He’s very still, trusting her.

  This is all new to him. It feels good, but he isn’t sure if he likes it. I can’t blame him, really. Only a few days ago she impulsively grabbed his neck. It turned out okay, but he’ll be ready the next time.

  She reaches out her other hand and Heart sniffs it. She caresses his ears. They are like the velveteen draperies that hung in the office where Rebecca used to dust at Somewhere Else. I used to watch her rub the velvet between her fingers, just like she is rubbing Heart’s ears.

  Heart looks at her expectantly, wondering what’s next. Rebecca sits beside him and for a moment they look into each other’s eyes, before quickly looking away. She slips her arms lightly around his neck and moves closer to him.

  It’s quiet and all three of us listen to the soft sobbing on the other side of the hedge. We now understand what it’s all about.

  Rebecca and Heart walk through the hedge and stand near the bench where the mother sniffles into her handkerchief. She looks up, startled, sucks in a little breath, and then quiets down, taking it all in.

  All at once, she begins to chatter about ‘worry,’ ‘breakfast,’ and ‘family.’ Rebecca and Heart look at each other. None of us have any idea what she’s talking about. Rebe
cca fingers Heart’s coat, counts purple clover around her feet and covers one ear with her hand while resting the other on Heart’s shoulder.

  In silence, the mother stares. She sees Rebecca’s hand lightly and rhythmically stroking the dog’s neck. I’m sure she’s thinking about how filthy he is; I recognize that look.

  But, maybe that doesn’t matter to Rebecca. What matters to the mother is that Rebecca is touching him, and he is touching her. Rebecca isn’t swaying. I’m not sure the mother understands the importance of that right now, but she does understand something has happened between Rebecca and this creature. Instead of panic and anxiety, Rebecca and Heart are both relaxed and comforted.

  Following a filling breakfast, including a bowl of muesli for Heart, which he kindly shared with me, the mother revises her plan for the day. We all spend the morning on the lawn; Rebecca, Heart, the mother, the father, Cook, Gardener, Butler, and me, the fly on the wall of the garden shed.

  The mother and the father watch Rebecca and Heart play games with dried peas. Rebecca instructs Heart silently with hand signs. The mother is beginning to see that Rebecca isn’t like other children in her play. The father works in the city every day and the mother stays very busy. Rebecca will learn to fit in, they say to each other.

  “Cook says Rebecca is very helpful in the kitchen and likes to shell peas,” the mother says.

  “We’ll need to find her a more suitable task,” answers the father. “She’s an odd child.”

  “Perhaps when she goes to school she’ll adjust.”

  Cook sees the dirty animal lick the back of Rebecca’s hand and hears her strange throaty growl of joy at the tickling sensation. Heart, by now, knows she isn’t growling at him. The unexpected laughter from silent Rebecca makes Cook and me happy.

  Butler spies them snuggling under the lilac bushes. Rebecca gathers the shapes of the clouds in her mind while Heart studies chipmunks and birds.

  Gardener glimpses them running together through his rows of corn and sunflowers hiding and finding each other. Rebecca throws green apples and Heart chases them.

  “We’ll need to buy a ball at the hardware store, won’t we then?” Gardener comments aloud to no one in particular.

  All the grownups watch in amazement that Rebecca, who doesn’t use words, and Heart who doesn’t understand words, communicate so well in quiet, patient ways. It gives me a buzz to watch it, too. As the summer days pass, I notice everyone is quieter. They listen more, and listen in different ways. They begin to pay attention to each other’s feelings, expressed in ways other than words.

  Does Cook look tired walking bent over? Butler seems a bit tense; is something bothering him? Old gardener would never say so, but his arthritis must be bothering him. See how slowly he moves and how he scowls? These are little things that Rebecca and Heart, and flies, would notice naturally. Now the others are beginning to pay attention as they silently watch how Heart quietly enters Rebecca’s strange world.

  Seeing Rebecca and Heart play together reminds everyone of happier, younger days, growing up with friends and dogs. Memories long-forgotten are enjoyed again, and shared as smiles linger on their faces.

  “Did you have a dog when you were a boy?” Cook asks Butler.

  “Had several on our family farm. Sheep dogs. My father worked them and cautioned me not to spoil ‘em. But one, old Eddie, sneaked into the house and slept with me.” Butler chuckles at the memory.

  “Aye,” chuckled Gardener. “Used to throw the sticks just to watch Riley run. My brother called him Big Red, but I called him his name, Riley.” Gardener stands up straighter and stares into the clouds where he probably can see Riley running once more.

  “So fine to have memories, isn’t it?” Cook muses. “It’s good to take time out to talk about them, too.”

  Every day Heart has a large crockery bowl filled with good food waiting for him at breakfast. He has fresh water in his own water basin with a red heart painted on the side. The garbage dump is just a memory for Heart. I’ve been out a few trips myself, but really, there’s so much here at home, it’s hardly worth the extra miles. I’m not getting any younger, you know.

  One morning after breakfast, from under the lilac bushes, Heart watches Cook, Butler, and Gardener fill what appears to be a huge stew pot in the yard. Gardener brings scissors and a tiny rake. Butler carries soap and towels. Cook carries a large bowl of chopped meats and a big ladle. He pants and anxiously looks around for Rebecca.

  Heart can’t imagine what this is all about, but he watches with interest. It seems it might be some kind of summer stew. Surely they’d give him some…and yours truly is also hopeful.

  Heart sits by the hedge waiting for Rebecca to tell him what to do. Before long we see her coming out the door. Why is she wearing rain boots and a rain slicker on this sunny, warm day? Heart cocks his head and studies her strange appearance.

  She comes to him, pats his neck, and gives him a dried pea. She motions for him to follow her. When they get to the big stew pot, she makes a sign. He hears her hand say sit. He sits. She fills the dipper with warm soapy water and pours it slowly over his head and shoulders. Is she making it rain? She pours the water down Heart’s back. It tickles, and his skin ripples. She asks for his foot with a hand motion, and he gives her his foot. She pours water over it and rubs it with soap. Soon he is wet from head to paw and feels the need to shake. Cook, Butler, and Gardener scatter, whooping and chortling. Water sprays across the lawn. I zoom to a high branch out of reach of Heart’s rain.

  Rebecca stands still beside him. The water drips off her slicker. She makes another sign with her hand. Heart looks at her with question in his eyes. I’m questioning, too. It looks like she wants him to…no. we must have misunderstood. Surely she doesn’t mean what it looks like. Rebecca picks up the big bowl of meat pieces and Heart hurries to her side.

  He hears her hand say, ‘Put your paws here, and I’ll give you one of these.’ He puts his front paws on the edge of the stew pot and she gives him a piece of meat. She motions for him to put his feet inside the pot, and he can have another.

  Now, frankly, I’m nervous for our old friend Heart. He isn’t sure he likes this game. Rebecca seems to really want to play and she’s holding the meat, so he decides to try. He gives a little leap over the edge of the stew pot and finds his entire body emerged in warm, soapy water. He panics and tries to get out, but he’s surrounded by Cook, Gardener, Butler, Rebecca, and the bowl of meat. I daresay it looks like Heart is going to be the stew!

  Cook and Butler take turns giving Heart one piece of meat at a time while Rebecca soaps him, scrubs him, and pours water over him. She scratches his back, soaps his feet, and swishes his tail. Heart’s never had so much attention in his life. He stands still, trembling, with his tail tucked between his legs. His wet ears hang limp. His eyes are sad and confused.

  This bath for Heart was Rebecca’s idea. She silently shows Cook what she wants to do. Cook tells the others who volunteer to help her. Rebecca’s never wanted a chore that requires her to work alongside another person. When she and Butler accidentally bump arms, she wants to flee.

  “It’s all fine, Miss Rebecca,” Butler says quietly.

  Rebecca remembers how frightened she’d been when the mother and Cook put her into the warm water and soaped and scrubbed her. She spluttered and struggled and wanted to run away, too. The mother was so frustrated she left the job to Cook who showed Rebecca what they were doing. Rebecca touched the bubbles. Cook blew them into the air and Rebecca stopped crying to watch. One foot at a time, she put herself into the tub, while Cook reassured her, and rewarded her with a peppermint. She didn’t want Heart to be that frightened, so she volunteered to do this job herself.

  So far, Heart doesn’t seem as terrified as she had been, but Rebecca knows his eyes and his stance. Yes, Heart needs her, even a fly can see that.

  And I think Rebecca figures out that Heart needs her. She’s never been needed for anything before. If she didn’t shell
the peas, another girl would. If she didn’t dust the head mistress’s office, someone else would. But she knows she’s the only one who can do this for Heart. And anyone who can see, even if they don’t have as many eyes as I have, can see the truth of that in the expression in Heart’s eyes.

  Heart really seems to like the towel part. He isn’t so happy about the scissors part, but Gardener is quiet and careful while Rebecca pets him and feeds him meat in exchange for his cooperation.

  By lunchtime Rebecca is nearly all wet, and Heart is nearly all dry. She rakes him with the little rake combing his stringy coat. Before too long, his coat is trimmed and brushed free of mats and the wild collections of debris. I wallow in the empty meat bowl, slurping the leftover juices, red with flavor.

  Cook, Gardener, and Butler carry on about what a fine looking DOG Heart has become. Dog? I watch Rebecca pondering that word. Is this the name of the creature? I’ve heard that on my travels, of course, but it’s new to Rebecca. Heart doesn’t look anything like the DOG in her picture book. But, yes, I remember the day we arrived, when Heart surprised everyone. They all shouted about DOG. So, will he now be called Dog instead of Heart? I suppose it won’t matter to Heart what Rebecca calls him, so long as she calls him.

  I gorge myself on the juices in the empty bowl. The mother brings a basket of food to the yard. We all picnic to celebrate Heart’s bath day. I can only nibble on the leftover liquids, I am so full. But I do love a good picnic on the lawn!

  When everyone finishes eating, the mother gives Rebecca a little box with a bow on it. Rebecca thinks it’s a pretty box and bow, so she puts it on the table to look at it. The mother tells her to open the box; the gift is inside the box. As I mentioned, Rebecca hasn’t much worldly experience, and certainly no gift experience.

  She opens the box. Inside is a small red leather belt. It’s definitely too small for Rebecca, even miniature me could see that. She puts it back in the box and puts in on the table to admire it.