A Knight Of The Word

“Every Christmas we had that cookie bake in your kitchen. Balls of dough and cookie sheets and cutters and frosting and little bottles of sprinkles and whatnot everywhere. We trashed her kitchen, and she never blinked an eye.”


“I remember making cookies for bake sales.” Nest shook her head. “For the church, for mission aid or something. It seemed for a while that I was doing it every other weekend. Gran never objected once, even after she stopped going to church altogether.”

Robert nodded. “Your grandmother never needed to go to church. I think God probably told her she didn’t have to go, that he would come to see her instead.”

Nest looked at him. “That’s a very nice thing to say, Robert.”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m just trying to get back into your good graces. Anyway, I liked your grandmother. I always thought, when things got a little rough at home, that if they got real bad I could move in with you if I really wanted to. Sure, you and your grandfather might object, but your grandmother would have me in an instant. That’s what I thought.”

Nest nodded. “She probably would have, too.

Robert folded his arms across his chest. “You can’t sell your house, Nest. You know why? Because your grandmother’s still there.”

Nest was silent for a moment. “I don’t think so.”

“Yes, she is. She’s in every room and closet, in every corner, and under every carpet, down in the basement and up in the attic. That’s where she is, Nest. Where else would she be?”

Nest didn’t answer.

“Up in Heaven playing a harp? I wouldn’t think so. Too boring. Not floating around on a cloud either. Not your grandmother. She’s in that house, and I don’t think you should move out on her.”

Nest wondered what Robert would say if he knew the truth of things. She wondered what he would say if he knew that Gran’s transgressions years earlier had doomed her family in ways that would horrify him, that Gran had roamed the park at night like a wild thing, that she had run with the feeders and cast her magic in dangerous ways, that her encounter with a demon had brought about both her own death and the death of Nest’s mother. Would he think that she, belonged in an afterlife of peace and light or that perhaps she should be consigned to a place where penance might be better served?

She regretted the thought immediately, a rumination both uncharitable and harsh, but she found she could not dispel it entirely.

Still, was Robert’s truth any less valid in determining the worth of Gran’s life than her own?

Robert cleared his throat to regain her attention. She looked at him. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Good. “Cause there are a lot of memories in that house, Nest.”

Yes, there are, she thought, looking off into the sun-streaked trees to where the river was a blue glint through the dark limbs. But not all the memories were ones she wanted to keep, and perhaps memories alone were not enough in any case. There was a lack of substance in memories and a danger in embracing them. You did not want to he tied too closely to something you could never recapture.

“I wouldn’t sell if it was me, you know,” Robert persisted. “I wouldn’t sell unless I didn’t have a choice.”

He was pushing his luck, irritating her with his insistence on making the decision for her, on assuming she couldn’t think it through as carefully as he could and needed his advice. It was typical Robert.

She gave him a look and dared him to speak. To his credit, he. didn’t. “Let’s go,” she said.

They walked back through the cemetery in silence, climbed the fence a second time, and crossed the park. The crossbar was raised now, and a few cars had driven in. One or two families were playing on the swing sets, and a picnic was being spread in a sunny spot across from the Sinnissippi burial mounds. Nest thought suddenly of Two Bears, of O’olish Amaneh, the last of the Sinnissippi. She hadn’t thought of him in a long time. She hadn’t seen him in five years. Now and then she wondered what had become of him. As she wondered what had become of John Ross, the Knight of the Word,

The memories flooded through her.

At the hedgerow bordering her yard, she leaned over impulsively and gave Robert a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for coming by. It was sweet of you.”

Robert looked flustered. He was being dismissed, and he wasn’t ready for that. “Uh, are you, do you have any plans for the rest of the day? Or anything?”

“Or anything?” she repeated.

“Well, lunch, maybe. You know what I mean.”

She knew exactly. She knew better than he did. Robert would never change. The best thing she could do for them both was not to encourage him.

“I’ll call you if I get some time later, okay?”

It had to be okay, of course, so Robert shrugged and nodded. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll see you at Thanksgiving. Or Christmas.”