A willing and diligent student who studied hard and long, Aidos’ education was not something separate from life. Aidos loved books, but she loved life more. Books were interesting, study was useful; but life was to be lived, not formulated. Hardy thought it often took a person a lifetime to learn such an important lesson, and to apply it, well, perhaps two lifetimes. With the help of his daughter, Hardy Thoreson believed he was on his second time around.
4
Discoveries
About a mile and a half from Camelot, on the other side of the main highway, stood Pinecrest High. Her bow and quiver of arrows on her back, Aidos liked to hike with Beowulf to a hill that overlooked the school after her morning studies and chores.
Never in a hurry, she typically stopped along the way to browse among the plant and animal kingdoms, and to practice shooting arrows at targets she had drawn on dead trees, or at pinecones she set upon boulders or fallen logs; all at which she was very adept. Aidos became interested in archery when she was a little girl, inspired by the romantic novels that her father read to her. She began with a toy set that she received on her fifth birthday, and then year by year she graduated to higher quality bows and arrows. The equipment was one of the few things she ever asked her father to purchase for her.
Aidos also shouldered a small daypack in which she carried a notebook and pen, a magnifying glass and binoculars, an army surplus combat knife, perhaps a book of poetry or a novel she was currently reading, a sandwich and bottle of water, or whatever else she thought might come in handy.
Once she arrived at her destination, Aidos would sit underneath a tremendous pine tree with Beowulf at her side to observe the students play whatever sport was in season at the time. If the students were in class she would read, sketch, write, or simply sit reposed in the cool shade of the towering pine like an elfin Buddha. When the school bell rang, heralding the change of classes or the end of the day when baseball or football practice would begin, she would pick up her binoculars and look on with interest.
Aidos had been spying on Pinecrest High youths for the past six years, ever since she stumbled upon the school while on a plant-collecting expedition with Beowulf. She looked upon the high school with the curiosity of a native who had just discovered her first settlement.
Invisible to the alien world below, she enjoyed observing the students from her hilltop hideaway. From her spot under the towering pine tree she could discern their plots and intrigues and trace their eventual outcomes before they were actually set into play. She knew all the students’ names, who were friends and who were rivals, the strong and the weak, the popular and the unpopular, the bright and the not-so-bright. The kids never knew they were being watched, nor that they were often modeling for her sketchbook. Their spirit and laughter entertained Aidos, though now and then she thought they behaved a little cruelly towards one another. She sometimes wished to be their playmate and friend, but not enough to give up her anonymity.
The closest she came to actual contact with any of the youths was when she and her father would go into town for supplies. She eyed them hanging out at the shopping plaza, or the Dairy Queen, or roving the streets as merry bands of mischief-making. The girl was such an infrequent visitor to town that if the youths noticed her at all they assumed she was just another tourist passing through.
After a lengthy ramble in the woods with Beowulf, Aidos again headed towards her spot on the hill overlooking the school. When she arrived drops of rain began to fall, but she kept dry beneath her lofty pine. Because the kids were still in class, she pulled a book from her daypack and started to read. Beowulf nuzzled up beside her, his large furry head resting on her lap. It wasn’t long, however, before the whispering breeze, the gentle tapping of the raindrops, and the sweet fragrance of the forest floor blended into a soothing elixir that lured her to sleep. Aidos lounged on Nature’s lap as Beowulf’s head did on her own.
The potion was a strong one. Her sleep was so deep that she didn’t hear the youths return to the playing field, or the riotous game of baseball that was soon underway. Perhaps the racket of the players was too familiar to be noticed, or maybe her muses had dispatched her to some far-off place or time so that she remained only in body. Regardless, Aidos and the youths were oblivious to one another .
Just as the bell signaled the end of the period, a batter smacked the ball over the heads of the outfielders. The players gathered up their gloves and bats and headed for the locker room. Only the outfielder remained behind. He had to retrieve the ball that had rolled all the way to the base of the hill.
The shaggy-haired youth named Maxwell Stormer jogged up and snapped his mitt around the ball. As he turned, he glimpsed a movement on the hilltop. Beowulf had left Aidos’ side to rummage beside a nearby bush. The youth scrambled a short way up the hill, and stood on a large rock. He squinted for a better look and saw a second figure.
A glance towards the playing field informed Aidos that she had slept through the last class of the day. She stood, stretched, whistled for her dog, and disappeared into the woods.
5
Ancient One
When Aidos arrived home she found her father busy at his laptop. She set her daypack down on top of her desk and walked over behind him. She glanced at his screen as she rubbed his shoulders.
“A letter to Nancy,” she said. “That’s nice. You haven’t written to her for a while.”
“I know. But we got this today…” He handed her an envelope over his shoulder and she took it with her teeth. “She wants to come visit in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh good!”
“So I’m writing to tell her not to bother,” he added.
Aidos pulled her hands away. “Now, Dad, that’s not very nice. She’s your sister. Besides, I’d like to see her. I like Nancy.”
Hardy grunted. “Doesn’t she get on your nerves, even a little bit?”
Aidos walked to her desk and sat down. “If anything bothers me, it’s the childish way you both get when you’re together.”
“I get?” he said. “How can you say that? You remember how she did nothing but complain the entire weekend long the last time she was here.” He mimicked his sister. “‘What, no microwave? What, no TV? What, no Internet? Beans and rice, beans and rice. Is that all you eat! This isn’t China…’”
Aidos laughed. “I like the way your nose pinches when you do that.”
“That’s how she talks, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Dad, you do a great Nancy, only you should flick your wrist like this when you do it—” Aidos demonstrated, tossing her head to one side and pointing a limp wrist to the other.
Hardy tried again, with wrist. “‘Beans and rice, beans and rice…’”
“That’s it, Dad,” Aidos laughed, “but see what I mean, she’s not even here and you’re acting like a little kid.”
“Yeah, well, who can help it? She brings the worst out in me.”
“I can. And I’m a kid.”
“No, you’re not. You were born an ancient one. Besides, you don’t know her like I do. She’s going to try to convince me to let you stay with her for the summer. Why else would she want to bring that bore of a husband up here with her?”
“Ed’s coming too? Great!”
“Are you out of your gourd? Alone each is a headache, but together they are a migraine.”
“They’re not so bad.”
“Seriously,” he said. “What do you think about them wanting to drag you off your mountain for the summer?”
“I don’t think anything about it. You know how much I like it here in summer—swimming, hiking, camping. What could possibly be better than that?”
“You’ve never been to the ocean. You’d love it. And they live only a block from the beach.”
“So, the sea isn’t going anywhere. I’ll wait until you take me.”
“How about the huge malls and endless shopping?”
“Pinecrest has a mall,” Aidos rejoined.
Hardy laug
hed. “Honey, that’s not a mall, that’s a flea market compared to what’s down there.”
“Okay, but I don’t like shopping anyway. It’s boring. Besides, there isn’t anything I want to buy, and don’t have any money if I did.”
“Oh, I guarantee you that there would be a lot of things you’d like to buy. And as for money, Ed and Nancy have plenty, and they would love nothing better than to spoil you with it.”
“Really?”
“Of course. And how about the amusement parks? What’s a childhood like without ever having been to Disneyland and having your picture taken with Goofy?”
Aidos shrugged. “I have a picture with you, and you’re pretty goofy. And besides, what could be more amusing than a hike with Beowulf?”
Upon hearing his name, Beowulf, who was curled up on the rug in front of the fireplace, got up and walked over to Aidos, tail wagging, ready for anything.
“Sorry, boy,” she said, giving him a scratch behind the ear. “We’re just talking. Go back to your doggy thoughts.”
The dog returned to the rug, circled it once, and then plopped down with a grunt.
“He’s beat,” Hardy said. “What were you doing all afternoon?”
“Oh, we went all over the place. Lake Gilgamesh, Plato’s Cave, over to Stonehenge Creek, and then we ended up at Buddha Tree where I napped for a while.”
“The high school? You’ve been going there a lot lately. Any reason in particular?” he asked.
“It’s fun.”
“I see…”
Aidos cocked her head. “Is something the matter, Dad?”
Hardy looked across his desk at his daughter and felt undone. Her crystal gray eyes seemed to be decoding his very essence. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands behind his head.
“No,” he lied, certain that she could decipher the guilt which laced the single syllable.
Aidos rose from her desk and pulled back her hair, still damp from the rain. She walked over to the window and looked out into the drizzle. She traced the path of a raindrop with her pinky as it slid down the glass outside.
“Hey,” she said suddenly, turning to him, smiling brightly. “Do you want to eat outside tonight? I’ll cook spaghetti.”
Her smile was such that no matter what her father might have been thinking at the time, he could not resist smiling himself. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he said, “it’s raining.”
“But it won’t be in another hour.”
“How can you tell?” He knew she was never wrong about such things.
“The signs are everywhere,” she answered. “I can see them, smell them, taste them—feel them. Can’t you?”
“No.”
“Hmm…” Aidos shrugged. “Well, what do you say? Even though it is your turn to cook.”
“I say it’s a good idea. If it stops raining.”
“What do you want to bet?” she said, strolling into the kitchen to begin her preparations.
“A week’s dishes?”
“You’re on!” she called back.
Hardy Thoreson chuckled to himself and returned to his laptop. He deleted what he had written, and started again. He read aloud as he typed so that Aidos could hear him. “Dear Nancy, all of Camelot awaits your arrival. Love, Hardy. PS, tell Ed to leave the television at home.”
6
A Bantam Book Worm
Aside from her father and Beowulf, Aidos had only one other friend. She met Ms. Winters at the Pinecrest library where Hardy occasionally went to do research for the book or articles he was writing.
On that day, knowing her father would be busy for a couple of hours, eight-year-old Aidos made herself comfortable examining the stack of books she had selected from the shelves. Ms. Winters, the librarian, was a tall, frail-looking woman with paper white hair cropped above her ears. Her face was long and narrow with loose, fleshy skin. She wore baby blue polyester slacks, a brightly dappled blouse, and tennis shoes.
“Dear,” said the woman, her voice deep and hoarse, “do you plan on checking these books out?”
Aidos looked up, smiled, and shook her head no. Thick strands of her hair fell along the sides of her face to her lap.
The librarian considered the little girl, who was dwarfed by the huge table, bulky chair, and mountain of books. That Aidos was wearing one of her father’s flannel work shirts made her appear even more pixie-like.
“Do you have a library card?” the woman asked.
Aidos shook her head no.
“I see… Do you live in Pinecrest?”
Again she shook her head no.
“Then I take it you’re here with your mother?”
No.
“What’s your name child?” she asked, trying to mask her irritation.
“Aidos.”
“May I ask who you are here with?”
“My dad.”
“I see… Aidos, that’s an interesting name. I’ve never met anyone with that name before.”
“I’ve never met a Ms. Winters before either.”
The old woman chuckled. “Oh, it’s tiresomely common, my dear.”
“Still.”
“How do you know my name anyway? We haven’t met before, have we?”
“I saw it on your desk.”
“Yes, of course.” Strange child, she thought. “You don’t plan on reading all of these books today, do you?”
“I couldn’t possibly read all of them today. I just want to leaf through them while I wait for my dad.”
Uncertain whether the girl was being cheeky, the librarian thought she would give her another chance to show some respect. “If you like, I can make you a library card. Then you could keep them for two weeks. Would you like that?”
“No, thank you.”
“No? Why not?”
“Because I don’t come into town that often.”
“How far away do you live?”
“Not far.”
“I don’t understand. The elementary school is only a short walk away. Surely you could stop here to drop them off on your way home from school.”
“I don’t go to school.”
“You attend school in Stillwoods, is that it? Well, we could arrange—”
“No, Ms. Winters. I don’t go to school.”
“Well, of course you do,” insisted the librarian, throwing back her bony shoulders. She flashed a nervous, scrutinizing smile, revealing two rows of yellow tombstones.
“Ms. Winters,” the girl repeated patiently, “I do not attend school now, nor have I ever done so.”
“Well, I’m sorry, you cannot have these books.”
“I never asked for them.” There was no sarcasm in her voice, which only confused the woman more.
“Yes, well… Where’s your father?”
“Downstairs.”
The girl went back to the book she had been skimming, a pictorial history of classical western art. She turned the page revealing a full-length picture of Michelangelo’s David. She trained her attention on the masterpiece, picked up her pencil, and began to sketch the figure into her notebook.
Feeling spurned and self-conscious, the librarian casually backed away from the table. She glanced at the stack of books that the girl had chosen for herself and was astonished by her selection. It included, among others, books by or about the American thinkers Ralph Waldo Emerson, Henry David Thoreau, and the poet, Walt Whitman; psychologists William James and Victor Frankl; history books by Alexis de Tocqueville, Will and Ariel Durant, and Winston Churchill; and a book on insects, and another on plants. The librarian sized up the odd little girl one more time, and returned to her desk.
7
Romeo and Julie
A few days later, Ms. Winters found herself tiptoeing across a stretch of jellied mud to the steps of a modest cabin. She raised her hand to knock on the door and heard a voice from behind the back of the house. The old woman stepped down from the porch, and hugging the higher and drier ground that encompassed the cabin’
s perimeter, made her way to the rear of the cabin. She saw no one, but the voice was louder now. Ms. Winters followed a path that led thirty yards through the woods and came upon the child, Aidos, book in hand, standing upon a tree stump being beseeched by a full-grown man.
“With love’s light wings,” he read with melodramatic fervor, “did I o’erperch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out, and what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.”
“If they do see thee,” Aidos read, “they will murder thee.”
“Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords!” He gave an exuberant sweep of his arm and the book flew from his hand, sailed through the air, and smacked the butt of an unsuspecting Beowulf who was busy unearthing a nearby bush. Father and daughter burst into laughter.
Aidos said, “Way to go, Romeo.”
“Guess I got a little carried away…”
Ms. Winters stepped from behind a tree and spoke the next lines. Her voice was nearly as deep as Mr. Thoreson’s.
“Look thou but sweet,” she recited, “and I am proff against their enmity.” Seeing the girl’s surprise, she smiled and without batting a lash, pointed towards the book Aidos was holding, prompting her to continue.
“I would not for the world they saw thee here,” she read.
“I have night’s cloak to hide me from their eyes; and but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.”
“By whose direction found’st thou out this place?” Aidos read, her eyebrows arched, pleased at the irony.
Stormer’s Pass: Aidos Trilogy: Book 1 Page 3