Chapter 2

Jayzu hated leaving Charlotte so soon after bringing her to the island. But the Friends of Wilder Island had planned a party at his cottage to celebrate their victory over Henry Braun’s destructive development plan that would change the island forever. He could not cancel or postpone the celebration—not with Majewski flying in for the occasion. Nor could he think of a viable reason to do so; he could not tell anyone the real truth.

 Only Sam knows. And the Captain. Otherwise, no one knows she is here.

The others—Jayzu’s superior, the Provincial Father Thomas Majewski, Jade and Russ, Kate—knew nothing of Charlotte’s escape from Rosencranz. Jayzu planned to keep it that way.

The easiest solution was to leave Charlotte for a few hours, get the party over with, and spend the rest of the day with her. Confident that she would not leave the Treehouse while he was gone as he had asked, Jayzu strode across the meadow. He broke into a run as soon as he entered the shadows, and headed to his cottage.

“Well, dearie,” Rika said as I stood dejected, watching Jayzu disappear into the forest beyond the meadow.

“What will I do all morning?” I wailed.

“First off, maybe your bath?” Rika said. She fluttered her wings against my legs, gently pushing me toward Jayzu’s bathtub. “‘Specially maybe after your journey yesterday, you’ll want to freshen up. MiLady always took her bath in the morning.”

I nodded and sighed. “Yes, Rika.” I stripped off my clothes and stepped into the  water. How wonderful it was—warm, soothing, and best of all, cleansing. In all my years at Rosencranz, I had been denied the pleasure of soaking in water, whether warm or cold. There was no swimming, no baths, just showers. Gang showers.

Only yesterday I left Rosencranz, which had already faded somewhat—it seemed unimportant to remember anything about that place. I was perfectly happy to languish in warm water, on this island. I closed my eyes, feeling Rosencranz floating off my skin.

Sensing the life all around me, I heard the many voices of every living creature in those woods; some I recognized, most I did not. One kreegan made me laugh as it crash landed in my bathwater. I fished it out, placed it on the ground and watched it bounce up the tree back to the deck, crying piteously for Rika.

I drifted away underneath the cathedral of curved branches, arching gracefully from the thick trunks of ancient trees. The sun’s reflections off the water sparkled so brightly, I closed my eyes. 

Dozing in the warm water, I feel at peace among all the wild creatures, the chatty little stream that flows by, the sunshine on my face. I have nowhere to go, nowhere to be. And no one can find me.

I am safe. No one knows where I am. No one saw me come here. They never do. They’re afraid of the wild forest. If they try to follow me, I become invisible and hide among the trees. They give up. I know the ways of the forest. It knows mine. That’s why I made this place for myself. Just for me. On my own little island. Where I can talk to whomever I please, walk wherever I please. My own heaven on Earth. On my little island. Safe. 

Suddenly a rough voice shouts, “There she is! Found her! Over here!” 

“Who’s there?” I call out, trying to open my eyes. 

Terrified. Paralyzed. Strong arms grab me and I try to scream—nothing but a croak comes out. A cloth bag covers my head. I cannot see. Rough hands tying my hands behind my back.

“NO!” I screamed, leaping up and trying to get away—“NO! Let me go!”

I hear a small voice from far away: “Dearie!” 

Feathers brush across my leg. Looking down, I see a crow at my feet, staring up at me. I look around wildly. A stream of water gurgles out through a pipe and into the pond I just jumped out of.

“DEARIE!”

I stared down at the crow at my feet. I do not know where I am—or when. The voices. Who were they? But where are they?

Many moments fly by—I am frozen. Until it dawns.

Jayzu’s bathtub! Jayzu’s island!.

“Oh,” I said, releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “I’m sorry, Rika, I guess I fell asleep.”

I shook off my fear and shivered, wishing I had a robe or a towel to wrap up in. I climbed up the spiral steps to the Treehouse. 

Up on the deck, Rika stared at me for a moment. “You can’t be wandering around all nekkid like that, Charlotte. It’s just not seemly for a Lady.”

“No one is here but you and me, Rika,” I said and smiled. “I forgot to bring a towel. If there is one.”

Rika waved a wing at me. “Of course there’re towels, dearie! I told Jayzu to bring you two. Hanging in the hook behind the door.” She rotated her wing and pointed to the little cabin.

I wondered if birds could understand nakedness—if somehow they could wander about featherless. I had to laugh at my own absurdity. 

Rika’s care astonished me—the way she bustled about flapping her wings, helping me dry off from my bath. Her prattling about how a Lady behaves fades as a yoomun woman dries me with a towel, telling me I’m of an age where I cannot be running around outside naked anymore. Another yoomun voice rages in the background.

“Dearie!” Rika’s voice draws my attention. “Don’t just stand there all nekkid-like. Get dressed before you catch your death!”

I dressed, re-braided my hair, and set about fidgeting. The forest across the meadow called to me, relentlessly. I couldn’t take my eyes off it. If I could just go for a little walk—I’d be right back. But, I promised Jayzu I would not leave the Treehouse. 

He’ll come back. Any second now…

The morning passed as I put myself to whatever task I could find while “Here, Take her!” echoed though my mind. A voice I had heard before, long, long ago. 

Who was it?

Shaking my head, trying to make the voice go away, I sorted the clothing Jayzu had brought for me. I laughed at Rika’s story of how inept he was, being a man, as well as a priest. What would he know of women’s clothing?

“Ah, you should have seen him, dearie,” Rika said. “The way he fussed over every little thing, trying to make it just so. Not that he had any idea whatsoever, mind you. Lucky though that I spent so many years with MiLady, where I learnt how to put up a gentlewoman’s house, so I could tell him what’s what and where to put it.”

I laughed again when she told me how she had to explain women’s undergarments to him. 

“The rich church lady,” Rika said. “B’lieve he said her name was Mizzuz Brown, or something…but, no matter!” Rika waved a wing. “MiLady, she helped him pick everything out, except of course the undergarments. She did that part without him. He like to crawl into a hole every time anyone said brah-zeeyer.”

I laughed again. “I did not have a brah-zeeyer at Rosencranz, Rika. I had only coveralls, a short sleeved t-shirt, for the summer, and long sleeves for the winter. They washed my clothes at night while we slept in our rooms, so I always had clean clothes. But they were always the same. Coveralls and a shirt. No underpants.”

No brah-zeeyer on the shelf. But there were small undershirts that Rika said were called camis. Evidently Jayzu had described my physique to Mizzuz Brown.

I pulled a green hooded cloak hung from a hook next to the door. 

“Come winter,” Rika said, pecking at the cloak, “You’ll be glad to have this.”

“They didn’t let us outside when the weather was cold,” I said as I wrapped the cloak around myself. 

It was long enough to reach about the middle of my calf. I would still be able to run if I needed to, without tripping. For a moment I was running through the woods, on a windy day when the leaves are all shades of orange, yellow and red, a long cape trailing behind me. To a little island in a stream…with Charlie.

My little island.

“When will Charlie return?” I asked, as I put the cloak back on its hook. “Will he be back soon?”

“By sunset for sure,” Rika said. “JoEd’s in Keeper Training today—it’s his first mildornia trance.” She beaked a chunk of bread. “That takes a full day.”

“Keeper training?”

“Yes, dearie.” Rika said. “Keeper of the Lattices. See, the Great Corvid Council keeps track of such things as who gets born to who, and where, and who died, of what and when, and such like. They’re building JoEd’s lattices today so as to make places for all those things. And then they’ll teach him how to put the things into the Archive Lattice. ”

“Lattices?” 

“Yes, lattices,” Rika affirmed. “Memory lattices. We all have ’em. Yoomuns too, I reckon. They look like trees, Charlie says—he’s been in the trance many times. Charlie says our own lattices hold all of our memories. The Archive Lattice though—that’s where the Keepers store all of our important things—like who hatched, etcetera. Everything. And now, my JoEd, he’s eating the mildornia ferment today.” She seemed both proud and fearful. “So he can get into the Archive Lattice.”

“Mildornia ferment?”

“Yep,” Rika said, nodding her head. “Mildornia ferment. Comes from a berry, blue as deep twilight. It used to grow wild everywhere, but not so much anymore. Charlie says we’re lucky to have the one bush here on Cadeña-l’jadia. I ate a berry once.”

Rika gave a great shiver, and for a moment or two, her feathers stayed ruffled out. “Never again. I saw things.”

“You saw things? What things?”

“Things,” she said and puffed her feathers out further. “Now don’t you tell a soul, you promise me, dearie. S’far as you know, I never ate that berry, if you catch my drift.”

“Of course,” I said. “I can keep a secret. But why, Rika? If Charlie uses the mildornia ferment, and JoEd is—”

“Because,” Rika said, dropping her voice to a whisper, “I wasn’t s’posed to—just curious what all the fuss was about. So I ate one. But, if Starfire finds out, I’m afraid he’ll put me in a trance and try to find things. He’s been doing that lately, Charlie says. Looking for things.”

“Things?” I said, raising my eyebrows. “What things?”

“Things,” Rika whispered. “My Charlie said there are things, not just who’s born and who’s dead, but other things. Ancient lore from way back, before the time of yoomuns, maybe. Starfire—he’s the Chief Archivist, well, he says they’re all there, all those forgotten things, from forever back. Right there in the Archive Lattice.”

“Are you saying that eating mildornia berries can make you remember things?” I said.

“Well, maybe I am, and maybe I’m not, dearie,” she said, standing first on one foot and then the other. 

“I have forgotten many things, Rika,” I said. “Perhaps I should eat a berry I can remember who I was before Rosencranz. Where can I find a mildornia bush?”

“There’s one here on the island,” Rika said. “They say it’s the only one in the whole world, but Charlie said this isn’t so. There aren’t many, he said. Used to be it was everywhere.”

“What does it look like?” I asked. If there is a bush on the island, I will find it.

“Well,” Rika cocked her head to one side. “I can’t say as I ever saw the actual bush Just the mashed up berry they use for the Trance. It’s dark purple.”

“Maybe I can find the bush,” I said. 

“I wouldn’t if I were you,” she said, fluffing her feathers out again and shaking her head. “Nope, no sirree, dearie! I saw things I hope to the Great Orb I never see again. In my own lattice.  There are things that are better left forgotten.” She shook her head. 

“But I want to remember.”

“Not remembering has its virtues, dearie,” Rika said. “You do not want to remember everything. Trust me, dearie. If you eat the mildornia, you’ll see things you wish you never had.” 

She scrunched her head down into her feathers. “Trouble is, you can’t unsee them.”

Time is my enemy. Again. I thought I left it behind with all the clocks at Rosencranz. I hate waiting.

With or without clocks, the sun moved abominably slowly across the sky. My frantic pacing around the Treehouse’s tiny deck with a broom got the best of Rika, who politely let me know in no uncertain terms that I was driving her nuts. She flew off leaving me alone with my impatience. 

With no one to forbid me or witness my transgression, I seized the opportunity and flew down the spiral steps around the tree trunk, my feet barely touching them. Sweet freedom! I plunged into the sea of tiny wildflowers and tall grass between the Treehouse and the emerald forest, laughing all the way to its edge.

I slipped across the threshold between light and dark—out of the bright warmth of the morning sun and into the shadows of thick woods. Underneath the tall trees curved branches, arching gracefully from the thick trunks of towering trees, the smaller trees and shrubs found enough sunlight to proliferate in dense thickets.

The whole of creation opened before me in a great disarray of smells and colors and sounds. Late summer flowers splashed bright spots of all the colors against the background of a thousand shades of green. 

I inhaled the perfume of flowers and the sweet smell of fertility that emanated from the soils beneath moldy rotting leaves from years past. Thousands of flowers and grasses going to seed, swayed as I approached and passed. But for the roses around the patio where I wiled away the sunny days, I had not seen a flower in more than 20 years.

Ancient trees rose up from roots around which flowers sprang in wild abandon and color. If I bent to touch a pretty face, the flower sprouted wings and flew in a circle around my head on its way to join the birdsong in the sky. So many birds! The symphony of their songs!

I could hear the crawly things rustling around in the dead leaves and twigs that covered the ground. Crickets! Their chirping revived a bubble memory of a warm sunny day with Charlie in the woods beyond a house. The house is familiar—perhaps I lived there before Rosencranz. I had not considered there was a time before Rosencranz…until now.

Jayzu told me that many crows and a few ravens lived on the island, and had for many years. But I had no idea what that really meant until hundreds and hundreds of crows appeared out of nowhere. Some flew over my head, calling out my name—MizSharlit—while others roosted in the branches over my head, watching as I walked by.

All of them seemed to know my name, but that was not a mystery, Charlie had told me. “Everyone knows you’re here, Charlotte. You’re a celebrity.”

At Rosencranz I heard the crows, but I never conversed with them. Among the few things I remember from my earliest days there was to never let anyone know I could; I was afraid someone would see or hear me. 

A woman screams at me from behind me. Fear shoots through me, and my heart pounds. I turn to look, but there is no one there…other than the gang of silly raucous crows following me. What or who did I hear? I looked back every few seconds for several minutes until I became convinced no one was there.

Even so, I was not alone at all.

Charlie and JoEd were in Keeper Training somewhere, but there was no lack of friendly crows accompanying me. I don’t desire solitude—I’d had quite enough of that at Rosencranz. I would happily be never alone again.

Crows are good companions; they’re chatty and full of good humor. Jayzu told me crows are officially classified as songbirds, though no yoomuns think their sounds are music.

“Well, I do,” I had said, feeling indignant and defensive on their behalf. “I am sure the sounds of yoomun language are not music to the them either.”

“Watch this, MizSharlit!” a hidden voice called out to me from above. A small black blur swooped down in a graceful arc toward the ground. The young crow plucked a wildflower in its beak, and after making a small circle around me, dropped to the ground.

I smiled down at the little crow, looking up at me with the flower in its beak. I took the flower—a red star with brilliant yellow inside. “Thank you!” I stroked the crow’s back. “And what may I call you, dear one?”

“Gladys,” she said and took a step back. One wing went out in the crow greeting—and she bowed low to the ground.

Gladys rode on my shoulder until her companions called her away for a game of Drop the Walnut. A crow would pick up a small round item, but not necessarily a walnut—anything smallish and roundish sufficed. I watched the whole group of crows shoot up high into the tree canopy. The one with the walnut dropped it, and the others followed the nut’s descent. At the very last moment before it hit the ground, one would catch it in its beak and head back to the sky.

Or not.

Occasionally, hilariously, the crow misjudges and crash-lands, somersaulting into the bushes. Raucous laughter from all around—and the game begins again with another ‘walnut’.

I left them to their game and walked on amid the island’s elders—the trees. The luscious growth of young flowers or colored leaves, upon a rich carpet of smaller beings, emanated all the fertile odors of life and death. I threw my arms open, and my head back. I twirled around a few times, embracing my new freedom, as if I were a child. 

Like I did when I was a child. Before Rosencranz. 

I grew so dizzy from the spinning, when I stopped I failed to regain my balance. I tipped over into the sweet-smelling grass and wild flowers. The world spun all around me as if I were the very center of all that is. 

On the ground squeezing my eyes shut, until the spinning stopped. Opening my eyes,  I gazed up through tiny patches of blue sky and the green leaves of the trees over my head.

Then I heard it.

Music.

I sat up. Amid the chatter of crickets and the happy melodies of the birds, I heard it again. Music. A sad, silvery voice—a yoomun voice. 

I got to my feet. The singing came closer. I couldn’t see who the singer was, but the voice was a woman’s—clearly not Jayzu. But who, then? He told me there were not others, no other humans on the island.

Mesmerized by the sweetness of the song—eerily familiar from the shadows of long ago—I remained still as a statue. The song came closer…

I almost started singing, so familiar was the song. Where I had heard it before, I had no idea—and no impulse to stop and rack my brains to remember. I just wanted to sing this song. Could I?

I whisper-sang softly along, stumbling over half forgotten words. 

The singing stopped suddenly. Out of the corner of my eye I saw movement among the trees. And then I saw her. Not more than ten feet from me—frozen as I was.

Our eyes locked together; she stared at me with startling green eyes—the distilled color of the forest all around us. Her hair curled around her face like a yellow halo. The faintest smile dawned on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with joy and surprise. She raised a hand as if to greet me.

I held my breath, unable to speak. Who is she? Familiar, yet… my mind blanked. I exhaled slowly. I wanted her to come closer, whoever she was.

She smiled and took a step toward me, raising her eyebrows slightly, as if asking my permission to approach.

I smiled. She took a couple more steps. And stopped—the moment shattered at the sound of a man shouting as he approached from behind the woman. I saw flashes of a red plaid shirt as he walked quickly through the trees toward us.

That is not Jayzu.

As soon as he could politely leave the riverbank seeing Sam and Kate off in the Captain’s boat,  Jayzu turned and strode calmly away from the river bank and into the trees. When he was out of sight of the boat, he took off running to find Russ and Jade.

But where to now? He cursed himself for not asking Jade where she said she saw her mother. Charlotte could be anywhere. He was not worried they would find their way to the Treehouse, but what if they did? They would see Charlotte.

That is not how he wanted things to go.

For weeks before she left Rosencranz, Jayzu had daydreamed of Charlotte on the island. With him. Just the two of them. They would walk together under a canopy of green leaves and blue sky. He would show her the places he inhabited—his cottage, the hermit’s chapel, the rocky point on the river. All amid this amazing Garden of Eden he had the grace from God to live in, with her.

He had it all planned. He would go alone into the city every week for groceries and other necessities. He would teach his classes at the university, and perform whatever priestly duties were asked of him at St Sophia’s. Both provided him a meager yet adequate living that could easily support them both.

Meanwhile Charlotte would remain on the island, safe from the world, surrounded by a few hundred of her closest friends—the crows. She would be the Lady of the Island, bestowing her presence upon all that existed there. In time, when her disappearance from Rosencranz blew over, he would introduce her to Jade.

She would bathe his life in the love he had never known. Not with his mother. Not even with God. He would love her with all his heart and soul. And they would live happily ever after. 

Jayzu ran past his cottage. A minute later, he flew across Bruthamax’s bridge — his feet barely touching the planks. 

“Charlotte! Where are you?” he shouted as he ran

Russ and Jade had gone for a walk—he wanted to collect specimens and she wanted to sketch the flowers. but where did they go? Terrified they would run into Charlotte, he cupped his hands and yelled: “Charr-lotte!”  But his voice cracked and he sounded like a dying duck.The afternoon rolled by while Jayzu ran without a plan. Haphazardly darting between trees and muddying himself by romping through the forest in panicked abandon, he called and called Charlotte’s name. Some of the nearby crows picked up the call: “Shar-lit! Shar-lit!” until her name echoed throughout the forest.

Where the devil is she?

As the sun approached the western horizon, Jayzu ran to the Treehouse—perhaps he could find Charlie or JoEd to help him find Charlotte. It was odd that he had not seen them at all.

He leapt off the Treehouse deck and took off running. He dashed across the small meadow—the direction Rika pointed. He plunged into the dense forest, smashing through overhanging branches and splashing through the small streams and pools. 

He tripped on a root and fell forward into a bog; his hands sunk into thick black ooze, all the way to his elbows. He spat out a dollop of mud and hauled himself out onto the grass. He wiped the stinky mud from his face, for all the good it would do. 

He stood up dripping black mud. He was a walking mud-ball, speckled with a little blood here and there.

“Best you should find some clean water and wash yourself off,” a crow’s voice from above said. “I’m just sayin’, Jayzu, I reckon you’ll scare Mizsharlit clean out of her wits, if she sees you all covered in mud and blood and such.”

She looked him up and down. Her disapproval hung heavily in the air between them, but her warm voice soothed him. He looked down at his bloody, muddied arms from his mad flight through the bogs and dense undergrowth.

“That is true, Gertie. I am the portrait of filth. And I stink.”

“That you do, Jayzu,” Gertie said. She rose up on her legs and flapped her wings before refolding them neatly into her sides. “Like a bunya.”

“I must find Charlotte, Gertie.” he said, trying to smile. He could hardly believe his own ears. “I love her. God help me, I love her. I just wish I knew what to do.”

“Stop fretting and clean yourself up,” Gertie said, brushing her wing across his back. “That’s what.” She aimed the other wing toward a pond of clear, clean water—unlike the mud bog he had just fallen into. “Plenty of clean water around, Jayzu, doncha know? No need to bathe in the mud.”

Jayzu followed her wing; within a few moments he stood in the rushes on the edge of a small, clear pond. He took his shirt off and tossed it to the ground. “I must find her, Gertie! I cannot bear her out there lost and alone!”

“Mizsharlit’s just fine, Jayzu,” Gertie said. “Every bird on the island’s heard of her comin’, and everyone’s been dyin’ of curiosity. I doubt she’s lost at all, or even walks alone without a whole crowd of birds over her head, pesterin’ her every step. Now you just strip down, Jayzu. Sit down here in the water and wash up and make yourself presentable.”

“But—” What if she runs into Russ and Jade, who are also out there wandering around?

“No buts,” Gertie said, flapping her wings. “Get your stinkin’ carcass in the water.”

He stared at her slack-jawed for a moment, then did as he was told. He slid into the cool water, suddenly bashful of his nakedness before Gertie. He turned his back as he splashed water on his face and arms, scrubbing at the mud and blood with his bare hands. He plunged his entire head under water and scrubbed his scalp.

“You’re a new yoomun, Jayzu,” Gertie said, looking him up and down after he stepped out of the pond and onto the grass.

Jayzu felt his face redden and looked around for his clothes to hide his nakedness.

“Don’t tell me you’ll be putting these back on?” She nudged the dirty clothes on the ground with her beak. “They stink to the moon.”

He tossed his clothing in the water and washed out the black mud, and most of the odor. After wringing each item out, he put them on. The wet clothing clung to his skin and into every nook, cranny, crevasse and wrinkle.

“Much better, Jayzu,” Gertie said. “Much better. I reckon Mizsharlit will see you— before she smells you.”

“If I can find her.” Jayzu said, imagining her flitting almost unseen through the curtain of trees and dark green shadows of the afternoon. And running smack into Jade and Russ. He shivered in his wet shirt and tugged at his pant legs to keep them from riding up into his crotch.

“Me, I’d head for the Sanctuary,” Gertie said, sailing into the branches above him. “But I’m a crow. What do I know?”

The bird sanctuary appealed to all the birds on the island, as well as a plethora of passers-by—those on the wing to other places, or city birds just out for a fly. The Captain, Russ, and Sam had helped Alfredo build it—though they really didn’t do much more than move some rocks and transplant a few things. How simple life was, then. It seemed so long ago, yet it had been little more than 24 hours since Charlotte had left Rosencranz and come to the island.

He bent down and stroked the crow behind her head. “You are very wise, Gertie. I came from the direction of the Treehouse, and before that from my cottage. I did not see any sign of her. She very well could have gone to the Sanctuary.”

“I’m sure you’ll find her, Jayzu,” Gertie said as she sprang into the air.

“Charlotte!” Jayzu shouted as he walked. Again and again he called out, but each time his voice fell dead among the branches and leaves. Not a single crow showed up to tell him where she went. Even the crickets remained silent. He peered into the dense foliage, his eyes scanning for an unusual color or movement or sound. Nothing.

He cursed the victory party that took him away from Charlotte on her first day on the island. It had been difficult to stay present, and he had fidgeted the entire time, wishing everyone would hurry and go home. Sam and Kate left, finally, but Russ and Jade wanted to go for a walk.

I should have told them no. But there was no graceful way to do so.

A black shadow passed over his left shoulder and circled around, coming to a stop on a low-hanging branch. “Grawky, Jayzu,” Charlie said, as Jayzu stopped and squinted to see who it was. 

“Charlie! I am truly happy to see you!”

“Rika tells me you ran off like a madman,” Charlie said. He eyed Jayzu’s bleeding arms with his intense blue eyes, and then his face. “Are you mad?”

“No. Yes,” Jayzu said, shaking his head and nodding. “I have no idea anymore, Charlie. I cannot find Charlotte and I fear she might be hurt or—worse.”

“What would be worse than that, Jayzu?” Charlie asked. “Death? What would kill her on the island?”

He shook his head. “No, not that. I fear that Russ and Jade will see her, and they might tell someone and—” His guts turned to ice. “No one can know she is here, Charlie. They will come and take her back.”

Charlie tilted his head to one side and gazed at Jayzu for a few seconds. “Well, she’s still here, I reckon. It’s not like she can leave the island. JoEd said he flew with her for awhile. And then JohnHenry, with a few of his zhekkies. They say she was looking for you, and so they pointed her toward your cottage.”

“My cottage!” Jayzu groaned. “Oh, no! She cannot go there, Charlie. What if Russ and Jade are back from their walk? Oh, dear God, no!”

Jayzu turned on his heel and sprinted back in the opposite direction, toward his cottage. Praying that Jade and Russ had returned from their walk, he hoped to find them patiently awaiting his return. Alone. 

Please, dear Lord, please do not allow them to see Charlotte.

He arrived at his cottage—the door was open—he stepped in. Russ and Jade were inside, talking. Arguing, given the decibels of Jade’s voice. Trapped between relief Charlotte was not there, and anxiety of where she was, Alfredo the Jesuit plastered a fake, yet benign smile on his face and entered his cottage.

Terrified the man saw me, I dove into the folds of the forest and held my breath and watched. I held my breath, with my heart pounding so hard I feared the woman and the man would hear. 

The man came to the woman’s side, and she pointed toward the place where I had been standing. He shook his head, and she shook hers—blonde curls bouncing like springs—and pointed again.

They finished their pointing and head-shaking, and he tugged at her sleeve. She resisted momentarily, pointing in my direction again. My heart broke a little, seeing her hopeful face searching for me. I remained hidden.

Who is she? So familiar, I think I must know her, but I could not possibly have ever met her. There was certainly no one like her at Rosencranz.

Her shoulders sagged, and she allowed the man to lead her away. I followed them on a faint path through the trees, letting them get just far enough so as to not lose them, but close enough I could catch a glimpse of his red plaid shirt.

I lost them for a few moments, though I could hear them through the trees. Abruptly I came upon them as they stood before a large tree with steps spiraling up its trunk. So similar to the Treehouse, but instead of a deck above, the steps led to a rickety-looking bridge that crossed a chasm of boulders. I slipped behind a tree and watched the bridge sway back and forth as they crossed, single-file.

I climbed the steps to the bridge and stared at the ancient-looking contraption, its uneven footpath composed of small yet varying thicknesses of cut tree branches lashed together with living vines. A handrail of vines had been strung across the chasm, with more vines looping it to the footboards, connecting the entire structure.

I took a step, one hand still on the great tree trunk. Nervously, I let go and took a step onto the bridge. Spongy, yet somehow it seemed sturdy enough to walk on. And, the man and woman had crossed it moments before. I took another step, then another, and the whole bridge swayed. I quickened my steps and was on the other side without upchucking my lunch, and leaped back into the arms of a solid tree.

The two yoomuns were nowhere in sight, but a well-worn path snaking through the forest seemed the most likely way they had gone. I walked as silently as I could, ears and eyes wide-open, sensing … other yoomuns. The trees and bush were full of animal and insect presence but those did not worry me.

Who are these yoomuns? And what are they doing here? Jayzu said there was no one else but the two of us on the island. I worried about one thing only: Are they here to take me back to Rosencranz? Jayzu promised me he would not let that happen.

He doesn’t know they are here!

I must warn him!

But where is he?

The path wound through the woodlands, and I glided past many flowers whose colors and sweet scents lured me to their faces. But I kept on. I had to find out who those people were, and warn Jayzu we were not alone.

The path ended at a small clearing within which stood a tiny cottage—I knew it must be Jayzu’s. He had told me he built it after the same fashion as Bruthamax had built the Treehouse.

I snuck closer, staying within the cover of the trees and bushes. The door was open and I heard voices. They are in Jayzu’s house! I crept up to the window hid under a bush. I was about to raise myself up and peer inside—until I heard the crunching sounds of footsteps from the direction I had come. 

Jayzu strode right past me and into his cottage. I started called out to him—that strangers were in his cottage…but he raced by and was inside the door before I could make a sound. 

I raised myself up a bit—enough for just one eye to look inside…

“I saw her, Russ. I know it was her,” the blonde woman was saying, her voice not quite pleading, not quite defiant.

“Saw who?” Alfredo said, as he stepped inside his cottage. “Forgive me for being late, Russ, Jade. I — uh—am sorry. I expected to be back her sooner.”

Jayzu knows these people? 

“Jade thinks she saw her mother out there in the forest,” the man, Russ, said, waving an arm toward the bridge. “I can’t convince her that’s impossible. I hope you can.”

“Well, the island works in strange ways,” Alfredo said, quickly switching on a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes it brings out one’s hopes and wishes. But there is no one here but the three of us, Jade.”

No one?

I could hardly believe my ears. But there she was—Jade—the woman I saw and heard singing in the deep forest. But why was Jayzu lying to her? I could hardly stop myself from striding through the open door and coming to her side.

“I’ve told her that over and over again, Alfredo,” Russ said. “And I didn’t see anyone. I was working and Jade had gone off by herself, and when I found her, she was in a state—”

“I was not in a state,” Jade said, raising her voice. “I saw her. She was singing. So was I. And we sang the same song. She was wearing a blue, long-sleeve shirt, and green coveralls. She had a long black braid. She looks just like the portrait I painted of her!”

She glanced toward the window I was peeping in. Had she sensed my eavesdropping? I quickly ducked my head.

I heard Russ laugh and say: “Of course she does. You imagined her, Jade. Just like when you painted her, and now you imagined her here on—”

Again, I wanted to leap inside the cottage—how dare he talk to her like that? I slowly raised up again to peek in the window.

I saw Jayzu hold a hand up, and Russ stopped talking. 

Jayzu turned toward Jade and said: “Your mother has been on your mind a great deal lately—you told me that when I bought your painting, Ave, Madre.”  He gestured toward something out of my view.

“So aptly named,” Jayzu said, smiling. “Ave, Madre—‘Hail Mother’. It moves me deeply. I sometimes think she is real too—the Blessed Mother of us all. It must be more so for you, Jade, having painted it and losing your mother when you were so young.”

A painting? They are looking at a painting that Jade painted. Of me. Her mother. But—how?

 A mother? I am a mother? I shook my head. How could that be? 

“I did not paint ‘the Blessed Mother of Us All’,” Jade said as she clenched her fists at her side. “I painted my mother. Yes I see her in my dreams. And I saw her today, here, on the island. For real. Standing right in front of me.” She gestured angrily toward the outside, glaring at the two men.

She really believes I am her mother!

This woman I saw for the first time today says I am her mother! And she recognized me in the woods—from her painting? And Jayzu has this painting? I got to my feet and resumed my spying through the window. I had to see that painting…

“Jade,” Jayzu said gently, stepping toward her, smiling still. “That cannot be. There is no one else on this island but the three of us.” He grinned sheepishly at her and shrugged. “The island is enchanted, you know. Sometimes even I get carried away, and think I see things. But really, you could not have seen your mother here, Jade. It is impossible.”

Still smiling, he held both hands out, palms open. Nothing to hide.

A bell rang from some distance away. Alfredo rolled his eyes toward the heavens. Saved by the Captain’s bell, finally.

“Fine. I didn’t see her,” Jade said. “I didn’t see a damn thing.” She picked up her bag and stormed out the door.

Russ shook his head and followed Alfredo’s eyes to the ceiling. “I’m sorry, man. She gets like this sometimes. I’ll calm her down when we get home. I hope.”

“Perhaps that is part of her gift,” Alfredo said, putting a fatherly hand on Russ’s arm. “To feel things so intently. Be patient with her.”

Russ sighed. “Trying to be. She is sure hard to live with sometimes.”

“Take her home, Russ,” Jayzu said, edging him toward the door. “Just love her. Love cures everything. Now come along. The Captain is waiting. We must go.”