Todd the Spectacular Chp. 6 Charlie

ChapterSix

The Lovingale

I woke up at my most favorite time to wake up. But the colors I saw this morning were far brighter than the colors I often saw through my window back home. These colors—painted by a fair Artist’s hand—they were colors I had not seen for quite some time. They reminded me of things I hadn’t really thought about. Little things that should be thought about daily and appreciated. 

Brilliant shades of pink and gold and crimson. Wonderful colors that left me in awe. I felt the sunlight come through the windows to me. It touched my skin and I loved it immensely.

My back was a mite sore from the night spent on the floor, but I forgot all about it when I realized I was all by myself.

I guess I was scared for a minute. I had never been here before or anywhere like it, and my siblings were gone. So there was nothing else I could do but go out the door alone.

Magnolias waved at me. Its flowers, whites and delicate.

I went out the gate and peered down the path sloping into town. I could see the village; it was just a little walk away. I could hear distant chattering and laughing. This corner of the world was waking up now.

I told myself I was going to explore.

After smoothing my hair down and tying it in a low ribbon down my back, I collected my boots, short and black with a dozen laces criss-crossed, and left the Lovingale.

My second friend I encountered was near a river, which I followed by its sound. I went through trees and trees and thought I was going to be lost, but I heard water swishing and splashing and I found myself fighting against thick brush and tall grass. I pushed myself out of the woods and stood before the river. It lapped against itself like a miniature ocean. The water wasn’t crystal and salty, but it was strong. I walked into the sand and watched that magnificent river. It was so big. So big and wide. This must be the Mississippi.

“Apple?”

I gasped at the sudden voice. It was simply a boy standing beside me. 

“You scared me. I’m sorry.”

He held out an apple to me. His brassy hair swayed over his shoulders like Artie. And his eyes—blue, blue, eyes.

“I…” I hesitantly took his offering. “Thank you.”

“Take off your boots,” he told me. He scratched his head. His mouth twitched. But his eyes stayed on me.

“Why, if I may ask?”

“ ‘Cause.” Then his eyes darted past me and he looked around himself proudly, as if he owned the river.

I felt I had to ask, for the fun of it.

“Do you own this river?”

He chuckled. “Me? Nah. But ain’t it pretty nice?” He scooped up a palmful of muddy sand. He looked at me again. “Take off your shoes,” he repeated. “I de-taste shoes.”

“You mean, de-test?”

He looked at me like I was completely bonkers so I ceased trying to correct the people’s speech around here. Apparently, I was lost in thought again and was awakened when he said more urgently, “Take off your shoes!” 

I blinked back my surprise and swiftly removed my shoes and stockings and my feet thanked me for it. My toes stretched luxuriously, and felt the sand between them. “What a nice feeling,” I admitted and picked up a clump of it and watched it fall through my fingers. 

“Toldya so,” he said with a breezy laugh. He watched me take a bite into the apple and laughed like Felix when I flung it as far as I could away from me with a squeal.

“You naughty boy,” I scolded. “I nearly ate the head of a caterpillar in there.”

He bent over and laughed and pointed at me. I was used to that sort of thing so I shook my head and left.

“Wait!” he chased after me. “Have another one.” And out he produced another. “This one here’s safe. It ain’t got no bugs in it.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded bigly and I could sense that he was a trusting person who could also be trusted. I liked that about him. “I promise,” he nodded his head and assured me it was safe. I noticed all of his different facial expressions. He was a bit like Felix. They both liked to move and stretch and never sit still. 

I tossed the apple up into the air and then back to my hand a few times. 

The boy looked a little younger than me but a mite older than Felix. I guessed him to be fourteen, and so I asked.

“Yup, fourteen,” he said plainly, touching his chest with a finger. He snickered to himself a lot, and played with his own fingers, something I could tell in our small five minutes together. Merriment glistened in his eyes and as well as in his voice. He was happy, very happy. And he made me happy just  being around him. A presence like Felix. “I have a brother around your age. I have a feeling you’ll like him. He’s looking for a friend.”

I then looked past him and up at a tall, tall, tree that was wider than the other trees around it. The branches extended out every which-way and leaned against other trees. The leaves were thick and alive and oh, so green.

“That’s my tree,” he informed me, in a warning sort of way.

“Really?” I took several steps towards it and he followed me. “You climb this tree? It’s so big and tall.”

“I can do it,” he said. And in half of two minutes, there he was, seated on a branch above me, swinging his legs and glinting down at me. He laughed at me again, me who must have seemed so small.

“You’re very good at that,” I told the boy.

He ducked behind a branch. “You can’t do it,” he teased.

I furrowed my brows. “Let me try before you sound so sure of yourself.”

“You can’t see me now,” he chortled while he waved at me and peeked his head around the other side of the branch, like it was the most cleverest thing. “I’m up here and you’re down there. You’re like the ants and I’m like an eagle. Eagles eat ants, you know.” He laughed again. “Bet you didn’t know that, huh?”

I wondered at him. But I didn’t ask any questions, because truthfully, I wanted this moment to last. Right now, I didn’t want someone to argue with me and think I was just a stupid child like Henry always did. I wanted someone who was simple and pleasing. This boy refreshed me with his sense of charm and the playful way about him that made me smile.

“Come down here and tell me your name.”

“It’s Charlie,” he hollered down to me. “Charlie Todd Ferguson.”

I nodded slowly, his name triggering other thoughts and recollections in my mind. Another Ferguson… “Well,” I shrugged. “I’d better go now, unless you’d like to accompany me.”

He scurried down faster than he had scurried up. He fell in step along with me. “I’m comin’ too.”

“Alright,” I smiled. “Maybe you can show me around this place.”

Charlie Todd Ferguson. He was fourteen years old. He loved to be alive. He was very much like Artie, who I knew was a relation in some way. They had to be. 

Charlie talked to me the whole way through the forest about different sorts of things; about how he would never go to school, that no one could make him, and that he didn’t wear shoes. Never, not once in his life. Only one day, years and years ago, they had tried to put shoes on him and he ‘wouldn’t let them’. I didn’t know what that meant so I didn’t ask. I didn’t know who ‘they’ were either, but still, I didn’t ask any questions. I wasn’t entirely convinced that he had never before worn any shoes but I allowed myself to try and believe it, at least in this moment.

“Look,” he pointed to the ground near a muddy area that my feet sank into when I inched closer. He bent down and I did the same. 

“What are we looking for?” I whispered.

He pointed again to the same spot and hovered over it closely. Silently, he reached his hand down and retrieved a brown toad. 

“Ugh,” I stepped back. “It looks so bumpy.”

“Bumpy?” he asked, appalled. “It’s beautiful.” He handed it to me. I had not registered what was happening and peered down at it for ten whole seconds before I flung it away. “Oh, how horrible!” I exclaimed. I wiped my hands on my dress. “I hate toads.”

“Hate ‘em? They never done anything to you.”

“I know, but…hmm,” I considered this. “You’re right.” I sighed. “I always throw them away before they do something wrong to me. I never give them a chance.”

He crossed his arms. “You’re mean. Like Artie.”

I remembered that. “I am mean. And not just to little critters.” I sighed again, dejectedly. “I’m selfish and cruel and not at all brave.”

“That’s an easy fix,” he told me, and I almost believed him for a second. “It’s easy,” he said again as if he had come up with the idea himself. 

“How so?”

“Tell me what’s your biggest fear,” he said in a jumble, his accent, thick and Southern, made it a bit hard to understand. My mind quickly interpreted it for myself, thankfully.

“Well, tell it then,” he said, still recovering from his first jumbled command.

The bigger the sentence was, the slower he spoke it. Maybe he had some form of difficulty speaking long sentences and words. I didn’t mind. I just decided maybe people in America were different. Or maybe it wasn’t America. Maybe this boy Charlie was different.

“I…I don’t really know,” was my reply.

He shrugged. “Whatever you hate to do, you just have to do it,” he said, pausing and looking at me curiously for a moment. Then he shoved my shoulder and laughed. 

I took his hand when he offered it.

“Let’s go then,” I said.

Todd the Spectacular Chp. 5

ChapterFive

The Lovingale

I was actually the last one out. Felix said I was being dramatic, and maybe I was, but for a moment I stayed in the wagon and stared at the quaint yellow house seated in a row of other cottages. We had to go through town, up a lane that went partly through the woods, and pull into a road to get here. Our own road.

It was nicer than the other houses, something I was thankful for. I could see Father had chosen this one with thought.

Lilacs bloomed along a little white path that led to the door. And there was a gate, a white gate that you had to unlatch to get inside a miniature garden of our own.

I was met by the sweet fragrances of pink roses, bluestars, and scarlet yarrows bending their heads to me. I recognized most of these plants because back home, Aunt Vicky had lent me a book about the nature around here, and I remembered from the pictures.

I left the wagon and even forgot my suitcase. I bumped into Henry on the way, and he muttered angry things under his breath.

There were cream white shutters on the windows and the door was the same blend of white and brown. There was room for improvement, but then, it also seemed perfect in its own way.

“The Lovingale,” I said.

Artie nodded his head at me and stayed with the horses.

My siblings were stopped in the path and I reached the door before them. They had heavy luggage in their hands. I noticed each little bird house and detail and realized this house was like one from a story Mother used to tell us.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Henry snorted. “Just open the door; my suitcase is heavy.”

“It’s beautiful because it reminds me of Mother.”

“Mother doesn’t live in America, half-wit.”

I turned back and looked at Artie who sat still in the wagon. He waved. I waved back, partially trying to stall time and irritate my big brother, which I know was so dreadful and immature of me. I beg pardon for my rude ways, but I hope you won’t give up on me yet.

“Open the door!” Henry fired.

I twisted the knob and they pushed their way in, dragging me along furiously with them.

“You’d think you were under a trance,” Henry spat. 

“I was,” I confessed. 

“Well, learn to control yourself!” Henry took his belongings and went up the stairs in search of a room.

Felix clasped his hands behind his back and whistled thoughtfully. “Small…but comfortable. It’ll have to do. At least until Father arrives with what we have left of our things. The things he didn’t sell.”

“There’s a good amount of furnishings here,” I offered. “And Father will bring the necessities.”

“Everything we had was necessities!” Felix exclaimed.

“Well, we’re not rich anymore!” I cried. And suddenly, I felt a shiver rise within me. The fear of being without Father and Mother in such a land almost consumed me and I sat down on the vacant floor that felt colder now, and hugged my arms around my knees tightly, imagining Mother’s arms around me. I was hungry and tired from all our traveling. “Father lost the money,” I said.

“Just like Henry loses his temper every time you open your mouth, Annabelle. You should really stop meddling all the time if you want people to like you—” 

Felix’s words created a rush of fresh rage that ran through my veins and I stood up and struck him cold against his face. My hand stopped still in the air and I shrunk back inside of myself. What have I just done? Why did I do that?

Claudia stared at me with wide eyes as if I were a monster.

Felix stumbled to the floor. He brought his hand to his cheek and touched it. His face turned red with vexation. “You’re not Father!” he screamed at me and rushed out the door.

How many times have I heard that since coming here? 

I felt a presence behind me and I slowly turned around, my eyes drawn to the boy, Artie.

“Did you see that?” I asked, lightly.

“See what?” he grinned like it was funny. Maybe to him, it was. He stepped closer and pulled a stone from his pocket. “You dropped this, I think.”

I took Henry’s stone, and, after looking at it in my palm, firmly held it in my fist, under protecting fingers. 

“This means the world to my brother.”

“This little stone?”

I smiled, finally a real smile I had been waiting for. “It’s a big world, you know. But the small things are the things that really matter, aren’t they?”

And I think he understood that.

That night all of us sat indian-style on the floor, huddled close around a lantern, blankets over our shoulders. Henry lit the lantern and tossed away the match. Everything behind us was dark but before us we shared the faint glow.

We sat in silence. That is, until Henry delegated us our instructions for the coming day.

“Tomorrow I shall go into town and get a feel for things,” he advised.

“I want to go with you,” Claudia whined.

“Me too,” Felix said with a glare like icy rain towards me.

“Very well,” Henry looked strangely amongst the others and then to me. He sensed we had tension.

“Annabelle Ingrid, you’re on your own. So don’t get into trouble catching rabbits and singing to birds, alright? I don’t think the people around here like that sort of stuff.”

“Trouble? Me?” I chuckled dryly. “I won’t, Henry Austen, since we’re using our full names here.”

Felix stared at the lantern. It shown in his blue eyes, the same eyes as Henry, Claudia, and Father. “I think the people around here eat the rabbits and birds.”

“There’s a very good chance, since that is common food amongst…” Henry swallowed. “People.”

I shook my head with a sigh. “I want to explore tomorrow. See if there’s other meadows like the one we saw today.”

“Go explore then,” Henry said with a lazy wave of his hand. “I’m not stopping you. Just don’t get into trouble with all the weird things that you do. You trust too easily.”

“Not all the time. But sometimes, I have a feeling about people.”

“Like Arther?” Claudia offered her dreamy input and I frowned at her. 

“He said to call him Artie,” I corrected her.

“My mistake,” Claudia replied.

I rolled my eyes a little and my thoughts shifted back home to Father. I had to believe he would come back. But sometimes, you could just see that there was something changed about a person. 

My father was once a sailor back in his day. And when I looked into his eyes that last time as he said goodbye to me, I saw a ship. There in his ocean-blue eyes was a ship sailing into the horizon. There was a sailor on that ship. And he had a strange glint in his eyes. He was leaving. Leaving his home, leaving the ones dear in his heart.

Leaving.

And he was never coming back.

That’s what I saw in my father that day.

Felix might have really read my mind that moment, for he bit his lip and said, “I wonder what he’s doing right now.”

“Making preparations to join us. He said it may be sometime in the end of summer, near fall,” Henry said.

“We have the whole summer to ourselves,” Felix brightened up.

“I miss Father.”

“Stop complaining, Claudia,” Henry scowled at her.

“We all do,” I tried to comfort her and wrapped my arms around her shoulders warmly. “Even the ones who don’t have a heart.”

Henry ignored me.

“But whatever happens, we have to be brave. And we will, won’t we?” I gave Claudia a playful nudge. “I know we will.”

“Brave?” Henry scoffed at the word.

“Mother would’ve wanted it. She always told us to be brave.”

“We wouldn’t be here if Mother had her way. And none of this would’ve happened if she was alive!”

“Well, she’s not!” I leapt to my feet. “She’s not, Henry!” I was finally angry at Henry. Right now, all my tender feelings were gone and I was angry at Henry for never being there to help me. “Don’t you see?” my eyes pierced his. “We’re losing Father, too. We have to stay together. We have to be there for each other. I can’t always have you running off alone.” I wanted to give in and cry, then. If he could only have seen the pain I bore all alone.

Henry rolled on his side and went to sleep.

Todd the Spectacualr Chp. 4 Artie

I gracefully apologize for not being able to post this chapter yesterday!

and by the way, if you are enjoying this story, go and tell your friends!!! this book will soon be published and available to purchase!

    Byyee!

-Elena

ChapterFour

Artie

That was the first time I saw him. A best friend I hadn’t even met yet. Right over there waiting for me. I didn’t know it then, but I had a feeling.

He was whistling as his wagon crested the hill and down again. I could hear his tunes, sweet like a bird. When he stopped his horses with a gentle pull of the reins, he hopped down and came into view a little better. I studied him as well as I could before he came over.

A nice boy, with brassy hair that fell on his shoulders. His straw hat hid his eyes. He looked a mite shabby, but then, everyone here did. His clothes were a bit torn and old but they were that of a farm boy, who loved to run and play and go on his own little adventures, alone. 

That was something I could always do, for some reason. See something in a person’s eyes or hear it in their voice. It was like a window—a little glimpse into their heart.

You’re lonely, like me.

He approached us with an easy stride and when he reached us, he looked at us strangely.

I looked back at him. 

I at last caught his eyes. Sharp, keen and smart. They were startling emerald eyes. Or maybe blue. Green like a forest and blue like the water all swirled around. I had a feeling he had a few stories hidden within those eyes.

Henry cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

“Hi,” the boy said. He nodded to himself and looked us over, examining us like a fossil. It made me feel important.

“And you are…?” Henry pressed.

The boy blinked, taken aback for a short moment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just ain’t ever seen English folk.”

“And we’ve never seen…” Henry looked him over from his hat to his boots. “Whatever you are.”

“I’m Arther. Arther Ferguson. But you can call me Artie,” and he glanced at me and smiled. His smile ceased when he looked at Henry.

“Are you the one to take us to Averdeene?” I spoke up, shyly.

“We’re in Averdeene. But I reckon I’ll take you to the Lovingale. That is where I’ve been paid to send you, right?”

“I…I think so,” I looked at Henry for confirmation.

“Father didn’t clearly specify. But I believe it to be true.”

Artie smirked. “I believe it to be true, too,” he said in a humored polish voice that made me and Claudia laugh. 

“The Lovingale…” Henry trailed off. “I guess we should go.”

“Is it really called the Lovingale?” Claudia wondered earnestly. “That…that sounds quite elegant, actually. I could tolerate a house called the Lovingale.”

“We haven’t even seen it,” Henry scorned.

“It’s a good little house. A nice little row of ‘em down on what we call the Everstreet.” He looked at me again. “I have a feeling you’ll like it if you aren’t to acusted to proper stuff.”

“If you mean, accustomed,” I corrected with an airy chuckle, “then I think we are perfectly capable of making up our minds to like it.”

Henry rolled his eyes. “Then let’s get on with it.” 

We piled into the back of the wagon and rode down the path and up the hill. We went through trees and I almost fell when I reached out my hand to touch the water of a stream we passed. Everything was all I ever wanted but never really knew I wanted it.

The air was so thick and hot it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, but then, it felt so refreshing to experience something new. 

To feel a new feeling felt rather remarkable.

Everything was so humid and heavy that when the breezy wind passed through us, I was so glad. My sister and brothers were fanning themselves with their hats. 

“It’s so rainy and cloudy in England,” Felix complained. “Here I am, dripping. How will I ever get used to the heat? And—” he swatted away a mosquito. “I can’t even breathe without the fear of inhaling something.”

“Do you like the weather?” Claudia tugged on my sleeve. Right now, she looked so tiny and childish. She always pretended that she was “practically an adult” but really, she was just a dear and I tried to be as much like my mother to her as I could. It felt unfair that Felix and Claudia hardly got to know Mother. 

“Not immensely,” I answered, looking around.

With my one hand I held onto the side of the wagon and with the other, I held onto my hat, the silky sash blowing behind me like a tail.

Claudia told me the sun shimmered on my dark hair. My hair was a mix of orange and brown, but it was dark and long and was anything but straight. Mainly waves, with a few curls here and there. I wouldn’t have been so fond of my hair, if I hadn’t known that my auburn hair was inherited from both my mother and my grandmother. I liked that small bit about me.

“Artie?” I said his name and Henry stared at me.

“Yes’um?” he glanced over his shoulder.

I suddenly couldn’t think of what to say, so I held my tongue.

He chuckled lightly and clicked his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ll go first. What’s your name?”

I felt Henry warning me. “Ann—” I stopped myself. “Ingrid.”

He stared straight ahead and didn’t say anything.

“This is Felix and Claudia, and that’s Henry,” I was turning a pale pink and I didn’t know why I was so shy. Maybe because I was much richer than he. Or maybe because he was so distant.

As he talked and told me his age, fifteen, a year younger than Henry, I listened to the rhythm of his voice. A rhythm can tell anything, like a song. Well, almost anything.

We passed trees and little streams, and the long grasses swayed and tickled my fingertips which were eager to meet them.

But then, suddenly, we were nearing a bright cleared area. I balanced on my knees and saw a meadow, lonely and beautiful, the wildflowers just beckoning me to join them in their dance.

“Can we stop the wagon?” I asked, anxiously.

“Ingrid,” Henry said tryingly. “We’re not stopping the wagon so you can get out and fall all over yourself.”

“Please do,” I said when I couldn’t bear it anymore. “I just can’t sit here when I feel like moving. We’ve been sitting in a train for ages. I need to run. I long to run.”

Artie halted the horses and out I leapt.

 

I was not from around here where there were furious rivers and hazy summer nights and skies so decorated with stars you could barely see the blackness behind them. I had that feeling I would experience such things the moment I leapt from the wagon. The flame inside me was kindling and I felt it growing. 

These wonders were foreign to me and as if I might be stripped from them, I bathed deeply in the wonderful things around me and held on tight to them. 

I decided then and there that no one, not even Father, might make me leave this place where everything was so wild and free.

I had come a long, long way, from the foggy wisps of Boughsberry, England.

I was here in a place called Mississippi, somewhere wonderful and strange.

I scanned the field before my eyes. It looked limitless, stretching onward without end for miles. It was the end of May, when spring was just in its fullest blossoms, a miracle in itself. The wind was a gift to the warm air and already I was grateful. But I could tell, in the morning, there might be a hint of a chill, like the earth wasn’t quite ready to let go of winter yet.

I felt a brilliant sensation as tall grass swayed around my legs and a breeze passed through my hair and set the flowers to dancing. A sensation that was not possible to be put into words. Here in a little town called Averdeene, I felt the indescribable. 

And it felt wonderful.

“Ingrid?”

I didn’t really hear him clearly until he tapped my shoulders. I turned around. “Henry, don’t you feel it?” I saw crimson specks in the distance. Flowers. Roses and other kinds of living, growing things.

“We have to get back.”

As we rode, we all grew more nervous as our destination was reaching for us faster than we could understand. Maybe faster than we really wanted it to. I saw so much I was bursting from all the lovely views, unable to take in all of everything in such a little time.

We were a bit frightened. We didn’t know what to expect. 

“Artie?” I said his name again, so I could distract myself from being nervous. “Do you have a family?”

He shook his head cheerfully. “Nope. Just me. I’m alone.”

“Oh,” I said quietly. “Does it ever get lonely?”

I could sense a movement in the corners of his mouth. A slight twitch. “Sometimes.”

And then—and then everything changed and I felt a tickling butterfly inside me and I felt nauseous and nervous and a hundred other things.

You ask why?

Well, we had arrived.