Author's Note: This chapter and those that follow are dedicated to Rosemary, Kay, Mike and my other friends who have worked in education for young people with Special Needs. Noah's phrase about Ivy's eyes are derived from a young lad I knew with learning difficulties, who could not grasp blindness or deafness as concepts, so referred to blind or deaf people as having 'sore eyes' or 'sore ears' that didn't work.

6: What Ivy Knew, and Jay Did Not

Rain battered against the windows of the Widow Hunt's house. Ivy heard it as grey; Lucius, sitting in a chair by the stove, a patchwork quilt tucked around him, saw that it was: the grey, cold rain of November, lashing the clapboard houses, soaking the earth of the village.

He was mending now, although the medicines had left him feeling drained and exhausted. (Dr Crane said this was not uncommon.) Ivy had scarce left his side throughout his illness. He was grateful for that, and yet he noticed that something had changed in her, particularly when his mother was near, or if her father or any of the other Elders chanced to visit. Ivy had always been frank and open in her speech and manner, he thought. Now he sensed that she had become somehow guarded, cautious.

Was it simply that their ordeal had made her more grown-up, he wondered – more like himself? He would be sorry indeed if she lost her vitality, her boldness – everything that made some of the village matrons deem her 'hoydenish', or 'mighty unladylike for a schoolmaster's daughter'.

Perhaps it had been the cost of her quest: her fears for his life; her perilous journey; the news, on her return, that Noah had been abducted and slain by the Creatures.

This last event had struck him, too, with ambivalent feelings that he could not explain to his mother, to whom it had come almost as a relief.

He remembered, clear and sharp as if it were yesterday, the distraught boy weeping in the doorway of his workshop; the blows of the knife which came when he tried to give comfort. Grounds enough for hate, and yet…

It was Noah, after all: the mooncalf, too simple in his love and hate and jealousy, uncomprehending of the harm he had done.

Lucius, like all in the village, had heard from his mother and Dr Crane the cause of the tragedy: Vivian Percy's well-meant, but ill-chosen words to Noah about Ivy's betrothal. That Noah should not expect Ivy to play with him any more; that she was to become a married lady; that Lucius would think it unseemly for her to romp around with him at foot-races or hide-and-seek, and would be cross about it.

If only he and Ivy had told Noah their good news first, as a friend and in words which he could have understood and wherein he would have seen no threat to his friendship with them both…

If only Noah had been watched, and kept away from his father's tools, as any young child should have been…

And, in the end, if only he had not been imprisoned alone in the Quiet Room. Lucius tried not to imagine the Creatures scrabbling like rats at the floorboards; clawing their way up; the boy's utter terror as they dragged him through the window – No, despite his own suffering, he would never have wished such a fate on Noah!

"What are you thinking?" asked Ivy. She was perched on a low stool beside him, her bright head leaning against his knee.

He sighed. "Nothing of much import…"

"When you say that, I know you mean quite the opposite."

"Perhaps."

"Then will you tell me, pray?"

He paused. "Ivy… What you did – your journey – Since you returned, I fancy it has changed you."

Her lips parted, as if she were about to speak. She clasped her hands together. But she did not answer.

"Ivy?"

"Lucius, I am afraid…"

"You were never afraid. "

She raised her head and listened, alert, like a deer trying to catch any sound, poised to run in case of danger. "When is your mother expected to return from the meeting-house?"

"Not for an hour or more. Surely you do not fear my mother?"

"I think I fear all the Elders," she said simply.

"But why…?"

She shook her head. "I should not say it. I must not say it. I ought not even think it. And yet –"

Although she could not see him, she felt his gaze upon her, even as she felt his hand upon her hair. She heard the steady breathing that, like his gentle voice, had, for her, a pure golden colour – which she would never tell.

"Lucius, if I were to tell you, would you swear to speak not a word to anyone?"

"I swear it, but…"

"Not even your mother."

His lips parted.

"It is because of my father, Lucius. I no longer trust in him. Indeed, I have no faith in any but you, now. Their colours are changed, and my father's most of all."

"What mean you by that?"

"I do not know truth from falsehood in his voice any more. There are… lies here. But I fancy that is known to you."

He frowned until his dark brows almost met. His first thought was that she suspected the secret sympathy between his mother and her father - a thing he knew to be outlawed by scripture and custom.

Ivy struggled to find the right words. Usually fluent, she now seemed to weigh every syllable. "I found kindness where he told me I would find only hate and cruelty. And I have been within the Old Shed That Must Not Be Used…"

"How? When?" – For he knew it was a forbidden place, unsafe, too close to the boundary line besides.

"When I set out to The Towns for medicines, my father first took me there. There are things hanging there, Lucius. Bodies or skins of Those We Don't Speak Of. He told me not to scream, and made me touch them, smell them. Fur, like a dog's. Claws and spines and feathers. And cloaks of fine cloth. He said it was the Bad Colour, but it felt warm and good."

"But why?"

Ivy twisted her hands in her lap. "He told me that Those We Don't Speak Of were not real."

"How can that be?"

"He said that these were guises, worn by the Elders in farce - to make us afraid of venturing beyond the Line. He said my grandfather was killed in The Towns, by cruel treachery of a friend, and that before the Elders came here, seeking refuge, he had read Indian tales of strange Creatures in these woods. But that these were… tales only."

Lucius stared in astonishment. "That is a grave matter, if it be true…"

"I no longer know what is the truth," she said, "for then, on my return, he told me that he had lied about the farce to guard me from fear, and that these hanging things were hides of dead Creatures, from a time before the Truce."

"Yet - we were always told - that when the Elders first came here, the Creatures helped them, became their protectors…" He could not imagine that Ivy would speak any falsehood; but that her father would – that, too, was unthinkable. For all the secrets in the place, Edward Walker was an honourable man. Of course, her sightlessness might mean that she had not perceived all that her father had tried to 'show' her. "Is it possible," he wondered, speaking more quietly than ever, "that both may be true?"

"Both?"

He was troubled, but did his best to try to reconcile the accounts. "If the Elders kept the hides of slain Creatures, perhaps that is why the Creatures skinned our animals, in revenge. And if the Elders sometimes wear the skins – may that be to stalk or watch the Creatures unseen?" (He was recalling a steel engraving in a schoolbook: Indians, disguised in hides, stalking buffalo.) "And after you slew a Creature, they slew Noah."

She shook her head, her hair gleaming like amber in the lantern's glow. "No… No… My father's colour is changed – is wrong - when he speaks of Noah! When he called the meeting, and said Noah was devoured... I cannot believe it!"

"I, too, did not want to believe it," he said.

"It is not that I do not want to – for it makes me afraid, Lucius, to think otherwise. For if he is not dead, what can have become of him?"

"But your father is an honest man, a good man. What reason would he have to lie about that? Dr Crane and the Pastor – they were with him, Mother said. They, too, are good men. Why would they let Noah's parents believe him dead, if he were yet living?"

"I cannot explain it: I only feel it, Lucius. I feel it here." She placed her hand on her heart.

"Dr Crane told me we must hope he is in a better place. We must have faith, Ivy – and hope. I cannot believe that the Elders would wilfully –"

Ivy shivered. "Lucius, when you are strong again… please help me find him!"

At the hospital, Dave Graham had spent a couple more hours with the Percy boy, assessing his literacy and understanding through a simple book about the adventures of a puppy called Patch. It had been an emotionally exhausting experience. When Patch became lost in the park, Noah had begun to panic, saying that he would be skinned by big creatures with claws. (This confirmed what had been suspected all along: that the youth was unable to distinguish his fantasy game from either fiction or reality.) The happy ending, when Patch was reunited with his child-owner and his parents, had also distressed him by reminding him of his own abandoned plight. To quieten him, Dave had let him take a Garfield toy back to his room. Poor kid, he thought. Something has to be done with him…

He picked up the phone, and dialled Limebank School.

"Hi, it's Dr David Graham, Walker County Hospital. Is Ms Bannatyne available?"

Several bars of operetta music (it may have been the overture to Gräfin Mariza) played down the line while the secretary transferred him to the Principal's extension.

Presently he heard the familiar voice with its distinctive accent - nearly twenty years of New York and several of Pennsylvania, but still with an undercurrent of Morningside: "Rosalie Bannatyne here; how may I help you?"

"Hi, Ros – it's Dave Graham. How are you doing?"

"Dave! Haven't heard from you in ages! I'm fine - So what are you up to?"

"I need to know how you're fixed for residential places at the moment?"

"That's a leading question if ever I heard one. Why?"

"I've got a bit of a puzzle on my hands."

"What sort of puzzle?"

"A six feet tall, twenty-ish-going-on-six sort of puzzle. His name's Noah Percy. He was in an accident at the Walker Wildlife Preserve."

"An accident?"

"Yeah: he was messing around in the woods with a friend - Halloween or role-playing games - and had a bad fall: the Rangers found him. Broken ribs, pneumothorax, cuts and bruises. Dr Morelli says his concussion didn't seem severe at the time, but the shock's left him pretty confused – that on top of his learning disabilities. No-one can trace his parents or home yet, so he's going to need a place to stay once he's fully healed."

"Hmm… We've not had anyone of that name, at least not since I've been here. I'll check the back-files."

"He's… an interesting kid."

"How 'interesting'?"

"He seems to have been kept in seclusion, probably in a 'plain-living' community, but can't say where. All he remembers is where he was found. His clothes were old-fashioned, kind of Amish-looking – but he speaks English only. Modern technology is new to him. He said his parents used to lock him up in some sort of empty room when he misbehaved: he's certainly lively, possibly even aggressive in the past. And he likes toy animals."

There was a momentary silence at the other end of the telephone. Then he heard the woman murmur: "White wooden horse..."

"Pardon? – No, I've given him a Garfield to play with."

"Sorry, I was just thinking aloud… So what do you want me to do?"

"If you think you can fit him in somewhere, I'd much appreciate it if you could come and meet him first."

"Sure."

"That would be good. You have a room, then?"

"We prefer to keep two or three spare for respite care for the day kids, but in a case like this… if he's nowhere to go... Yes, I'll call by."

"Thanks! How soon?"

Noah was as oblivious of the plans being made for his future as he was of most things outside his own child-like world. He was happily playing with the toy Dr Graham had let him take back to his room. Dr Graham told him it was a cat, although it did not look much like a cat. But then, at home, he always went to sleep cuddling Bear, who did not look like a bear. Mama had made Bear when he was very little, and she used to get upset if he said it was a bunny, because it had funny long ears and a round back. Perhaps it was a bear turned into a bunny, he thought – the way Elders turned into Creatures. Mr Walker had explained at school that tadpoles turned into frogs. Noah liked frogs, because they jumped about and croaked, and sometimes squealed when you picked them up. Yes – lots of creatures changed into other things, when you thought about it.

But the Cat was a bright colour, brighter even than Ivy Walker's hair - almost the Bad Colour. It had round eyes, too, a little scary, not like any animal he had ever seen. But it was soft, so soft. Not like the animal skins he had found under the floor of the Quiet Room; not like the Creature's skin he had put on. He curled up in the armchair, hugging it until Ranger Kevin visited again.

"Hi, Noah! You're looking better every time I see you! Hey, where did you get Garfield?"

"Garfield?"

He pointed to the toy. "The cat. That's his name."

"Oh. Dr Graham said I could play with him. Is he yours?"

Kevin looked puzzled. "No; why?"

"But you know his name."

"Sure – everyone knows Garfield; he's in books, films… That's a famous cat you have there!"

Noah's eyes widened. He wasn't sure what 'famous' meant, but it sounded kind of important.

But his prime concern was unchanging: "Have you seen Ivy? Or Mama and Papa?"

"I'm real sorry, Noah… Not yet. But I'm sure we will!" In fact, he had never been less sure of anything in his life, but he had to keep the lad's spirits up. "Do you want me to leave a message for Ivy?"

"Yes! Yes!"

"But where should I leave it?"

"Covington," Noah said.

Kevin wrote quickly, on a scrap of paper from his pocket-book:

Dear Ivy –
I found your friend Noah Percy. He's now in Walker County Hospital. He had surgery, and is recovering. Please tell his Mom and Dad where he is: no-one at the hospital knows where to contact them. He'd really like a visit or a call from you, too, if you can.
best wishes,
Kevin Lupinski (Park Ranger)

and appended his phone number. He then folded it up and wrote IVY WALKER in block letters on the outside, and showed it to Noah.

"Is that all right?"

"Uh-huh," Noah nodded, stroking Garfield Cat's head. "But Ivy can't read."

"She can't ?"

"She can't see. She has sore eyes, and can't see. So she can't read." He held up his head proudly. "I can read – a little bit!"

Kevin tried to take in what Noah was saying. His mysterious friend was blind? Although the circumstances of Noah's rescue had displaced his initial memories of meeting Ivy, he still recalled her distant gaze. At the time, he had wondered if she were spaced out on drugs. But blind? How could she have found her way around the forest? He could not believe it.

"She hears colours, though," Noah continued, as if it were an entirely commonplace attribute.

"But the message…?"

"They'll read it to her when they find it." He seemed quite confident of that.

The following morning, while on patrol, Kevin scaled the fence at the point where it had been repaired after the boy's rescue. He followed the gravel track through the trees until he reached the hole where he had found him. In full daylight, he could see it clearly for what it was: a hollow left by the uprooted tree, dug out further by human hands to make it deeper and more regular in shape.

But something was different. The rain and sleet had caused a partial mudslide. Other people had been there, treading down the undergrowth which, at this season, had not grown back.

Perhaps Ivy had returned, looking for her friend?

He had wrapped the letter in a small, clear plastic envelope, to protect it from rain or snow. He wedged it in a crevice of the tree-stump, so that it was visible, but would not easily be dislodged by weather or animals. (He felt guilty about the wrapping – it could scarce be regarded as environmentally friendly, but he hoped that no small creature would try to eat it or suffocate in it.)

He hurried back to the track, remembering how he and Jay had struggled along it in darkness, carrying a stretcher…

"Where've you been?" asked Jay, when he reported back to the Ranger Station.

"Checking on the fence repair. No-one's tried to get in."

His boss sighed. "That's good. I'm glad the kid's getting better: it would have been tricky if…"

"If he'd been left lying there much longer?"

"The Foundation hates publicity, but sure, if we'd had a death on our hands, I don't see how we could have stopped it… Hell, I don't even want to think about it! Lupinski, you did well – though you shouldn't have gone in there in the first place! That forest is dangerous. I figure there must be dozens of those pits!"

"Old wolf-traps?"

"Maybe not so old. Maybe not for wolves. I don't know."

"But why? What are they protecting?"

Jay did not answer.

"What are we protecting?"

Jay shrugged. "I can't say. I don't know for sure, and even if I did, I guess I wouldn't be allowed to say."

"You said the Foundation had stopped planes flying over –"

"Look, I try not to ask questions: it makes life easier, dealing with the Foundation. And if you don't, it'd make my life easier, too."

"Is there something you're afraid of?"

"Afraid? Me?" He shook his head. "Just want to keep my job. All I know is that it's been this way for, what? twenty-five years or more. Old James Walker was big in industry; political influence, too."

"You think it's government…?"

He sighed. "Lupinski, you're making me talk about this!"

"I won't say anything outside this office!"

"Well, let's just say you know what that W stands for…"

"Those Walkers?"

"Not directly: distant cousins going way back. But still – influence. I'm only guessing – I don't know any more than what I was told when I was taken on here - but I figure – it was after Vietnam, still Cold War – they put military or CIA stuff in there. Surveillance installations, or some kind of test-site."

"Why the Foundation got the airspace protected?"

"Well, it's just my theory."

Kevin nodded. "I've read there were whole cities in Russia that didn't appear on maps because of secret activities!"

"We'd have noticed a city! But like I said, I'm just speculating… Say nothing: we don't want any Roswell-type crap…"

Kevin pondered the conversation as he patrolled the perimeter fence again later that day. Cold War radar or satellite installations? It sounded plausible… But somehow he sensed it was wrong. The woods seemed too unspoilt, too tranquil to have been disturbed by 20C technology. Who was the elusive Ivy Walker, and what did she know? He hoped she would return from wherever she had come and find his message soon…

To be continued: Noah finds a new home