Part II – The Round Table

The Park

*

The wheels on the huffy picked up speed after 200 feet of leisurely pedaling. The wind whisked past Jacob’s cheeks, the sense of freedom and adventures a welcome distraction after today’s events. Faraway Land was maybe 2 miles up the road, not a great distance by bike, and it didn’t take long for the squire’s young legs to power him to the park. Always the responsible kid, Beth didn’t mind if Jacob made his way alone to some of his favorite spots in Silver Hawk, but not too far, and never without the walkie talkie she had picked up for them at a rummage sale a year ago. She had a set as a child and Jacob loved that she had shared that part of her past with him.

As he pulled into the front of Faraway Land, he leaned his bike against the fence covering the outskirts of the park. Initially it was to be open without barriers, but the beauty and expense that was put into the construction if this little kid paradise led the community to support a fence being built around it’s perimeter after a few local knot head kids decided fun time involved spraying graffiti on the head of Winnie the Pooh.

He took out his walkie talkie and reported in to the home front. A bit of static her andfamiliar voice answered through the airwaves, “Have fun my boy and be careful.”

“I know ma, I always do,” the usual response and he put it back in his pack.

Faraway Land was open from 8 o’clock to 8 o’clock everyday. That changed sometimes for holidays and other special events, but for sure it kept its standard hours on the dot year after year. It covered a wide area of land, Jacob wasn’t sure how much. Additions had been made to it over the years, as the times changed and more requests were made to the town to put this character from that story in the park. It had become a symbol of pride and community spirit in town and great strides were made to make sure children’s requests were not discounted.

Once a year, during the summer, a wooden box full of small pieces of paper was placed in the center of a table in one of the meeting rooms of the city hall building. Ten volunteers from the community would sit around this table, open the box and read what the children wanted in the park. It was a very popular gig to be part of this board and many people put their name in the hat every year, hoping to be picked. The mayor would ceremonially pick the names out of a hat in front of city hall and the lucky 10 would clap their hands, exchange some jokes and pleasantries and get down to the business of adding to the park.

Jacob’s mother had put her name in the pot every year since Jacob was born. She had been unlucky the first 10 years, but that didn’t sway her. I hope she gets chosen this year, the young squire thought, I wonder what she would choose?

One of the recent additions to the park had been a Dr. Suess themed sleigh, complete with The Grinch, a sleigh full of presents, and his trusty dog pulling it with that single antler place on his head. The look of sinister glee on the Grinch’s face is classic, carved from wood by the one and only Xavier. A frequent contributor to the park, when something was to be made of wood, he often received the call. What he could do with a block of wood and a bit of time was true art. He really had went all out on this one; a small girl from town, Lisa Jones was her name, had requested the sleigh last summer and it went up quickly and for good reason. Lisa was a terminally sick cancer patient, and her family wasn’t sure how long she would live.

When little Lisa’s name was pulled from the box, the wheels starting spinning in town, and local business and private donations, which paid for the majority of Faraway Land, made sure that the project was done in a month.

Its size was just right for little people and the bigger folks when they wanted to squeeze into the sleigh for a ride from the green guy. A picture of her smiling, sitting next to the Grinch in the sleigh, holding one of her Grinch dolls made front page news and for that brief moment in time her world was perfect.

She died 3 weeks after that picture was taken, having gotten her wish, her small, diseased ridden body shut down and the funeral drew hundreds. A memorial plaque was put in the front lawn of the Grinch Sleigh after her passing, one of probably a dozen plaques that could be found in the park that reminded the town’s folks of what made Faraway Land special.

Jacob walked his bike through the opened fenced entrance of Faraway Land, his destination the sleigh ride of Mr. Grinch and little Lisa Jones, a young child walking down the path to the past of another’s dreams; the essence of Faraway Land.

*

After making sure the bike was secure on the bike rack, Jacob walked through the open entrance to Faraway Land, following the twisting sidewalk path towards the sleigh. He paused a bit to look at how much it had grown just in the last few years; He vaguely remembers his mother first taking him here when he was four or five, he couldn’t believe a place like this existed so close to home.

Its setup was something akin to small villages he had read about in his medieval fantasy books. The winding sidewalks went in several different directions, and no matter what way you chose, one would be delighted with what they saw. The perfectly manicured grass was mowed frequently, one of the many tasks done to insure that the condition of the park was always immaculate.

As he made his way down the path, he passed a small house on his right, a cottage style home, with a door maybe a little over five feet high. That perfect height for a child to enter into another world and close out the adults, if just for a moment.

The clear blue sky winked at him from afar, sending a slight breeze from the heavens, just enough to cool his heated neck; the earlier warthme had dropped down a few degrees, it was an ideal summer day for a boy with too much time on his hands.

He opened the wooden door, and had to duck just a bit, his lengthy frame a bit taller than the top of the door. Inside was a bed with a dark snouted Big Bad Wolf, staring back at him wearing a blue grandma’s bonnet. A long time resident of Faraway Land, this particular villain was made out of ceramic material, like so many of the other characters in this place. The look on the Wolf’s face was pure menace, whoever had done the work on this one had outdid themselves Jacob thought, it never failed to make his heart skip a beat when he first entered the cottage.

Little Red Riding hood stood at the foot of the bed, her basket hanging over her right hand, her left handing over her mouth, that expression of shock and horror in her eyes. Many of the residents of the park had playful themes, full of fun and mischief, but some of them, like Mr. Big and Bad had a darkness about them that gave the place a bit of an edge, yep this was a place of safety for the little ones, but make sure and check that closet before you sleep at night and you might want to ask mommy and daddy to leave the lights on. Whether by accident or if they intended to make it that way, Jacob didn’t know. Mr. Russell spearheaded the creation of the park and his idea had blossomed into a community landmark, even if the tragedy of the twins had scarred the park a bit and especially Mr. Russell. His influence over it was always there, but over the last ten or so years he had taken less of a role and stepped out of the spotlight. He had even stopped attending the ceremonial picking of the Lucky 10 by the mayor and his input into what was added to the park had lessened over the last decade, partly his choice, partly because of those wicked few who resided in town and continued to sling dirt on the graves of those two children taken too soon.

When looking at the wolf, Jacob thought about those people, the wicked gossips, the evil eyes, their malicious ideas always swirling in the currents of discord and bitter pasts. Their influence was evident in this cottage of dread and stolen grandmas; there was no doubt in his mind. He appreciated the story, one that had been read to so many children over the years, a classic tale of don’t talk to strangers that was a lesson learned for any family home.

And the work taken to construct this was to be admired, like the other creations in the park. But still, the dark cloud was always there, like the wolf knew what had happened to those kids so long ago and wanted to makes sure no one ever forgot. “Hide your kiddies from me folks or they too may disappear into my belly,” that sly grin said to you while your back was turned.

Lost in thought again, Jacob snapped backed to reality and cut short the running dialogue in his head. His temporary detour to visit the wolf had run its course and he said adieu to his opponent and left the cottage, continuing down his path to Lisa Jones’s sleigh.

The park was sparsely populated today; maybe 20 total people were making the rounds down the sidewalks. Jacob passed a family of three, mother, father, and 4 year old son. They had stopped to give the teeter totter a try, the one with Humpty Dumpty sitting on a small brick wall. The wall was built behind a standard sized teeter totter, painted in a plethora of colors; a rainbow of greens, oranges, yellow and blues. When rocked up and down in front of the wall a kaleidoscope effect occurred, and one could become hypnotized by the pattern if you stared long enough at its steady rhythm. Humpty sat in the background on top of the wall, an anxiety ridden grin on his face, like he was having fun watching whatever would be passenger chose to take a ride on his kaleidoscope; but with the throught that this might be the day his egg was going to crack. The father gently rocked one end of the teeter totter; just enough to push his little boy skyward and the 4 year old looked up at the blue sky, screaming in joyful glee. A true Kodak moment if there ever was one the young squire observed and the mother followed suit snapping a few pictures of her men going up and down, up and down.

Jacob was transfixed by Humpty and family enjoying his ride. The rocking of the wood against the background of the brick wall pulled him into its world, and he smiled as he watched a loving family share together. Sharing, sharing, something that never happened in his despotic land filled with fear, loathing, and intimidation. Why did his moments of want and happiness always have to fall victim to his grown up thinking of the dreary world around him? His want of that happiness was a futile exercise.

Jacob caught himself trudging down the path of pity, shook his head in disgust, and continued the walk towards the sleigh.

*

He passed a few more people along the path; an older couple in their twilight holding hands and pointing and laughing at some of their cherished childhood icons come to life; three high school age girls giggling about boys, giggling about being in the park, just plain giggling about being girls.

His lone wolf status was kept in tact. Jacob was a handsome boy and tall for his age, but when he wanted to he could fly under the radar and not be seen like a chameleon sneaking up a rain forest branch. Maybe it was the way he moved, efficient, no wasted motion, not walking, but gliding along the path; a trait he probably learned at an early age as he walked the halls of his home, anticipating bad things and not wanting to stir the pot. This learned survival skill served him well many times in the lair and now as he took his last few steps to see the sleigh, those same light feet picked up the pace and glided past the patrons of the park; a mist traveling over a lonely meadow.

His lightly treaded sneakers made their final steps to the sleigh, Jacob glad to have finally made it to his destination. There was a bench near the Grinch and his sleigh, and Jacob sat on it, putting his backpack next to him. He pulled out the book he was reading, a medieval fantasy book with dragons, orcs; and also took out a candy bar to munch on while reading. He planned on reading yes, but not yet, as it was with many of his rituals, there were many part to his routine, and he planned on just admiring the Grinch’s wickedness for a bit; and pondering the questions that had been plaguing his dreams the last few weeks.

He opened the candy bar and chewed lazily while viewing the sleigh. He liked the fact that such a wickedly, twisted character in literature had in the end done the right thing and became a hero to the citizens of Whoville; just like Jacob and his soldiers. Yeah, the young squire might falter every now and then and his cynical mind would think ill thoughts of the people who walked through life with a silver spoon. But when it came down to it, Jacob always did the right thing.

His thoughts drifted to the dreams and his conversation with his mother. She had said much to him, answered questions he had always wondered about. Wrapping his mind around what his mother went through as a child, losing her friends, and it affecting her the way it did. People come and go through life, the never ending cycle. Jacob was young, but he was already coming to grips with that theme in life. The twins were friends, true friends to his mother and in a moment they were gone and that 10 year old girl still carried the weight of their disappearance inside her. To have friends like that at such a young age and for them to be taken away, he felt so bad for his mother. But even more than that the family who had to go through it, the parents whose lives were destroyed, the mother committing suicide, her heart and soul beaten to the point of submission. The father a local drunk, walking the streets of Silver Hawk, smelling of cheap liquor and babbling about his missing children and The Dark One who took them, people shaking their head as they passed him, a shell of the once proud and respected man.

The book in his hand was not going to be read today. This was important, Jacob knew that much. There was more to this than just some cathartic exercise that his mom finally chose to share with her son. It wasn’t just coincidence that that he was having dreams about what he thought were the same kids were taken away from this town 30 years ago. Something was building in Silver Hawk and for puzzling reasons Jacob’s mind was where this storm full of dark clouds and unexplained heartache had decided to reside and fester.

The sun turned the switch to hotter, and that cool breeze from earlier subsided to coat Jacob’s body with comforting yellow rays. His mind was working a mile a minute and the voices again were playing mental ping-pong with the dreams and his mother’s revelation. He felt such a deep connection to the twins, this Silver Hawk tragedy was still alive, his sub-conscious had latched onto it like a bear trap. Mom shared, but not everything. She knew about her son’s dreams and had decided to leave that lie, surprising considering her only child was the one having the dreams. You would think it would have been the other way around. Was she not telling me something, was she maybe hiding a bit more in her memories that she was not ready to let out; or maybe, she was just frightened?

Too much for a ten year old to process, but he was taking on the task nonetheless. As he sat there transfixed by local town lore, Levi Russell watched the squire from a bench across the way, sitting idly next to a small pond that had been part of the inaugural opening of Faraway Land 35 years ago. It was covered by large rocks in a circular fashion and placed around the pond were ceramic statues of Frodo Baggins of the shire and his nemesis Gollum. Frodo had a fishing pole in his hand and Gollum stood next to him, hands raised up in an expression of exaltation as at the bottom of the shallow pond was the famous golden ring from Tolkien’s world. Levi Russell had always had a special place in his heart for that literary epic and he had made it a point to place the ring and it’s bearers at the heart of the park.

The lover of books sat there at the pond watching the random ducks swimming a few laps over the ring; he had looked up and spied one of his Faraway Book regulars, Jacob Christianson. His mother Beth and Jacob came in often, such nice people, both sharing a love for books as did Levi. The last time he had saw them wasn’t in the bookstore though. It had been what, a few days ago? Levi rubbed his hands over his forehead, straining to think about the last day he had saw the Christianson’s, was it in the bookstore….no..it was here, yeah, here at the park. That polite young man had come up to me and had asked if everything was okay. And what had I said, I had said, yes, I’m fine son, life is good.

Lying to himself, Levi knew that much. He shook his head, ashamed at having made up a memory. He hadn’t said that, he hadn’t said anything in fact. He had just stared ahead at the boy, not saying a word, because he had nothing to say. He was drained, his mind and body had not had much sleep the last few months; a deep melancholy clouded his mind slowing tearing down the fence joy that surrounded him. He was still dressed impeccably in tan slacks, well shined shoes, and a short sleeve green polo which matched his slacks. His clothes at least presented the old Mr. Russell at his finest.

But the presentation covered a hollowed out mannequin; always a slender man, he looked even skinnier now, not eating as much had given him the appearance of a runway waif masquerading as a man. But he just hadn’t the urge, picking up the spoon and fork became a chore, the weight of them growing exponentially with each bite. His closely cropped silver hair had become a bit thinner over the last year, a shocker as he had always had such thick hair, especially for a man his age. And shaving like eating had become weighted like an anvil, and the usually clean shaven literary lover sported three weeks of bearded growth on sunken in cheeks.

He looked at the small stature of the twins in his hands, always there when he came to this park, he would come to this bench, look at the pond, watch the birds flutter about and hold the carving in his hands. He had made a visit to Xavier, the man with the magical hands, and requested a small wooden statue of Linda and Winston Small Bear maybe a year ago. He had brought a picture of the twins, he couldn’t recall where he had gotten the picture, them with their arms over each other’s shoulders, smiling, happy, not knowing what would be their fate at the age of 10. He had carried the baggage of those kids with him for years, but he had moved on, the town had moved on.

Two children had been taken from Silver Hawk destroying a family in the process. They had been so well mannered and inquisitive and they were part of his Book Store Bounty Hunters; kids in town who frequented his book shop more than anyone, asked him questions, challenged his knowledge of the literary fairies and goblins that they read about and shared their feelings. It was such a special time to be a young man owning his own book store, a life long dream of his. And there used to be a third wheel in the brigade, Beth, equally remarkable in her own right; he remembered her at the funeral for the twins, she didn’t cry like so many others, she just stood at the edge of the grave, staring at the coffins filled with her friends, blank, child eyes taking in an image she shouldn’t have to.

That was her boy wasn’t it, sitting over there by the Sleigh? Yes, of course it was him, his dreamy haze had infiltrated too much of his day to day interaction with the living, causing him pains to register who he knew and who he didn’t.

He slowly got up from the bench, his left knee creaking as he straightened his long frame. A good stretch was needed to help this old goat warm up and he put both arms over his head and raised them as high as he could, reaching to the sun to steal energy. The statue of the twins were placed in his satchel, the brown leather a bit tattered and bruised, he never went anywhere without it, his constant companions were the books he carried inside, favorites of his that made him feel at ease when walking the pathways of Faraway Land. And now the satchel had the added weight of the statue, something to keep him steady. He knew he was off kilter and the dreams and the visions that came about were too much to bear.

Levi felt something, a pulsing energy pulling him to Jacob. A quick image of the twins danced between them, ‘did the child just see what I did?’ his mind asked, the long legs closing distance between him and the boy. Jacob looked up, his own trance of thought broken by this welcome intruder, and like he expected the conversation, Jacob asked the question, “You been having the dreams haven’t you.”

*

Shocked but yet expectant of the question, he hesitated before speaking. Forces had pulled them here and amazingly the heavy load of his sadness felt somewhat lessened on his narrow shoulders

“Jacob, isn’t the normal thing to say when you see someone is hello, how are you?” He said this in a joking manner, testing the boy, throwing him off the path of dreams into real world decorum.

“Its true isn’t it, you have been having dreams too?”

He said it so matter-of-factly, like he was speaking the only truth. Mr. Russell still wasn’t a believer though. It was too bizarre to think he was having the same dreams as a boy who frequented his book shop a few times a month, and he had to get proof of today’s strange occurrence.

“So let’s just say I was having these “dreams” that you speak of my boy, what exactly would these dreams be about. Who is in these dreams?”

Jacob answered quickly with no hesitation, speaking with a matter-of-fact boldness. “I’m not for sure Mr. Russell, but I think it is the twins. You know who I’m talking about right; the Small Bear children who were taken 30 years ago? Friends of my mom Beth when she was 10, they were her best friends. In the dream I see two children walking away; it’s dark and cloudy, so it’s hard to tell who it is exactly. They look back at me, but their faces are blank, only coal black eyes look at me, no mouth or nose. They are white like sheets with black ash spread around the edges of their bodies, and they are holding hands. I look past them and I see someone tall and colored that same dark ash pointing at them, telling them to come with him. I look at them and want to shout for them to stop and come back to me, but they don’t, they can’t talk because they have no mouths. I want to run towards them but my feet are stuck in quicksand and the more I move, the deeper I sink. I yell louder and louder but they just turn, not hearing a thing, walking towards that figure in the distance. They walk away, until I can’t see them, and then I wake up”

Levi was speechless. The boy had just repeated back the same dream he had been having over and over for the last three months. Every night was the same, always that same horrible ending of the children walking away, hearing nothing from his voice. The agony of that moment, sinking in the sand, helpless to do anything, sometimes he would wake up to himself shouting at the children to come back. Other nights, there was no sounds, just him in a cold sweat, breathing heavily, the pillow soaking wet, waking up in the twilight hour to drink some warm milk, stare at the TV without watching, anything to keep him from that disturbed place.

Again Levi was hesitant to say anything, but he had his proof. The boy was involved somehow, as was he that was apparent. He was frightened but also relieved at the same time, he had felt so lost and alone, trapped, but now there was someone else, who felt his pain and confusion, and could maybe help him through this muddled maze.

“Is that your dream Mr. Russell?”

“Yes Jacob, I have been having that same dream. But before we go further I have to ask you this. How could you possibly know that I have been dreaming about the children day after day for the past three months?”

“Just a feeling I guess. Remember that day a few weeks ago, my mother and I saw you here on this same bench holding the statue of the twins. I said something to you and you just looked up at me, not saying anything. I looked at you and just knew. I was scared at first; I couldn’t see what was in your head really, but more felt something inside you that made me think of the twins. I haven’t told anyone about it. I tried talking to my mom about the dreams, but she ignored it, like I never even brought it up. “Why do you think my mom would do that?”

He sat down finally next to Jacob on the bench. Jacob turned to him, inquisitive eyes wanting answers. Mr. Russell wanted to know the answer to Jacob’s question also, he knew Beth as a caring and giving mother who put her son above all else in this world, and for her to gloss over her son’s dreams made little sense. But then, what did make sense right then and there? These last 10 minutes had sent a shot of relief to his psyche but also opened up a channel of activity around him that he had no idea how to deal with. All he knew was that the boy and he were linked now and they had figure out where to go from here.

“I have some things to tell you but right now Faraway Land and all its ears and eyes doesn’t seem like the safest place, how about you come back to the book store with me and we talk there?” Mr. Russell’s comforting smile flashed brightly and gave the young squire that sense of comfort he sorely needed.

The book store was another 2 miles down the road, a few turns and a stop at a 4 way and you were there. Mr. Russell got up from the bench, picked up his satchel and put it over his right shoulder. Jacob ding the same with his backpack. “I drove here today Jacob, if you rode your bike you are more than welcome to put your bike in my backseat and ride with me,” Mr. Russell offered to Jacob.

“No thanks Mr. Russell, I think I want to ride there,” he responded

“Good enough son, race you there.”

The young squire giggled at the challenge and sprinted down the Faraway pathway to his trusty steed. He had a lead and was going to make the most of it. “See you there Jacob and be careful,” Levi shouted as Jacob furiously pedaled towards the bookstore.

Levi took the statue out of his satchel, rubbed it in his hands, smiled at the children. He put it back and let out a sigh and a said out loud, in barely a whisper, “Thank you Jacob.”

*

Levi pulled his metallic colored Toyota Corolla to the back of the store, his small parking spot awaiting his arrival. His store was closed for the weekend, a common occurrence the last couple weeks. He barely made it through the week, maintaining his business during the weekend hours would have been too much.

Levi took his store keys out of his pocket and opened up the back door to the store, the deathly quiet of the place deafening to his jumbled mind. Walking quickly to the front door, he saw Jacob pulling up on the sidewalk, breathing hard from his furious pedaling.

“Come in Jacob,” Levi said, holding the door open for the boy to enter this safe haven. The silence and sullen energy of the store dissipated immediately as Jacob entered its realm. Mr. Russell smiled; a smile he hadn’t been able to make in months. He wasn’t alone in this endeavor. He wasn’t crazy.

“Please sit down Jacob; I will get a few snacks for us.”

Jacob walked over to one of the reading tables at the back, a simple wooden table surround by four cookie cutter chairs. The table and chairs were one of the few ordinary items in Faraway Books, the power of the books and ideas stored in their covers emitting their currents as Jacob sat down at the table. Every time he entered the store and pulled a book from the shelf he felt at home; a feeling similar to what he felt when in his tree house, reading, or playing, or what he had been doing lately, pondering the mystery of the ashen twins.

Levi had gone into one of his back rooms in the bookstore where he had a small sized fridge and a pantry full of goodies. He kept cold milk, a few cokes, and assorted snacks in this room, only for his special visitors, the regulars like Jacob and his mother who would often stop by to buy a book, but would more often than not stay longer to talk about favorite stories and what was going on in their lives.

On a few occasions, Beth had entered the store in a sullen state, by herself, with heavy thoughts on her mind. She had let Levi into her world, only slightly, telling her bits and pieces of her life at home with Mr. Christianson, as Levi called him. Beth might have told him her husband’s name over the years, but he never remembered it, didn’t want to. She had told him enough and he had seen enough to know the man was of the hard drinking variety, prone to alcoholic fits of rage, quick fists, and harsher words. One time she had come into the store, a bruise on her face, she had tried to cover it with makeup but he saw through the foundation, an ugly purple mark right below her right eye. She played it off initially, not realizing that he had noticed the landmark from the previous night’s battle.

It was a day of small talk and she focused hard on books she wanted to read and if he had any recommendations for Jacob. He did his best to play the good soldier in her dysfunctional play acting, but it didn’t last long. Anger boiled in his belly, and he felt himself tensing up and balling up his hands into fists as she asked him about this book and that and how the bookstore was doing. She had been vague about her situation at home, never giving any in depth detail as to what the serpent did or how often. He let it simmer for awhile until he could not longer restrain himself. He cut her off sharply, something the southern gentlemen never did with an abrupt, “Stop it Beth, what did he do to you last night?”

The anger in his eyes, the intensity in his words took Beth off guard. She mumbled something like, “Ahh…what….I don’t know what you are talking about, why…,” but he again cut her off at the pass. “Beth, you are among friends here, what happened?”

Beth had cried that silent cry she had so often, no whimper or words, just lonely drops of rain dripping down a cloudy face of melancholy. He had hugged her tightly, so tightly that day, wanting to take the pain away. He held her that way for a minute before she recovered and pulled away.

“He slapped me Levi, hard, just one slap. That how it is with him, he doesn’t hit me more than once and it usually only happens every three or four months, when he comes home especially angry after the booze has gotten to him. I don’t even remember what was said or what the fight was about?”

“It doesn’t matter Beth,” Levi sharps words rang again, “one time is one too many, does he touch Jacob?”

The hesitation in her voice answered his question, she didn’t know what to say, was ashamed of what this good man in front of her might think. But it needed to be said.

“Very rarely, it’s only happened a few times. Like with me, a few angry slaps here and there and there was one time where….,” and again she hesitated.

“What Beth?”

“He came home one night, maybe 8 months ago. I was asleep in our room, one of the few nights I drank, just to feel warm I a guess, you know I don’t drink often Levi. He had come home, smelling of beer, mumbling something, I can’t recall. I was half asleep, half in a drunken stupor. He took off his clothes and left to use the bathroom. He was gone maybe a couple minutes and came back. Next day, I saw Jacob walking down the hallway to the bathroom, some bruises on his arms and back. I told Jacob to stop and told him to tell me where he got those marks. ‘Dad came into the room last night, he stepped on one of my action figures in the hallway and he was mad. He threw the action figure on the floor, than picked me up and threw me against the wall.’ He said it so casually, I….”

She stopped. Levi, looked at her, on the one hand angry she had let this happened to Jacob, such a good mother but so flawed. He looked down at the floor, ashamed to look at her, ashamed for her, and he looked at his balled fists, the rage simmering.

“I confronted him, I did Levi, I said if he ever did that again, I would kill him. And I meant it, if he does that again I will kill him. He hasn’t done it since, hasn’t hit him once.”

Maybe so Beth, Levi thought, but I’m sure he says things to him, beats him down with the tongue lashing every so often, just to let him know who wears the crown. He knew this kind of man, grew up with this kind of man, and they never learn unless someone teaches them.

He used to take those beatings and cutting words as a youngster down south, one of two boys, looked after by a hard working mother and a drunken lout of a father. People knew little of his past in Silver Hawk, some in town even thought him a bit effeminate with his southern charm, well-dressed manners, and full-time bachelor status.

They didn’t know him. He had taken to bachelorhood as a way to keep back the memories of a poor, abusive childhood. His private nature included a few women, some of them good women, wanting to settle down with this gentle man, a lover of books and kids. But he was always afraid of what demons might surface if he took that plunge. Maybe he would hit his wife, maybe even his kids if he had them. These thoughts ran rampant in his mind, a security blanket keeping him safe from intimacy and love and that was why he has in his bookstore right now, cookies in one hand, milk in the other, alone but for the company of a boy sharing twisted dreams.

That was 4 months ago when Beth had come into the store and brought up those old southern wounds with her own tales of abusive men. Since that time there had been no bruises on her cheeks and no marks on her boy. And then the dreams came, and now Jacob sitting there waiting for him.

So much going on, life is cluttered and crazy, but one thing at a time Levi, one thing at a time. “Just a minute Jacob, I will be out in a second,” he called to Jacob.

He set the goodies down on top of the fridge and looked at his fists. They had worked with books for so many years, had touched the smooth outline of covers, felt the crispness of newly written pages, such a delicate dance they had done for so long.

Another secret though about Levi Russell; a boxer as a young man, starting at age 12 up through to the age of 20, golden gloves, he had even tested his merits in his short stint in the Army out of high school. He looked at the hands, old now, but still sturdy, still capable of unleashing fury, of beating down a drunken man going after his mama and little brother. His father had tasted that fury when Levi was 14 and after that broken nose, he never touched his family again, soon leaving the family he had terrorized for so long.

He had momentarily lost track, his thoughts were all over, he needed to parlay with Jacob. He picked up the milk and cookies and took it to Jacob’s table.

*

A book of mazes and puzzles sat at the table, Jacob lazily surveyed the oversized book, his feet anxiously tapping the floor. Levi sat down across from the boy, not interrupting, placing the cookies and milk to the left of Jacob. He grabbed a cookie, bit off half of it in one huge bite and chased it down with a drink of milk. He wiped his milk moustache with the back of his hand and set the cup of milk down.

Levi picked up a cookie and took a few small nibbles; his appetite had seemed to come back when he saw the boy enjoy his morsel. It had been many days since he actually “tasted” food, everything was stale on his tongue, like chewing cardboard, or at least how he imagined chewing cardboard would taste.

But he felt better now, even if it was just a bit of sugar and flour. He greedily finished the cookie and began to talk.

“So you know why we are here but if you need a bit of time before we start whatever “this” is we can wait, maybe another cookie.”

“No thanks Mr. Russell, I’m ready to talk if you are.”

“We are both having the same dream that is pretty much a certainty. In that dream we see what we both believe are the twins, someone or something is in the distance and no matter how we yell and shout we can’t stop then from walking away with the “thing.” The more we scream for them to come back, the deeper we sink into the hole. Does that sound about right Jacob?”

“That’s right Mr. Russell.”

“Is it also safe to assume that you knew just bits and pieces about the twins before you started having the dreams; maybe a few tidbits here and there from your mother, or from town gossip?”

“Mom was very tight lipped about the whole thing and she never wanted to talk about it. I started having the dreams a few weeks ago, and they were really bothering me Mr. Russell. I wanted to bring it up with her but didn’t know how. But in the tree house today I decided it was time, and I asked her. And she told me the whole story, at least what I think is the whole story. She was sad but you know something, my mom is always sad, so I guess it didn’t seem that different from other days.”

Levi looked at the boy and let out a sigh, felt bad because he had felt that same sadness as a young boy, same as Jacob and his mother, having to navigate that maze of doubt.

“So you know all about what happened, how Beth was friends with Winston and Linda, how they all used to come in my bookshop, they were my regulars like you are now. How the town searched for weeks but found nothing. How Mrs. Small Bear committed sui…”he stopped himself before finishing that last sentence, saying that word left an awful taste in his mouth. His mouth went desert dry, the taste of burnt sulfur on the tip of his tongue and in his gums, why he had no idea, just another unexplainable question to add to the growing list.

“Suicide is what I think you meant Mr. Russell, its okay, mom told me that too.”

“Sorry Jacob, I just wasn’t sure what she had and hadn’t told you. It was a true tragedy, horrible things happened to good people. I just want to cover all our bases, and not leave any stone unturned.” He paused a bit before his next question. “Did she say anything about me Jacob, anything to do about the twins, Silver Hawk, and me?”

A child’s honesty and straightforwardness came in handy with this question and Jacob gave Levi what he needed to hear.

“She said that people in town accused you of having something to do with the disappearance of the kids. It wasn’t a lot of people, just a few local town gossips and bitter people, is how my mom described them. She made it seem like there was nothing to the story, that most folks in town knew what kind of person you are and that you would never do something like that. She made that clear to me that it hurt you Mr. Russell. Is that how you feel?”

“It did Jacob. I knew those kids well, had a relationship with them that I cared deeply. They’d only been in Silver Hawk a little over a year, but in that time they had showed themselves to be good people, the kind who walk into your life and make yours that much better. When the few locals accused me of hurting those children, I was insulted and betrayed that anyone would think I could have taken them away from their families. It was a tough pill to swallow. I did the best I could, handled the situation as well as anyone could I guess. I talked to the Small Bears and they of course thought the rumor was idle gossip, and for that I’m forever thankful.”

Mr. Russell let out a long breath, and looked down at the table, took another cookie from the plate. He took a bite and they both were silent for a few minutes. Jacob heard what he needed to hear. This trip down memory lane had cleared a few things up and it was time to address what was going on now in Silver Hawk. Again, a child’s frankness and honesty opened up the doors to the new mystery.

“Why are we having these dreams? Is something bad going to happen?”

Levi wiped his mouth with a napkin, stood up and closed the shade on the window nearest their table, sat back down.

“I believe something is wrong with this town Jacob. I have lived in this town most of my life. I know the people walking down the street, I know the buildings; I know all the best hiking trials, its part of being in a town like Silver Hawk, after awhile it becomes as much a part of you as the blood pumping through your veins. 30 years ago the disappearance spooked us all, changed the way people thought. But as time does it moved on and everyone along with it. Some scars never heal though; they cut so deep there will always be reminders. I was surprised when you told me about the dreams, but I think deep down I wasn’t, whatever is going on right now has been building up for a long time. It has been silent for awhile, 30 years to be exact, but whatever took those children is back, for what I don’t know, but a storm is brewing again. And these dreams of ours, what we have been sharing must have something to do with it, it has to.”

Jacob looked back at Levi, eyes as big as saucers, not sure of what he just heard. His books, toys, and dreams of fantastical worlds made him who he was and brought enjoyment to an oftentimes bleak existence, but what was being said in front of him scared him, and not that watching a horror movie on Saturday night type of fright. He was legitimately frightened, what Mr. Russell had said made him think of tree high shadows knocking on his window, red eyes looking through the glass, hungry for a taste of little boy blood. “Mr. Russell,” he stuttered, stopping to clear his throat a few times, “your scaring me, what are you trying to say, are monsters in Silver Hawk. Is something going to happen to me and the other children?”

Levi looked into the child’s eyes and felt bad, scaring a young boy with a boogeyman tale, he should have thought more carefully about what he was saying.

“I’m sorry Jacob, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just wanted to let you know what’s going on in my head, air out the attic if you will so we can get a handle on whatever it is we are dealing with. Here, have another cookie,”

He shoved the plate at Jacob, and the young boy took a bit of one half-heartedly, the chocolate taste helping some, he too had experienced a taste of sulfur in his mouth, but had said nothing to Levi. He felt a bit better and spoke to Levi again. “What do we do now?”

“I think I know who can help us, we need to talk to Mr. Small Bear.”