Read Online The Healer of Harrow Point by Peter Walpole - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Peter Walpole
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back to Emma and the other deer.
“When do the men come?” asked Reggie.
“Nine days,” Emma said.
I heard the single word “danger” echo among the different voices.
“Strength will be with us?” Reggie asked.
“I'll be here,” Emma said.
Emma and I walked slowly southward, the sun casting enormous shadows from our right. The meadow where we met Reggie and the other deer was a good two-hour walk from the woods near my home, from the places I was familiar with. It seemed that by unspoken agreement Emma would walk me most of the way home.
We didn't speak for a long time. The air was cool. The terrain rolled and dipped. We would descend into a slight hollow and lose the sun altogether, enteringspaces where the air was so cold it seemed no warmth could have reached there since late last fall. Then up into the warmer, brighter air, and we would walk across long stretches of fairly level ground that appeared to surround us for miles on all sides. Then we would find ourselves descending again into another dark, cool swale.
I felt older. I felt that I had aged years that day, that I had learned and seen and heard more in that day than in the rest of my life put together. I felt like the day had changed me, permanently. But there was still so much that I didn't understand.
I could hear Emma's breathing as she walked along beside me, now slightly ahead, now slightly behind. On rare occasions her age betrayed her; she had had a long day, and her breathing was loud, almost labored.
“I heard you talking in the cabin,” I said, a note of challenge in my voice that I hadn't really intended.
Emma did not respond.
“When I was sleeping, I heard you talking to Mr. Nash,” I said.
“When you were sleeping,” Emma said finally, letting the words hang a moment.
“I heard you talking to Mr. Nash,” I said more forcefully.
Emma shook her head. “I can't tell you everything all at once,” she said. “We've had a big day as it is, don't you think?”
There was no answering that.
We kept walking. I was getting tired, and a feeling ofirritation loomed deep in me. Emma was teaching me and showing me so much, and yet she was holding back from me as well. It was like being given short glimpses of a great and wondrous sight. I wanted to see; I wanted to see the whole thing and understand.
“I'm not too young,” I said again, as if picking up a conversation from hours ago.
“Yes you are,” Emma said, and then did something she had not done in all our walks together. She took my hand.
She was slowing me down. We were passing over a bit of low outcropping rock, as appears now and again in these woods, and her hand passed up to my arm, and I realized, with something of a shock, that she was leaning on me. I picked our way along, self-consciously slow, looking for places where we could both walk securely. The area was small, and soon we were back on level ground, walking between the high, silent trees, the sun sinking. Emma's hand dropped into mine, and then let go, and then we were walking along again, side by side, in the evening air that was now decidedly cold.
“Isn't this a beautiful time of day?” Emma said. “Isn't this a rare and beautiful thing?”
“Yes, ma'am,” I said quietly, not meaning to needle her, but feeling strange and blue.
“Thomas,” she said. “I should apologize to you, but I won't. I've been trying to fill your head and your heart with so many new things and you've tried so manfully to absorb it all.”
“I like it when you teach me,” I said.
“I know you do. I like it too. But sometimes I should be quiet more and just let us walk. There is nothing greater than deep and simple gratitude at being in such a beautiful place. There's nothing that I can teach you that is greater than this moment.”
She had stopped walking. I went on ahead a few paces, and turned when I realized she wasn't coming.
“Look,” she said firmly.
We were at the top of a high, wide ridge. Below us
“When do the men come?” asked Reggie.
“Nine days,” Emma said.
I heard the single word “danger” echo among the different voices.
“Strength will be with us?” Reggie asked.
“I'll be here,” Emma said.
Emma and I walked slowly southward, the sun casting enormous shadows from our right. The meadow where we met Reggie and the other deer was a good two-hour walk from the woods near my home, from the places I was familiar with. It seemed that by unspoken agreement Emma would walk me most of the way home.
We didn't speak for a long time. The air was cool. The terrain rolled and dipped. We would descend into a slight hollow and lose the sun altogether, enteringspaces where the air was so cold it seemed no warmth could have reached there since late last fall. Then up into the warmer, brighter air, and we would walk across long stretches of fairly level ground that appeared to surround us for miles on all sides. Then we would find ourselves descending again into another dark, cool swale.
I felt older. I felt that I had aged years that day, that I had learned and seen and heard more in that day than in the rest of my life put together. I felt like the day had changed me, permanently. But there was still so much that I didn't understand.
I could hear Emma's breathing as she walked along beside me, now slightly ahead, now slightly behind. On rare occasions her age betrayed her; she had had a long day, and her breathing was loud, almost labored.
“I heard you talking in the cabin,” I said, a note of challenge in my voice that I hadn't really intended.
Emma did not respond.
“When I was sleeping, I heard you talking to Mr. Nash,” I said.
“When you were sleeping,” Emma said finally, letting the words hang a moment.
“I heard you talking to Mr. Nash,” I said more forcefully.
Emma shook her head. “I can't tell you everything all at once,” she said. “We've had a big day as it is, don't you think?”
There was no answering that.
We kept walking. I was getting tired, and a feeling ofirritation loomed deep in me. Emma was teaching me and showing me so much, and yet she was holding back from me as well. It was like being given short glimpses of a great and wondrous sight. I wanted to see; I wanted to see the whole thing and understand.
“I'm not too young,” I said again, as if picking up a conversation from hours ago.
“Yes you are,” Emma said, and then did something she had not done in all our walks together. She took my hand.
She was slowing me down. We were passing over a bit of low outcropping rock, as appears now and again in these woods, and her hand passed up to my arm, and I realized, with something of a shock, that she was leaning on me. I picked our way along, self-consciously slow, looking for places where we could both walk securely. The area was small, and soon we were back on level ground, walking between the high, silent trees, the sun sinking. Emma's hand dropped into mine, and then let go, and then we were walking along again, side by side, in the evening air that was now decidedly cold.
“Isn't this a beautiful time of day?” Emma said. “Isn't this a rare and beautiful thing?”
“Yes, ma'am,” I said quietly, not meaning to needle her, but feeling strange and blue.
“Thomas,” she said. “I should apologize to you, but I won't. I've been trying to fill your head and your heart with so many new things and you've tried so manfully to absorb it all.”
“I like it when you teach me,” I said.
“I know you do. I like it too. But sometimes I should be quiet more and just let us walk. There is nothing greater than deep and simple gratitude at being in such a beautiful place. There's nothing that I can teach you that is greater than this moment.”
She had stopped walking. I went on ahead a few paces, and turned when I realized she wasn't coming.
“Look,” she said firmly.
We were at the top of a high, wide ridge. Below us
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