The West Window

The days of packing had been trance-like for Viera. She had kept to herself during those days. She had longed so deeply to go to the pond one last time, but she was afraid to encounter anyone. "Can I bring Vixen?" she had pleaded.

"No, sweetie," her mother had replied. "This is her home. She won't know what to do on the mainland. I hear it's so different there." This had only deepened her misery.

She had watched as the old thatched-roof house had faded into the distance, along with everything that was familiar. She had shaken in her mother's arms, quietly sobbing as she had looked over her mother's shoulder. She had looped through the circle of regret so many times: if only she hadn't been seen; if only she had been more discreet; if only she didn't have this ... this ... The circle, of course, had led nowhere.

The ride on the ship had been strangely cathartic. Her parents had complained about sea sickness, but it hadn't bothered her a bit. She had felt the welcoming call of the water, as if the water itself was drying her tears. Truth be told, she had longed to jump overboard and play. She had actually recovered a bit of her joy, although her father in particular hadn't seemed as interested as he used to be. "He has a lot on his mind too," her mother had explained.

Arriving on the mainland had been an utter, mind-blowing, world-skewing shock. Viera had never imagined so much green, or such tall trees. Nothing was familiar, but all of it was beautiful. She had stood speechless on the bow of the ship from the time land was spotted until the time her parents had called her to cross the gangplank. Everything was made of wood! She had felt silly as she crossed and had noticed the people: apparently sun hats weren't popular here, and thicker clothing was. She had learned since why everything was so green: it rained a ridiculous lot. She didn't see why anything needed so much water, but that's obviously why everything was so green. She supposed it was a fair trade.

The trip to Delavea had been entrancing. The wagon path was well traveled and even gravel-covered in spots. Often it was muddy, but the mud was different than it had been back home. There were roots through the mud in most places, so the wagon wheels rarely sank far like they did during the rainy season back home. Back home. It wasn't until well after they had arrived that Viera had thought to ask where it was that they had left. "The island of Saint Belemy," her mother had explained. Viera was shocked to learn that they had been living on an island. Her mother had clarified that islands come in all sizes, and Saint Belemy happened to be a very large one.

The sounds were so different here. On Saint Belemy the loudest sound was usually the wind. Here it was the trees. A wagon a quarter mile down the road could barely be heard at all: sound just disappeared into the forest. And from the forest came sounds of life continually, although frustratingly, the forest kept its sources hidden from view. The forest kept almost everything hidden from view - the sky, the hills, the roads, the houses - everything. It would have been claustrophobic if the recent events in Saint Belemy hadn't left Viera feeling so exposed.

The forest called to her. The only problem was, she was too young to go exploring alone in this unfamiliar world, and her parents were too busy setting up a brand new life. "I can't even explain to you what's dangerous," her father had told her, "because I have to learn it all myself."

Their travels finally ended in the community of Förhoppning. Here, at least, the customs were familiar: a very religious, mostly agrarian society with community-owned property and equipment, and a council of elders who oversaw things. There was more industrialization than there had been at their previous home. This was due to the plenteous natural resources and the river along which the town was built. Her parents didn't even have to say it: she knew she was expected to stay far away from the river.

Their family had met with the council of elders, and her father had explained where they had come from. When asked why they had left, he had said it was because of a problem between some of the older children and Viera that the community was unwilling to resolve, and that he was no longer willing to tolerate. This seemed to satisfy them. They had asked her father many more questions about what he and her mother believed, and their background. They had stayed at the Godard Inn for several days (decisions to welcome a new family to their number were never rushed), but ultimately, the community had extended to them the right hand of fellowship. They had also given some advice:

"We can control who joins our community permanently, but of course we can't control who passes through by land or by the river. The river traffic has increased a hundredfold since Förhoppning was established, due to the growing number and size of the towns farther north. It's an opportunity to be a blessing and a witness to these people, but it can also be a source of many bad influences."

"There are native people groups who live to the west. We've generally had a good relationship with them, but their customs and culture are extremely different from our own. These differences have led to some misunderstandings - and at times nearly conflicts - between us. Fortunately we've been able to work through those, and both groups understand to expect differences and seek clarification without rushing to judgement. You'll see them coming to our general stores to trade goods, and a few of them even join us for church services. Sadly, some of our neighboring towns have not worked so well with them, and that stigma affects all of us."

Viera remembered well the first time she had seen one of these natives at church. He was a tall, well-built man, perhaps ten years her elder, with broad shoulders and an austere expression. His hair was black, and his skin was dark, and he had piercing dark eyes. If she had met him anywhere else besides the church with her father at her side, she would have regarded him as fearsome. Even in church, she shied away as he attempted to greet her, even when his austere face broke into a smile like the sun emerging after a storm. Her father chastised her for her rudeness. She watched him during the entire service, and noted that he paid close attention to the preacher, and that same smile appeared each time the congregation sang. By the end of the service, she had mustered the courage to attempt a better greeting. Sure enough, her father expected her to try again, and to do better.

The man knelt and stooped low enough to look her directly in the eyes. "What is your name, evergreen-eyes?" he asked in an unusual accent. His voice had a firmness to it, and was surprisingly low.

Viera's mind went blank.

"Come on, sweetie, tell the man your name," her father prodded gently.

"Viera," she said at barely more than a whisper. "Viera Josefsson."

He nodded, as if affirming that it was a suitable name. "My name is Adanvdo Uwetsi," he said. He smiled in response to Viera's bewilderment at the sounds of his native tongue. "But you can call me Adam."

Viera nodded tentatively.

"How did you learn our language?" her father asked.

"I was curious," he said as he rose back to a standing position. "I also saw the misunderstandings that were happening, and I told our chief that someone had to be the 'asvtlvi'; the bridge. He thought that was a good idea, and he told me to do it. I was only fifteen years old, and looking back now I think maybe he said that to quiet me, but at the time I took it as my next test of manhood." He looked down at Viera and said, as if explaining it to her, "such things are a normal part of our culture." Returning his attention to her father, he continued. "I met with your elders and got them to understand that I wanted to live among you. They were willing to see how it worked."

"How often do you see your people now"? her father asked.

"They move south during the colder months, and I remain in Förhoppning during that time. When they return in the warmer months, I divide my time between them and you."

Since that time, Viera had come to enjoy seeing Adam at church, and elsewhere. Although he always maintained that austere exterior, he always had a kind smile for her. He didn't call her "Viera" though, unless he was talking about her to someone else. To him she was "Evergreen-eyes." There were other children at church closer to her age, but she was uncomfortable around them. For some reason, Adam, even with his strange appearance and habits, gave her a sense of peace. He became the first person in this new place that she felt willing to risk befriending.

Since their family's background was farming, that would have been the obvious occupation for them to take up in Förhoppning. However, "winter" (Viera had never heard that word before) was coming, and it was already too late to plant anything. The best they could do for now was start clearing ground for a new farm that would be planted in the spring. Naturally, the people of Förhoppning were ready and willing to assist in this endeavor when the time came. Until the farm and a farmhouse were ready, the Godard family had welcomed them to continue to stay at their inn at no cost. It was a tight fit in a bedroom meant for one, or two at the most, but they made do: Viera slept on a bedroll on the floor which they took up every morning. During the days her father would go assist the other men in felling trees where their farm would be, while she and her mother helped around the inn. There was always something that needed doing around the inn, although, as the weather gradually got cooler, business began to slow and Viera had more time to herself. It didn't take her long to discover that the stairway that led to the second floor also continued up to an unfinished attic space. "Attics" were another new concept to her. The attic was used for storage and was full of a lot of curious and dusty things, but the real treasure to Viera was the west-facing dormer with its window. She would open the window and listen to the sounds of the forest. In the evenings those sounds would often mix with the mild chatter of guests on the inn's back porch below, but it didn't matter. It was all just so beautiful - a window into another world.

Her parents grew accustomed to finding her up there at bed time. Then one evening as her father came up for her with the lantern, he asked, "Vivi, would you like to sleep up here tonight? The Godards have given their permission."

She turned with a gasp. She could see his smiling face, lit from below by the lantern's light. "Oh, Daddy! I'd love to!" she exclaimed as she rushed and embraced him.

"Easy," he chuckled, "mind the light! We mustn't drop it in here." He drew her back and knelt to her eye level. "Now, you have to actually sleep," he winked. Her embarrassed blush was hidden by the dimness. "I'll go fetch your bedroll."

It turned out the Godards invitation to sleep in the attic was an open one. Viera took to sleeping up there nightly, drifting off each night as the sounds of the crickets and the owls wafted in through the open window. It was a good arrangement for everyone. Both she and her parents had more space, and as a gesture of gratitude she began to clean the things in the attic in her spare time. When Mr. or Mrs. Godard had a moment to stop by, she would ask them questions about the items she was cleaning. She learned what an armoire was, and a coat rack, and a set of tools to keep a fireplace in order. These latter items were brought down not long afterward, as the temperatures continued to drop.

"Winter" had been another shock. "Fall" was unusual enough: nothing in Saint Belemy ever defoliated, so everything here looked like it was dying, albeit spectacularly. It got really cold, and the forest became naked and quiet. The only things remaining were the evergreens. Viera saw now why Adam called her that. The family had to buy heavier clothes, including "mittens". It hurt to breathe outside. Everyone spent most of their time indoors. The dormer was too cold to sleep in, so she moved back into the tight space with her parents. For the first time in her life, Viera saw water turn crusty and hard - hard enough that anyone could walk on it, not just her. Adam laughed when he saw her inquisitively handling a chunk of ice for the first time.

"I understand that it's always warm where you came from," he said.

She nodded wordlessly, not sure if she should be embarrassed or not.

"Just don't fall in when it's cold like this. The cold will kill you quickly."

Viera was so focused on the ice that his words didn't register until after he had moved on. "Fall in," she repeated to herself quietly. Ever since surviving the flooded creek, she was the one person who didn't have to worry about falling in. But she could never tell him that.

Her ninth birthday came and went, and then came "spring": all the trees that had looked so utterly dead began to push out little green buds, and before long the forest burst into a bright green like Viera had never seen before. It was an inspiring revival. With the new clothing of the trees, the never-ending chorus of the forest returned as well. When it was finally warm enough, she gleefully relocated back to her attic and to her window to another world. How she longed to pass through that window.

It was there, one evening, that the realization struck her: "Adam knows what's dangerous and what's not in the forest." She had promised God that she would never be sneaky again, so the only approach was the direct one. The next morning at breakfast, she asked. "Daddy, I know that you and Mama are very busy, and so you haven't had time to learn what's safe in the forest and what's dangerous. What if I have Adam teach me, and then I can teach you?"

Her father and mother looked at one another wordlessly. After a prolonged silence, her mother began, "sweetie," but her father held up his hand. His face had the look Viera recognized as the precursor to delivering bad news.

"I'm sorry, Vivi, but that's not a workable idea." Viera had been taught all her life that 'explanations are the reward of a good demeanor', so she waiting attentively to see if her father was going to give one. He continued. "We simply don't know enough about Adam to know ... well ... if he's safe or dangerous." Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What if carrying off a girl with 'evergreen-eyes' is a test of manhood in his culture? I'm sure that's ridiculous, of course, but my point is that we just don't know. We don't know anything." He sighed as her face fell in disappointment.

"And besides that," her mother added softly, "he's a young man, and you're getting to be a young lady. Just the two of you going into the forest wouldn't be appropriate, no matter who he was." This was no new principle for Viera, she just had never thought of herself as a 'young lady.' "Do you understand?" her mother asked.

"Yes, Mama."

"I'm sure there will be opportunities to go exploring in the forest with groups of people," her mother said. "And if not, sooner or later we'll have the time to go with you."

But the time never came. Setting up a new farm and home consumed all her father's time. She saw groups of boys going into the forest together, but there was never a girl among them. It made her miss the freedoms of her youth in Saint Belemy.

Things were quiet this morning, so Mrs. Godard and Viera's mother were taking a break for a cup of tea together at the end of the long table in the main room. Viera busied herself with her feather duster, working her way meticulously around the outside of the room. Mrs. Godard was chatty, as usual.

"Things get more complicated when they're older, my dear. My youngest, Deborah, married first, God bless her. She found herself a real firecracker. Ben and I were reluctant, but God has used firecrackers many times, now hasn't he?" As usual, she didn't wait for an answer. "Before we knew it, they were off to Osting, deep in the frontier. I hear from them occasionally. I don't think Deb knew what she was getting into, but really now, do any of us?" She paused for a sip of tea. "My oldest, Eventine, is just down in Port Firma. She married a good steady man. Perhaps she learned from her younger sister, hmm?"

Several letters slid through the mail slot on the inn's front door and flopped to the floor. That was another thing that was different here: mail arrived regularly. Mrs. Godard quickly walked over and scooped them up lest they be underfoot should a guest arrive. She cycled through them as she returned. "Oh! Here's one from Isaac now! That's Eventine's husband." She slipped it open deftly and read. Her face turned to shock. "Merciful Savior!" she exclaimed. "Eventine was thrown from her horse yesterday and struck her head!" She raised her panicked eyes to Viera's mother. "I must tell Will right away! I'm sorry to cut short our tea, Gwen, I do enjoy catching up." She quickly bustled out the door.

Viera and her mother looked at one another with concern. Her mother waved her over to the table. "We should pray for her right away," she said.

Mrs. Godard returned about an hour later, dressed to travel, and still looking panicked. "We're going to go down to Port Firma," she said. "You've been doing this long enough, Gwen - can I impose on you and Lars to manage the inn while we're gone?"

"Of course," her mother answered.

"Thank you, dear, thank you so much. If we need to be there any longer than a day or two, I'll send word, I promise."

"Don't worry about a thing, Martha. You just take care of your daughter. Godspeed."

Mrs. Godard's mixture of fear and gratitude combined into a state of embarrased tears. She gave Viera's mother a sudden, wordless hug, then wiped her eyes, and hurried out the door.

Viera was in the large kitchen putting away the freshly cleaned dishes when she heard the main door open. She heard her mother's voice. "Good morning, sir. Welcome to the Godard inn. My name is Gwen. What can I do for you?"

She heard an old man's voice reply. "I'd like a room for the night, if you have one, please."

"Of course. We have plenty of room right now. Do you know how long you'll be staying?"

"Just for a day or two, I imagine."

"Very well. Viera!" she called. "Please see to this man's horse, and -"

"Oh, I out-walked my last horse years ago," he answered as Viera entered the main room. He was of average height, but stout, with short white hair and a kind smile. "Oh! A young one!" he exclaimed. "You handle the horses, do you?"

Viera nodded shyly.

"Come say hello, Vivi," her mother instructed. "What was your name, sir?"

"Ken Jonsson," he replied as Viera reached her mother's side. He smiled down at her. He had a kindly face, just like many of the older men in Förhoppning, but there was something cold about his eyes. Viera felt uncomfortable, and looked down.

Her mother gave a quick huff of dissatisfaction. "Let me show you to your room," she said. She led him away and they disappeared into one of the rooms down the hall. Viera wrapped her arms around herself as her gaze followed them, and then hurried back to the kitchen.

A few minutes later she heard them chatting again in the main room. Something about bringing bad news to his aged brother, and taking a detour north on the off chance that he might find someone he was looking for. Suddenly she heard him exclaim, "well, bless the Lord!"

"Vivi, come in here," her mother called. Viera set the dish down and obeyed. When she reached the main room, both of their faces were glowing with excitement. "Vivi, this man's niece is the one who saved your life!"

Viera looked back and forth between them, unsure of what they were talking about.

"I prayed I might have the opportunity to meet you someday," the old man said. "God is good!" he added with earnestness.

"Come, sit, Vivi," her mother beckoned. She sat beside her. "When you fell into the creek that day, do you remember? There was another woman who was found, but no one knew anything about her. She was Mr. Jonsson's niece! He's certain that she's the one who pulled you out that day." Her mother was blinking back tears of gratitude.

"My niece, Mariam, had taken to traveling alone. My brother asked me to find her, to let her know that he was nearing the end of his life and that he wanted to see her again. I traveled through your community in Saint Belemy searching for her, and found out there how she had died. I'm on my way home to give my brother the sad news, but I'm sure his sadness will be tempered to know that his daughter gave her life to save that of another. Come close, little one, let me see you," he smiled.

Viera balked.

"Viera!" her mother hissed.

She glanced back and forth between her and him, and then forced one foot in front of the other towards his outstretched hands, kindly face, and cold eyes. When she reached him, he took her hands and held them gently.

"So full of life," he said. "You know, you even remind me of her a little bit. She was always shy, too." He smiled and released her hands, which she slid behind her back. He gave her a pat on the head. "I know you were young, little one, and forgive me for dredging up difficult memories, but I wonder - do you remember anything about your rescue?"

Viera shook her head.

"Do you remember anything at all?"

Viera opened her mouth but couldn't find her voice. After a glance at her glaring mother, she cleared her throat. "I woke up on the shore of the creek," she said with a thin voice. "I might have seen her at a glance on the shore, is all. I thought I was dead. My best friend died. I wish -" she began, but then stopped herself. "I don't know why I didn't die."

"Okay, that's enough, I won't ask you any more, little one. I am glad you are alive. God bless you. I'm happy enough to have met you in my lifetime, and I know it will be a comfort to my brother as well."

Viera slipped from the room as the two continued chatting. She needed some fresh air. She quietly scaled the stairs to her attic perch and threw open the west window. She breathed deeply, allowing the sight and sounds to soothe her. A rhythmic clop, clop, clop sound from the porch below drew her attention from the magnificent forest. She looked down. Adam was down there, unloading smooth, flat stones from a rugged leather backpack and stacking them on the edge of the porch. She recalled that the Godards had discussed putting out some stepping stones leading to features in the back yard, and apparently Adam had arranged to provide them. Her gape dropped a little wider with each stone he removed. How could he possibly carry so many? As he set the last one down and put the backpack back onto his shoulders, she called down to him.

"Adam!" she smiled. She didn't have anything to say, really, she was just happy to see a face she enjoyed talking to.

He looked up. He didn't have a happy smile for her today. Without even addressing her, he pointed with his chin towards the inn. "Who's your new guest?" he asked.

She was a little taken aback. "I don't know. An old man, on his way home."

Adam peered at the inn for a long moment. "Hmm," he grunted. "I don't like him." She followed him with her startled eyes as he walked away. When he had nearly rounded the side of the inn, he looked back up at her and said, "stay away from him."

A/N: I couldn't find enough words in the specific native dialect I was looking for, so I had to use a close alternative. I'm no linguist, so go easy on me. :)