Chapter 2.

"Time is like a wheel, turning and turning - never stopping. And the woods are the center, the hub of the wheel." ~ Tuck Everlasting

Gwen woke up to the reflected sunlight off the lake flickering through her window. She lay in bed, watching the shifting patterns before deciding to take a walk, since the birds were still singing, the lake was still smooth, and the daylight young. She walked along the worn dirt road, a long pleasant walk, she knew - a mile going there and back, which took her through the thick of the woods. As she walked, the sunlight quickly filtered into dense green light through the leaves. As she looked into the forest, a small pinecone got stuck between her toes and she bent down to ease it out before continuing. A wind began to rise, rustling the leaves, sighing nearby and roaring far away, but the still darkness was not touched by the sun, even through a net of leaves. The further she went in, the more she became aware of the age of the woods - noticing how even the green light turned to utter darkness as it went deeper into the woods - mysterious, cold, primal. When the sunlight returned at the end of the road, she was somewhat relieved, and took pleasure in its warmth before returning to the cabin.

Since the wind had started up, her father was preparing to fish, readying the boat. Gwen quietly approached him. "May I come with you?" she asked.

He jumped. " Gwen, don't do that!" He looked at the boat, thinking, and turned to her. "You won't get bored?" Last year she'd brought a book with her when she went with her father, enjoying the peace.

She shook her head, and he shrugged. "All right, then." He handed her a life jacket that smelled faintly of must and wood, but more of gasoline, and she put it on. Then she stepped into the uncertain rocking boat, grasping the sides as she carefully made her way to the front seat. Her father started up the engine, which sent shivers up and down the boat and into the water, and they began to back away from the dock. The reeds shushed along the sides of the boat, and then they were off, power thrumming through her feet. Wind and water droplets lashed at her as they skimmed along the water, sun turning spray into rainbows.

Her father finally slowed the boat down and cut off the engine, allowing the world to become silent once more. As his fishing rod whizzed and plopped, she looked around. They were in the cold shadow of a forested island, sitting in a bay that sheltered them from wind and waves. There was no beach on the island, just large rocks on which trees grew with wild abandon. Some sunlight filtered into the water, showing the rocks beneath them, fish swimming by lazily, as the bugs began to come out and skate along the surface. Fish began leaping from the water with loud splashes that startled her momentarily. Gently, she reached into the water, still very cold, as expected. The sun hadn't had time to warm the water, so it was still icy, as Maine waters would remain until the middle of the summer.

Then a movement caught her eye, and Gwen bolted upright in the boat. Something had moved in between the trees - what it was, she didn't know. She thought it was a face, looking at her with laughing with green eyes. She squinted, trying to catch what it was, but it didn't move again, so she relaxed.

"What's wrong, Gwen?" her father asked, still focused on fishing.

She hesitated. "Nothing," she said, deciding not to tell her father what she thought she had seen. It was so quick though, out of the corner of her eye, that her mind quickly dismissed the idea that they were not alone.

When they returned, her mother was bent over stacks of paperwork, reading an old leather-bound book with interest, scribbling occasionally in her notebook. She looked up, visibly excited. "Gwen! Come look, this is so interesting! Oh, I'm so glad I finally had time to do this!"

Gwen sighed and sat down, preparing for a long-winded explanation. Her mother held the book gingerly and leaned forward. "This is the journal of your thrice-great-grandfather, Alexander Treharne." Gwen blinked. He was important, mentioned at family reunions, but she couldn't remember why. Her mother noted her uncomprehending stare and went on. "You know, he was married to 'Jaime Treharne,' but I could never find her maiden name, or any of her previous records - just censuses after she married him and was living in his household."

"Ah," said Gwen, remembering.

"I thought I was on a dead end for her, but then your grandmother found this when cleaning out Great-Grandma Susan's house. It's so exciting - I'm one of only a few people who have ever read it! Anyway, I just finished reading the entry where he met her for the first time, in the logging town, Androscoggin. Read it – it's fantastic!"

Gwen frowned and took the fragile journal. In the delicately inked writing, she read the entry:

May 2nd, 1852. Went over to Uncle Seamus' house to help him with plowing, now that I'm old enough. Uncle hasn't been right ever since he took that fall down the stairs. Doesn't help, of course, that he's usually too drunk to manage the farm, so I went to help get things done. It got dark early, and I went home for supper. I was walking down the street when I heard a sound in the alley between Pastor Mark's and Jim's houses, and looked that way. Standing half in shadow, was a woman, one I'd never seen around here. Probably the most beautiful thing I've ever seen – more stunning than a golden sunrise. Her hair was loose, and she looked stern and sad, but she smiled at me. I blurted out a hello like an idiot, then walked away, my heart thumping. I couldn't not look at her though, I thought I'd die. When I turned to see her again, but she was gone. I don't know what I'll do. I have to see her again.

Gwen continued reading. Her mother had gone to take a shower, so she had the musty journal to herself. She delicately turned the page, careful not to touch anything but the very edge of the page.

May 3rd, 1852. I saw her again, standing by the edge of the forest. I went up to her, and she just looked at me, standing all tall and straight like a queen. I greeted her, stumbling over my words like an idiot, and she looked at me curiously. She whispered something that sounded like, "I am for you," (which made no sense) and then said, "I've watched you - you're strong, and kind." I mumbled something about handling the horses, and she laughed at my sheepish expression. I was so embarrassed I turned around and went back to town. Now I feel like a fool for doing so.

There was a line break, then the writing continued, more tight and intense.

I went back, I couldn't help myself! I asked her if she would be willing to meet Uncle Seamus, and she said yes! She'll come over tomorrow. I've got to clean this place up.

Gwen read about the parents' objections to his courtship of a foreign woman, with no name or background, her persistence, and long walks in the woods. When Alexander ranted to Jaimie about his parents' insistence on a slow courtship and marriage, she said to him solemnly, "Sometimes we do things out of obligation and duty, not for our own pleasure. It is a part of life." She sounded like a smart and wise woman, Gwen reflected. She wished she could have met her.

She handed the journal back to her mother, who had returned. "Isn't it fascinating?" Her mother asked, excited. "I don't understand where she came from, he never explains it – just that she loved the woods. I wonder if she came from some more heavily forested country – I should check." Her mother reached for her laptop, clearly intent on figuring this out.