Summer Heat

       It was mid-July and blazing hot. Once again, Katie and her mother were working in the garden. Brian was in Nebraska, visiting his cousins and Katie had been so lonely that her mother gave her permission to go to the library  two days a week, while Brian was on vacation. Katie now went on Wednesday afternoons and Saturday mornings, and even though she was initially delighted with her good fortune at being allowed to go there at all, was now beginning to take the library more and more for granted. It was still her favorite place in the world, but going there by herself was not even half as much fun as going there with Brian.

       The heat was so intense that it was hard to work. She and her mother started very early in the morning, when they harvested and weeded, then took a break during the hottest hours. Katie was allowed to go into the house and read; her mother went to her workshop. Occasionally her mother got up and went into the house, and Katie knew that someone must have come to the door – how did her mother always know?  Then there would be more hoeing and weeding after which they would have their mid-day meal., and when the sun had sunk a little lower in the sky, they went back to work. Day in and day out, it was always the same.

       For Katie, the garden was pure drudgery in the summer and she hated having to spend all her time there. Through the books she borrowed from the library she now knew that other children went to the beach during the summer holidays, or visited relatives, like Brian. Kids climbed mountains and went on camping trips with their families. They rafted down rivers, went to foreign countries, and flew on planes. She, Katie, worked in the garden and went to the library twice a week.  Why was life so unfair?

       Katie pushed the hair out of her eyes. It was 10:30 in the morning and sweat was running in streams down her back, sides and chest. Her bangs were soaked with sweat, and her eyes stung with it. Two rows down, her mother worked with unperturbed concentration. She never seemed to sweat, or to be overcome by the heat. Today was a Thursday.  Katie hated Thursdays:  two more days until she could visit the library again. The library was blissfully cool inside, and it smelled wonderful, like books and wood polish. And there were no weeds to pull in the library.

       One of her mother’s turtles trundled up as Katie was digging out a particularly stubborn weed. Katie held out a dandelion leaf and the turtle opened its beak-like mouth and took a bite. It had a surprisingly pink, pointed tongue. The turtle took several more bites, then lost interest. It waddled away, lurching from side to side. Katie sighed. Her mother turned around to look at her. How sad she looked, thought Katie. Disappointed, somehow. Suddenly, without knowing why, Katie found herself asking a question:

       “Mom, what happened to that great big turtle – Sage? The one that always used to follow you?” 

       Katie had anticipated a grunt perhaps or one of her mother’s typically short replies. But her mother suddenly wheeled around as if astonished. She stared hard at Katie for a moment, then smiled faintly and turned back to her work. “I do not know where he has gone, that turtle,” she replied lightly. “If it were winter, I would say that he had hibernated.”  And there was something in her voice that made Katie’s heart ache. I’ve disappointed her, she suddenly thought. But why? How?

       It was the first of August.  The air in the house seemed almost hotter than the air outside. Katie sat at their table, drawing. Her mother was in the kitchen, washing up after dinner. She had seemed unusually tense and distracted all day, and it struck Katie that her mother was rushing through her chores. Perhaps her mother, who never seemed to mind the weather, was finally feeling the heat. Katie herself was so miserable she could hardly hold her head up. All she wanted to do was to bathe her face in cool water, put on her nightshirt and try to sleep.

       Suddenly her mother was in the room, calling her name. Katie jumped – she had actually fallen asleep at the table!

     “Katie,” her mother said quietly, “it is time for you to go to bed. You can finish the drawings in the morning. That is a very good likeness of Valeriana officinalis. You are a more accomplished artist than I ever was.” Katie put away her notebook and closed the book she had been using. “Go on,” urged her mother, “I will put your things away.” And Katie went off to bed wondering why her mother seemed to be in such a hurry.

       Downstairs, Beatrice tidied up after Katie with a heavy heart. The Lamass meeting was tonight, and Sage was still gone. She wondered how she could face the circle tonight.  Today in the garden she had thought – for just one fleeting moment – that Katie had somehow regained the ability to talk to her through the mind, not the mouth. She had been lamenting Sage’s absence so bitterly just when Katie had asked her that question! She sighed deeply as she locked the door behind her, hours ahead of schedule:  tonight she would treat herself to a walk through the fields and be the first one there. At least then she would not be at such a great disadvantage, would not look so foolish in front of the others.  She was grateful to Katie for falling asleep so quickly tonight.

A Reunion

       Beatrice locked the front door and was making her way down the gravel drive to the gate when she suddenly tripped and went sprawling.  There should not have been a rock there, she thought to herself as she brushed the dirt off her legs. Puzzled, she turned to see what she had tripped over, and her heart gave a great lurch:  Sage! She scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding.  

     Sage was looking at her, his face as expressionless as always, his beady eyes a little sleepy-looking. He trundled over to the patch of grass that grew in front of the house. Beatrice followed him as he made his cumbersome way around the side of the house to the back garden.

       Once in the back garden, she ran to the vegetable patch and grabbed a handful of Romaine lettuce, Sage’s favorite.  She knelt beside him and watched him greedily devour the lettuce, and as he ate, they talked.

        Sage, where have you been? I have been so distraught!

       Sage chewed rhythmically, his jaws working placidly. I know. Believe me, I have not been idle.

       But it has been almost one year!

        I am not what I once was; these things take time.

       What things?!

       Sage sighed. You were anxious about the girl.  It began to worry me— after all, I was the one who first gave you counsel. When I realized that she was not what she should be, I took it upon myself to make investigations. And in the course of those investigations, transformation was necessary. And truly, I am not what I once was. 

       Sage! Could you not have told me first? Transformation at your age – surely you knew how dangerous it was? Or how worried I would be?

       I flattered myself that I would be able – that it would take time, yes, but not so much time as a year. Not so much time that you would worry. I am sorry to have worried you so.

       Sage, you must promise me –  once and for all –  that you will never attempt anything so dangerous again. You have put yourself in danger, but worse still, you have put the community in danger – and at such a time!  

       Sage bowed his head. I give you my solemn vow, on all we hold sacred. And I do humbly apologize for giving you cause for worry.

       Beatrice gave a great sigh of relief. Katie is not the one we had thought she was, is she?

       No, she is not.

       Beatrice was silent for a long time. She had known this – been almost positive that it was true – and still the answer came as a shock. Somewhere, deep inside, she must have been holding a tiny bit of hope. Then who…how…?

       It is a long story, but we have time. Sit, Beatrice, and I will tell it.