ChapterSeven
Averdeene
I came into town that day, Charlie pulling me around like I was his rag doll. It made me feel important and I admit that I enjoyed feeling so.
He called me Annie, and he was the only person in America who knew my true name, Annabelle. I hadn’t told anyone else.
He showed me almost everything. There wasn’t much to show, I admit, but I liked to see someone feel so excited. It was a simple, ordinary town. A few scattered houses, some buildings, and a stable. That’s where I saw Artie.
I was across the street from him. I stood underneath a tree that was planted in an island of mulch at the heart of Averdeene. This tree represented the founding of their village, forty-eight years ago. I wasn’t sure if Charlie was even allowed to climb it, but he did it without hesitation. I thought he must be familiar to this tree. I watched him press his face to the tree and breathe in it and against it.
“How does the tree smell?” I asked, amused.
He sighed dreamily and hugged his branch, falling upside down like a monkey. He looked at me while he hung in front of me, our faces within a palm of each other. With one hand he brushed away the fine hair that fell in his eyes.
“You’ll have to show me your tricks,” I begged.
He grinned with all of his teeth. Then he looked up at the top of the trunk. “The tree smells delicious. Don’t you ever smell trees?” he faltered on the word ‘delicious’.
“Not really, no.”
“Do it. It smells delicious. You’ll think it too, if you try. You’ll see.”
I believed him and put my nose against it. I breathed it in. “It does. It really does.” I closed my eyes and dreamed about lovely things for a moment. When I opened my eyes, I glanced across the street and met gaze with Artie who appeared aggravated by me. He simply scowled and turned away his face. I supposed he was not the type for smelling trees.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to Charlie, and, making my way across the street which was not busy, not really, I left him hanging there smelling the tree and walked into the stable.
Artie fed two horses and looked to be working quite diligently.
“You’re so good with them. Are these horses yours?” I wondered as I stroked the acorn-colored one.
“No. I take care of them so I can eat.” He brushed the dark one as he fed oats out of his hand. He brought his head to the mare’s and planted a soft kiss on its forehead. He rubbed her muzzle warmly.
“This one’s Glory,” he said quietly.
“Is she your favorite?”
“No. I just know her the best. And she knows me.” He glanced at the acorn colored horse in the next stall. “That’s Springy.”
“Springy?” I stepped closer to the horses.
“He’s afraid of most things. But he loves the spring.”
“I do, too,” I chuckled. I looked farther down the row and spotted a darker horse all alone at the end. “Oh. I hadn’t even noticed that one,” I pointed. “What’s his name?”
“Her, you mean?” he cocked his head in the direction of the black horse. “That’s Lightning. She’s the fastest.” He chuckled against his better judgement. “Lightning will be the death of me.”
I approached the young horse. I ran my hand down her side and she let me. She was very graceful. My fingers felt her silky coat of ebony bliss.
“Lightning. How,” I looked at Artie, “enlightening.”
That earned me a small smile.
I heard distant shouting and I looked out into the town where Charlie played by the tree. He hollered my name.
“Annie, look. You can’t do it!” he hung upside down again.
I shook my head and laughed. “I’m jealous, Charlie,” I hollered back to him. I caught Artie glaring at me again. “I met a new friend today, by the river.”
“Really? Who?” he asked, pretending to be clueless.
“His name’s Charlie Ferguson. Isn’t that neat? I didn’t know you had a brother, and there I just ran into him.” After an awkward pause, I realized that maybe I was wrong. “I apologize if I have incorrectly assumed.”
He blinked, taken aback, and shrugged. “I don’t have a brother. I told you, I’m alone.”
His acting was good, I’ll admit, but I knew he was faking. For what reason, I was not quite sure. “No brother?” I glanced back at Charlie. “A cousin, perhaps? He looks just like you. I couldn’t help but notice.”
Artie moaned at me and I realized I had irritated him. “Just don’t worry about him, alright? He’s just the village idiot. Leave him alone.”
He pushed past me and down another stall.
“But,” I began. “I don’t understand. He—”
“He doesn’t even know my name.” Artie looked at the boy playing alone in the distance.
“Artie!” Charlie screamed with excitement and waved. Artie rolled his eyes and walked out of the stable.
“Arther,” I said, and I sounded like a scolding mother. “I mean—Artie, I’m sorry. It’s just that Charlie seems to—”
“Charlie’s no one.”
I didn’t know what to say. He looked so angry at me. I didn’t know whether to continue or to walk away. “But I—”
“It’s painful to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yes, but—” I stopped trying to speak.
Artie scoffed at me. “But then, what would you know of pain?” And he walked away.
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