Chapter 33
Oscar slowly opened his eyes. Everything was blurry and he waited for his eyes to focus on the item in front of him. Slowly instead of two gray piles of rocks he saw one. Consciously he sat up. The ground started to spin and Oscar closed his eyes again. When he felt better he tried again to open his eyes. This time it worked.
Oscar slowly looked around him. In front of him, which he had mistaken for a pile of rocks was really a grey round well. It had a set of stone steps set into the side so that someone could sit down while they drew the water from the bottom. The only thing missing, besides the bucket, was the wooden roof on top.
To Oscar's left was a tall, slick rock wall that curved away into the distance. A small footpath could be seen along the side. When Oscar looked over the top of the well he saw a valley down below him. There were fields with wheat, corn, and animals in them. A river was running down the center of the valley. A small town lay beyond the fields with what looked like a palace up against another tall rock wall. When Oscar looked up into the sky it seemed to be overcast. He saw no sun only dark angry looking clouds hanging over his head.
Carefully Oscar stood up. He felt dizzy and grabbed a nearby tree to sturdy himself. Where was he?
Oscar took his time as he carefully shook each limb of his body to make sure that he was all in one piece. He still had his tan canvas travel bag hung across his left shoulder and he suddenly remembered where he had been. He wondered where Peter was and turned around to look behind him. All he saw was the same tall rock wall. This continued all the way around him. He clearly was on the edge of a mountain of some sorts.
"Dad!" Oscar called out.
"Dad," the valley echoed back to him.
"No not Dad," Oscar thought to himself, "he's not my real father."
Oscar was angry. How could Peter and his mother not tell him the truth about his birth?
"Peter!" Oscar called out again.
"After all that's his name," Oscar told himself bitterly. "He's not my real Dad."
"Peter," the valley echoed back to him.
Oscar knew that he couldn't stay where he was and took a step forward. There were only two ways out. The small footpath along the side of the mountain or a large smooth trail that looked like it went down into the valley. Oscar decided that he was going to take the larger smooth trail down into the valley. If he knew anything about Peter he knew that his step-father would take the easy way out.
"Typical," Oscar said out loud as he started forward, "that I would follow in Peter's footsteps."
Passing the well Oscar crossed to the beginning of the smooth trail that he thought led down into the town. As he started down the trail he heard a voice.
"Oscar."
Oscar stopped. The voice had sounded like Peter's, but that couldn't be. He shook his head to clear it and started again on his way.
"Oscar," the voice called louder.
Once again Oscar stopped, but this time he turned back to the couple of trees where he had found himself when he had first woken up.
"Peter?" Oscar questioned.
"Oscar," the voice said softly, pleading.
Oscar thought that he had heard the voice coming from the well, but that wasn't right. Narrowing his eyes he carefully walked up to the well. He stopped at the edge.
"Peter?" Oscar questioned again.
"Oscar," the well replied.
"What the…," Oscar replied as he started to lean over the edge of the well.
"I wouldn't do that if I was you," a voice called out.
Oscar turned his attention away from the well and towards the sound of the voice that he had just heard. Standing by the tall rock wall, on the small footpath, was a grizzly old man. He was leaning on a tall, slightly warped, walking stick. The man had on a pair of green pants with a pair of old, worn, brown boots. He wore a long sleeve tunic looking top that was light brown in color. The man sported long white hair and a beard. If he would have been heavy set Oscar would have taken the old man for Santa Claus on summer vacation. But the man before Oscar was skinny, almost malnourished, and his long white hair was done up in a ponytail. Much like his Uncle Egon's.
Oscar closed his eyes and shook his head. Was he dreaming about Egon in the man's old age? Had he fallen down and hit his head while he was helping his father at the site where the Sistine Chapel had been?
"No!" Oscar stated out loud, "he's not my real dad."
"Who?" a voice said in Oscar's ear.
Oscar opened up his eyes. He was surprised to see the old man standing in front of him. Oscar hadn't heard the man move. The man must be pushing ninety years of age and yet he had crossed to where Oscar stood in mere minutes. How?
"Who?" The old man asked again as he looked deep into Oscar's eyes.
"What?" Oscar questioned confused at what was happening.
The old man pulled his face away from Oscar's. He took his right hand and placed it on his chin to rub it.
"Who's voice was calling to you?" he asked Oscar.
"My dad…," Oscar started to say before he trailed off.
The old man watched as Oscar's face grew angry. Oscar spoke again but this time with hatred in his voice.
"No, not my dad. Peter."
"Peter," the old man mussed over the name. "Why is he not your father?"
"Not my real father," Oscar stated as he turned away from the old man.
Oscar didn't like the old man looking at him. It was like he was looking into his soul. Oscar didn't want to talk about Peter either. Something moving in the bushes ahead of him caught his attention.
"Oscar," the thing called out, "Oscar Venkman, where are you?"
"Who the hell wants me now?" Oscar said.
Oscar felt a hand on his arm. He felt himself being pulled towards the small group of trees and tried to pull away. Oscar realized that he couldn't break out of the grip that the old man had on him. Who was this man? Oscar was sure that he could have easily broken away from one old feeble man, yet he could not.
"Hey…," Oscar went to say before the old man covered Oscar's mouth with his hand.
"Quiet!" the man hissed as he pulled Oscar into the trees.
Placing Oscar in front of him the old man reached out with his walking stick and tapped it twice on the ground. Oscar could see a shimmering, transparent light start to surround them. The old man released him to use both of his hands to draw the ring of light up and over their heads.
"What…," Oscar started to say before the old man cut him off.
"Quiet!" the man hissed again, "or we'll both be killed."
Oscar turned his head around to see another man appearing from the trail that led down into the valley.
"Oscar," the new man called out, "Oscar Venkman, where are you?"
Oscar looked up into the old man's face. It was deep in concentration but the old man had seen Oscar's movements.
"Don't move," the old man mouthed without saying the words out loud.
Oscar froze. The old man's face showed more than concentration for the ring of light that he was providing around them. It showed fear. Fear about the new man that had appeared. That fear radiated out and touched Oscar. Suddenly in Oscar's mind he saw the new man standing watch while people were dying all around him. Oscar saw the new man walking away while the dying people called out for help. The new man totally ignored the people reaching out to him, calling to him.
"Oscar Venkman," the new man called again stopping before the well.
Oscar didn't move. He didn't look towards the new man. Oscar felt a coldness come over him. He felt the evil that surrounded the new man and it was all he could do to keep his body from running away from it.
"Jack," a new voice called out.
Oscar could see the new man by the well out of the corner of his eye. The man leaned over the edge of the well and spoke into it.
"Oh what do you want!" the new man said bitterly.
"Jack," the well answered back.
Oscar could see the new man, who he assumed was called Jack, ball up a fist.
"Don't call my name unless you are going to show me something different," Jack said into the well shaking his fist in the air.
Oscar saw Jack look away from the well and heard the man sigh.
"Oscar?" Jack called out one last time looking around before he turned and headed back down the trail into the valley.
The old man waited until Jack was gone before he dropped his arms to his side. Swaying slightly the old man reached out to catch himself before he fell. Oscar caught the old man and helped him to the ground, sitting beside him. Oscar didn't know who the old man was but he had just saved his life.
"Thank you," Oscar said as he finally felt the fear lift from his body.
The old man just waved a hand at Oscar as he held onto his walking stick with the other.
Oscar looked out into the valley again. He could hear the birds and animals now. He realized that they had stopped when the man called Jack had come through. How could animals know to be afraid of one man? Slowly the old man got to his feet.
"Come," he said to Oscar as he started towards the footpath by the mountain.
Oscar just sat where he was.
"Why?" Oscar called out to the old man.
The old man stopped and turned back towards Oscar.
"Would you rather go with Jack?" he asked.
Oscar shivered at the thought.
"No," he replied as he got to his feet.
"Good," the old man said as he turned around and started towards the mountain's footpath.
As the old man passed the well Oscar heard it call out to the man.
"Archibald," the well pleaded.
Oscar watched as the old man glanced towards the well but kept going. Oscar hurried to catch up to the old man.
"Is that your name?" Oscar asked when he had caught up to walk beside the man, "Archibald."
"Yes," Archibald answered.
"Strange name," Oscar replied.
"No stranger than your name Oscar," Archibald answered back, "My friends and family call me Archie. What do they call you?"
"Just Oscar," Oscar stated.
"Ah," Archie replied.
Silence fell between them as the pair worked their way along the narrow rocky footpath. When they came to a waterfall, coming out of the side of the mountain, Archie stopped.
"Halfway home," he told Oscar.
Oscar looked around. He couldn't see the valley very clearly from where he was. It was hidden behind pine trees. They were working their way up a steep mountain. In the distance, up the mountain, Oscar thought he saw smoke coming through the tops of the trees.
"Where's home?" Oscar asked as he watched Archie raise his cupped hand, full of water, to his lips.
"Another hour up that way," Archie stated pointing towards where Oscar had seen the smoke.
"We haven't been walking an hour," Oscar stated. "It's only been about ten minutes."
"Time is different here," Archie stated as he pointed to the waterfall. "Drink now. There's no more water until we reach home."
Oscar watched as Archie carefully used five smooth stones to cross the small stream at the bottom of the waterfall. Oscar was torn about whether to follow the old man or not. He knew that he didn't want to go with the man called Jack, but Archie wasn't making any sense. There was no way on earth that the pair had been traveling an hour. Oscar looked at his watch and frowned. The crystal was broken and the hands stopped at noon. What was going on?
"Come Oscar," Archie called, "we don't want to keep my wife waiting."
Oscar carefully crossed the stream and hurried to catch up to the old man.
"You have a wife?" Oscar asked out of breath.
"Yes," Archie replied as he turned away from the mountain's footpath to head into the forest now, "Don't you?"
"No," Oscar replied amazed that the old man was in such good shape.
Archie stopped and looked back at Oscar. Looking the young man up and down he nodded his head. Turning around he started back on his way.
"Maybe we can change that," Archie said.
"What?" Oscar called out as he tried to keep up with the man.
The forest trail was steep and Oscar was out of shape. His slightly wavy, medium length blond hair was now wet and hung straight down. It clung to his neck, making him itch. He silently wished that he had taken a drink of water when they had stopped at the waterfall. He wasn't going to make it much further when he saw Archie disappear over the top of a rise.
"Hey!" Oscar shouted as he lost his footing and fell to the ground.
"Up you go," said a voice as Oscar felt a pair of hands under his arms helping him up.
"Thanks Archie," Oscar said dusting himself off.
He hadn't heard the old man come back down the hill, but then again he hadn't heard him back where they had started from either.
"Sorry," the voice said, "I'm not Archie."
Oscar looked up into the face of a middle aged man. He was wearing clothes similar to Archie's but this man had black hair, mustache, and a medium length beard.
"Come on Oscar," the man said as he took Oscar's arm and helped him up the hill, "I'm Zebulon or Zeb for short."
When they reached the top Zeb stopped so that Oscar could catch his breath. Laid out before him was a forest town. In the clearing, by a well, was Archie and he was surrounded by people. Young, old, and children of all ages. The men were all dressed similar to Archie and Zeb, while the women wore blouses and skirts in dull earth colors.
"Welcome to your new home," Zeb said as he released Oscar and hurried down to where Archie stood.
Oscar looked beyond what looked to be the center of the town. Hidden among the trees were simple log cabins with a small garden next to each. Each log cabin had a wood pile next to it. As Oscar started down the hill he could see an outhouse behind each cabin. The cabins blended beautifully into the forest and unless you saw the smoke or stumbled across the cabin itself you would never know that it was there.
As Oscar approached Archie he saw the man extend his right hand towards him.
"This is Oscar," Archie told the crowd that had gathered around, "my new son."
Oscar stopped dead in his tracks as the people quietly applauded him before they turned and left. Angrily he approached the old man.
"I'm not your son!" Oscar hissed at Archie.
"No," Archie said mater-of-factly as he pointed his walking stick at Oscar, "you said that Peter wasn't your father. The void only calls out with family voices. So then who is Peter if he's not your father?"
"Peter's my step-dad," Oscar replied. "And what is the void?"
"The void is where I found you," Archie replied, "and since you didn't come with anyone and you chose to come with me I can rightfully claim you as my son."
"What are you talking about?" Oscar questioned taking a step back only to bump into something.
Oscar turned his head to see Zeb behind him.
"I can explain Oscar," Zeb said as he beckoned with his right hand towards a nearby log cabin.
Oscar followed Zeb towards the log cabin as Archie brought up the rear. Opening the door Zeb allowed Oscar to go inside first.
Before Oscar was a typical old fashioned log cabin. The main room was approximately 18 by 20 feet and held a large stone fireplace, with an oven on the right hand side, in the middle of the room. The semi-spherical tunnel entrance, of the oven, held a black iron rack with a fire underneath it. On top of the rack, in a pan, was something cooking. From the smell of it Oscar could tell it was bread.
Suspended from a crane above the fire was a pot with bulging sides and a cover on top. An old woman was using a tong to pull the crane towards her to allow her to take the pot off of the hook it was hanging from.
Oscar noticed that the open spaces in the walls of the cabin were chinked with long wedges split from logs. The wall was seven logs high to the cross beams. Above the cross beams was a crudely shaped roof. On the right side of the cabin was a loft. The same crude boards, split from logs, made up the floor of the loft. A ladder hung to his right so that one could gain access to the loft.
As Oscar looked around he noticed very few belongings. The two windows, on the side of the cabin where the door was, were covered with what looked like oiled paper. Oscar knew that there were shutters on the outside of the windows. He had seen them when he had approached the door which was really split logs, with cross pieces, attached to them.
Although not transparent like glass, the oiled paper was translucent and permitted light to enter through the window.
To Oscar's left was a wooden log bed, of sorts, with a wood box at the foot of the bed. Chemises' hung on pegs to the left of the bed. To his right was a table, also made out of logs with two benches made from half of a log. A spinning wheel sat in the corner.
"Sit," Zeb said as he closed the door to the cabin. "It's time for our evening meal. I'll talk while we eat."
Oscar's stomach rumbled as he lifted his canvas bag up and over his head. He sat it down on the dirt floor as he slid onto the log bench next to Archie. The old woman had placed the loaf of bread on the table, on top of a dish towel, ready to be cut. She was dishing out some kind of soup into four wooden bowls. She nodded her head and smiled as she handed Oscar his bowl. Archie handed Oscar a slice of bread while Zeb sat down in front of Oscar and accepted a slice of bread that Archie handed to him.
"So Oscar," Zeb said as he dipped his slice of bread into his soup, "what do you want to know?"
"Everything," Oscar said. "What happened to me? Where am I? Why does Archie claim me as his son? Who is Jack?"
"Whoa, slow down," Zeb interrupted Oscar, "let me start at the beginning."
"You were brought here like everyone else through a omphalos."
"Omphalos?" Oscar questioned, "What is that?"
"Omphalos is Greek for navel," Archie said as he placed a spoonful of soup into his mouth.
"For our purposes it means a central point," Zeb continued. "The point in which the world above is connected with the otherworld."
"Otherworld?" Oscar questioned as he nibbled at his bread.
"The otherworld is where we are at now," Archie stated.
"Can I get back home?" Oscar asked.
"Yes," Zeb replied, "but only through the underground labyrinth tunnel in the mountains."
"Then let's go," Oscar said standing up.
"We can't," Archie said as he placed his left hand onto Oscar's right elbow and pulled him gently back down onto the log bench.
"We don't know the way through," Zeb told Oscar," and once you reach the end you must recite a chant or series of words for the door to open."
"Doesn't anyone here know the way through or the words?" Oscar asked getting scared that he might be stuck here.
Zeb and Archie fell silent. They looked at each other quietly before Archie spoke.
"There might be one," Archie said softly, "if she returns."
"Returns?" Oscar questioned. "Who is supposed to return?"
"My sister," Zeb stated.
"She was dressed much like you when Archie's mother found her at the void one day and brought her back to her home," Zeb continued. "After she left Archie took the young girl as his own daughter. That is how she became my sister."
"You've mentioned the void before," Oscar said pointing his finger at Archie. "What is the void?"
"The void," Archie said, "is where I found you."
"Yeah," Oscar replied getting upset, "you said that before. But what exactly is the void?"
"Oscar," Zeb said, "let me try to explain."
"The void is a place devoid of love, light, everything. It's a realm of complete and profound darkness that is controlled by the thought patterns of those near it."
"For some who look into its depths the void is a beautiful experience. A place for purification and decision making on what to do next with your life."
"For others the void is a terrifying and horrible hell where one sees one's deepest darkest secrets of what they have done with their lives. For some this is a pain that is unbearable."
"Nothing exists in the void except your own thoughts," Archie piped in. "If you go to the void with good intentions then you will have a pleasant experience. If you don't, then…," Archie trailed off as Oscar interrupted him.
"You mean to tell me that grey pile of rocks, which I thought was a well, is called the void?"
"Yes," Archie replied.
"And," Oscar continued, "you stopped me from looking into it. Why?"
"Because," Archie said quietly, "I could tell from your face that you were angry. Upset about something. Peter perhaps?"
"I don't want to talk about Peter," Oscar said bitterly.
"I see," Archie said pointing a finger at him, "Oscar you must know that in the void your only source of stimulation will be your own thoughts."
"You are angry at Peter for something," Archie continued. "The void only uses family voices to call other members of that family."
"Peter is your step-father and yet you don't consider yourself to be his son. Why?"
Archie waited to see if Oscar would answer his question. When he didn't the old man continued.
"People create hell out of their own anger. If I had let you look into the void when you were angry it would have only shown you a world absent of love, light, and free will. If that happened there would be no escaping the void. Every time you would look into its depths you would see the same thing over and over again. Like Jack."
"Jack came here like us. Only he was angry when he arrived and he stared into the void with that anger in his heart. The void showed him anger in return. That is what made him the man he is today."
"I think I understand," Oscar said, "but what I don't understand is where you get off on calling me your son."
"Let me try to explain that too," Zeb said to Oscar.
"I came through the omphalos, like my sister did, many years ago. Archie found me there and gave me a choice. I could go live with the people down in the valley or I could go with him. I chose to follow Archie into the mountains."
"When I did that Archie had a claim on me, so to speak. I became his son, like a step-son, because Archie gave me a home, food, clothes, and protection. Even though he isn't my real father he took on the role of father when I came here."
"You should feel privileged," Zeb finished. "Many people come here, but Archie only claims a select few that he considers special."
Oscar nodded his head.
"I still have one question?" he asked.
"What is it my son?" Archie questioned.
"Don't call me that!" Oscar shouted.
Oscar saw Zeb looking at him with his head tilted to one side. Oscar sighed, apologized, and continued.
"What was that thing you did with the light back where you found me?"
"An invisibility spell," Archie said. "The spell requires mental strength. That was why I had to sit down afterwards. I'm not as young as I used to be."
"But we weren't invisible," Oscar replied, "we were just standing there."
"True," Archie replied, "you don't actually disappear in front of anyone. That's what the circle of light is for. It blurs your physical body, for a while, so that the person you are hiding from can walk all around you and you go unnoticed."
"Like a chameleon," Oscar told Archie, "you blend into the surroundings."
"Yes," Archie replied.
"Okay so I understand that, but where did you learn to do that neat trick?" Oscar asked.
"I'm a wizard," Archie replied.
"Wizard?" Oscar questioned, "Like a witch?"
"No, my wife is a witch," Archie stated gesturing with his hand to the old woman who sat across the table from him.
"Oscar," Zeb interrupted, "my father, Archibald, is considered the High Priest and my mother," Zeb indicated with his left hand to the old woman, "Odessa is the High Priestess in our town."
"Witch, is the feminine form and wizard is the masculine form of the followers in the Wicca religion."
"I've heard of Wicca," Oscar said, "it's a modern witchcraft religion developed in England during the first half of the 20th century."
"Yes but it traces its roots back to a diverse set of ancient pagan practices," Zeb replied.
Archie stood up from the table.
"It's late," he said as he extended his hand to his wife across the table. "Finish your soup Oscar. We can talk more in the morning."
Oscar looked down into his bowl. He hadn't touched a drop. He never did like soup growing up and this looked just like his mother's vegetable soup from home.
Home. Where exactly was home? Oscar thought he knew what home was, as he silently ate his soup, but now he wasn't sure. Home had been his mother and father growing up, but Peter had never been his real dad Oscar reminded himself. The lie that his parents had told him all of his life didn't sit well with Oscar right now. How could he trust his parents ever again? And yet Zeb was in the same predicament as he was.
Zeb had lost his home, family, and friends. He was stuck here in this place and yet he didn't seem angry. Without knowing why Oscar was suddenly homesick. He longed for the secure feeling of being home. Safe. Comfortable.
Now Oscar was struggling to adapt to the new truth of being adopted. Home had been the furthest thing from his mind when he had confronted Peter, and yet he longed to have what Zeb had now.
"Archie gave me a home." Still rang inside Oscar's head as he watched Zeb help Odessa wash out the wooden bowls.
"Peter gave me a home," Oscar thought.
When Oscar had moved out for college he had felt unsettled, lonely, but that all changed the moment he walked through the door to his parents apartment. Oscar realized that he had lost himself into wanting to be accepted, to find a place for himself in this life. What he couldn't see, until now, was that his family was home. A place where he could unburden his soul and find renewed strength to face the world.
Oscar looked into his half empty bowl of soup. From what Oscar saw, in this simple log cabin, was that Zeb was home. Zeb had an anchor, a port in the storm, a refuge, a happy place in which to dwell. Here Zeb was loved. Where was he, Oscar, loved?
Oscar looked up as Zeb placed the wooden bowls onto the mantle of the fireplace. He watched as Archie took his right hand and placed it lovingly on Zeb's left shoulder. Zeb took his left hand and placed it lovingly on Archie's right shoulder. Very slowly the two men leaned into each other to touch their foreheads together. Oscar looked away.
"Even though Archie isn't my real father he took on the role of father."
Peter had always loved Oscar like a son. Why couldn't he get over his hatred of the man?
Oscar looked up in time to see Archie dip his index and middle fingers of his right hand into a small shallow bowl that sat on the mantle. Archie then touched Zeb's forehead and recited the following words.
"May you see life and a world of love. The moon has blessed you from above."
"Good night my son," Archie said hugging Zeb.
"Good night father," Zeb replied before releasing Archie.
Zeb walked over to where Oscar was sitting and bent down to retrieve the tan canvas shoulder bag from off of the dirt floor. He walked over to hang it from a peg by the front door before he came back to Oscar's side.
"Come," Zeb said, "you can sleep with me since my sister isn't here."
"When is your sister coming back?" Oscar asked as he got up from the table.
"I don't know," Zeb replied as he crossed to the ladder that led to the loft.
"Didn't she tell you when she left?" Oscar questioned as he followed Zeb up the ladder.
"We didn't know she was gone," Zeb stated when Oscar had reached the top of the ladder.
"How can you not know where your sister went?"
Oscar followed Zeb as he beckoned to the back of the loft. Following Zeb's example Oscar sat down on the floor and removed his shoes.
"She had told us that she was going down to the void. When she did not return for supper we knew something was wrong."
Zeb pulled his tunic off and hung it from a peg by the back of the loft. As he pulled a simple natural colored chemise over his head he continued.
"Father went to look for her but she wasn't there. He thought that maybe she had gone down into the village to trade, even though she wasn't allowed."
Zeb pulled his pants off and hung them on the same peg as his tunic.
"I reminded Archie that she hadn't taken anything with her to trade."
Zeb looked over the edge of the loft to make sure that no one was listening before he leaned over to whisper to Oscar.
"Between you and me I think she went to see her male friend."
"Boyfriend?" Oscar questioned as he started to unbutton his top.
"Father of her child," Zeb whispered back as he tossed another chemise to Oscar.
"Well maybe your sister's at his house. Did your father go look there?" Oscar quietly asked.
Zeb only shook his head no as he beckoned to Oscar to hand him the top that he had just taken off.
"We don't go to the village," Zeb replied as he hung Oscar's shirt on a peg next to his clothes.
"Why?"
Oscar watched as Zeb's face became pale. Oscar pulled on the chemise and removed his pants hoping that Zeb would answer his question, but he didn't. He tried again.
"Zeb, why don't you go down to the village?" Oscar asked.
"Because of the Gods," said a voice from the direction of the ladder.
Oscar glanced over to see Archie's upper body on the ladder watching him. Oscar narrowed his eyes and looked at Zeb. Apparently he had heard Archie coming up the ladder, but how?
"What Gods?" Oscar asked looking back at Archie.
"We'll talk tomorrow," Archie said. "It's late and there is much work to do tomorrow. Goodnight."
Zeb took Oscar's pants and hung them on top of Oscar's shirt on the peg before he spoke to his father.
"Goodnight Father," Zeb said as he crawled under the quilt.
Archie stared at Oscar for a moment before he descended the ladder.
"All your questions will be answered tomorrow Oscar," Archie's voice rose up from below, "maybe then you will find the peace that you seek."
Oscar climbed under the quilt next to Zeb. The mattress that he was on was really straw that had been stuffed between two layers of cloth that had been sewn together. He was having a hard time trying to sleep but Zeb was not. After a couple of different positions Oscar gave up to lie on his back, hands behind his head, staring up at the cracks between the boards on the ceiling. He thought that he would be able to see the stars or moon but all he saw was blackness.
Somewhere around one in the morning Zeb rolled onto his right side and opened his eyes. He saw Oscar awake with a tear sliding down his left cheek. He knew how the young man felt.
When Zeb had arrived here as a teenager of eighteen, he had also been lost. Gone was his family, friends, brothers. He had wanted to go back home too, but after a year, under Archie's care, he had come to see things differently. He knew what Oscar needed to hear.
"Can't sleep?" he asked Oscar as he sat up in bed.
"Something like that," Oscar replied quickly wiping his face.
"Legend says that when you can't sleep at night it's because you're awake in someone else's dream."
"Really?" Oscar questioned.
Zeb nodded his head.
"Look I don't know anything about your relationship with your step-father Peter. I don't know why you hate him, but I do know that Archie is a good man."
Zeb sighed, turned and looked out over the cabin, and then continued.
"I hated my real father. We were always yelling at each other and so when I turned sixteen years old I ran away from home. But that didn't get me anywhere."
"The police would find me and bring me back home. Home to the constant bickering and fighting. I didn't want to be there so I continued to leave and the police continued to bring me back. That all changed one night right after my eighteenth birthday."
Zeb turned towards Oscar.
"I was down by the beach in a place called Oygarden. As I was walking along suddenly the white sand gave way beneath my feet and I fell through into this place."
"Archie found me and brought me here. I was angry. Angry at my real father. Angry at my God. Angry at the universe. But do you know what I found in Archie?"
"No," Oscar said quietly not liking where this conversation was going.
"I found a good father," Zeb replied proudly.
"Archie taught me, listened to me, set an example for me. Nothing like my real father. Archie comes from a family where he was the father of six children. I think that's what helped him to understand my needs."
"By all means Archie isn't perfect. He makes mistakes, but he never once led me to believe that I was the cause of it."
Zeb turned away from Oscar to look back out over the darkened cabin. He didn't want Oscar to see him start to cry.
"I felt alone, forsaken, lost when I came here. Archie gave me peace, comfort and helped me to heal the anger that I had for my real father."
"Archie taught me that I could change. I could recapture that inner peace that I had lost. I could find a home again."
"Our life is like a traveler on a homeward journey, Archie told me one day. The miles seem long, the minutes slow, the events of the day protracted and tedious. But eventually familiar scenes come into view."
"For me, when I dream at night, they are waterfalls. A white fence surrounding a field of green. The Fanafjorden fjord outside my place of birth."
"But whatever the scene, it quickens the traveler's step and restores sweet feelings of anticipation and peace. At long last the weary traveler has come home again."
"It would be nice if we could see the end of our life from the beginning. That way we would know how to avoid the obstacles in our way. Like the unhappiness that comes into our lives, but we can't."
"However if we look around we will see someone older, wiser, who has been through what we are going through right now. It maybe our real father; it might not be."
"Anyone who protects you, teaches you right from wrong, listens to you, finds the best way to connect with you is a father in my book."
"Archie and his wife Odessa make up my family now."
Zeb signed and laid back down.
"Look Oscar," he said, "I guess what I'm trying to say is that family isn't always blood."
"It's the people in your life who want you in theirs. The ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what."
Oscar laid awake long after Zeb had stopped talking to him and had fallen back to sleep. What he had said left Oscar to think about his words.
Did Peter love him? Oscar closed his eyes as he thought back over his life with the man he had called Father.
The day at Coney Island. The trip to see his grandfather James Venkman in Sedalia, Missouri. The endless hours going to every train museum that Peter could find. The trips to the shore with his mother and Peter.
But there were times when Peter had done what Oscar had wanted to do. Like the time they had gone to see the man he was named after Oscar Emmanuel Peterson. Mr. Peterson was a Canadian jazz pianist and composer. They had seen Mr. Peterson when Oscar was fifteen years old in New York City. Or the time they had gone to Carnegie Hall for the world premiere of a violin concertino by Clint Needham on December 9, 2007. Ryan McAdams had conducted the New York Youth Symphony while William Harvey had been the soloist on his violin.
A violin. Oscar tried to push the memory from his mind.
Oscar had always been fascinated with the violin, but as a child he had always only been fair with playing the instrument at best.
When Oscar had been introduced to Daniel McQuarrie he had found joy in playing with the man. Daniel had helped Oscar to become better at the violin and had suggested to him to go see a violinist called Andre Wallance.
"If you ever find yourself in London you should go see the London Symphony Orchestra," Daniel told Oscar after a practice session one day.
"The principal violinist Mr. Wallance is the best musician in the world," Daniel finished.
That stupid violin had started all of this. That small four stringed wooden instrument that mesmerized Oscar when placed into the hands of a professional like Andre Wallance.
"Don't you know who I am?" Andre's voice rang out inside Oscar's head.
"No," Oscar's mind answered back.
"I'm your real father," Andre's voice said again.
"NO!" Oscar shouted sitting bolt upright in bed.
Oscar looked around. He hadn't woken up anyone and sighed. He saw the first mornings light coming in through the windows and knew that he would have to get up soon. Quietly laying back down he placed his hand behind his head once again and thought about Peter.
How he hated the man right now for not telling him the truth.
"Archie taught me that I could change."
Oscar turned his head to his left to see Zeb still asleep. Change. Could he, Oscar, change? Could he let go of his anger for his step-father?
Suddenly in Oscar's mind he saw Echo standing by the door to his parent's apartment ready to leave after having come to talk to Peter one September day.
"Echo," Peter had said as he placed a hand on her arm lovingly, "one of the hardest lessons in life is letting go. Whether it's guilt, anger, love, loss, or betrayal. Change is never easy. We fight to hold on and we fight to let go."
Oscar turned to look back up at the ceiling of the log cabin. Peter was right. He had to let go of his anger. He had to find that inner peace that he had lost. Oscar had to decide what he was going to do now. He had to be strong and yet he didn't think he could.
Oscar heard movement downstairs and knew that his time was nearly up. Would he be able to forgive Peter? Would he be able to accept his fate that he was going to be stuck here, possibly forever? Would he come to look upon Archie as his new father given enough time?
The time had now come in Oscar's life that he was going to have to leave everything behind and start all over again. Could he do it? Would he forget his mother and Peter forever or would he always remember them standing by his side? His parents that never, ever gave up on him. Was he giving up on them?
"Boys," Archie's voice called from below, "time for work."
Zeb stretched his arms above his head and glanced over to Oscar.
"Did you get any sleep?" Zeb asked as he reached for his pants.
"Some," Oscar lied.
Zeb nodded his head in understanding as he removed his chemise.
"Oscar," Zeb said sliding out of bed, "I hope you thought about my words from last night."
"I did nothing but think about them," Oscar said sitting up.
Zeb pulled his tunic on before he hung his chemise on the peg and gathered his boots into his right hand. Walking over to the edge of the loft Zeb hung his legs over the edge as he pulled on his boots. When he was done he turned towards Oscar who was putting on his own shirt.
"Oscar," Zeb said as he placed his feet onto the ladder, "Why don't you think on this for the day."
"What?" Oscar asked as he watched Zeb desend the ladder.
"It doesn't matter who my real father was," Zeb's voice echoed up to him, "it only matters who my father is right now in my life."