Yesterday's Child, Gayle P. Nastasi [bill gates books to read .TXT] 📗

entombed mind screaming out to communicate to ears that would never hear it. Through the trees she could see the blue sparkle of the Lake, and beyond that the gleaming towers of the Abbey. Home.

"But they love me." Her voice cracked hoarsely from her throat and hot tears burned in her eyes.

"I know. An unfortunate love it is." The Lady stroked her hair. "You live in two worlds, two times. This is wrong, Sarah--can you not feel how very wrong it is? You must let go of one of those worlds to be whole."

Sarah looked around her. Peace surrounded her, the calm content of a world in balance, a world as it should be. She looked down at her hands -- normal hands whose fingers moved and bent and grasped when she wanted them to. She gazed at the Lady. She opened her mouth to speak. Words came forth. That never happened in her other world.

"I love them, too. And I love you. How can I choose?"

****


Lights flashed everywhere. Red. White. Red. White. Sounds surrounded her--voices of strange men and women, the purr of a motor. She strained her senses further. Her nose would have wrinkled if she had been able to force it to do so. Urine. She had wet herself again.

It was not Sarah on the stretcher. Sarah lay in the grass alongside the driveway, covered by a blanket. Her wheelchair was on its side, one wheel turning slowly with the strong breeze that blew across the yard. Two strangers dressed in white had come to bring her from the orchard this time--and they had carried Alyson out as well. When the second violent seizure in an hour had thrown her from her chair, they'd been too busy to do more than cover her and ask her mother to watch after her. Carolyn knelt beside her now, face lined with worry and fear, tears dried on her cheeks but still brimming in her eyes.

The stretcher was in the driveway, and if Sarah could have turned her head, she would have seen the blood that clotted Alyson's dark hair. Paramedics were leaning over her, bandages passed between them, one held an oxygen mask to Alyson's face.

"Will she be all right? Oh God, oh God. . . . " Carolyn began to rock back and forth. Back and forth. "Oh God, oh God. . . . "

One of the medics, a young woman with a comforting smile, walked over and sat in the grass beside them. "I think she'll be fine, Mrs. Mitchell. The cut isn't as deep as we first thought, and she looks like she's coming around. She's going to need a stitch or two, and will probably have to stay in the hospital overnight."

A car skidded over the hill and around the corner and raced into the Mitchell's long driveway. It pulled onto the grass to leave room for the ambulance to exit, and Bill came flying out of the driver side door.

"God, Carolyn! I got here as fast as I could! Is Alyson all right?"

He ran to the youngster on the stretcher, and Carolyn breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the trembling hand that reached for him. She jumped to her feet, leaving Sarah alone with the paramedic, and rushed to join her family. Alyson, face streaked with blood, was nonetheless smiling weakly.

"Hi, Mom. I'm okay." Her voice was weaker than her smile. "I have a terrible headache. Is Sarah all right?"

"Sarah?" Carolyn swallowed the lump that hit her in the throat as she looked toward her older child. "Sarah is fine,” she said softly, “Sarah's always fine--just another seizure."

The pain that touched Alyson's gaze wasn't a physical pain. "Mom, Sarah can't help it. Don't blame her, please."

Bill looked from daughter to wife and back. "Tell me what happened. When I answered the beeper call they just said Alyson was hurt."

"Sarah disappeared again. Usual thing -- usual place. We thought she was done with the seizure, and Alyson tried to get her out of the tree. She had her half-up, and Sarah went into another burst of convulsions. She thrashed, and threw Alyson right up against the tree trunk."

Bill shook his head for a moment, eyes shut tightly. When they opened, a single tear spilled out. "I'll get Sarah ready and meet you at the hospital. You ride with Al, hon'. I'll call Dr. Montgomery and see if he can meet us there, too."

A sob escaped before Carolyn forced her anguish back under control. "He was right, wasn't he?"

Sarah's body went rigid. No! No! No one heard her cries.

****


"She's gone again, Mom."

Oh, no, not today! Carolyn turned to the familiar sight of her younger daughter standing in the kitchen doorway with the empty wheelchair. There was a bandage on Alyson's head, and fading bruises all along one cheek. Dr. Montgomery would be meeting them at Gordon House in just under two hours. Why did Sarah have to run off today?

At least Bill was home. He could get Sarah out of that tree and back into the wheelchair much easier than Carolyn and Al could.

"Bill!" she called up the stairs as they headed for the door. "Sarah's in the orchard again!"

"Wait for me--I'm on my way!"

Half a moment later, he came down the stairs. His shirt tail was untucked and his belt not yet buckled. He wiped shaving cream off a half-shaven face with a wet towel. No annoyance sparked in his eyes -- only grief. Grief of an intensity that only a parent who felt as if he were abandoning a child could feel.

He sighed and took the wheelchair from Alyson. "She would have to do it one more time, wouldn't she? That's our Sarah."

The ground had hardened in the heat of the summer sun, and the huge wheels of the chair bounced roughly across the yard. Bill had cleared some of the brambles at the edge of the orchard, but they were already growing back. The chair was light enough for him to lift over the remnant of stone wall, but the thick wild raspberries scratched at his hands and arms.

Alyson ignored the thorns. She pulled aside the bushes so her father could get the wheelchair through. Carolyn followed, her hands clasped tightly before her, pain in her blue eyes.

The old apple orchard seemed darker than usual, as its heavy canopy of summer greenery blocked the sun. As the branches enclosed them, a strange silence did so as well. The birdsong sounded distant and foreign, as if drifting through from another world. Gnarled branches laden with tiny new crabapples dipped before the family, blocking their progress. Alyson continued to forge to the front, moving limbs aside for her sister's chair.

The great injured tree came into view, and they stopped in their tracks when they saw it. For the first time that they could remember, the old monarch bore no leaves. Branches that should have long ago been barren had finally succumbed to the lightning wound. The tree was dead.

Alyson shuddered.

"This is really strange. I know that tree was alive last time I was down here."

They moved forward again, winding among the trunks of smaller trees to come into sight of the cleft.

Sarah wasn't there.

****

Long after the tracking dogs had been called home and the sheriff's search parties had ceased to scour the surrounding woods, Alyson would come to Sarah's Tree. It was spring once again, and once again the old tree surprised her. It had borne no pink blossoms that year, as did its surrounding cousins, but life was sprouting from death. A tiny vine, delicate thorns gracing its slender trails, grew from the depths of the cloven trunk. Alyson tended the vine through the spring, waiting to see what it would become. It grew swift and strong, trailing brilliant green serrated leaves and tiny thorns, winding new life among the dead branches of the tree. In the summer it formed buds--deep purple, almost black, and velvety soft. When the petals unfurled, the buds became roses.


There is an island in the midst of an ancient lake, crowned by an emerald hill. Crystal blue waters reflect the shimmering image of the holy sanctuary which crests the island's rise. On the landside shore of the lake grows an orchard whose trees are tended with loving care by the Sisterhood that dwells within the island walls. Where the apple trees come down to touch the water, a small flat boat launches from the shore. Seated in the boat are the beautiful Lady of the Lake, and a healthy, laughing teenage girl. Imprint

Publication Date: 04-11-2010

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