I'm just stalling now.
One last thing: I'm going to try to write something a little lighter next time, with more humor and less melodrama. I hope.
OK, here goes:
(PS-Even now, as I am copying and pasting the first part into this blog I find that I'm still tweaking sentences and editing words. I need to let it go...)
The Man In the Forest
Part 1
They told her she was crazy. Who in their right mind would want to live all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, with the nearest town over an hour away on horseback, and rumors of creatures with the power to lure you to your death, as well as the more mundane predators such as wolves and bears? But she liked the solitude. The quiet of the woods made her thoughts quiet too, and her days were spent in continuous motion as she fought to keep the place in decent shape, so when she lay down at night, her dreams were also quiet.
She was not completely without companions. There was her horse, Ichibod, her cow, Flora, and several chickens. On occasion, she had glimpsed a cat lurking in the barn, no doubt chasing mice, and whenever she made rabbit stew she would leave a bowl of scraps just outside the barn door. It was always licked clean by the time she went to let Flora and Ichibod out into the fenced-in pasture for the morning. She wished the cat would stay, but knew better than to force the issue. Cats, she knew, are a law unto themselves. She refused to believe that she was lonely. She spoke often to Ichibod and Flora and even the chickens as she worked. And sometimes she sang or hummed, and the birds would fly close and cock their heads at her.
The little farm was in terrible disrepair when she’d first come upon it. She had been tramping through the forest almost since the day she learned to walk, and had discovered it on one of her trips overnight. (Her mother would fret terribly during the nights her daughter spent in the forest, but she knew her to be intelligent and capable, and allowed these trips so long as it was only one night, and not too deep in the forest.) The moment she clapped eyes on the squat house with the large garden and tall barn, she loved it, and often made a point of passing by on future hikes, sometimes even setting up camp in the barn if the weather was unpleasant. But it wasn’t until much later that she began researching the property in the town records. As far as she could tell it had been built by a man named Albert Rothcarpe, and later abandoned by him. Where he had disappeared to was an intriguing mystery, but as he had not been seen in over a decade, the property was deemed free land to any who wished to claim it for themselves. Still, she searched relentlessly, hoping to find some clue as to who Albert Rothcarpe was, why he had built this quaint farm in such an undesirable location, and whether he was likely to return and claim it. What information she did glean mostly came from Mr. Yorn the town grocer.
“Strange man, Mr. Rothcarpe,” Mr. Yorn said, idly polishing his spectacles. “Came into town maybe once or twice a month for those things he couldn’t grow or make himself. Never spoke more ‘n’ two words to most folks.”
“But he must have spoken to you,” she pressed. “Did he say anything about his leaving? Or when he might be back?”
Mr. Yorn replaced his spectacles on his nose and peered at her thoughtfully.
“Well it’s funny, Miss Ryan,” (Mr. Yorn was the only one who ever called her ‘Miss Ryan’, most everyone in town just called her Ryan. No one called her by her first name, except occasionally her mother) “looking back, he did say something last time I saw him. Of course, I didn’t know it would be the last time, so I didn’t pay it much mind...” Mr. Yorn trailed off into thought, and though she shifted her weight impatiently, Ryan bit her tongue.
“He said that he wished to thank me. That my prices were always reasonable, and I was never too busy to give him news of the town. Thinking on it now,” Mr. Yorn continued, “it was almost a goodbye.”
“That’s all? He said nothing else?” she asked again. But Mr. Yorn could tell her nothing more, and so, it seemed, she would have to let the mystery lie.
She might have let the place go for fear that Rothcarpe would return to claim it, but by then she loved it too much, and she had other reasons for wanting the solitude. And so, when she turned 18, she applied to the council, and was granted the deed to Laknir Lodge.
“’Laknir’,” her sister had repeated making a face. “What kind of name is that?”
Ryan glanced first at Mother, who was gazing steadily back at her with the same calculating look she had when trying to decide what her daughters were hiding from her, before answering.
“I don’t know what it means, Heather,” she said, turning to her little sister, “I couldn’t find any reference to ‘Laknir’ in any of the records or other reference books at the library. But anyway, what does it matter what a place is called?”
“It’s not very romantic, that’s all,” her sister replied with a pout. “How will you ever get a man to marry you if you move to some grubby shack out in the middle of the woods?”
The word ‘marry,’ which her sister so casually tossed into the air, made her freeze. She stared hard at her hands on the plain kitchen table, and tried not to see how her mother’s gaze had sharpened.
“Are you certain this is what you want, Hon?” her mother asked at last. Ryan looked up from her clenched fingers and saw all the things her mother was asking.
“Yes,” she said. And please don’t ask me anything more. Her mother seemed to hear her silent plea, or maybe she just didn’t want to argue. They had always been a bit at odds with each other, though she loved her mother with all her heart. The trouble was that they were both enormously stubborn. But in this case, Mother was going to leave it alone. Perhaps it was because Ryan was of age and therefore free to do as she pleased, or perhaps it was because Mother feared that pressing the issue now would break her.
To Be Continued...
2 comments:
more please!
great start!
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