THE LEGACY OF TERABITHIA
THE LEGACY OF TERABITHIA
by
Wordsmith
Chapter 2: The Voice In The Woods
As Leslie Aarons explored her grandparents' farm, she remembered that they used to have a cow. Her name was Miss Bessie, and milking her was one of Leslie's father's chores. But Dad liked Miss Bessie, and didn't really mind. Of course, that was a long time ago. Grandma and Grandpa Aarons didn't have a cow or any livestock anymore, just their vegetable gardens. It would have been nice, Leslie thought, to pet the cow and milk her.
Yeah, right – I'd probably end up squirting milk all over myself. Leslie pictured herself milking Miss Bessie and losing control of the cow's udders, milk spraying everywhere – on her shirt, on her pants, in her face, eyes, and hair. She felt the giggles bubble up inside her. She fought them at first, then surrendered. She needed a good laugh.
Leslie surveyed her grandparents' land. Besides the gardens, there was a cow pasture, but no cow to graze in it. They still had the scrap heap, too. She could just picture her father when he was her age, taking his practice runs through the cow pasture. She saw the fence that marked the property line between her grandparents' farm and the place next door. Dad used to call it the Perkins Place, though the Perkinses had long since moved out. And the Burkes had moved in.
Leslie walked over to the fence. This was where he met her. This was where Dad met Leslie Burke. He had been in the middle of a practice run when she called out to him. She was sitting on this very fence. He didn't think much of her then, but soon, they were inseparable. Sure, Dad had a big crush on his music teacher, but it was Leslie Burke who became his true love – though he didn't really understand the depth of his feelings for her until he lost her.
A lump of cold sadness moved around inside Leslie's gut. She didn't want to look at the fence anymore. Besides, there was much more to see. She walked out front and down the road, taking in the sweet, musky perfume of fresh grass and hay that filled the air. She hadn't walked that far when, on the right of the road, she noticed what looked like a path winding through some tall grass and into a woodsy area. She followed the path for a while, then suddenly stopped cold when she recognized it.
The path led to a clearing. Beyond the clearing, in the distance, was a creek bed. Standing near it was a tall oak tree. Leslie knew that an enchanted rope had once hung from one of that tree's branches.
Her heart racing, Leslie turned around and ran back to the road. She wanted to get as far away from that… that place… as she could. When she'd walked about half a mile down the road past it, she looked back and couldn't see the path anymore. She felt a strong sense of relief. She continued walking.
Leslie's ears pricked up at the sound of distant voices. The farther she walked, the louder the voices became. Finally, she saw where they were coming from. In the distance, in another cow pasture, a group of kids were playing a pickup baseball game with wiffle balls and bats. One of the kids – a girl, she thought – waved at her, but Leslie pretended not to notice. She kept walking.
Soon, Leslie came upon another path. This one was to the left of the road. She decided to follow it. The path took her into a deeper part of the woods, with more trees and plenty of shade to keep the hot sun off her back. It felt nice here. It was quiet. By now she had walked quite a distance, but she didn't care. It was so beautiful here in this part of the woods. When she came across a huge tree stump, she sat down to rest her feet.
Leslie wished her parents could have been there with her. They could have a picnic right here with sandwiches and iced tea and cookies. They could spread the blanket right over the tree stump. Yeah, right, Leslie thought. They could have a picnic and not say a word to each other. Actually, they were probably saying a lot of words to each other in D.C. right now – most of them swears.
Mom and Dad used to be so close. They used to have this special little half-smile they'd give each other. They used to hold hands all the time. What happened to them? Why do they have to get a divorce? Why now? They've been married almost fifteen years!
Leslie closed her eyes. A parade of horrible images ran through her mind. She saw herself shuffled between two different homes, her parents fighting over her. Now she was in a courtroom, talking to the judge:
Leslie, do you want to live with your father or your mother?
I –
Mr. Aarons, Mrs. Aarons, I see those looks you're giving your daughter. You're trying to turn her against each other. Maybe you'd rather I put her in a foster home?
Leslie's face fell into her hands. She felt the hot tears run down her cheeks and between her fingers. It's not fair! It's just not fair! They send me all the way out here… don't I have a say in this? I'm their daughter!
"Why dost thou weep, fair maiden?"
The voice scared Leslie so bad that she almost fell off the tree stump. Her heart in her throat, she quickly wiped her eyes with her t-shirt and looked around.
There was nobody there. She looked to the left and right. She looked behind her, but there was nobody there. She was sure that she'd heard a voice. Was she going crazy? No, no, it wasn't inside her head. It couldn't have been. It came from somewhere in the woods, and it clearly said –
"Why dost thou weep, fair maiden?"
There it was again! Leslie looked around her and behind her, but again, there was nobody there.
"Cast thy eyes to the heavens, fair maiden!"
This time, Leslie looked up.
A boy was sitting on a branch in a tree near her – on a branch too high up to be safe. He smiled at her and waved.
"Are you crazy? Come down before you fall!"
The boy laughed. He moved over, clung to the tree's trunk with his arms and legs, and moved himself down, little by little. When he was about four feet off the ground, he jumped and landed square on his feet.
"It's faster going up than going down," he explained.
"Haven't you got anything better to do than risking your life to spy on people?" Leslie asked.
"You insult me, fair maiden – I am no spy! Verily, I was engaged in quiet contemplation when thou arrived and sat down to weep. Again, I put the question to thee: why dost thou weep?"
"None of your beeswax. And why do you talk like that? Who do you think you are, Robin Hood?"
"Ah, good Robin! A fine fellow! No, I am not him, but you flatter me, milady. I am but a wandering knight in search of adventure. And what better place to find adventure than here in yon enchanted forest?"
"Oh brother!"
Leslie couldn't help but laugh. And with her laughter came a wonderful feeling from somewhere deep inside her. The boy was not offended when she laughed at him. He smiled at her warmly.
"You made me feel better," Leslie said. "Thanks."
"The pleasure was entirely mine, milady," the boy replied, and bowed graciously. Then a serious look came to his face. "Are you sure you're allright?"
He was really concerned about her. He wasn't playing around this time.
"I'm fine. Things have been… complicated lately."
"Oh. I haven't seen you around before - you just move in?"
"Oh, no, no, I live in Washington, D.C. I'm just spending the summer here in Lark Creek with my grandparents. Well, maybe the whole summer, maybe not. I don't know. I have no idea what's going on anymore."
"Sometimes I feel the same way," the boy said. He sat down on the tree stump and Leslie joined him. "We might as well be friends. I'm Jamie Byrne. That's B-Y-R-N-E, like David Byrne, the rock singer. No relation."
Jamie held out his hand. Leslie shook it. She looked him over. He was about her age and her height. He wore a white t-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers that had seen better days. His chestnut hair was short, but not one of those gross crew cuts that most boys liked. His blue eyes sparkled like pool water on a sunny day.
He was… well… cute. She had to admit it to herself.
"I'm Leslie."
"Leslie what?"
She wanted to say Thomas. That was her mother's maiden name, which she still used for her real estate business. But it wasn't Leslie's last name, and if she used it, she would be just another phony. Besides, sooner or later, Jamie would find out who she really was.
"Aarons," Leslie sighed. "Leslie Aarons."
"Aarons? The only Aaronses around here are… hey, are you Jess Aarons' daughter?"
"Yup. I guess you'll want me to get you his autograph…"
"No," Jamie said matter-of-factly. "I don't collect autographs. But I do have all his books. Bridge To Terabithia is my favorite! I just got the movie on DVD. It must be cool having Jess Aarons for your father."
Leslie shrugged. "To me, he's just Dad."
"I bet it can be pretty tough, too - having a famous father. And being named after Leslie Burke."
She was taken aback by his understanding. Nobody ever said that to her before.
"Yeah, I mean… I know why Dad named me after her, and I think it's wonderful that he did, but… sometimes I wish he hadn't."
Jamie nodded. "I guess some folks don't realize that Leslie Burke and Leslie Aarons are two different people. They look at you, and all they think about is Leslie Burke – and Jess Aarons."
"Yeah!"
Wow! Leslie thought. He understands me – he really understands me!
"So… have you seen it?"
"The movie? Sure. I went to the world premiere."
"No, not the movie! I mean Terabithia," Jamie said. He whispered the name with a kind of quiet awe. "The real Terabithia. I know where it is. It's not far from your grandparents' place. C'mon, I'll take you there. You've gotta see it!"
Jamie went to get up, but Leslie grabbed his arm.
"No! Can't we just stay here? I've already seen… that place. I don't need to see it again."
"S'Okay," Jamie said. He must have sensed her anxiety; he smiled warmly and said, "Seeing as you've already been to the kingdom of Terabithia, we shall remain here, milady. Perchance thou might allow me to escort thee through yon enchanted forest and show thee my shire? As a proper lady, thou must be escorted by a knight, for while the forest is enchanted, the shire is filled with upstarts and rogues."
Leslie started giggling. "Why of course you may escort me, good knight!"
They got up and started walking.
"So… do you go there often?" Leslie asked. "To Terabithia, I mean."
"I've only been there a couple of times," said Jamie. "You don't go there to run around and play. It's a solemn place… like sacred ground, you know? It's a sad place, too. I mean, it doesn't look like a sad place, but… we both know what happened there. So does everyone else here in Lark Creek."
"Yeah. After Dad's book came out…"
"That has nothing to do with it. People have been talking about Leslie Burke ever since she died thirty years ago. When a little girl gets killed in a small town like this, nobody ever forgets it. Even if your dad hadn't become famous and written about her, folks around here would still be talking about the day the poor Burke girl was found dead in the creek."
"I never thought about it like that."
"You know what? I'm glad your dad wrote Bridge To Terabithia. Now people know who Leslie Burke really was – that she wasn't just some poor anonymous kid who got killed in an accident. She was a rare and special person – the kind you don't see too often. That's what makes her story so tragic. I must have read Bridge To Terabithia a hundred times, and I always cry at the end. The movie made me cry, too."
"Wow," Leslie gasped. "You don't hear many boys admit that."
Jamie blushed. "What? That a sad story made me cry? I'm not a robot, you know! Besides, your dad wrote the story, he was a boy when it happened, and he cried."
"He cried a lot. I don't think he stopped crying over Leslie Burke. I've never seen him cry, but… I think he still does. It's like he's haunted by her ghost."
"Ah! We have reached the sand pit, milady!"
In front of them, the forest gave way to a wide-open space with a dirt floor. There were all kinds of tire tracks in the dirt. Someone had laid out a few makeshift ramps. The area was overlooked by several tall hills. There were dirt trails that ran up and over all of them, then back down again on the other side.
"This is where the big kids come to ride their dirt bikes and ATVs," Jamie explained. Leslie saw that there was something beyond the hills, like a huge clearing. Is that the back way to Terabithia, she wondered?
"What's on the other side of those hills?" Leslie asked.
"The back of the Henshaws' cornfield."
"Oh. Hey, my grandpa said he was going fishing with Joe Henshaw."
"That's his cornfield. It's part of the family farm. Old Man Henshaw and your grandpa have been friends since before your dad was born. They used to go to D.C. together to look for work – you know, day labor, that kind of stuff – because it was hard making a go of farming. It still is. Come milady, our journey awaits!"
Jamie led her to the left of the sand pit, where the path continued through another woodsy area. He started to sing the tune he'd been humming since they left:
"We are all just lilies of the valley,
We neither reap nor sow.
We need to get our hands a little dirty
to make our gardens grow..."
"I like that," Leslie said. "Who sings it?"
"Like I said before, David Byrne. You've never heard of him?"
"Nope."
"He used to be the singer of a great band called Talking Heads. Then he went solo."
"I've never heard of Talking Heads, either."
"My Uncle Steve gives me CDs and sends me MP3s all the time. He's really into music, especially the older stuff. He had his own band when he was in high school – he was the lead guitarist. He's a teacher now, at Lark Creek Elementary. He's the music teacher. He knows your Aunt May Belle. She teaches there, too – fifth grade. Maybe I'll have her this year."
"Wow, really? That is so cool! I'll have to ask her about your uncle."
"You'd like him. He's my dad's brother, but he's nothing like Dad. All my father cares about is sports, and that really sucks when you have no athletic ability and your older brother is the star pitcher on the high school baseball team."
"You have a brother? I wish I had a brother."
"You want mine? You can have him."
"He can't be that bad."
"He's a jerk. And a total himbo."
"A what? Leslie laughed. She never heard such a funny sounding word in her life.
"A himbo. You know, a guy bimbo. A himbo. A guy with great looks and athletic ability, but no brains."
"He must have some good points – besides being able to pitch."
"Never thee mind, milady. Our journey is almost at an end. We have no time to waste on the discourse of knaves. We have reached the shire!"
They had come to a hill, on top of which houses could be seen through the trees. Jamie led Leslie up the hill and through the trees. They came out onto a dead end street in an unfamiliar neighborhood.
"Where are we?"
"In my shire, where my castle awaits us."
"Huh?"
"This is where I live. My house is across the street." He pointed out a nice looking two-story house with white siding and blue shutters. "Are you thirsty? I am. We'll get something to drink, and then I'll show you my room."
"Cool!" Leslie beamed. She was thirsty, and it would be nice to get out of the heat for a while.
Jamie bowed graciously and said, "Come then, milady, and grant me the pleasure of thy company. You will find me a most gracious host." He offered her his hand again.
"I am sure, good knight." She took his hand, and they walked across the street to Jamie's house.
"Thou art most fortunate, milady. 'Tis rare that I have visitors. I do hope the squire remembered to board the horses. Mind wherest thou step, lest thee soil thy dainty feet."
"Ewww!" Leslie groaned through her laughter. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, milady."
"How do you do that?"
"What?"
"Talk like that?"
"I don't know," Jamie said, smiling. "I just do."
