Set In Stone

by Balmanno, Beth

  “Which one?” I’d dropped off some things at her gallery a few weeks earlier.

  Geoff sat up straight. “Whoa. Back up. You’re exhibiting your stuff?”

  I started to answer but Dad interrupted. “She didn’t tell you?”

  Geoff shook his head and frowned at me. I’d told him I was taking ceramics—and that I was good—but I hadn’t told him much else. I knew he’d lay into me about it later.

  Dad continued. “Bridget Daniels. You know, from the club? She ran into Val’s teacher from St. John’s. They got to talking and Mrs. Worth mentioned some of the more promising students in her ceramics class, something about an art show coming up that Bridget was helping to arrange. Anyway, Val’s name came up and Bridget decided to come by and take a look at her work. She was so impressed that she offered to exhibit some pieces in her studio.”

  “Wow. That’s great. What are they?”

  I described them, a vase and a serving platter, both a marbled blue, the color I pictured when I thought of Noel’s eyes.

  “Very cool. Sounds like you might have found your calling.”

  Geoff was right. I’d avoided visual art this year and signed up for ceramics instead. The first day of class had been a revelation. A large hunk of clay sat in the center of each table and I immediately sank my hands into it, transforming the shapeless blob into the image that danced in my mind.

  Mrs. Worth noticed. “Valerie, this is lovely.”

  Looking back, it hadn’t been. It was a crude attempt, a simple bust of a man, but she’d seen its potential and encouraged me. I worked on my sculptures whenever I could—at lunch, after school, even—coiling bowls and throwing clay on the wheel, shaping vases and pitchers. But my favorites were the ones I sculpted by hand. I savored the cool, wet earth and the smell of the clay as I rolled it between my palms, molding it and shaping it, uncovering and breathing life into the sculpture hidden within. And as I smoothed and defined that chunk of malleable earth, I felt centered. Connected. Almost complete.

  A movement to my left brought me back to the present. It was Dad; he was motioning to the small pile of wood next to the fire pit. The stack of branches and split logs was pitiful, nearly depleted by our decision to start a fire early.

  “Looks like we’re going to need some more wood,” he said. “You guys up for a walk?”

  Geoff spoke up quickly. I knew what he was thinking. “I’ll go. You can stay here, Val…keep warm.”

  I hesitated for the briefest of moments. I could do it, I told myself. I could revisit that trail in the woods that had led me, crashing and out of control, to the place where it had all begun.

  “Really. I’ll go alone.” He was already standing up and zipping his jacket.

  I forced myself to stand. “No. I’ll go.”

  My dad looked at me. “Is something wrong, Val?” He didn’t know the demons that lurked on the trail.

  “No, nothing’s wrong. We’ll go.”

  I nodded in the direction of the trail. “Come on.”

  It was Geoff’s turn to hesitate. He folded his arms across his chest and started walking.

  His voice was a whisper. “Val--”

  My dad had pulled his Blackeberry out of his pocket. He scrolled through his messages, oblivious to our exchange.

  “I want to.”

  “OK.” Geoff voiced the doubt and uncertainty I was trying so hard to keep at bay.

  He grabbed the canvas log carrier and we set off. Our campsite was closer to the bathrooms this year and Geoff turned toward a new trail, a trail that would hold no bittersweet memories for me.

  I stopped him. “No. I want to go back. Back to where it started.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I want to.”

  Geoff glared at me. “Why? Why do you want to torture yourself with that? With reliving it?”

  He didn’t know the half of it. I touched the wreath looped on the thin, silver chain that encircled my neck. He knew it had been a parting gift from Noel but he didn’t know the power it held, that I could use it to relive every second we’d spent together. No one knew.

  “So I can convince myself it was real. That it really did happen.”

  It was a partial truth. Without the charm, the memory of Noel had started to fade. I could still see him but time was beginning to dull the brilliance of his eyes and the silkiness of his hair; it blurred the edges of his face and the sound of his voice. I was grateful the charm allowed me to sink back into those memories, just as if they were happening here and now but, without its magic, I knew I wouldn’t be able to conjure accurate reflections much longer. And the memory of the discovery itself—my day alone in the woods—was fading. Fast.

  But it was more than that. Geoff didn’t need to know that this walk was also a test, to show myself once again just how strong I was. How strong I had become.

  “See? Torture. Self-inflicted torture.” But he followed me.

  We worked our way down the trail with the wind behind us, tearing through our hair and biting our backs. I stooped to pick up a handful of branches.

  We made it further along the trail this time, to the steep incline that led to the top of the hill and the clearing that waited, that sweeping vista of the valley below that always mesmerized me. The walk had warmed me and I pushed the sleeves of my jacket up to my elbows, letting the icy wind cool my skin.

  “I think we’ve got enough,” Geoff said. The carrier was loaded with branches and logs. “You ready to head back?”

  I didn’t respond. I concentrated on the trail, looking at the slanted path that lay ahead. My heart quickened. I knew we were close, only yards away from the clearing in the wood where I’d first discovered the stone. I’d only been there once and had only my own hazy recollections to go on. Suddenly, I wanted to see if I could pinpoint the place where it had all started. I wondered how good my memory would be, if I could find it on my own or if I had really needed fate to guide me.

  I knew what side of the trail to look on. I scanned the wood, peering beyond the newly leafed trees and blossoming brambles and vines.

  “Val. Let’s go back.” He looped the handled tote over one arm and grabbed my hand. I could feel the callouses on his fingertips. His fingers were warm as they laced with mine, too warm and I pulled away, gently, I hoped.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled and I felt awful. I knew he was only trying to help.

  I didn’t want him to stay with me. I wanted Geoff to run ahead, to leave me like he had the last time.

  He noticed my turtle-like pace and my careful assessment of the trees around me. “What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” His mouth fell open then as shock and disbelief crossed his face. “Are you looking for him? Did you guys plan a…a reunion or something?”

  “No.” The idea made my heart skip a beat. He’d said he wouldn’t come back but I wondered…would he?

  I paused, debating whether or not I should tell him the truth. I forged ahead. “The place where I found the stone is near here. I was just wondering if I would recognize it…if I came across it again. That’s all.”

  He looked doubtful, as if he didn’t quite believe me. “Hmph. Do you? Does anything look familiar?”

  I shook my head. “No, not yet. But I think we’re close.”

  And then I saw it, barely visible through the trees that lined the path, a tiny clearing in the middle of the forest, a cluster of ancient oaks, an outcropping of stones set in a near perfect circle. It was hidden, camouflaged well; no one would notice it, I thought. Unless they’d been there before.

  “There it is.” I stumbled through the brambles, wrenching my leg free as the vines snaked their way, finger-like, around my legs. Geoff followed.

  “Wow.” He ran his hand along one of the boulders. “You found this place? It was set up like this?”

  I nodded.

  “Where was it? Where did you find it?”

&n
bsp; I pointed to the base of the oldest tree, a stately oak gnarled with age, set in the center of the circle of stones. “Right there.”

  I couldn’t stop myself. I had to look. I moved slowly toward the tree, looking for a glimpse of glowing or shimmering light. Seeing nothing, I knelt down at its craggy trunk and searched. My hands trembled as I brushed away layers of dry, crumbling leaves. The leaves became wet, gritty with dirt and pebbles and still I searched, digging further. The hole was there and I plunged my hand inside.

  A warm hand on my forearm stopped me. “Don’t. It’s not here.”

  Tears sprang to my eyes. I knew it wouldn’t be. I knew what I’d done with that stone, doing my best to guarantee that it would never be found again.

  “I know,” I whispered.

  The tears came and Geoff hauled me in to his arms.

  He held me while I cried, his hands rubbing my hair and shoulders, back and forth as if he was trying to physically erase the memories within me.

  “You need to let it go,” he said, his mouth next to my ear. “You need to let him go.”

  My voice was barely audible. “I know. I have. Sort of.”

  He pulled away. “I could help you.” He stared at me hard. “If you’d let me. I could help you forget.”

  I didn’t want to ask how but I did.

  “Like this,” he said and he kissed me. His lips were soft and warm and altogether wrong.

  It was my turn to pull away. “No,” I said, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “No.”

  He stepped back and swore. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just thought…”

  “You thought what?”

  “I don’t know.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I guess I thought if you had someone else to think about, someone else who wanted you…”

  “And you want me?”

  Geoff looked down. His foot dug a hole in the dirt. “Yeah.”

  “Since when?”

  He hesitated before answering. “Since always.”

  My knees wobbled and I sank down to the ground, confused. “Fanchon?”

  He sighed. “She’s my best friend,” he said. “And she’s special. But she’s not you.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said helplessly. I didn’t. They’d loved each other. I remembered that day on the patio, the afternoon we spent researching the best way to break my heart, and the way Fanchon had looked when she spoke of Geoff. I remembered the way Geoff had reacted to Leo’s comments and his frank, appraising assessment of her. He loved her…didn’t he?

  “I’ll always love her,” he said. “But…”

  “But what?”

  “The reason I went to her, the reason we ended up together, was because I couldn’t have you.” He crouched down next to me. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be telling you this here. Now. I don’t want to make this any harder for you than it already is.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I admitted. Geoff wanted me. I couldn’t even consider this.

  He gave me a sad smile. “You don’t have to say anything,” he said. “Just don’t say no. Not yet. I’m willing to wait, Valerie. If you need time…to get over him…I understand. I can wait.”

  “I don’t know if I will,” I told him. It was true.

  “You will,” he insisted. “Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this month or the next, but you will. And I’ll wait.”

  There was nothing I could say so I remained silent.

  Geoff finally spoke. “We should get back.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost six.”

  “You go ahead,” I told him. “I’m going to stay here for a minute.”

  He shot me a warning look. “Valerie.”

  “I know, I know,” I said. “I just want to be by myself here, just for a minute.” He started to argue but I silenced him by saying, “Maybe it will give me some kind of closure…to just be here, you know?”

  “Fine.” He stood up and brushed off the back of his jeans. “Don’t be too long.”

  “I won’t.”

  He left. I watched him disappear through the trees, his red hooded sweatshirt fading from view as he found the trail and headed back to camp. I sighed and leaned against one of the boulders, shifting my weight as I settled into the hard, solid roundness behind me. I closed my eyes and let the forest envelop me. There was no birdsong this day, no small footsteps scurrying about. The only sound was the wind; it interrupted the silence, whistling and howling as it stole through the trees.

  Blindly, I reached for my pendant and pressed it gently to my heart. It chilled my skin, as it always did. Unlike the stone, it never fluctuated between hot and cold. I sifted through my memories as if I was skimming a rack of CDs or a shelf full of books. I found the one I was looking for, the memory I wanted to relive and absorb and focus.

  Noel came into view immediately; his face was close to mine. He moved closer still and his mouth skimmed my chin and the corners of my mouth as he kissed away cinnamon and sugar. And then we were kissing, a magical kiss, the first of many that had been carefully cataloged and revisited again and again..

  It ended and the portal waited patiently, as if it knew I would select another to watch. I didn’t. I compared this kiss, this one seared into my memory, with the one I’d just been given. Noel’s was soft and cool and passionate. Geoff’s was warm, heated with a promise of what might be, if I would let it.

  I dropped the pendant and opened my eyes. I felt something—a presence, a sense that I was no longer alone. I looked for Geoff. Maybe I’d taken too long, I thought; he was probably getting worried. I scanned the circle of boulders and the larger grove of trees surrounding me but saw nothing.

  I closed my eyes again, letting memories wash over me but without the charm this time. I thought of my first visit to the sacred grove I was now visiting. I thought of how the simple discovery I’d made a year ago had changed my life, about the choices I’d been forced to make and the choices that weren’t really choices at all. I thought of the person I was a year ago and the person I was today. I still had my share of miseries—who didn’t?—but, I would concede, there were some aspects of my life that were better. Jess was back and I was closer to my parents, especially my mom, than I had ever been. And I had new friends, Geoff and Fanchon and others who had slowly seeped into my life, who helped sustain me and, I’d admit, made me happy.

  A twig snapped and leaves rustled, the sounds of something—or someone—moving steadily, purposely though the forest and my eyes flew open. I looked around and saw her. A lone deer picked her way through the brush, halfway between the trail and the clearing where I sat. Her ears pricked forward and she stopped, frozen, when she spied me.

  I watched, projecting fear and uncertainty on to her, emotions I was sure she was feeling. I hoped she knew, that she could somehow sense, I was not a threat to her. I sat still, statue-like, and after a few moments of watchful waiting, the deer relaxed. She lowered her head, nibbling at flowers and underbrush, keeping her eyes trained on me.

  I remembered the last deer I saw in the forest, the two young stags that had appeared in Noel and Leo’s place during my last wood foraging trip with Geoff. What were the odds, I wondered, of it happening again? My pulse quickened and I silently berated myself. The park was crawling with deer; sitting silent and alone in the middle of the forest was a near-guarantee of an encounter with one. There was no magic involved, no sign from a mystical, mythical world. It was just a deer.

  She ventured closer, head down, until she she stood just a few feet away. I could reach out and touch her if I wanted to, stroke that soft, russet coat with my fingers. But I didn’t. I caressed her with my eyes, absorbing the beauty of her velvety black nose, delicately ringed with white and brown fur and her eyes, heavily lashed and large, a stunning, brilliant blue.

  I forgot to breathe. Blue? I shut my eyes tight and gave a quick shake of my head, erasing the image like an Etch-A-Sketch. When I reopened them, the deer was gone.

  “I mu
st be losing my mind,” I muttered under my breath.

  I needed to go. I stood up and brushed off the bits of dried leaves that clung to my jeans. I had done it. I had come back to this place, the start of everything, and relived it. A memory of mine, one that belonged only to me. I stole a quick glance at the cell phone I’d tucked into my pocket. Geoff had left ten minutes earlier; with any luck, I would make it back down the trail just in time for dinner.

  I squeezed through the opening between two of the large boulders, scanning the wood for the easiest way back to the trail. I turned in the right direction and froze. I wasn’t alone. A boy leaned against a tree, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans. His hair, black as midnight, hung across his forehead.

  “Noel?” I tried to say his name but nothing came out, no sound at all.

  He watched me, making no move to come closer.

  I tried again. “Noel?”

  His face softened and he smiled and I thought my heart might burst.

  For the second time in that clearing, I sank to the ground. “You came back.”

  Before I could blink, he was next to me, crouched close but not touching me.

  “You came back.” I reached out my hand, gripping the thin fabric of his white t-shirt. He was real, not just a figment of my imagination.

  His hand covered mine and he leaned close. I breathed him in, all of him, and it was just like the memories stored in the charm he’d given me.

  “Why?” I asked. He’d always said he would never come back. Ever.

  His expression was guarded. “Because you’re strong enough now.” He kept his hand on mine, his fingers cool and soft.

  “Strong enough for what?”

  “To choose.”

  I shook my head, confused. My head was spinning. “Choose what? I don’t understand.”

  “To stay or come with me.”

  My mouth dropped open. He had come back to bring me with him?

  “You weren’t strong enough before,” he told me, his voice as soft as the fingers tracing my palm. “You couldn’t see all of the things here, waiting for you if you’d just give them a chance. But you do now. And you can decide.”

  I reached out for something to hold on to. My fingers encountered dampened soil and I dug in desperately. “But…” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from him. He was real and he was here. With me.