He jogged over to the edge of the enclosure and hopped the fence with the agility of a white-tailed deer. Everything about him seemed to be shining; he was completely aglow with a sense of purpose and belonging, and I had to admit that the co-op might actually be good for him.
“Mom! I was going to come down and see you after work,” he said. Even his speech was clearer, more energized. He wasn’t mumbling, and he looked me right in the eye. Amazing. “I’m way sorry I freaked you out by not telling you my plans.” He gave me a coy grin. “But I figured it would be better for you to find out after I was already here. I guess that was kind of uncool.”
“I’m your mother, Trey. I’ll always want to know where you are. You did scare me, but your apology is accepted.” I patted his back and glanced around. The co-op was buzzing with activity, and somewhere off in the distance I could hear the sound of a violin being played. I felt more at ease standing here with Trey than I had for many weeks. “I can understand why you find this place so appealing.”
Trey looked surprised. “You can?”
I laughed. “I was young once, too, you know.” I handed him the banana bread. “Share this with your friends, work hard, and know that your family is right down the hill if you need us.” I hesitated. Leaving Trey here was hard. “You’re going to visit us, right? And call me when you can? And what about college? Is this just for the summer or…?” I trailed off. It was too hard to give voice to my fear that he would one day announce his intentions to settle here permanently.
“Right now I’m just living in the moment, Mom. I want to see what it feels like to live like this before I rush off to college where my whole life will be one big, fat schedule.” He looked pained by the idea. “But I promise to come over every few days. Take a shower, do some laundry, and have supper. How’s that?” He gave me a hug. “And I’ll do my own laundry, Mom. You’ve got your new job to focus on. It’s time I took care of myself.”
I nearly fainted. Trey was going to wash his own clothes?
Instead of swooning, I kissed my son on the cheek and let him get back to work. As I turned to leave, Iris appeared from a path leading into the forest. She sent Trey a dazzlingly beautiful smile and wished me a good morning.
“This cannot be coincidence!” Iris declared in her melodious voice as she strode over to me. “Ever since I brought you to Marlette’s cabin I’ve been thinking about him, so I started wandering on the paths he liked best and visiting the places where he liked to sketch or just sit for a while. And I found something. Do you want to see it?”
“Absolutely.”
Iris led the way, her lithe, ethereal figure barely making a sound as we moved out of the meadow and into the woods. This time, we headed away from Marlette’s cabin, veering northwest instead.
“Where are we going?” I inquired in a hushed voice.
Without turning, she said, “It’ll be more rewarding for you to experience it firsthand.”
What an old soul. I was slightly awed by the girl’s poise, by her certainty.
The air was refreshingly cool, and the summer foliage allowed only a dappling of light to reach the carpet of pine needles and twigs. Soon, the path disappeared, turning to the barest hint of a trail, and eventually we began to tread through a part of the forest that looked to my untrained eye as though it hadn’t been disturbed in a long time. Iris didn’t hesitate, however, and her certainty allayed my fears that we might be lost.
As we walked in companionable silence, I began to puzzle over the details of Marlette’s daily routine. From what I’d heard, he would stop by Novel Idea, visit certain hidey-holes around Inspiration Valley, and then come back to the forest, probably to recover from being exposed to the noise and commotion of town.
“This is the place,” Iris said, almost reverently.
We had arrived at a secluded meadow, a wide oval of grass filled with wildflowers. Scores of butterflies and bees flitted from blossom to blossom, and birdsong filled the air. I could picture Marlette resting on the fallen elm, his diary on his lap, allowing the harmony of the scene to wash away unpleasant thoughts or memories.
Iris sat down on the grass and closed her eyes. I, too, felt an infusion of peace, an uplifting of my worn spirits, and a line from Thoreau whispered in my ear like the hum of dragonfly wings.
“‘You must converse much with the field and woods, if you would imbibe such health into your mind and spirit as you covet for your body.’”I whispered it softly, as though trying to tell Marlette that I understood why he’d set himself apart from the rest of the world in search of a measure of tranquility on this mountain.
“Henry David Thoreau,” Iris said, surprising me. “From one of his journals.” She pointed at a birdhouse made from twigs and vines, so well camouflaged that I hadn’t even noticed it hanging down from a branch just over my head. “I was right to bring you here.”
I walked over to the birdhouse and then threw her a questioning look over my shoulder.