by M. Woodruff
One minute Nels was in the woods, the next minute he was staring at an open field with tall yellow grasses, sloping hills and valleys, and a crystal clear blue lake that could only be inhabited by precious gems, such was its sparkling beauty. The open sky overhead only added to the release of the overwhelming heaviness that Nels hadn’t realized he’d been carrying until that moment. He felt the joy and freedom of relief from the mire he had been trudging in this day.
Spirits buoyed, he ran into the fresh sunshine, frolicking like a young maiden out on her first secret rendezvous. Skipping straight for the lake, Nels was sure he looked ridiculous, but in his exuberance he didn’t care. Life was his again, to be lived!
Forgetting about spooky forests, and spookier old men, Nels squatted down to scoop up some of the clear water with his hands. He could see to the bottom and it was unusual that instead of being lined with mud, the lake was lined with white stone squares. The water was so clear he even noticed steps leading down from the other side. Not natural this, then. Undaunted, he stuck his tongue in the water he held in his hands, just to be sure, then plunged his whole head into the most wondrous water he’d ever seen in his life.
2
Shaking the water from his face and hair, Nels felt renewed. The water drops on his eyelids were like diamonds glistening in the sun. He felt different. It was as if all the years had dropped from him in an instant and he was a young man again, with a young man’s choices and dreams.
Looking around, Nels froze.
Standing behind him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She was wearing a simple brown linen dress that matched her mischievous brown eyes. Her hair was light brown and piled on her head loosely in a bun with fallen wisps blowing gently in the breeze. Like butterfly wings, Nels thought, then stopped himself. Darn fool.
“I see you found my pool,” she spoke, with the most melodious voice Nels had ever heard. It was even more graceful than the harp he once heard played during Parker’s Town’s “Summer in the Shade” concert. Mistress Parker had thought to bring some much-needed culture to the town by responding positively to the engraved invitation sent by The Kingdom Musical Company, declaiming they were traveling the world to enlighten all citizens to the sophistication of musical instruments played together, for a token fee. Mistress Parker had had the town especially decorated with lavender ribbons and bows; lanterns were hung for ambience, a stage was erected, and a lavish banquet was prepared. Thanks to Mistress Parker, the town was ready to receive the genteel of society appropriately. It turned out the musical company was actually just a band of brigands looking for a good time. Nels still thought the wizened old elder played the harp with aplomb. Even with several fingers missing, he still had the whole town in tears, right alongside Mistress Parker.
Nels stood up and found he was slightly bowing before stopping himself. What was wrong with him! Stifling a curse at his own wood-headedness, he replied, “Yes, I did. Thank you. I must apologize, though. I didn’t mean to trespass on your hospitality.”
“No, no, think nothing of it. I’m delighted you’re here. My name is Casandra.”
“Uh, Nels.”
“Welcome, Nels. Please make yourself at home and enjoy all the water you would like,” Cassandra said, smiling, fiddling with the top of a grass stem.
Nels found himself smiling in turn—just standing and smiling for a good thirty seconds too long.
“Uh, yes, thank you. But, uh, well, do you mind telling me where I’m at?” Nels was going to grin pleasantly, to hide his embarrassment, but realized he had never stopped grinning. He wasn’t completely sure how he’d gotten here, but now that he was, it was just fine with him.
Casandra gave him a quizzical look, but said, “You’re at my farm. I live just over the hill there. You can come with me to my house and we’ll fix you some proper food, if you’re hungry.”
“We?” Nels queried, feeling his gut sinking.
“My parents and I. I live with my folks. It’s just us three; I don’t have any brothers or sisters. They’re farmers, well I suppose I should say I’m a farmer too, but even though I do the work, I don’t really consider myself one, you know?”
“Oh yes, yes. I know, I know,” Nels said, feeling ebullient again.
“Follow me, then!”
Nels followed.
Casandra’s farm was a solidly built stone structure. It had been whitewashed recently and stood out from the yellow grasses in a way that reminded Nels of a daisy—like living in the perfect summer flower. It was a one-story dwelling that was rather long, but simple in design with a barn made of the same whitewashed stone placed diagonally behind. He didn’t notice any fences, which was unusual, especially around the barn, most people liked to hedge their property in. There was one tree in all of this open splendor to the left of the house, it wasn’t that tall, but it was full and appeared to be growing some type of fruit Nels wasn’t familiar with.
“Is that tree growing fruit? I don’t recognize it.”
“You wouldn’t. Butter creams don’t grow around here.”
“I see… uh, butter creams?”
Casandra laughed. “That’s not its actual name. I don’t know what they’re really called. That’s just how best to describe what the fruit tastes like… like butter and cream, kind of sweet and kind of salty at the same time. Here you must try one.”
“I don’t know. I don’t much like fruit myself.”
“Well, neither do I, “ Cassandra said. “That’s why butter creams are perfect. Try this one; it’s ripe. You eat the skin and all, no pits.”
Nels took one bite of the delicate looking dark purple fruit and fell in love as the savory flavors melted in his mouth.
“Where in the world did you get this? I’ve never tasted anything like it. A fruit, you say! Why it’s delicious and I’m not that keen on fruit, you see. So I should know that this tastes nothing like any fruit I’ve ever eaten.” He couldn’t help himself. He reached for another.
Casandra slapped his hand. “Now, now, moderation Nels, don’t get greedy just yet. This is the only butter-cream tree around, you know, “ Cassandra said tartly, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe you can have another after dinner, if you’re still hungry.”
Nels, properly chagrined, began to wonder how old Casandra actually was. She certainly spoke to him just then like she was a mother and he the errant child. He couldn’t ask her how old she was—he wasn’t that fool-headed. If he had to guess he would place her in her thirties. She had the appearance of youth—life hadn’t wearied her yet, but there was a certain something about her. It was almost like she had an inner glow—as if she was infused with a light other women didn’t possess. Or he’d never seen any with it before, anyway. Her eyes had a dreamy, faraway cast to them that Nels was immediately drawn to. As if she could see more than what was apparent on the surface of things. He wondered what she knew, and if she would be willing to share it with him.
Nels shook his head. He barely knew this woman, how could he know anything about her.
Casandra had been staring as deeply into his eyes as he had been staring into hers, Nels realized with embarrassment.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stare at you like that. It’s just—” Nels stammered. He couldn’t believe he was acting like some lovesick fool. He was an old man—charming, fairly good-looking—but still, too old for this type of behavior.
“I know,” Casandra interrupted with a smile. “I was staring, too. Let’s go inside; you can meet my parents.”
Casandra led them into a neat, but sparsely decorated living room. The furnishings were utilitarian at best, and rather dowdy by Nels’ standards.
“Papa, we have a guest. This is Nels, he’s a…” Casandra gave him an imploring glance.
“I’m a hunter’s guide, sir. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nels said, extending his hand to the big man not much older than he was, he noticed, suddenly uncomfortable.
Virgil smiled, grabbed Nels’ hand then soo
n had him in a bear hug. Stepping back, still shaking his hand, he said, “Welcome, welcome, always happy to have visitors ‘round here. We don’t get too many, you see.”
“Yes, I suppose not. You seem to be rather alone out here. Are there any towns nearby?” Nels asked. Casandra telling him earlier that he was at her farm really hadn’t given him answers as to his exact locale.
“Eh,” Virgil grimaced, “if you want to call it that, there is Krankor’s Town. I prefer to call it Krankor’s Sewer myself. Nasty place, nasty business if you ask me, which nobody don’t.”
Nels had never heard of it. Not surprising, as The Kingdom was full of small towns. The only widely known location was The King’s City.
“Ah, what’s so bad about it?”
“Filth; that’s what! Dirtiest, rottenest, place around, but it’s the closest we got to trade our vegetables for meat, cloth, oats, grains, sugar, salt—you know…staples.” Virgil absently rubbed his finger across his rather large nose. “Eh, but I would that we didn’t, mind you. If I had my way I’d avoid that cesspit all together; they got a big market there, though. People come from miles around. You know they even got a King’s Road there now with all that newfangled pavement stone. It’s white anywhere else ‘cept in Krankor’s Town where it’s so brown you can’t even see it till you’re standing on it. A disgrace if you ask me—”
“Which they don’t,” Nels said warmly. He liked this man. A real down-to-earth fellow like himself.
“Aye, they don’t!” Virgil replied sagely. “Come on in to the kitchen, Nels, you gotta meet Hattie. She’s even more sour than I am.”
Hattie turned out to be even more than more sour. She was a large woman, though not tall in stature, with white hair bound in a stiff bun on the very top of her head—no wispy strands for her. She wore a dour expression and ice-cold blue eyes that stabbed Nels numerous times before either spoke. Busily kneading dough on a small wooden table, she kept pounding the dough with such force the newcomers were soon covered with white flour from head to toe.
“We’re only having biscuits,” Hattie stated by way of greeting, adding with a verbal smack, “and gravy,” daring Nels to contradict her culinary choices.
As tough and as old as Nels was, he knew when to keep his mouth shut and nod obediently.
Casandra didn’t. “Oh, Mama! But I promised Nels a big feast; he’s hungry; he’s been traveling for miles and I—”
“Shouldn’t go a’promising things you ain’t a’making yourself. I didn’t promise nothing,” Hattie hmph’d, daring him to say she did.
“No, uh, Mistress… uh,” in trying to be ultra-polite Nels realized with horror he didn’t know the family’s surname.
“Farmer,” Hattie replied with acrid sweetness daring him to…well…something…he wasn’t sure this time.
“Thank you; and no, Mrs. Farmer, Casandra promised me a delicious, home-cooked meal, and the biscuits and gravy are sure to be the perfect fulfillment of her promise,” Nels said briskly. This woman wouldn’t put up with too much fawning.
Another hmph before Hattie told him, “Get out, before I throw you out, disturbing a woman’s private sanctum…You ought to be ashamed of yourself for pestering hardworking people so…just trying to do right by my family and here come strangers just barging on in, like they don’t have no good manners…”
Back safely in the hallway, Virgil stoically said, “Well now, I knew you two would hit it off. Hattie always does love to cook for company. Yessiree!”
After consuming the most delectable biscuits and gravy he’d ever eaten, under the coldest of glares he’d ever been privileged to receive, Nels finally had Casandra all to himself again. While he found her parents interesting hosts, Casandra was the one that he was most curious about. There was something about her that was different than her environment; and she seemed to recognize her own peculiarity to her circumstances without demonstrating the usual rebellion found in someone forced to live such a life—hemmed in by what one could never truly be. Where had she found her outlet? To escape such drudgery took some form of release that would stimulate an intuitively intelligent mind enough to prevent any mental declination, of which Nels was sure she had none. So how was she able to cope with day-to-day life on a farm—Casandra herself had mentioned she was no true farmer—with wits still intact? Could she have a lover? But certainly it would not be manifest in the nearest town of Krankor, if what Virgil said could be believed. No, she had some inner fortitude that Nels was determined to plumb—he could use a bit of that strength for his own peace of mind right now.
Walking by the butter-cream tree again, Cassandra offered Nels another fruit. “I apologize for my mother, Nels. It’s been so long since we’ve had any company…I don’t know, maybe I just forgot, but I had no idea she would act that way towards you. Maybe it’s because she’s so isolated all alone out here.”
“But Casandra, you and your father are also isolated out here,” he said sweeping his arm to encompass the empty plains, “and you both are perfectly agreeable.”
“Yes, but that’s because Papa goes to town, Mama refuses to go with him and just stays here taking care of the house and working in the fields—alone. Even when we’re here she tends to just stick to herself, mumbling. Papa gets out and meets people. Oh, he might complain about Krankor’s Town, but secretly I think he enjoys it—getting out and wallowing in the mud, so to speak. Nothing dirty, mind, just to have a change of scenery, such as it is.”
“That’s all well and good about Virgil, Casandra, but what about you? Do you go to town, too?”
“No! Papa would never…” she broke off realizing the implication in her own words.
“So how do you stay so good natured when you’re stuck here all the time? A woman as bright as you would break under the boredom inflicted on you everyday, and you’re no dullard to not know or care anything about the larger world you live in. How do you do it, Casandra?”
Casandra flinched under Nels’ intense gaze. His brown eyes probed into her own with such a searching, a longing—a need to know about secrets she seemed to barely understand herself. And yet…he knew from the first moment he saw her at her pool that she’d have to tell him—wanted to tell him more than anything. To finally be able to share her secrets with someone besides her parents, after all these many years.
“I…I have a gift,” she finally whispered, staring directly into his eyes, measuring his every possible emotion for any chance to flee from this momentous task that she seemed to glory in and revile in the same breath. It was as if she wanted to tell him everything desperately, but Nels knew fear could clamp her lips shut faster and stronger than the thrill of release would keep them open.
“Yes, you do have a gift, Casandra, and that’s what I—”
“No, no you don’t understand. It’s not just some special personality characteristic, it’s more of an…ability,” Casandra said, struggling to find the words or just how best to explain to Nels the ways of her secret life. Had she thought he would just somehow magically know or understand once she mentioned the “gift?”
“Ability? What do you mean by that?” Nels asked a little more derisively than he intended, hoping beyond hope that she didn’t actually turn out to be a bit daft. Well, maybe he could live with a little bit daft.
Casandra sighed as if the words were being dragged out of her. He was certain she wanted to tell him, but there still must be something holding her back. It couldn’t be something too horrible, could it?
“I can travel to other worlds,” she baldly stated with that same look her mother used to issue a warning against any thought of protest.
Nels started to open his mouth to object, then closed it, thought of a better approach—one that involved trust: “How?”
“Through Portals.” Casandra said, suddenly sounding very close to being petulant.
“Portals?” Nels asked almost holding his breath.
“Yes. They are like gates to other worlds. There are other worl
ds out there besides The Kingdom, Nels.” She gave him such a pleading look, like she was willing him to believe her, that he wanted to give her a hug. If he hadn’t had experienced what he did this morning to get here, he would have been certain she was daft. But now, he wasn’t so sure. Just maybe she did know what she was talking about. There had to be some reason her eyes held such delightful depth.
“Okay, so where are these Portals?”
“Oh, they’re all over. But you’ve already been through one,” Casandra replied with a knowing smile.
“I have?”
“Yes, in the woods.”
“But, I didn’t—” Nels stopped. That had been a Portal? If so, he wasn’t sure he wanted anything to do with any of this.
“It brought you here, didn’t it?”
“Well, of course, but—”
“There are more worlds to explore, Nels. And it’s time you started exploring.”
“Look, I’m not sure I liked that experience of going through the Portal. I mean, I like where I ended up,” Nels said giving Casandra one of his most charming smiles, “but the whole process didn’t seem too safe to me.”
“It’s safe enough,” Casandra said coolly. She seemed suddenly furious about something Nels couldn’t fathom. “We can travel through my pool. Unless you don’t trust me?”
“Oh, I trust you. I trust you,” Nels responded hurriedly. Of course, he had no reason to trust this woman, even though he was sure he did. Fool! What is going on? She wants to take me traveling through a pool to another world, and I’m going along with it? I must be the daft one.
“Good. Follow me.”
Casandra walked all business-like as she led Nels to her pool on the plains. He understood the seriousness of what was taking place even if he was only taking a leap of faith and hoping nothing too disastrous happened. He genuinely enjoyed the idea of their possible long-term friendship and he was somewhat afraid that Casandra might do or say something so ridiculous in regards to her “world traveling” that their closeness would never have a chance to blossom. He did believe her, but it was more of the belief in her and whatever gift she did have, than the actual Portals or whatever they were—he had no real idea what she was even talking about, truth be told. His experience in the woods still seemed a bit fuzzy to him, no matter if he had actually traveled through one of the things.