Six Points of Light:Hook's Origin

by Kalynn Bayron

  Sister Madeline made the most of St. Catherine’s meager accommodations. She tended to the garden where she and the other Sisters grew potatoes, tomatoes, turnips, onions, and many other fruits and vegetables. A small stable housed several goats that served as the main source of the kitchen’s milk and cheeses. A flock of sheep grazed the grounds behind the chapel; their soft, thick wool provided the material for blankets and linens. Sister Angelica tended to the coop where two dozen hens, plump and well-loved, laid enough eggs for the entire orphanage.

  The older children helped the Sisters bring water from a well on the property for bathing and cooking, although many of the younger ones were content to bathe in the creek behind the rectory in the warm summer months. Sister Maddie was pleased that they had become almost completely self-sufficient.

  Poverty was rampant in the towns and villages nearby, and Sister Maddie saw this sad fact reflected in the children sheltered by St. Catherine's walls. It seemed as if every other week a new child arrived, many of them still wrapped in swaddling blankets and left like packages on the front step.

  Unlike other orphanages in the area, Sister Maddie had adopted a strict, if somewhat unorthodox, policy when it came to taking in new children. She didn't ask questions. She was of the opinion that making the choice to give a child up was difficult enough without being made to feel as if you had committed a sin. On the contrary, Sister Maddie thought it was a selfless choice, and she aspired to be as selfless in her own life. She felt affirmed in that decision every time one of her children found a loving home. They were her children. Sister Maddie had watched many children come and go over the years, and she loved them all and knew they were worthy of love and compassion.

  Sister Maddie took a daily walk around the grounds to ensure things were running smoothly and to clear her busy mind.

  St. Catherine’s was constructed of gray stone over a wooden frame. The stained glass windows of the chapel caught the morning light exquisitely, and Sister Maddie never took that particular sight for granted. She always stopped to marvel at its beauty.

  Her rounds took her down a cobblestone path and past the rectory where she and the other nuns kept their private quarters. The rectory was also home to the very young children who often stayed at St. Catherine’s for only a short while. Infants and young toddlers were housed in the rectory because they needed constant looking after; Sister Maddie and the others took turns sitting with them in the late-night hours. The rest of the children lived in wings off of the main chapel that were once home to the convent’s nuns: the east wing housed the boys, and the girls lived in the west wing.

  When Sister Maddie came round the far side of the main building, she checked the latch on the chicken coop, making sure it was secured tightly. Coyotes were common in the countryside and had, on more than one occasion, made a meal of the hens.

  The grounds behind the church sloped down, rolling away to the edge of a dense thicket of trees. Beyond that was a forest that, in the gloomy autumn weather, seemed much too foreboding. Sister Maddie always told the children that they were never to go into the forest alone and never without making their plans known to her first. They obeyed her without question.

  A small creek flowed behind St. Catherine’s; Sister Maddie thought it was one of the orphanage’s most enduring features. The babbling of the creek’s shifting waters had a calming effect on her. Her father had been gone many years now, but she felt close to him when she stood by the water’s edge. He was never far from her thoughts and always in her heart, especially in the rare moments when all was silent and the world and its troubles seemed to melt away.

  When she finished her daily walk, she would tend to the everyday business of caring for the children. She, Sister Angelica, and Sister Gerty cooked, cleaned, and taught classes during the day. They tended to the sick, as well, while a doctor visited once a week to check in on any ill children.

  She believed that anything worth doing was worth doing well and had learned through trial and error that the Sisters of St. Catherine’s were perfectly capable of handling even the most challenging of tasks. They did all of the mending, washing, and harvesting. They even learned how to shear the sheep when a shearer couldn't be found.

  Sister Maddie thought there was nothing they could not achieve with a little hard work, and she rather liked that she could say she and her little family of misfits accomplished so much with so little.

  CHAPTER 3

  A SECRET

  Peter took to life at St. Catherine's like a bird takes to the sky. He seemed to slip into the orphanage’s routines as if he had never lived anywhere else. Sister Maddie kept a close eye on him because, as happy as he was, he had a penchant for getting into trouble. Peter was almost ten, so there was a good possibility he would be at St. Catherine's for quite some time. After a few months, the trauma of his arrival had begun to fade, and she was determined to make the time Peter spent at St. Catherine's as peaceful and meaningful as possible.

  Peter had amassed a following comprised of some of the younger boys. They followed him everywhere, and he reveled in their admiration. His quick wit, penchant for jokes, and general mischievousness drew boys of like mind to him like moths to a freckle-faced, sandy-haired flame. He led them on countless outings throughout the grounds. On Sunday afternoons, after morning Mass, Peter and the troop of boys would gather in the library and set about making their plans. Some days were spent fishing; others were dedicated to tracking the wild deer that roamed the area. They made maps on parchment paper and carried sticks and slingshots that Sister Angelica forbade them from bringing inside the main building. They were constantly dirty and smelled of earth and the wind.

  Peter had read many books about tracking and trapping; he was fascinated by it. When Sister Angelica told Peter and his merry band that they were not allowed to actually trap any live animals, he was genuinely disappointed.

  “Be reasonable, Sister Angelica!” he had yelled. “How can I know if it will work if I can't test it out?”

  “Absolutely not,” she’d snapped at him. “And if I so much as catch you looking at one of those deer, I will have you on gutter duty for a month!”

  Peter was almost ten but often acted much younger. He threw fits and had angry outbursts, stomping his feet and moaning like an injured animal. He occasionally produced tears, real tears, and his shining, dewy face seemed to take on an almost angelic quality. Peter was rarely put off from doing anything he set his heart on for the simple reason that no one wanted to hear him go on and on about it.

  The Sisters tried to be sympathetic. They had no clear understanding of what Peter may have endured at the hands of his mother; when questioned directly on the subject, he always claimed to have no memory of the time before he came to St. Catherine's.

  “Please, Peter,” Sister Maddie had pleaded with him on one occasion. “If you open up to us, we can help you. There's nothing to be afraid of.”

  “I'm not afraid!” he’d yelled, stomping his foot like a small child and storming off.

  Tantrums and childish outbursts aside, Peter seemed to be finding his way around St. Catherine’s quite nicely, while James, who had lived his entire life there, struggled to find where he fit in among the chaos. His own relationship with Sister Maddie, who had been like a mother to him, had become distant and strained while the time they spent together grew shorter; this seemed to pain him to no end. Now that Peter was there, she was constantly running after him, cleaning up his messes and keeping him, unsuccessfully, from getting into trouble. She noticed James’s resentment of Peter and how James tried to avoid him at all costs. She worried about him and wondered if there was any possibility that Peter could grow to become as responsible and trustworthy as her James. She doubted it, but her nature would not allow her to give up on Peter. Not yet.

  ***

  James

  As they were residents of the same orphanage, James saw Peter at communal meals and Mass, both places where Peter was often loud and disrup
tive. Peter was constantly fidgeting; he couldn't be still for any significant amount of time. James would watch Peter as he leaned over the back of the pew, looking up at the ceiling, and then reached forward to flick the ear of whoever was in front of him. When the person in front of him turned to see who had done it, Peter would look away and whistle a little tune, as if he had no clue who had done it.

  James tried his hardest to avoid any interaction with Peter. Being older and, in his opinion, wiser, he thought Peter's antics were childish. The other boys, however, followed Peter's every move. They idolized him, and James simply could not understand it.

  Silly children, James thought. To say that their behavior annoyed him would be an understatement. He abhorred them. James was not given to overreaction, but for them, he had made an exception. Their chants and singing drove him mad. Peter and his friends were always ruining things for him. So many wonderful moments spent watching the sun set over the rolling hills had been ruined when, to his horror, Peter and his band of merry idiots went traipsing through the landscape.

  The infirmary was the most familiar and comfortable place for James. He didn't mind so much when fits of fever or belly pain sent him there. It was quiet and he was alone there, save for the infirmary attendant.

  One night, James felt quite ill and was resting in his designated bed when Sister Maddie came to visit him.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  He wanted to be mad at her for being too busy to keep up with him, but seeing her smile and caring eyes, all was forgiven.

  “It’s not terrible. It will pass soon, I’m sure.”

  “Oh, that’s very good to hear.” She pulled up a wooden rocking chair and sat at his bedside. “How about a song?” she asked.

  James had just turned sixteen and felt thoroughly embarrassed by her offer to sing him a lullaby. He wanted her to; there was no doubt of it. Her voice was always comforting to him, whether she was simply speaking to him over the course of the day or serenading him off to sleep, and so he allowed her to bestow this little gift upon him, pushing all feelings of embarrassment out of his mind. Just as she had settled into a beautiful hymn that soothed him to his very soul, Sister Angelica came rushing in.

  “Sister Madeline! That boy is on the roof of the rectory!”

  Sister Maddie jumped up and rushed off, tipping the chair over in the process.

  When Sister Angelica said “that boy,” there was only one person she could have been referring to. Peter. James was livid. I can’t have one moment, one song with my Maddie? He slipped out of his bed and put on his house shoes and robe, then followed the frantic voices of Sisters Angelica and Maddie calling to Peter.

  “Come down from there this instant!” Sister Maddie yelled.

  James went out into the cool night air and looked up at the sandy-haired boy standing at the highest point of the rectory roof. Just standing there. The breeze caught the hem of his nightgown and whipped it forcefully behind him. He wobbled ever so slightly, and Sister Angelica fainted, falling headlong into the grass. James hurried over to her and cradled her head in his lap.

  “Peter! Come down from there! I can’t catch you if you fall!” Sister Maddie pleaded, on the verge of tears.

  James saw the pained expression on her face. When he looked at Peter, though, he could just make out the outline of a smile. The moon shown bright behind him, partially shadowing his face, but the smile was most definitely there. He was enjoying this.

  James rested Sister Angelica's head on the thick grass and stood up, pulling his robe tight around his waist and closing the collar with his hand. The wind was biting.

  “Come down from there, you selfish twit! Can't you see how upset you're making her?”

  “Who's that down there?” Peter yelled. “Is that you Thomas?”

  “No, you fool—” shouted James.

  “Peter, it’s James,” Sister Maddie interrupted. “He's just trying to help! We want you to come down from there!”

  “Ah! James! How splendid!”

  “He's mad,” James said under his breath. He was annoyed by Peter’s giddy attitude. No, this was not splendid. This is a nightmare, and Peter is the cause of it. “I think you should kick the ladder down and leave him up there for the night.”

  “James... please,” Sister Maddie pleaded.

  “I think I'll come down now,” Peter called out.

  “Get on with it then,” grumbled James.

  They stood and watched as Peter, with the agility of a feline, climbed down the old ladder, skipping the last few rungs, and vaulted to the ground with a soft thud. He waltzed over to where James and Sister Maddie stood.

  She took Peter's face in her hands. “Thank God you are all right,” she said, pressing him firmly against her chest.

  “I'm just fine, as you can plainly see,” said Peter. He gave a little jump and knocked the heels of his bare feet together in the air.

  Sister Maddie escorted the now fully-conscious Sister Angelica back inside, most likely to a bed in the infirmary. James stood in the biting breeze and looked scornfully at Peter as he skipped along behind them. Then Peter did an about face and marched straight back to James. He thrust his hand out in a gesture of good will.

  “I'm Peter,” he said gleefully.

  James was certain this boy was a lunatic. “I know who you are.” He did not reciprocate the gesture. James hadn’t made any attempt to talk to Peter or get to know him at all since his arrival a few months before. Peter seemed wildly irresponsible, not a trait James valued in most people.

  “Well, you're James and I'm Peter and that seems fine to me!” Peter said.

  “Are you mad?” shouted James. “You could have been killed, and you frightened Sister Maddie half to death!”

  “You're right. I am sorry about that.” He looked down at his bare feet and ran his toes through the grass. “I will have to apologize to her right away.” James hadn't expected him to sound so contrite. “I was perfectly safe. You don't have to make such a fuss about it.”

  “The pitch of that roof is steep, and it’s a solid twenty feet off the ground. I can assure you, you were not perfectly safe. Can you imagine what would have happened if you had lost your footing?”

  Peter threw his head back and gave a hardy laugh. He wiped his eyes, which were now glistening in the whipping wind.

  “I find nothing funny about this situation,” said James angrily.

  “Nothing? Nothing at all? I thought it was very funny,” replied Peter. “I would have been safe even if I fell straight off the very top.”

  “How, may I ask, would you have managed that?”

  “It’s simple, James.” He turned so that his bright blue eyes caught the glare from the moon. “I can fly.”

  CHAPTER 4

  AN IMPORTANT TASK

  Sister Maddie knelt in the chapel. The children had just finished breakfast, and she needed a moment to reflect. Peter had, once again, caused a stir, and the other Sisters had speculated aloud that his behavior would only get worse as he grew older. He’d taken a group of boys out to the thicket and stayed hidden until Sister Gerty went to retrieve them, at which time they’d all sprung forward, with Peter leading the way, of course; yelling and howling, their faces painted, some of them without their shirts and shoes. Sister Gerty was now on bed rest, per doctor’s orders.

  She thought about the last words Peter's mother had uttered to her sleeping child: “Never grow up, Peter.” Why in the world would she say such a thing? These children had to grow up. They had to learn to overcome their circumstances or, at the very least, learn to live with them. Peter just needed guidance, someone to show him how to behave. None of St. Catherine’s Sisters could impose their will on him. Although she enjoyed a relationship with Peter that was sturdier than the others’, she knew he wouldn’t heed her advice or admonishments. She cared for Peter and wanted the best for him. She wished their relationship was as easy as hers with James.

  James. Sweet James. Sis
ter Maddie knew that all the time she’d spent tending to Peter's eccentricities had driven a wedge between her and James. Her nights of singing him off to sleep had dwindled to a rare occasion. She ached to think about how their relationship had suffered in the wake of Peter’s arrival.

  James had always been such a good boy, soft-spoken but not shy. She was convinced he possessed a genius-level intellect, although they’d never had him tested. The way he read through all the books in the library and his intricate drawings of his beloved sailing ships were only glimpses into his beautiful mind. How she loved him. His bouts of fever had become less frequent, a sign, she hoped, that his general health was improving. She decided right then that she needed to pay James a visit. She finished her prayer and went off to look for him.

  Her check of the infirmary and library turned up nothing. She went to check the boys’ wing, but he was nowhere to be found. She decided to take a quick walk around the grounds to see if she could locate him. She thought there was only a fleeting chance James would be outside anywhere, at any time, but seeing as he wasn't in his usual hiding spots, she decided to have a look.

  She walked the cobblestone path that led from the boys' dormitory wing to the lush garden whose efflorescence was stunning to behold. The milky-white petals of the magnolia dotted the earth like drops of fresh cream, and the hibiscus, in every shade of pink and red, threatened to spill out on to the walkway. It was a lovely sight, and she appreciated the work the older girls had put into cultivating the garden.

  The sky was gray and gloomy, and the smell of petrichor permeated the air. Just as she was contemplating resuming her search inside, she glimpsed that familiar jet-black hair. James sat on a large rock a short distance off. He was leaning back on his hands with his face turned up to the sky. As Sister Maddie approached him, a hand caught her by the elbow and twirled her around.

  “Peter!” she said with a start. “What in heaven's name are you doing?”