Remembrance

by Jude Deveraux

  As for the children quarreling, it wasn’t so much that they got angry but they teased each other mercilessly. They competed with each other constantly. There was no feeling that Talis could do something because he was a boy or that Callie did things because she was a girl. They challenged each other to see who could climb the highest in a tree, and to Meg’s horror, Callie would follow the much stronger Talis anywhere.

  Meg would never forget the time two years ago when Will had taken Talis with him to the market for the first time. Neither of the adults thought much of it at the time. Will needed help and Talis was big enough to give him help, while Callie, being so tiny and a girl, would just be in the way.

  Talis had been so excited about getting to go to the village, he’d talked about it for days. Callie had realized from the first that she wasn’t going to go but she’d said nothing. On the morning he was to go, Meg hadn’t had to wake Talis, and that was unusual since he was a sleepyhead. He got dressed quickly, wolfed his breakfast and when Meg told him to get on the wagon, he ran to the door. Then, abruptly, he halted and turning back, frowning, he said impatiently, “Come on, Callie, it’s time to go!”

  It was Will who told him that Callie was too little to go with them.

  Meg would never forget the look on Talis’s handsome face. He was stunned; it had never occurred to him that Callie would not go with them. She doubted if he’d ever contemplated doing anything without Callie. They slept in the same bed and spent every minute of every day together. As far as she knew, they had never been apart for more than minutes since they were born.

  Silently, with what Meg knew was a false show of bravery, Talis followed Will out the door and got on the wagon seat beside him. He didn’t once look back at Callie, standing in front of the house, staring after him with big, lonely eyes.

  Meg and Will had talked about this and decided it would be “good” for the children to be apart now and then. It would prepare them for what life had in store.

  But what could prepare the adults for the devastation of two children who they loved so very much?

  All that day Meg had tried to interest Callie in what she was doing. But Callie just sat down on the grass in front of the house and stared at the road. Usually, Callie was very conscientious about her animals, as taking care of the rabbits was her job, but that day she paid no attention when Meg told her the rabbits were hungry.

  Meg tried to get some response from her, but there was nothing. Callie just sat there, her knees drawn up, her arms wrapped around them, and stared at the empty road. Meg even tried to get her to come inside to help her cook something special for Talis, but even that got no response.

  After a while Meg couldn’t stand it anymore so she picked the tiny child up, planning to take her inside the house. Never in her life had Meg seen anyone fight as Callie fought. Callie was usually the sweetest child, but when Meg touched her that day she turned into a raging animal. She stiffened her little body and her hands began to scratch and claw; her feet kicked painfully.

  Quickly, Meg put her back down to allow her to continue her silent vigil. By midmorning, Meg gave up trying to interest Callie in anything, so she moved her chair outside and shelled beans while watching the little girl, her heart aching at the emptiness she saw on the child’s face.

  Then, in the early afternoon, abruptly, Callie’s head came up, her ears perking up as though she were a dog listening for something. Meg looked up and down the road that ran before the old farmhouse but saw nothing. Callie sat up straighter, listened more, then, with an agile movement, she was on her feet and running.

  Meg tossed down the beans and ran after her but wasn’t able to keep up with the eight-year-old child. She was worried that in the state Callie was in she would run in front of a wagon and be hurt.

  Meg reached the crossroads and there was tiny Callie standing in the dusty road, turning about, round and round, as though she were demented. Meg went to her, knelt down and tried to hold her in her arms. “Callie, love, Talis will be back soon. You’ll see. He’ll be back very soon and he’ll be all right.”

  There was a wild look in Callie’s eyes. “He can’t find me. He can’t find me. He’s looking for me. He can’t find me. He’s looking for me. He can’t find me. He can’t—”

  Clasping the child to her bosom was the only way to stop her frantic cries, to keep her arms from flailing about in a crazy way. Meg’s first thought was to get the girl home and into bed. She wanted to reassure her that Talis was safe with Will and he couldn’t be lost, but then Meg’s heart lurched as she thought, What if Callie is right? What if Talis ran off from Will in the village and had tried to get home? For all that Talis looked half-grown, he was only eight years old and he’d never been to the village before. And if he were anything like Callie was now, he wouldn’t have his senses about him to find his way back home.

  Right now they were standing at a crossroads of six lanes. It was confusing to an adult, much more so to a child who was frantically trying to get home.

  Meg stood up and took Callie’s shoulders in her hands. “Listen to me, Callie. You must pay attention. I want you to go down that road there and shout with all your might for Talis. Don’t go too far. I don’t want to lose you too. Do you understand?”

  When the girl’s eyes continued to have a glazed look, as though fear was overcoming her reason, Meg gave her a little shake. “Yes,” Callie said.

  “If you see anyone on the road, tell them what Talis looks like and ask if they have seen him. Ask—”

  “Like a magic prince,” Callie whispered. “He looks like a magic prince.”

  “Yes, well, perhaps you’d better tell them he is so high and has black hair and is wearing a green leather jerkin and no doubt has that dreadful sword with him. Can you do that?”

  Callie nodded and Meg was sure Callie could and would do anything for her beloved Talis.

  They shouted and described Talis to people for two hours, then Will came tearing down the road from the village, whipping the old horse into a lather. Will’s face was ashen. “He disappeared,” he told Meg, not in the least surprised that she and Callie were standing in the middle of the crossroads a mile and a half from their house.

  Callie’s eyes were so big with fear they threatened to consume her face. She had eaten nothing all day and she was shaking with fatigue, but she would not so much as touch the water Meg tried to get her to drink. “Talis is thirsty,” was all the child would say.

  After another hour of searching, with the two adults afraid to get out of sight of her, Callie sat down by the side of the road and said in a very adult voice, “I am going to call him to me.”

  “Yes, of course. You must keep calling. Maybe he will yet hear you,” Meg said, trying her best to keep panic from her voice and from her mind. Will had taken the wagon and traveled all six roads for at least a mile, then returned to report that he had seen nothing, nor had anyone he talked to seen a boy like Talis.

  Callie sat in the grass by the side of the road under some trees, pulled her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and put her head on her arms.

  “She is resting,” Will said to his wife. “Good.”

  But Meg knew that Callie would not rest as long as Talis was lost so she went to the child and knelt by her, listening. Softly, barely audible, Callie was saying, “Come to me. I am here. You must come to me. Follow my voice. Listen to me. Come to me. Come to me. Come to me.”

  When Meg stood up she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. “She is praying,” she said to Will when he looked at her in question, but Meg knew that Callie wasn’t praying. Meg had no doubt whatever that Callie was “talking” to Talis—and what is more, she was sure that Talis would “hear” her.

  With absolute certainty that she was doing the right thing, Meg quit running down the roads and shouting. She sat a few feet behind Callie, nearly hidden under the trees so as not to disturb her, and waited. Will said something about continuing to look for Talis,
but Meg waved him on. She wanted to be here when Talis came back to Callie.

  It seemed like forever but it was actually less than an hour, just before sunset, when there was a sound in the bushes on the far side of the road.

  Callie’s head came up but Meg knew it couldn’t be Talis or Callie would be running to him. Callie just sat there, looking at the sound with unblinking intensity. To Meg’s surprise, within a moment Talis appeared.

  Meg wanted to run to him, to snatch him into her arms and hold him tight enough to crack his ribs, but she forced herself to stay where she was. Never before had she realized how much these children belonged to no adult; they belonged to each other alone.

  Slowly, as though she were an adult, Callie lowered her legs and held out her arms to Talis as he came limping across the dirt road. He was filthy, with dried blood on his face from a bloody nose, his trousers torn at the knee, and Meg could see that he’d scraped his knee rather badly. He was missing a shoe and it looked as though his foot were cut. There were streaks of long-dried tears running down his dirty cheeks. Whatever he had been through today had been an ordeal.

  Slowly, obviously in pain from his foot and his knee, he limped toward Callie, not even seeing Meg sitting in the shade of the trees. When he reached Callie he collapsed onto her, his arms going around her neck, his body falling against her. He weighed quite a bit more than Callie did, but the girl’s little body was as solid as a rock as she supported him with surprising strength.

  In as adult a way as could be, Callie maneuvered Talis until his head was in her lap, then she crossed his arms about his chest and held both his hands in hers, her other hand stroking his dirty hair.

  Softly, Talis began to cry. “I couldn’t find you. You were lost to me. I looked everywhere.”

  “Yes,” Callie whispered.

  “I kept hearing you call me.”

  “I wouldn’t let you get lost. You are mine. You are me.”

  “Yes,” Talis whispered, the tears still flowing down his cheeks, his chest heaving while Callie clung to his hands, her fingers intertwining with his, caressing his fingertips with her own.

  There were tears running down Meg’s cheeks too. Talis was a very, very proud boy and nothing on earth could make him cry. Will had given him three lashes with a belt a few months ago when he’d left the henhouse door open and a fox had eaten four chickens, but Talis hadn’t shed a tear at the pain. When he was four he had fallen out of a tree and twisted his arm badly but he hadn’t cried then. Even when he was just a year old and he’d been chased by a dog bigger than he was, he hadn’t cried. As soon as he was old enough to talk, he’d said, “Boys do not cry.”

  But now he was lying in Callie’s lap and crying until Meg thought her heart would break.

  Callie reached behind her head and pulled her fat blonde braid to the front and unfastened the leather thong that tied the bottom of it. Callie was not what one would call pretty. She was plain, with no outstanding features, with her pale eyes and pale lashes, her pale pink lips. Next to Talis’s nearly flamboyant good looks she was insignificant. But Callie did have one exceptional feature: She had beautiful hair. It wasn’t thin like most blonde hair but thick and gorgeous, the color of honey, with great streaks of lighter and darker hair running through it. Nearly everyone who saw Callie, not able to comment on her looks, mentioned her hair.

  Now, Callie unfastened her braid, ran her hands through her hair to spread it into one luxurious blanket of softness, then began to wipe away Talis’s tears, to stroke his face with the richness of her hair.

  As Meg watched them, she was embarrassed. She should not be seeing this; no one should be seeing such an intimate thing between two people. At this moment she could not think of these people as children, could not think of them as only eight years old. What Callie was doing was as ancient as love itself, and if Meg had known the word, she would have called it erotic. For that’s what Callie’s actions were, as erotic as what any woman had ever done for any man.

  While Callie stroked his face with her hair, she began to talk to him very, very softly, and as always, Meg wondered what Callie was saying. She had many times speculated about what Callie talked to Talis about, but the children kept their secrets and never let anyone know what went on between them. She had seen Talis stretch out under a tree and listen, without moving, to Callie talk for an hour at a time. But no matter how often Meg asked, they would never tell her what they were talking about. She’d tried to get Will to find out, as Meg knew that Callie talked to Talis on their trips back from the market, but Will had no curiosity. “They talk of all things that children do: ghosts and witches and dragons. What matter is it to me?”

  But Meg knew there was more that passed between them than what went on between ordinary children. Sometimes she thought Will forgot that the children were the product of lords and ladies. Sometimes she thought he cared only about getting the work done on the farm. It never occurred to her that the safety of the children might someday depend on their being “ordinary” and looking like a farmer’s children.

  That day, Meg leaned forward to try to hear what Callie was saying because it seemed to soothe Talis until his body began to relax, but just as she was beginning to hear a word or two, Will burst upon them with a great shout of anger.

  “I have been tearing the country apart looking for you, boy. You should not have run away from me!” Will shouted. “Callie, get your hair out of his face so he can hear me. Talis! Do you know how much trouble you have caused all of us?”

  Meg knew her husband well, and she could feel how frightened he was at the possibility of losing the boy he’d come to love so much. She knew he planned to punish Talis for running away, but she was not going to allow it.

  Coming out of the darkness of the trees, Meg stepped forward. “Will,” she said sternly, her back to the children. “I think Talis has had enough for one day. He is hurt and we are all hungry.” Her eyes said more than her words. She was a good wife and a mild-mannered woman. She agreed with Will when he said he had to punish Talis when he left the henhouse door open, but he could see that she was going to fight him over this.

  When Meg put her back up, she was stronger than anyone, a fact that Will did not like to look into too closely. He was too relieved at seeing Talis safe to want more trouble. Best to put this day behind them.

  “Yes,” he said, “I can see that the boy needs care.” He said no more but bent and swooped the big boy into his arms, and when Talis protested, saying in his best grown-up voice that he could walk, Will ignored him and carried him to the wagon.

  Once the children and she were in the back of the wagon, Meg sat to one side and in a moment it was as though they turned back into children. Blinking as though they had awakened from a dream, they fell upon her, burying their dirty faces in her soft bosom, both wanting her motherly comfort.

  Neither Meg nor Will ever discussed what had happened that day, but never again did they try to separate the children.

  18

  Meg!” Will said for the fourth time, snapping her out of her reverie. “Is there any supper for a hungry man?”

  “Yes, of course,” she answered, stepping away from the children’s laughing and clutching. “Come inside and tell me of your day. Was the market good today? What did you see?”

  Later, after supper, when she and Will were in bed together, Meg asked him, as she often did, what the children had been talking about while he drove home. Will said he had no idea and turned away to get some sleep. But Meg kept pestering him. “When we’re near it’s Talis who talks. He’s not got a shy bone in his body; never met a stranger. But Callie rarely says a word.”

  “At least one woman knows how to keep her mouth shut,” he muttered, glancing at her over his shoulder.

  Meg didn’t take the hint. “But when the children are alone together, it’s Callie who talks and Talis who listens. She’ll talk for hours at a time and he’ll never say a word. When I arrive, she stops talking.”

&nb
sp; Will could hear the hurt in Meg’s voice and knew how it upset her that there could be anything going on with “her” children that she was not a part of. Reaching behind him, he squeezed her hand. “You’ll find out. I’ve no doubt that you will find out soon.”

  “I mean to,” she said and turned over, snuggling her backside into the comfortable and very familiar position against him.

  It had been raining for three days now and Will hadn’t been able to get much work done. It was winter so he didn’t mind. He said that a man worked all summer and needed to rest in the winter, which for him meant sitting before the fire, harness in his lap so he looked as though he were working, and sleeping.

  Meg sat across from him, her knitting in her lap; the children were sitting on the floor, staring into the flames and saying nothing. Meg, industrious as ever, noticed that Talis was whispering to Callie, but she kept shaking her head and glancing meaningfully over her shoulder at Meg.

  Curious, Meg thought perhaps there was a way for her to find out what the children talked about. Slowly, so she wouldn’t look too suspicious, she let her knitting fall slack in her lap and her eyelids gradually close.

  Within minutes, she was rewarded with a loud whisper from Talis. “She is asleep. Go on, look at her.”

  Meg could hear Callie tiptoe across the brick floor, her soft leather shoes making a shushing noise. When she was very close, Meg let her knitting drop to the floor, her head fall back and her mouth open as she emitted a short, loud snore. She was rewarded for her acting with a giggle from Callie.

  “See,” Talis said in a normal voice. “I told you she was asleep. And you know how nothing can wake them once they’re asleep. We’ve proven that often enough.”

  Meg almost opened her eyes and asked him just what he had done to “prove” that she and Will could not be wakened once they were asleep. But now she was after bigger fish. Opening her eyes just the tiniest crack, she could see the children in the bright light of the fire.