Giver31

A train whistle echoed in the distance one night and startled me. I dropped the pile of sticks I was carrying and listened to men shouting in the darkness. Girl, protective of me, growled her warning even though they must have been a mile away.

"Have you ever seen a train?" The Shadow asked.

I gathered my firewood and shook my head.

"You should."

While I built up the fire, he cut up potatoes and carrots. Onions and garlic were sliced and added to a skillet, where he stirred quail into sizzling water. Soon, the smell of supper permeated the air. I sat Indian-style with one arm around Girl and my free hand poking at the embers.

It had been two weeks since we'd caught wild game. Actually, it had only been three days, but the rabbit I'd caught with a snare had been spared at the last minute. Another rabbit, small and curious, emerged from the brush to see what I was doing and I didn't have the heart to kill one in front of the other.

My uncle had hunted the quail. I wondered if he knew what had become of our rabbit feast.

"What do you know of your parents?" my uncle asked suddenly. He stuck his fork through the meat and divided it onto two plates.

My eyes lowered. I knew my father hit harder with his left hand than with his right hand. I knew my mother prayed daily for the devil to stay away from her house. She prayed until her voice went hoarse. I knew they both hated me.

"Nothing," I answered.

"What do you want to know?"

When I glanced up he was staring at me, his eyes keener than they had been as of late. His face was thin, his neck appeared fragile. It seemed for every pound of lean muscle I gained, he withered.

"I've never thought about it," I said at last.

He nodded and blew on his steaming food. "I will tell you honestly if you ask me. I will answer you, though I am biased."

"Me, too," I softly replied.

"And you have every reason to be biased, Erik." He held my gaze. "Never feel guilty. Never."

Again I lowered my eyes and forced a nod. Thirteen years of constant shame would not be undone in one night. What I felt was anchored in the depths of my soul: Ugliness was a sin, and my sins were unforgivable. I blamed myself, as I should have, for ruining their lives.

Yet, still I hated them for the life they'd denied me. My heart ached. As much as I loved my uncle, it still hurt knowing my parents would never care if I lived or died. The people who had granted me life didn't care if it was taken away.

I finally thought of a question, but my uncle spoke first.

"Have you ever tried a walnut?"

My eyes widened in surprise. His unexpected question made me chuckle.

"You laugh?" He grinned at me, looking more alive than he had in weeks. It still surprised me when he faced me and spoke as though I were real, as though I were whole.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Ah, and another thing, my son. Never apologize for your laughter while in my presence. Swear to me."

I smiled, finding a different kind of freedom I'd never known existed. "I swear."

"Now." He reached behind his back. "About those walnuts."

For the moment my question was forgotten. He held out a walnut and smiled. "Now, open your mouth."

"Wh—why?"

"I want to see if you can catch it."

"In my mouth?"

"Aye, in your mouth." He motioned for me to do as he said and I shifted, which disturbed Girl. She slunk away and rested her head on my pack.

"What if I don't catch it?"

"Then we'll try again."

His first attempt sailed over my head, which prompted Girl to return to my side with the prospect of food being tossed about. Two more attempts plopped into the leaves and the fourth bounced off my front teeth.

"Closer and closer," my uncle mumbled.

"May I try?"

He furrowed his brow. "Of course you may. We'll see if your aim is better than mine." He leaned forward and poured a handful of walnuts into my open palm, which Girl promptly sniffed. I tucked my arm against my chest and shielded them with my hand to keep her from indulging herself.

"Try one," my uncle suggested.

I have no idea what possessed me, but I tossed it up in the air, leaned back, and caught it in my mouth. I toppled over, crunching it between my teeth, and Girl collapsed on me and sniffed around in search of her treat.

"It's good," I said as I sat up and pushed her to my side. Her rump wiggled and she pawed at me. "Girl thinks so too."

My uncle gave a hearty belly laugh. "Indeed."

We talked and ate until dawn, when my uncle suggested we move our camp downhill where a cave would shelter us from the rain. Remnants of a fire and many abandoned camps remained and I found an old belt and a broken comb left in the ash and rubble. No sooner had we moved than the rain fell creating a gray mist over the land. We stood at the very mouth of the long, narrow space and enjoyed the cool breeze.

"Uncle?" I questioned, staring straight ahead.

"Yes, Nephew?"

My gaze dropped and I nervously smiled. "I don't know what to call you," I replied softly. "Uncle Kimmer?"

He put his hand on my shoulder, comforting me in an awkward moment. "You may call me Uncle or Uncle Alak. There is no need for the formality of Kimmer, is there?"

"No." He was my first and only friend. I wanted to treat him as such.

"What is your question, Erik?"

"Was I born…like this?"

He sighed and I held my breath. His grip tightened as though to brace me for his words. "I was not there the night you were born, my child. If I had been, I would have swept you away into the night and raised you as my own."

I looked at him, needing to know if his eyes held true to his words. Goosebumps rose along my arms and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. He would have kept me. There had never been more sincere words spoken.

"If memory serves me, it was not until five days after you were born that they said you'd died. They kept the house closed off from visitors and said first that you were stillborn, then that you'd not survived an hour past birth. I once overheard your father say his wife had birthed a baby and it had died nearly a week later, but he never spoke words with much merit to them."

He hadn't answered my question, but I nodded nonetheless and decided to content myself with what I'd learned.

"Erik, I don't know if you were born with scars or if you were injured after your birth, but to your parents I doubt it would have mattered. They are selfish people who never should have been gifted with a child. Whatever they said to you, whatever they did…it was never about you, it was about them. That, above all else, is what you must know."

"But why…?"

"Why what?"

"Why did they…keep me?"

"Your mother was very religious despite marrying an evil man. I know for certain she would not have killed you out of fear for her own soul." His expression softened. "I do not know her reasoning, Erik. Perhaps it was Fate who kept you for me to find."

At last I nodded, truly satisfied with his answer. These days with him lessened the pain I'd experienced all the years of my life. I looked at him and knew if I could spend many more years at his side I would never think of my parents again. There would be no need to consider them when I had a real father. Not a man who had sired me, not an individual who kept me in a cellar, but a true, loving father.

"I'm glad you found me," I said softly.

He wrapped his arms around me in a tight embrace. A sound left his lips, which I often wondered if it was a sob. I didn't know what it was, but the same sound left my mouth as well.

"If only I had found you sooner, my son."

Throughout the day we listened to train whistles and the rainfall, which changed its tune from a light sprinkle to a harsh deluge. I slept but didn't dream, and when I woke I felt refreshed, reborn. I sat up and smiled as I caught sight of the fractured sunlight finding its way through the clouds. The sky was a deep, blushing pink and squirrels chattered outside the cave.

"How would you feel if we took a ride on a train?" my uncle questioned.

"I would like that," I said. My heart beat wildly. For the first time in weeks I was excited again about travel and the possibilities ahead.