Eden West (21 page)

“But my aunt, she got appendicitis and got really sick before she went to the doctor. They told her if she’d waited another day, she would have been dead, but they operated on her and now she’s fine.”

“The Lord must have intended for her to go to the doctor.”

“I suppose. But if you got appendicitis in Nodd, what then?”

“Brother Samuel would care for me.”

“What, give you a cup of tea and pray?” She snorts. “I don’t think that would help.”

“The Grace are different,” I say. “Maybe we don’t get appendicitis.”

“Lucky you.” Neither of us speaks for a few seconds. Lynna takes the eggs off the stove. She scoops half of them onto a plate and sets it before me, then makes a plate for herself, with only half of the remaining eggs. “There’s more if you want,” she says as she sits down across from me.

Something has gone out of the room, and I am not sure what it is, but I still have my appetite. The eggs are delicious. I try to eat slowly, because I do not want her to think I eat like Tobias. The bread is warm, and softer than any bread I have eaten before.

“Try the jelly,” she says.

I spread a spoonful of jelly on my bread. It is as sweet as honey, yet tart at the same time, with a fruity scent that reminds me of apples.

“This is very good,” I say.

She shakes some red liquid from a small bottle onto her eggs.

“What is that?”

“Hot sauce. You wouldn’t like it.”

I try a few drops anyway. She is right. I gulp my water.

We eat without talking for a minute or two. I feel bad that I might have said something to offend her, but then I look up and she is smiling at me again. I smile back.

“You are a very good cook,” I say. “These are the best eggs I have ever eaten.”

That makes her smile even more. The pink lipstick has mostly worn off of her lips, and she looks more like the Lynna I know. She sees that my plate is almost empty and scoops the rest of the eggs onto it. I eat them, and another slice of bread with jelly as well.

As she piles the dishes in the sink, she asks, “Still up for a ride?”

For a moment, I think she is referring to the ATV, then I remember we talked about riding horses. We have no horses in Nodd. Brother Peter says they eat more than they are worth.

“You would have to teach me.” I am nervous. I do not want to look clumsy or foolish in front of Lynna.

“You can ride Chico’s nag. She’s gentle as a lamb. Here.” She grabs an apple from a bowl on the counter and tosses it to me. I am astonished by how red and shiny and perfect it is. Our apple trees in Nodd produce only oddly shaped, mottled fruits, more yellow and green than red, and by mid winter they are always wrinkled and going bad. “Put it in your pocket. It’ll help you get to know Lily.” Seeing my confusion, she adds, “Lily’s the horse.”

“She’s really gentle,” Lynna says. “Give her some apple. She’ll love you.”

I twist the apple to snap it in half as Lynna lifts the saddle onto the horse. Lily is enormous. Not as massive as our brace of oxen, but taller. Her coat is mostly white, with pale brown blotches scattered over her hindquarters, and gray hairs around her snout. Lynna makes adjustments to the strap holding the saddle to the horse’s back. She is wearing dark-brown leather gloves that fit her hands so precisely, it is as if they are a second skin. My homemade deerskin gloves look crude by comparison.

I take them off and offer Lily half of the apple. Lily takes it from my palm delicately, her bristly lips brushing my palm.

“Pet her on the neck,” Lynna says. “She likes that.”

I stroke the horse’s neck, feeling her coarse hair and the powerful muscles beneath it.

“Just get to know her for a minute while I saddle up Edgar.” Lynna moves down two stalls and starts talking to another horse. I feed Lily the other half of the apple.

“My name is Jacob,” I tell her in a soft voice. Lily snuffles and shifts her feet. I can feel the heat coming off her. There are horses in the Bible. Joseph had horses, and the Pharaoh’s men, and Zerachiel’s own chariot will be drawn by flying horses of silver and gold. I run my hand along Lily’s shoulder and imagine her sprouting wings. Does she know I am about to climb onto her back?

Lynna leads Edgar out of his stall, and we walk the horses out of the barn into the sunlight. The fog is gone, and the air is as bright and sharp as crystal. It is warmer, too. I take my hat off and stuff it in my pocket. Lynna shows me how to place my foot in the stirrup. Clumsily I bring my right leg up over the horse’s back and seat myself on the saddle. Lily snorts her displeasure at my awkwardness. I grip the knob on the saddle and sway from side to side as she shifts her feet nervously.

Lynna swings easily and gracefully onto Edgar. She shows me how to hold the reins.

“We’ll take the cattle track through the woods. You don’t have to do anything — I’ll go first, and Lily will follow.” She makes a kissing sound and gives the reins a shake. Edgar moves off along the corral fence. Lily falls in behind him. The feeling of riding atop a giant animal both terrifies me and makes me feel powerful, as if the strength of the animal is rising up through my bones. I hold the reins slack. As promised, Lily needs no guidance; she simply follows Edgar.

The snowy ground looks very far down, but with every step, my fear of being thrown to the earth eases. Soon I am thinking less of the beast beneath me and more of the wonder that surrounds me. Mostly my eyes are fixed upon Lynna, who sits so lightly in her saddle that it seems she will float away.

We follow the trail along the wooded north face of the valley, through tall, close-growing ponderosas and cedars. There is little snow on the ground here. It is so densely wooded that most of the snow was caught by the trees and is now melted.

“My dad’s been talking about logging the north slope,” Lynna says over her shoulder. “I told him if he tried it, I’d chain myself to a tree.”

“Would you really?”

“Damn right I would.”

I shudder to hear her speak so, but I say, “We log our forests. It is the only way to get wood.”

“My dad wants to do it for the money. He worries about money all the time.”

“My father once worried about money. He was a lawyer, and money weighed heavy on his soul. It was not until he gave it all away and we came here to Nodd that he found peace.”

“He gave away
everything
?”

“Everything save for my mother and me.”

“Expensive peace,” Lynna says. “But so long as he’s happy, I guess that’s cool.”

I think of my father’s stern, disapproving features and try to recall the last time I saw him filled with joy.

The trail enters a small oblong clearing. We are surrounded by trees of extraordinary stature, even taller than the tallest trees of Nodd. It feels like a grand temple, a footprint of the Lord. Above us is an oval of brilliant blue sky. Lynna pulls up, then slaps her thigh and makes a hand gesture. Lily moves forward to stand close on her left side. Our knees brush against each other.

“I like this place,” Lynna says, her voice almost a whisper.

It is not necessary for me to reply. We sit in our saddles without speaking, the only sounds the breathing of the horses and the faint hiss of a breeze tickling the tops of the pines.

“In the summer it’s filled with ferns and flowers,” she says. “I come here to think.”

“What do you think about?”

She doesn’t answer for several seconds. I hear a squirrel chatter. Lily paws at the snow and lowers her head to sniff at the disturbed pine duff.

I feel Lynna brush my sleeve, then grasp my hand in hers, her fine riding glove wrapping my crudely sewn deerskin.

She says, “I think about nothing.”

I know what she means. I have spent many hours kneeling before the Tree, thinking of nothing as my mouth speaks the words of the Arbor Prayer. The repetitive movements of my lips free me to have no thoughts, to embrace the peace that comes with that blankness of the mind.

“Do you feel the presence of the Lord?” I ask.

“I feel the presence of something,” she says. “But I think it’s more like when I’m here, I know that my life is only a small part of something huge. I don’t know if it’s God or what.” She looks at me. “What do you feel?”

“I feel your hand,” I say, surprising myself.

She gives my fingers a squeeze, holds my hand for a moment, then lets go. “This is the first time I’ve ever brought anybody here.”

“You did not come here with Tobias?”

She smiles and shakes her head. “Tobias was only here for a day. Besides, he isn’t my type.”

“What type is that?”

Lynna laughs. “I like those dark, broody cult boys.” She gives her reins a twitch. Edgar continues through the clearing; Lily follows. The trail winds through the tall trees, around a jagged outcropping of shale, then makes a right turn and descends sharply into a draw. Lily, sure-footed and steady, follows Edgar into the draw, where the snow is almost up to her belly, then up the other side onto a ridge. Lynna stops and looks back.

“How are you doing?”

“Good,” I say, although I am somewhat sore from the saddle, and from using muscles I have never used before.

“This ridge leads up to the north pasture. We’ll be back in ten minutes or so. Can you handle it?”

I nod. I will be glad to get my feet back on the ground.

We start moving again, but have gone only a short distance when Lily snorts, wheels abruptly, and leaves the trail. I grip the horn of the saddle as her forelegs plunge into the deeper snow. Her hind end comes up. I lose my grip and fall forward onto her neck. I hear Lynna shout as I slide over Lily’s head and tumble through the air. I land on my face and feel something strike my forehead.

Dazed, I rise to my feet, floundering in hip-deep snow, trying to understand what has happened. Lily has made it back to the trail and is running back the way we came while Lynna is frantically trying to control Edgar, who is jerking at his bridle, looking around wildly. It lasts only a couple of seconds. She gets him back under control, but he is making huffing sounds and his eyes are rolling. Holding the reins tightly with one hand, she strokes his neck and speaks to him in a low, soothing voice. I slog through the snow and climb back onto the trail.

“Are you okay?” she asks me.

“I think so.”

“You’re bleeding.”

I put my hand to my forehead, then look at my glove. It is dark and wet with blood. Lynna swings off her horse, still holding the reins, and walks over to me.

“Let me have a look.” She examines my forehead with a concerned expression. “It looks like a shallow cut. You must’ve hit something when you fell.” She wipes away the blood with the ball of her thumb. “A branch, or some ice. Here.” She digs in one of her vest pockets and comes out with a tissue. “Hold this against it. Are you dizzy or anything?”

“No. What happened?”

“Something spooked Lily. She can be a real scaredy-cat.” She looks into the woods to the left of the trail. “Probably just a squirrel. Stupid horse. I’m really sorry.”

“It was not just Lily. Your horse is nervous, too.” I cross the trail and wade through the snow into the trees. I have gone only about ten paces when I smell blood.

I find the deer carcass another ten paces farther in. Most of the animal has been eaten. The area around it is trampled with bloody, palm-size paw prints. I touch the remains of the deer; it is soft, unfrozen. A recent kill. I look back through the trees at Lynna, who is watching me from her horse.

“Wolf,” I say.

We ride back double, my chest and hips pressed against Lynna’s back.

“What about Lily?” I ask.

“She’ll find her way home.”

A gust of wind whips her hair across my face. I catch a strand between my lips, hold it for an instant, then let go. “Unless she runs into the wolf,” I say.

“I doubt a wolf would go after something as big as a horse. At least, that’s what my dad says. He says they prey on smaller animals, or sick animals that are easy to catch.”

“I hope he is right.”

“That’s why we’re worried, come calving season. A wolf would take down a calf easy.”

“They kill sheep, that’s for sure. Have you ever had wolves here before?”

“No. There are a couple of big packs in Yellowstone, but that’s more than two hundred miles from here. Cal says this wolf is probably a young male who got driven out of his pack, then wandered up this way. He’s pretty sure there’s just the one.”

“He must be lonely,” I say.

Back at the house, Lynna cleans the cut on my forehead, saying, “It’s not deep, but you’re going to have a bruise for a while.” She covers it with a bandage. Her face is only inches from mine. I notice the small furrow between her eyebrows, what I once heard my mother call the
crease of caring
.

I raise my hand to her brow and smooth it with my thumb. She is startled, but she does not move.

“Pressing out my worry line?” she says. That must be another name for it:
worry line
.

“Do you worry a lot?” I ask.

“I worry about you.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because you live in Nodd. Because you don’t know anything about the world. Because you fall off of horses.”