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Chapter Fifteen

"The Spirit of the Forest"

There was a lull in the snow storm after falling pretty heavily for a few days. Nobody said anything, but all were aware of the court date, now only days away.

Being stuck inside during the snowstorm gave Peter a nasty case of cabin fever. He no longer needed a bandage on his forehead and the wound in his side was healing nicely. He walked out from the porch and into the snow, and took a deep breath of fresh mountain air. The sun had barely risen, sliding long spikes of gold to cause the shadows of night to scurry into its hiding place.

God, it felt so good to be alive, Peter thought as he considered how close they came to being killed. There was a wet smack hitting the back of his jacket and Peter spun around, seeing Tommy trying to hide behind a tree.

"Now, I wonder who threw that snowball? There's nobody out here that I can see," Peter said aloud while heading in Tommy's direction, scooping up enough snow to make a decent snowball, "Maybe it was the Spirits of the Forest playing with me. Or..."

He spun around the tree and got Tommy good with his snowball. "Or maybe it was just a little guy called Moonglow, huh?"

Peter grabbed Tommy and tickled him, making the boy laugh out loud. The two teetered for a second and then fell over into the snow, still laughing. Tommy lay still, then spread out his arms, making a snow angel, which Peter followed suit.

When they stood, they looked at their snow angels and smiled. "Are you hungry, sport?" Peter asked.

Tommy nodded emphatically.

"How about the two of us surprise Aunt Celeste by making breakfast ourselves?"

Tommy smiled in mutual conspiracy. They made a big deal of sneaking back into the cabin to start cooking the morning meal.

After serving up a delicious breakfast, Peter and Tommy went to their corner of the front porch and began working on their Christmas projects again, being very secretive about the whole thing. The other adults left them alone, still amazed by the change coming over Tommy in the brief time they'd been there.

oOoOoOoOo

Kermit and Ansel had been out checking the perimeter of cabin, making sure there wasn't any sign of unwanted visitors. They were just walking up the steps of the porch when Ansel said, "'When you enter a grove peopled with ancient trees, higher than the ordinary and shutting out the sky with their thickly intertwined branches, do not the stately shadows of the wood, the stillness of the place, and the awful gloom of this domed cavern then strike with the presence of a deity?'"

Ansel shrugged."I don't remember who said that, but I suspect they'd been to these woods and seen the magic of the forest for themselves."

Celeste nodded her head at the familiar words.

"Spirit of the Forest, Ansel?" Kermit asked, questioning the terminology.

"Stranger things have happened in this world, my friend," Ansel said.

"That's right, Kermit. You've seen enough of the things my father can do to know better than to question local folklore," Peter tossed in from the corner of the porch.

"There is a very old Buddhist saying that goes something like this,

'I view the colored peak

Incised upon the autumn sky;

Listen to the pine grove

In the calm night.

Someone not seen

For a long time

is practicing the Way

In snowy clouds.'

Peter paused for a moment, "Almost sounds like 'The Spirit of the Forest", doesn't it, Tommy? Besides the more I read from that book of Tommy's, the more it makes me believe."

Tommy hopped up and ran inside. He came back with the book about the Spirit of the Forest, ready for Peter to read more to him. Peter sighed as he set down the project they had been working on and covered it carefully.

Reaching out for Tommy and the book, he pulled them into his lap and found the bookmark showing where they'd left off. He began reading and Tommy flashed Celeste a big smile. She returned it and then went back to her stitchery.

Kermit turned to Ansel. "How are your booby-traps powered?"

"Batteries. Why?"

"Good, but when was the last time you changed them?

"I don't know off hand, but I've got them each dated when I put them in."

"Let's go check them out. You said you've got a back door escape. Where is it?"

"I've got canoes down by the creek. That's our back door."

Kermit nodded in thought. Ansel chomped on his chewing tobacco and spit the juice into the snow. "Let me grab a package of batteries in case we've got to change any of them."

"Okay, I'll wait here."

Peter walked up to Kermit. "Aren't you two taking this a bit to the extreme? We are well protected here. Why keep checking and rechecking?"

"That's because it's what a well-prepared soldier does," Kermit said. "Besides, there's nothing else to do."

"You could relax a bit."

"And spoil my intense persona? Don't be ridiculous," Kermit quipped as he watched Tommy race off the porch.

The snow had started to fall again and Tommy was trying to catch the snow flakes with his tongue. Ansel came outside, carrying his supply of batteries and the two ex-soldiers started off. Tommy ran to catch up with Ansel, stopping him with a big, bear hug.

Ansel returned the hug. "I love you, too, Moonglow."

Tommy pointed to Ansel's cane and gestured with his fingers like he was shooting. Ansel burst out laughing. "That's right. You remembered, did you now?"

Peter stood and wandered over to the group. "What did he mean by that?"

Ansel gave Peter an evil stare, holding up his cane for all to see, and triggered a mechanism in the handle, firing off a shot.

"Whoa," Peter said as he jumped along with Kermit.

"Just like Bat Masterson," Ansel said as he whooped with laughter at startling the two police detectives. "See, I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve."

He reached into a pocket and reloaded the cane. "Come on, I thought you wanted to check out the booby traps again."

Peter called out to Kermit, "We are going for a walk in the forest, looking for some pieces of wood we could use."

Ansel's expression darkened. "Mind you to be watchful of the booby-traps."

"I know where they are and so does Tommy. We'll be fine."

oOoOoOoOo

Kermit and Ansel returned right before lunch. Peter was on the living room sofa, reading to Tommy from his favorite book when strange mists started to form periodically around the cabin, causing Ansel to wander outside and stare at them in wonder.

Kermit followed him out. "Do you get fog like this often?"

"Fog?" Ansel grunted. "That's no fog, boy."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Ansel squinted up at the towering trees surrounding the cabin and then to the sky. "Something's at play in these woods. Something more than nature. Something my grandfather used to hint at."

"And what's that?"

"The Great Spirits at play. You make a derogatory comment about that and I'll string you up to the nearest tree."

"My lips are sealed. Besides, there is something different about these woods than when we first got here. I've learned over the past few years never to question the possibility of something greater than what is narrowly accepted as normal."

"Hmm...a fellow believer, I see. Never would'a thought it of you just to see you on the street."

With that, Ansel limped back into the cabin, leaving Kermit to stare at the strange mists and wonder about the possibility of the impossible.

oOoOoOoOo

Kermit was sitting on the front porch, sipping from a steaming cup of freshly made coffee, enjoying the peace and serenity of the mountain view. He hadn't slept the previous night because he had been swapping old war stories with Ansel in front of the fireplace over a bottle of whiskey.

The old man was quite a character and Kermit enjoyed spending time with him. Ansel had also been a prisoner of war, but in World War II, captured by the Japanese. He was one of the few who had survived the infamous Bataan Death March.

"Men kept dropping like flies, but still they made us march. Without food. Without water. Without tending to the injured. Beating on us for no reason. That's where I got my limp. I lost a lot of good friends that day. Way too many for a good man to deal with."

He tossed back a shot of whiskey.

"Where were you captured?" Ansel asked, turning the attention to Kermit.

Kermit swirled the alcohol in his glass without answering. That period of time in his life was nicely boxed up and stored away, until something triggered the nightmares. The ex-merc glanced into the fire and felt a hand on his shoulder.

"No need to speak of it, boy. Some things are better left unsaid."

Sighing deeply, Kermit said, "'Defining moments in life sometimes stab at your heart and threaten to carry you under in a wave of self-doubts, remorse, or loss. Other times, it becomes your shield against all the world can throw at you.'"

Ansel rubbed his ruddy face. "I once thought going through that war and the imprisonment was the worst life could throw at me, but after I got back home, I saw so many of my buddies unable to adjust. They were still lost in that nightmare world and either drank themselves to death, or died by their own hand. Yep, that was the worst of it.

"There's even a fellow from the Desert Storm campaign that lives in a cave down the creek a ways. Poor soul can't even remember his full name, let alone deal with the twentieth century rigamarole. I try to leave him some supplies when I've got extra, checking on him now and then, but each time I visit, I half-expect to find him dead."

Kermit held up his glass. "A toast. A toast to those who didn't make it home and to those who never found home again."

Ansel tipped his glass toward Kermit before they both downed the shot. He wiped the residual alcohol from his lips and leaned closer to Kermit. "I've learned, if you stare at the rearview mirror while driving down the highway of life, you're bound to get into an accident."

Kermit chuckled at the man's wry humor, but didn't say anything.

Ansel stood slowly. "I'm hungry. You want a sandwich or something?"

Kermit shook his head. "Not right now, but thanks."

He continued to stare into the fire, forcing ancient memories back into their assigned compartments. Ansel tapped him on the shoulder, startling Kermit out of his silent musing.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep with your eyes open. Not many men can keep up with me on a night of drinking like we've had."

Kermit smiled. "We're just getting started, right?"

Ansel whooped with laughter. "I like you, boy. I really do."

He settled back in his chair. "My father built this cabin with his own hands. After the war, I came here to heal, both body and spirit. My brother, William, Connie and Celeste's father, would come up and spend time with me occasionally, but mostly it was me and the mountain. There's something healing in this place, I tell you. Almost magical."

He cleared his throat and glanced sheepishly to Kermit. "Maybe I can't hold my whiskey like I used to."

Kermit shook his head. "It's beautiful here. That in itself is healing."

"After William had Celeste and Constance, he'd bring them up here too. Those little angels worked the real magic, their magic of innocence reached into that dark hole of my lost soul and brought life back to my once dead heart. But they could only do so much. I needed to feel safe, so I started putting up booby-traps, always warning family about them first. And then, the dugouts with supplies.

"Once that was done, I truly felt safe. As safe as any man can be when haunted from a past that refused to allow peace. But I found my peace finally. These forests are special too, special to our people and our beliefs and I pay homage to those beliefs every morning and evening."

Kermit looked out a window. "Speaking of morning..."

Ansel stood and peered out the window. "Well, what do you know? Time to go offer my prayers. I'll be back in a bit."

Kermit made a pot of coffee and threw some water on his face. He put on his jacket and went outside to enjoy his coffee and the view. He saw Ansel off a ways, burning some leaves, scooping the smoke to his heart and over his head in a reverent manner as he prayed.

Then he was surprised to see Peter outside too. Just when he'd slipped out, Kermit wasn't sure, but he was slowly going through a simple set of Tai Chi movements. He had barely begun when his shadow, namely Tommy, appeared at his side like a mime, following Peter's every move. The sight brought a smile to Kermit's lips.

oOoOoOoOo

"The trial is in less than a week! Dammit, I paid you an enormous sum to rid me of this problem and all you've given me is excuses. Find those two and kill them or I'll hire a dozen teams to get rid of you! Do you understand me?"

"Understood, but you've got to get us more information. This area is huge and desolate. We can't just drive around and hope to come across them."

"I'll make contact with my source again, but this is the last time. The risk to myself is too great with a third attempt."

"Roger."

The elderly man's hands were shaking when he hung up the phone. He had stared down hostile takeovers with much less stress. He looked over at his son, already strung out at 9AM. He sighed. "What am I doing this for? My son?"

He walked into the atrium and sat in his favorite chair. There used to be two chairs there, one for his wife and one for him, but his wife had passed away years ago. Perhaps, if she had still been around, their son wouldn't have fallen to the depths of depravity. Or she would have gently told him to let their son face the consequences of his actions. He knew she would never condone the murder of an innocent woman and boy.

"How did I get so far from the man you once loved, Maria?" He put his face in his hands and cried for the first time since his son was arrested. "How..."

oOoOoOoOo