The Gift of the Twin Houses Page 4

  “I guess.”

  “You sure you wanna hear the rest of the story? It’s got a really fun part at the end.”

  “I’m really enjoying your story, Jeremy.” That was the honest truth. Somehow, his little voice had reached into my soul and given me the comfort that I felt sure Jeremy, whoever he was, may never have felt.

  “The cowboy knew that Elisa wanted to help with the farm and the animals, but her pa thought that farmwork was too hard for a girl, so she had to stay home and work with her ma. The cowboy asked her if he could send Elisa out to get him some things from the fields and the forests, and she said yes. What do you think the cowboy wanted?”

  “I have no idea. Do you?”

  He laughed like an angel might, with unrepressed joy. “Sure I do, silly. I wrote the story.” He laughed and laughed until he could laugh no more. “You’re funny,” he said at last. “OK, so Elisa collected juniper berries and pine cones and all kinds of stuff. And she would come back and tell the cowboy where she had found what she brought back and where the biggest trees were and the best fishing and everything she could remember. The cowboy would smile and slip it all under his bed.”

  “One day her ma told the cowboy not to be wasting Elisa’s time on account of she needed her to help with chores around the house. See, she was always outdoors getting stuff for the cowboy.”

  “Yes, I see how her ma might object to that.”

  “But do you know why?”

  “Well—”

  “I’ll tell you why. ’Cause her ma’s gonna have a baby, that’s why. And she’d get really tired cleaning and cooking and all that. She wanted Elisa to help.

  See?”

  “Yes, I see that. So, what happened next?”

  “Oh, right. OK, the cowboy asked her to let Elisa do the errands until Christmas, which was just three days away. She smiled and said that would be OK. Elisa was glad to see her ma smile ’cause she didn’t smile much. I like that part,” Jeremy added.

  “I like it too. Please, go on.”

  “Elisa was hoping that her ma’s baby would be a baby girl. That way, she would be the youngest, and Elisa could help her brothers and her pa on the farm. Her pa wanted another boy, but a girl was OK too. Elisa’s pa thought that girls couldn’t work as hard as boys, and he needed more hands to make ends meet. But Elisa knew she could do it, ’cause she knew she could work harder and better than her brothers.” He paused.

  “Is something wrong?” I finally asked.

  “No, just remembering something. Anyway, the story ends on Christmas day. You ready?”

  “I sure am.”

  “All right. On Christmas morning Ma made all kinds of good things. The house smelled like coffee and muffins and eggs and bacon. It was snowing too, and everything was all white outside. Elisa and her brothers had the morning off, and her pa helped the cowboy to the kitchen table. The cowboy asked one of the boys to bring him an old bag that was under his bed, and he gave each and every one a Christmas present. This is the best part. You see, they didn’t know what to do with the presents.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “They never got presents before. Her pa didn’t allow presents ’cause he didn’t want them to be sad if sometimes they didn’t get any.”

  “Oh, I see. How sad.”

  “It was OK. We didn’t get any presents at my house either, and we got used to it. Then it all changed.”

  “How’s that?”

  “That’s another story. Anyway, the cowboy didn’t know that her pa didn’t allow presents. That’s why he made presents for everybody. Her pa forgot to tell his brother about no gifts.”

  “What did Pa do?”

  “Wait, I have to tell you about the presents first.”

  “I’m sorry. Go on.”

  “Elisa got a pretty necklace made of juniper berry seeds, and when she put it on, she twirled and twirled and felt like the prettiest little girl in the world. Pretty nice, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, pretty nice. What did the others get?”

  “The cowboy gave each one of the boys a piece of a map. When they put the four pieces together, it showed their little valley and where lots of treasures from nature could be found. Then he winked at Elisa, and she understood how the cowboy taught them that nature would always have gifts for them. This part I really like. My uncle taught me how to put a map together just like that, and we hung it on the wall in my room.”

  “I can just imagine. I’d like to do one myself.”

  “He gave Elisa’s ma a juniper berry necklace too and told her he could teach her and Elisa how to make jewelry out of things around the farm. That was a good idea ’cause then they could go sell them in town at the market. What do you think?”

  “I agree. I’m sure they could use the extra money.”

  “Oh, yeah. They sure could. My ma made jewelry like that too. She sold it at the market, and the girls and ladies wore it. You see, the cowboy had learned to make jewelry from a shaman he’d met in Canada. You know what a shaman is?”

  “I think so, yes.”

  “My uncle knew a shaman too. He met him up in Canada. I am going to write a story about shamans one day.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea, Jeremy. I hope I get to read it.”

  “Yeah, that would be nice. It’s already in my head.”

  “You think about it early in the morning?”

  “Yeah. Anyway, Elisa and her brothers didn’t know what a shaman was, so the cowboy told them all about the people who had lived in our lands way before they’d even been born. He told them about their ancient customs and how they understood the spirits of the earth and nature and all that. That’s really true. Bet you didn’t know that.”

  “I didn’t,” I lied, “but I am always glad to learn new things. Thank you, Jeremy.”

  “You’re welcome. Anyway, the cowboy gave his brother a picture to remind him how happy they’d been when they were kids and celebrated Christmas on the farm with their parents. Elisa’s pa remembered, and a small tear just came down his cheek.”

  “That’s beautiful.”

  “Yeah, I know. I still have the picture my uncle gave my pa. He gave it to me on account of my story. It’s also on my wall. Now the best part. Ready?” “As ready as I’ll ever be. Read on.”

  He chuckled. “Read on. You sure talk funny. That Christmas day, Elisa’s little sister Rachel was born, and the cowboy told his brother he had to fetch an elder from the Okanogan tribe to come to the house to bless the new baby and the family.”

  “Was that the custom?”

  “Sort of. Her pa forgot that was the way. The cowboy reminded him, and since there were no presents for his brother, Elis’as pa thought that if this made him happy, he’d fetch the elder. When he got back, the elder gave Rachel and the whole family a real nice blessing.” Jeremy went silent.

  “Is something wrong, Jeremy?”

  “I smell coffee. Everybody’ll be up in a minute. Did you like my story?” “I loved your story. I can never thank you enough for sharing it with me.” “I won first prize at school for that story. They gave me a red ribbon, and I hung it over my bed. They said it was the best Christmas story in the whole school.”

  “That’s wonderful. Congratulations.”

  “You know what else?”

  “What?”

  “My little sister was born on Christmas day, and my ma and pa named her Rachel on account of my story. They also invited an elder to bless our new baby. The elder also blessed our entire family, the house, the farm, and the land, thanking the ancestors for their gifts to us.” The pride in his voice was heartwarming. “The cowboy told me a good story, don’t you think?”

  “The best story ever.”

  I woke up before sunrise and immediately searched for a photograph ofJeremy, or the one of his pa and the cowboy, but they weren’t there. I wondered how I’d heard Jeremy’s story without a photograph.

  “Was it just a dream?” I asked myself. “No, much m
ore than that.” Hearing my own voice was somewhat reassuring, even though I couldn’t shake the fear of madness that lurked behind this forced facade of normalcy.

  Hearing all about Jeremy without a photograph wasn’t natural. My descent into madness seems undeniable. Is that is what’s happening to me?

  “I refuse to give into the dread of looming insanity. Maybe I’ll find Jeremy’s photograph in the attic. Perhaps I’ll find Jeremy’s story somewhere there as well. There has to be an explanation for the clarity of the vision other than my so-called gift.”

  Winter had descended on my little valley overnight, and I was very thankful for the distraction it brought with it. Snow blanketed the house and the Cascades, and the view from my living room window mirrored the idyllic winter landscapes captured in paintings and reproductions of well-wishing holiday cards. What a treat.

  The Cascades, veiled in white, sparkled under the morning sun. The silence of the gentle snowflakes that embraced my house intoxicated my senses. I sat in the rocking chair on my small front porch all bundled up, sipping a nice hot cup of cocoa, listening. The silence was complete. Once in a while, I could hear the wind flow through the trees as it woke the fallen snow, rearranging the landscape. It’s hard to imagine such peace and quiet. I knew that the sudden snowstorm would create havoc for those who needed to go to work or be somewhere, but for me, the snowstorm brought splendor and serenity.

  Enthralled with the majesty that surrounded me, I went about my household tasks choosing to look on the positive side of the memories my house had witnessed so many years ago. I now knew that Amy and her sisters, as well as Jeremy, had lived in my house some time back. I imagined Amy and Jeremy with their families and wondered how they’d spent their winters, how they’d kept warm and entertained themselves, what they spoke about, who slept where, how they’d furnished the house, and what they did at night after dinner.

  With every passing moment, I confirmed that my impulse to move here had been right. I wondered how my life would have turned out had I not been asked to bury that part of me that tuned into these kinds of ethereal sensations and emotions. Hard to imagine after all these years, given the roadblocks I’d built.

  By accepting my visions as normal and truthful, I had innocently provoked a reaction that had caused my family to change me, if only to protect me. Nevertheless, their actions splintered my personality. Now I found myself reassembling it piece by piece. The difficulty in doing so, however, rested on the panic instilled in me of these abnormal abilities and the resulting instinctive fear of the unknown.

  If permitted to thrive, my extrasensory capacities might flourish. On the other hand, they might lead to my destruction.

  Chapter 6

  Conrad

  I’d just finished dressing when I heard the chimes of the front doorbell. As soon as I opened the door and saw Conrad, looking more handsome than ever flushed by the cold air, something within me stirred, and for a moment I lost myself inside the sensation.

  He took off his hat and gloves, shook my hand, and exactly what happened after that is unclear. My brain zapped out of the present and disappeared to somewhere unknown. I lost track of everything around me—well, everything but Conrad. What I do remember is that we both stood there looking into each other’s eyes, unwilling to say the next word for fear of breaking this invisible yet palpable bond between us.

  Slowly, I felt Conrad’s hand move in mine and saw him smile.

  “I came by to see if you’ve got what you need for winter,” he said.

  “Think so,” I clumsily managed to say as I slid my hand out of his.

  “If you want, I can take a look to see what needs to be done with the house. It’s been empty a long while.”

  “Sure, please come in.”

  Still in a daze, I remember following him through the house as he inspected kitchen, windows, attic, porch, and bedrooms. The intuitive Sarah was so attracted to him that the practical Sarah had trouble keeping a clear head. Somehow, I managed to ask all the essential questions every time he recommended something or made an assessment of needed upgrades or repairs. On automatic pilot, I went through the motions, concentrating more on the messenger than the message.

  After a while my senses returned, and I recall following Conrad down the stairs toward the front foyer, and thinking that in a few moments he’d be gone.

  “How about chains for your car?” he asked.

  “I got those. I’ll put them on later. I didn’t expect it to snow this much so fast.”

  “I’ll help you with them.”

  “You don’t need to bother, really. I lived in Boston before moving to California. I’ve handled many a chain in my time.” No sooner had I heard the sensible Sarah utter those words than I wanted to gag her.

  “No bother, be happy to give you a hand,” he said, and I thanked my lucky stars. “Do you have any more questions on what you need to ready yourself and the house for winter?”

  I smiled and blushed. “Ran out of questions. I’d think you’d be sick of so many of them by now.”

  “No, not at all. I just wanted to make sure. Don’t want you thinking it’s my way to get you to spend money at my store.”

  “I hope you didn’t think.. .I mean, I didn’t—”

  “Don’t fret. Just checking. Better get it all sorted out up front.”

  “Your answers were straightforward and honest. I’ve never met anyone that owned a general store, so please forgive me if I sounded so incredulous. I’m a stickler for detail and tend to analyze—”

  “Incredulous. Another fancy word,” he said, and chuckled.

  “Sorry, I’ve been a teacher a bit too long.”

  “No need for apologies. I already told you I like it.”

  I’m sure I must’ve turned red as a beet, because he laughed.

  “Sorry for all the questions,” I blurted out, turning away from him and quickly walking out onto the porch. I counted on the cold air to bring my emotions and composure back into check. “Thank you for your patience.” “I’ll be happy to bring the stuff over. I’ll help you with the house if you want. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I don’t want to impose and take you away from your wife and family.” He shook his head. “Widower. I live on my own, and I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t mean it. C’mon, let’s start with the chains for your car, and then I’ll show you how to walk to my house if you’re snowed in and can’t drive. I’m just across the valley.”

  After he put on the chains, we walked to the edge of the valley, and he pointed the way to his home just across a small clearing. I couldn’t see the house itself, but the road seemed easy to follow either by car or on foot.

  “Let’s get you back to your house. This coat and city boots of yours won’t cut it in these parts. You need some rugged winter boots and a waterproof coat.

  We enjoyed a nice walk, but my wet socks and chattering teeth confirmed that he was right. In a matter of minutes, it became clear to me that thirty years of easy living in sunny southern California had melted away any and all winter know-how from my early years in Boston.

  After we got back to the house, he smiled and tilted his hat. “See you tomorrow, late afternoon. I’ll bring the stuff and get going on the house.”

  “You really don’t have to—”

  “Now Sarah, it’s settled. Just smile and nod.” I did as he asked, part of me delighted with the prospect, part of me worried and afraid.

  So, for the next couple of weeks, our late afternoons were dedicated to readying my house, and me, for winter.

  The mornings however were focused internally. Jeremy had helped me discover the wonders the early hours bring, even though I’d found no answers about how my encounter with him had been possible. Had it been a dream, or did his photograph lurk somewhere and I’d glanced at it but didn’t remember? I didn’t have the sensation that it had been a dream. The images ofJeremy and his family, of the cowboy, and of my house and my valley had been so vivid that they didn’
t fit into the realm of reveries. The clarity of his young voice and our easy give-and-take assured me that it hadn’t been an illusion. I felt as if I’d been there engaged with Jeremy as he told me all about his family and the story he’d written. I knew for certain he’d lived here and formed part of the history of my new home, just as the three sisters, but how the encounter had taken place remained a mystery.

  Every day I looked forward to the sunrise to witness the magic of the early rays of sun and the light peering through the foliage. How quiet were the birds at daybreak in the winter. I had to listen intently to even guess where they were or what they were doing to stay warm. I so loved my early mornings. As it had been for Jeremy, they offered a part of the day that belonged only to me. One morning as I sipped my coffee, I reflected on the last couple of weeks and how much I’d learned about myself.

  It all had started with pondering over how unusual it was for me to identify with Jeremy and claim the early mornings as mine, a curious phenomenon indeed since no one but me lived in the house. There were no distractions, no obligations to others, not a single person to interrupt my day. Given the fact that I lived utterly alone, with no parents, no siblings, and no farm animals to tend to, how could the mornings belong to anyone but me?

  I discovered that during the early mornings, the new Sarah, the impulsive Sarah, the trusting Sarah, who gave in to her intuition, heard stories from the photographs in her attic, conversed with Jeremy, and felt the emotions of her house, was in full residence. However, as the day went on, the Sarah of the past emerged, and of course she needed to be dealt with. That Sarah had been a worrier all her life, always analyzing this option or that one, and crafting plans to control whatever puzzled her. There hadn’t been a single moment in her past life where she didn’t feel in complete control of all of her actions and decisions. Proud of this character trait, she’d put it to good use.

  So, with the recent appearance of the Sarah that experienced premonitions and trusted her instincts, the days had to be divided in such a way as to make room for both. Two Sarahs cohabitating.