The New Life

a novel by Mark Robert Whitten

Chapter 4

They raced home as fast as they could. As Leslie pulled out ahead, he watched her run. She was like a bird in flight. Her high black boots impacted the puddles with precision, sending up splashes of wet mud along her pant legs. Nothing could slow her and as Jess looked ahead, he caught sight of the longhouse, it's inviting gray walls standing proud and welcoming in the mist.

Leslie flew into the house with all speed, just as thunder crashed overhead. Jess ducked his head and followed her. They stopped short as everyone turned to look at them. They stared a moment before Jess realized why they were looking: He and Leslie were both soaked. Leslie looked like a drowned cat, her blond hair dark and matted against her fair face. Jess didn't think he looked much better.

As they rushed over to the fire to get warm, he watched her shivering. She clutched her arms around herself and managed a smile as water dripped off her quivering chin.

"I won," she whispered, trying her best to smile through chattering teeth.

Jess thought he would never be warm again, but mother came over and helped him out of his shirt. Leslie turned away and slipped her vest off. He knew they had to undress but he didn't think she would want to be naked in front of everyone. Jess suddenly realized that he felt the same. Nevertheless, Mother sat him down on a bench, handing him a towel while May Belle fetched a dry shirt. Leslie kept herself away from him as Ellie and Brenda helped her undress near the fire. By the time Jess worked up the courage raise his blushing face to look, she was wrapped tight in a towel, her bare shoulders sticking up and looking paler in the darkness than the moon on a clear night.

She hooked some wet hair behind an ear and grinned sheepishly. He tried not to laugh.

Mother motioned him off his seat and he knew she meant for him to ditch his wet pants. He peered past her at Leslie. Her eyebrows rose in expectation. Jess glowered, so she rolled her eyes and turned away, clutching her towel as she huddled close to the fire.

Jess waited till he was sure she wouldn't look before peeling off his wet trousers. He dried off quickly, keeping his eyes on the back of Leslie's damp head. Soon they both had on a dry pair of pants and a shirt and in no time were sitting by the fire, wrapped in warm wool blankets, shivering and trying to decide whether they would ever go outside again.

Supper was served long before it stopped raining. Leslie seemed disappointed at this; she would have to wait until tomorrow to conquer the creek. Jess warned her that it wasn't something to be done as a lark. Leslie laughed and decided that was what they should call it: Lark Creek. Jess wasn't sure about making fun of something that could be dangerous, but Leslie scoffed, saying he was silly for being afraid of a little water. Jess figured she was right and soon "Lark Creek" became the official new name for it. Jess found that a silly name did make it seem less intimidating. He felt as if it might be conquered after all.

But he was still grateful when they awoke the next day to find it raining.

Leslie sighed. "I guess we'll just have to wait."

Jess let the cover slip back over the doorway to the sound of a clap of thunder. Leslie laughed, saying he made the door slam shut. Jess humored her with a small smile.

The rainy day was filled with indoor chores and quiet games. Leslie told stories while mending clothes and cooking meals and she helped calm the animals when the lightning flashed. Jess was impressed with her domestic skills; for someone who didn't act much like a girl she was very good at performing women's chores. Mother was glad of the extra help and May Belle was glad of the stories. Brenda and Ellie just sulked because they couldn't run off to town and leave everyone else with all the work.

By the start of the third day, the sky finally shined a bright blue. Leslie stepped out onto the soggy ground and breathed a deep sigh. Her high black boots squished in the thick muck but she still smiled as she extended her arms to the shining sky and shouted, "We're free at last!"

An answering gust of wind tousled her blonde hair as Jess followed her out, stepping carefully and keeping a watchful eye to the heavens. He was certain another downpour was on its way. But when nothing came from above other than sunshine and birdsong, Jess could only smile.

Then he remembered their quest.

He hoped Leslie had forgotten it with all the tedium—she hadn't mentioned it much I the past few days—but as soon as he finished the thought, she turned back to him with a mischievous smirk. "Ready to conquer the creek?"

Jess stifled a groan. He didn't want Leslie to think him a coward but he didn't think he could get out of going. He scratched his head and mumbled something unintelligible, trying desperately to think of a way out, when mother's voice saved him.

"Jess," she called, "You and Leslie get your chores done before you go running off."

Turning to her, Jess hid his smile. "Aw, mother," he pretended to gripe, "We were gonna go…"

Mother was already shaking her head. "Not till your chores are done." She disappeared back into the house without another word.

Jess put on his best disappointed face as he turned back to face Leslie's frown. Staring at the ground, he shrugged. "I guess we can't go today."

Leslie nodded her acceptance and walked back to the house. She stopped then and turned to him. "I bet we can go if we can get our chores done before the day is out."

Jess wanted to tell her that it wouldn't be possible but she smiled and ran off to work before he could stop her. He decided she was just plain crazy to think like that, but he heaved a sigh and followed, certain there was no way they would get to go to the creek.

They were standing before Lark Creek by mid-afternoon. Jess couldn't believe they had gotten everything done so quickly; he had even asked mother for more work when Leslie was in the privy but she said he should go out and play. Jess was surprised when mother dismissed him, but as he left, he heard his sisters complain that they still had work, while he was allowed to go out and play with Leslie.

Mother responded by giving her usual "You're-not-little-children-anymore" lecture and Jess felt his face go beet red as he heard her add, "Just be glad he's found a friend."

Now they were standing at the creek. Jess stared into the rushing waters. They seemed to be flowing even faster than before. The rain had added to its flow and what was once a calm rushing of water was now a dreadful torrent. He felt mesmerized by the sight of the creek, its power and force seeming to challenge him to try and cross.

The rope they had tied to the tree days before was still there, waiting out of reach in the center of the creek. They stared at it, Jess wondering how Leslie intended to reach it. He glanced back to the water and they both stood staring at it as it were some unsolvable riddle.

At last Leslie broke the silence. Her blue-greenish gaze remained locked on the water as she whispered to him, her voice as unsure as he had ever heard it. "Look how high it got!"

Jess was about to suggest they leave but Leslie was already moving away from the edge, giving him a reason to relax. His relief turned to confusion when he saw her pluck up a long branch and his confusion turned to fear as he watched her stretch it out over the water. She snagged the rope and pulled it back to her.

Then she smiled.

Jess grimaced.

The rope was in her hand.

He sighed and looked across the creek. The bushes on the other side obscured his view but he was sure there was nothing good on the other side. He was about to tell Leslie not to waste her time, when she surprised him by climbing atop the log.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting up higher," she answered.

She stood atop the log a moment, gripping the rope as high as she could. She smiled at him.

Then she jumped off.

Jess watched helplessly as she swung out towards the other side of the creek and when she reached the distant bushes, she let go, disappearing into the brush.

"Leslie!"

He grabbed the rope as it swung back to him and scrambled atop the log. He braced himself as she did and jumped after her. The swing was thrilling but all he could think of was getting to Leslie. He saw the bushes come close as he flew across the creek, felt his feet skim over the surface of the water and when he reached the other side, he released the rope and flew into the brush. He half-expected to land in water or worse, mud, but to his great relief, his feet found solid ground. Jess couldn't see much as he tried to find a way out. He trudged ahead, the leaves slapping at his face as he pushed his way through but he soon came free on the other side and began to ascend a rise.

There was no sign of Leslie.

"Leslie!" he whispered as loud as he dared. There was no answer.

Jess moved silently through the dark woods, the fluttering sounds and scampering of who-knew-what sending shudders through him with every step. "Where are you?"

Leslie popped out from behind a tree some distance ahead, beckoning him onward. He rushed to catch up and as he rounded the tree where he had spotted her, she jumped out, growling like a monster. He jumped with a start. She giggled and looked around.

Jess looked about too, knowing that something was wrong. "We shouldn't be here," he whispered. "This isn't our land."

Leslie ignored him and walked on through the shadowy forest, looking up at the distant treetops as they swayed, whispering in the wind. Jess followed her silently, hoping she would change her mind and they could go home. Maybe if she saw enough, she would get bored and they could start back. Jess was just beginning to grow comfortable with this feeble notion, when they saw something that destroyed his ridiculous hopes altogether.

Ahead of them, in the center of a sunlit clearing stood an old cottage. Smoke rose from the chimney and the acrid scent of woodsmoke hung low in the air. Jess thought he could see the shadow of someone moving through the window. He had just turned to tell Leslie they should leave now, when she walked up to the door.

He whispered her name in urgent warning. She didn't seem to hear him and, before he had a chance to try again, she knocked on the door. Jess wanted to run, wanted to hide, but he wouldn't leave Leslie to face the danger alone.

As the door creaked slowly open, seemingly of its own accord, he watched her slip inside and against his better judgment, followed.

The cottage was cozy and warm. A fire crackled in the fireplace, lending a soft glow to the rest of the room. It was strangely quiet. Jess noticed a pot of stew hanging in the hearth, sending delightful aromas to distract him as he looked about. Leslie was off to the side, examining a bookshelf holding books and small statues and other odd little things. Jess took a few steps away from the door, trying not to make a sound. He was certain his hammering heart would give him away as he stepped carefully onto a soft woven rug. As his gaze drifted about the empty room, his sight passed over the empty chairs by the hearth and the polished table in the corner. His gaze lingered briefly on the stairs leading to a dark, open space on the second floor. A cat purred contentedly on a chair by the fire. There was no sign of whoever had been in the cottage.

Jess let out a sigh of relief at the emptiness of the place but a growing sense of apprehension lifted the fine hairs on the back of his neck. He glanced over to Leslie and took a deep breath. He slipped up behind her. She seemed to be lost in her examination of the books.

He tapped her shoulder and she jumped with a start.

As she spun to him, her hand to her chest, she scowled.

"What are you trying to do?" she whispered. "Startle me to death?"

He gave her a look that told her that he wasn't sorry. "We have to get out of here," he whispered back, "Right now."

She was just about to argue, when her eyes caught sight of something on the other side of the room. Jess glanced over his shoulder to the table. There was a single plate beside a loaf of bread and a large wedge of cheese next to three bowls set in different places on the tabletop. He briefly wondered who they were for.

As he turned back to Leslie, intent on having her follow him out, the sound of footsteps caught his attention.

The slamming door made him stiffen.

He slowly turned to see who had just locked them in the cottage. The room was empty. Jess gussed the wind had closed the door and that he had just imagined the footsteps. As he sighed in relief, Leslie pointed a shaking hand past him. He looked back again and saw an old woman standing between him and the door. He didn't know how he could have missed her.

"Well, well," the woman wheezed, "Looks like I have guests."

Jess turned to face the woman. "Leslie," he whispered, "Get behind me."

He wasn't sure if she had. He stood tall and looked the woman in her old grey eyes. He told her that they were sorry and that they were just leaving. As they moved towards the door, the old woman laughed a deep, scary cackle.

"So soon?" She gestured to the table. "Wouldn't you care for something to eat before you go?"

He stole a questioning glance back at Leslie who gave a discrete but firm shake of her head. Leslie wanted to leave and wasn't about to hear any arguments. Jess wasn't about to give any and in spite of the fact that they were both hungry, neither wanted to dine in the company of a stranger. Jess was about to decline the old woman's offer when Leslie stepped forward, standing tall and proud. She looked up at the woman's wrinkled face.

"We don't want anything from an old witch like you."

Jess started. He hadn't even considered that the woman might be a witch. The old woman gave a gruesome grin that made Leslie back up a few paces. Jess stepped up next to her as she came near. He wanted nothing more than to grab her hand and head for the hills, but his legs weren't listening to what his mind was screaming.

They both backed away as the woman neared. "A witch?" she wheezed. "You think I'm a witch?"

Then she laughed a horrible witchy laugh. Jess wondered if she was laughing at the two stupid children who had wondered in from the woods. He also wondered what she was going to do to them, now that she had them. Jess glanced around the room, looking for an escape.

The old woman shambled over to the cook pot and, lifting the lid, she took a long, deep breath. The aroma was alluring, even if it was made by a witch. Jess wondered if it might be safe to sample a little stew.

The old woman chuckled as she tasted her work. "Just about right." She looked over her shoulder at the two of them. The firelight made the shadows of her face frightening to behold as she smiled that evil, witchy smile. "Been a long time since I added some children to my pot."

Jess heart raced. He didn't know what to do. He didn't want to end up as the old hag's midday meal. He decided they had to make for the door. It was their only chance. Jess knew they shouldn't have come. He had warned Leslie about these woods. If they ended up in a witch's cook pot, it was her fault. As he gestured silently to her, she nodded that she understood. They both began creeping towards the door. The witch appeared in front of them so suddenly they both gasped in fright. She grinned, revealing crooked teeth.

"I suppose I could use a slave for my home—a house servant to perform errands." She pointed her wooden spoon at Jess. "Well, what's it to be, little boy? Slave or stew?"

Jess hated the thought of being a slave, but the thought of being a stew sounded much worse. He decided if he was a slave, he would still be alive and there would always be a chance of escape. The spoon had not moved from his chest, or her hard eyes from his face. As the witch's grey eyes bore into him, he swallowed and answered her in as strong a voice as he could muster.

"S-slave."

She showed her most wicked grin as she gestured to Leslie. "Then I'll just have to cook your little friend here." She snatched Leslie's wrist in a gnarled hand and pinched her arm. "Kind of scrawny, but I guess she'll do for a snack."

Jess panicked. He hadn't meant for this to happen; he hadn't thought about Leslie being the witch's meal. The witch licked her lips as she looked her over. "Come on, sweetie, time to get in the pot."

As she began dragging her across the room, Leslie cried out. Jess called out to the witch and she stopped, looking back at him a frown deepening the lines on her face. Jess stood firm. He had to save Leslie but he could think of only one way.

"Take me in her place," he said. "I'll be your snack, just let her go."

"Jess, no!" Leslie shouted. She pulled desperately against the witch's grip. "Get out of here! Run home, Jess, run home!"

Jess stood firm. He wasn't going to let Leslie become a witchy snack. "Me or her," he said, his voice holding steady. "You can't have us both."

The witch seemed to consider this for a moment. Then she released her grip. Leslie staggered back with a cry of surprise. As she fell back, her arms flailing wildly, she landed hard on her bottom. The witch laughed. Jess trembled knowing his fate was sealed; the bargain had been struck. At least Leslie was safe. He stood fast as she scrambled to his side, grabbing his arm and tugging, trying to get him to run with her.

"We're both the fastest runners," she whispered. "We can escape together." He knew it was true, but Leslie was faster. Jess knew she could escape while he would be caught. "Go, Leslie. If you don't run she'll have us both." He looked into her wide eyes and shrugged. "I couldn't keep up with you anyway."

The look on Leslie's face frightened him, not because of anger—she didn't seem to have any left—but because she looked afraid. He also thought she seemed a bit sad by the way she pouted. "I don't want to go alone…"

It was over. He couldn't escape; he was going to die.

As the witch came forward to claim her prize, Leslie stepped between them. Jess pulled her back, but she came forward again. "You stay away from us!"

He wanted her to run. He wanted to get Leslie away from the cottage. He wanted to go home. Only then did he realize that he was never again going to see the farm or his family. He felt great sorrow at the thought of never returning. His parents would never even know what had happened to him. Suddenly, the witch halted in front of them, looking down at Leslie. Then she did something unexpected: She patted Leslie's shoulder. Jess didn't understand why she wasn't cooking them both.

The witch's calm voice brought him out of his private thoughts.

"I'm not an evil witch, child. I was only teasing you."

Jess wasn't sure he had heard her. He wasn't sure he believed her. He just wanted to go home. Leslie came forward and asked his question. "Then why did you tell us you were?"

The woman laughed a little and shambled back to the cook pot. As she lifted the lid, she smiled over her shoulder. "I never said that I was witch; I just let you assume I was." She inhaled the delightful aroma as she stirred in a few things. "Just for laughs," she added. She sampled the soup before turning back to them. "Are you sure you don't want any?"

Jess stomach grumbled. He was hungry and the aroma wasn't helping. As the tempting scents filled his lungs he found himself moaning that he would. Leslie elbowed him in the gut. She scowled over her shoulder. "We have to get home," she said without taking her eyes off Jess. "We don't want to be late."

"Oh, what a shame," the old woman said. "I have so much soup and no one to share it with. I miss having people to talk to, and you two seemed so nice…"

"Well," Jess said, "Maybe we could stay for a little while."

Leslie was about to object, when Jess stepped forward and promised they would stay for one meal. Leslie opened her mouth to say something, but Jess and the old woman both stared at her hopefully. Sighing, she agreed to stay. The old woman smiled and asked them to bring the bowls over to her so she could fill them. He stacked up the bowls and handed her the first. The old woman ladled soup into a bowl and handed it back. Jess handed the steaming bowl to Leslie and offered the second empty bowl to the old woman. As she filled it, he asked her name.

"I'm Mistress Vanderholt," she said without pausing.

"I'm Jess," he told her. He gestured behind himself. "And this is Leslie."

"Charmed," Leslie said in a flat tone.

Mrs. Vanderholt flashed her an empty smile. "Nice to meet you too, Leslie."

She handed Jess the second bowl which he then passed to Leslie. She set it on the table and gave him a look that told him she didn't feel comfortable being in the cottage. In spite of the warmth of the fire and the fragrant aromas of both the cooking stew and the herbs hung in decoration, Jess too felt a sense that something wasn't quite right. He knew he was safe and that there was nothing to fear in a place such as this, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something was somehow wrong.

As he sat down next to Leslie, she whispered to him one last time to follow her out the door. He insisted that they stay and have lunch, that it would be rude not to remain after having given his word. She heaved an impatient sigh and slowly stirred her soup as the old woman took her seat across from them.

She smiled as she took up a large knife. "Who wants cheese?"

They both raised their hands, Jess more readily then Leslie. He wondered why she had hesitated; Leslie loved cheese. Deciding that there would be more for him, Jess gratefully accepted her slice when she declined, putting it atop of his own. The bread was offered next, and again Jess accepted Leslie's piece for her. He looked at her bowl of stew and wondered if she would be giving that up too. She made a face that said she wasn't, so he started in on his own. He was famished and the delicious stew helped to warm the pang of hunger deep in his gut. The bread and cheese supplemented the meal and before long, he was holding out his bowl for another serving.

Leslie's elbow nudging him reminded him to mind his manners.

Mistress Vanderholt, still eating her own stew, looked over to Leslie. Leslie realized what she wanted and she snatched the bowl from him with a huff. As she crossed the room and refilled it, she shot him a warning look. He wondered if she meant for him not to eat too much so as not to offend Mistress Vanderholt, or to keep himself from being slowed if she decided they had to run. Leslie quietly finished filling his bowl and brought it back. Jess thanked her as he eyed the steaming stew, his mouth watering as he waited for it to cool. He looked around anxiously, wondering about the woman's home. The chairs, the rugs and the fireplace all seemed much more welcoming than his simple wattle and daub home. They smelled better too.

"How long have you lived out here?" Jess asked.

The old woman leaned back and sighed. "Oh, a very long time. I came out here as a girl,"—she pointed her spoon at Leslie—"Not much older than your friend. I used to play in these woods. When I grew old and weary of traveling the world, I retired to this place to live out the rest of my days in my childhood forest."

Jess grinned at the story. He had suspected others had played in the woods. It was nice to know that the old woman had once been a child and played like them, that she had come home to live where she was happiest. He liked the idea of staying in a place where you could be free to live as you chose. Jess wondered how old the woman was.

"So," Leslie said in a tone not completely without suspicion, "You traveled the world. I imagine you saw some pretty amazing things; things of magic. Am I right, Mistress Vanderholt?"

Jess glared at her with a mouthful of stew. He wondered where her manners had gone.

"Oh, yes," the woman replied. "Magical things." She leaned close and gave them a meaningful look. "Things you wouldn't believe."

Jess watched as Leslie stirred her untouched stew. "I bet you have a lot of stories about those days, about the things you learned—about magic."

The woman frowned. "Yes," she drawled, suspicion beginning to lace her voice. "What of them?"

"Well, I was just wondering where you learned how to control magic." Leslie gave the woman an even look. "You have the gift of sight, after all."

The woman's gaze could have cut steel. "What makes you think so, child?"

Leslie shrugged. "You had three bowls waiting for us." She gestured to the table. "You knew we were coming before we even arrived."

Jess swallowed the last of his soup without intending. He looked from the old woman, to Leslie and back. It was then that something occurred to him that he hadn't even thought to ask before. "Why did you set out three bowls, if you didn't expect us?"

As the old woman regarded the two of them, Jess suddenly realized why Leslie had wanted to leave.

The old woman really was a witch.

"Yes," she wheezed. "I do have the sight." She pointed her spoon at Leslie. "I can see if you don't eat soon, you'll wither away to nothing, my dear."

Jess laughed at that. It was true. Leslie was skinny. He was glad someone else noticed. But the way her face turned red made him feel bad. He was just about to say something to cheer her up, when Mrs. Vanderholt added in a quiet tone, "I also see your secret."

As Jess watched, Leslie's red face drained of color. She glanced at Jess a moment. Leslie said nothing but the look on her face frightened him. Her almond-shaped eyes had widened. She looked stricken. Her voice trembled as she returned her gaze to the old woman. "What do you mean?"

"I know the secret you're keeping from him," Mrs. Vanderholt whispered. She leaned forward, keeping her eyes on Leslie. "I know why you haven't told him and I know what you fear might happen if you do."

Leslie looked ready to cry. She searched around for some place to go. Jess decided he had to do something. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward and met Mrs. Vanderholt's witchy gaze. "I don't care what you know about her or what Leslie hasn't told me." He worked hard to steady his voice. "She's my friend. Leave her alone."

Mrs. Vanderholt smiled. "Very brave, lad," she said, nodding. "Very brave indeed. I hope you're still as brave when the truth comes out."

She sat back then, seemingly satisfied and left him to wonder at what she meant.