Spirit - Part Five
This episode is part of a larger story, Soft Touch. If you haven’t yet, you can go back and read it from the beginning right here.
I pull my car to a stop and get out to gaze around at the countryside around me.
It gets so dark when you get this far outside of the glow of the town, but tonight’s sky is overflowing with moonlight. The trees, the hills, every leaf and puddle of water is shimmering with a misty, opalescent glow. Clouds of silvery light halo everything, hanging in the air like drifting stardust.
The little two-story farmhouse in front of me has a front garden crowded with lavender. Neatly fenced in, but the wildflowers grow in wild freedom on the other side. The front windows on either side of the door are squares of warm light above their window boxes. The walls have faded green paint, and the wood shows through in some places, which makes the remaining paint look almost like moss.
Kent’s car is parked out front, alongside a big rusty pickup. I must be in the right place. The turn wasn’t as hard to find as Emmett was worried about.
I walk up the path through the little garden, listening to the whispering of the plant life in the moonlit breeze, then stop just outside of the door. I was about to knock, but I hear the scrambling click of paws, then a deep, low barking from inside.
I hesitate, not sure if there’s a point to knocking anymore. Before I can decide whether or not to do it, a coaxing, slow-speaking voice shushes the dog, and the door is pulled open.
The man who opens the door has Emmett’s hazel eyes, sunbaked skin, and shy stare. I feel safe taking a guess that he’s Emmett’s dad.
“Hey, there!” I spread my hand in a friendly wave, smiling up at him. “I’m Jamie Keane, I think I’m expected? You guys were nice enough to offer your farm for Ellen’s science class tonight, assuming I’ve got my information right.”
The tall, weather-worn man in front of me doesn’t answer, but there’s something warm and welcoming about his eyes as he steps back to let me in. He keeps one hand gently spread in front of the curious Border Collie, holding her back.
“Alright with dogs?” he asks, so softly that I have to lean forward to hear him.
“Oh, yeah, just fine!” I bend down to greet the dog, who plants her paws on my shins, tail wagging. I give her soft black ears a scratch, flashing a smile up at Emmett’s dad. “Thank you so much for letting us do this here.”
“We’re not set up for this type of thing,” he says, in a soft, apologetic voice, his eyes traveling over the inside of the farmhouse. “Know it’s not much. Hope it’ll suit for what you need.”
“Oh, no, it’s really very nice,” I answer quickly, straightening up to look around. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”
It’s a cozy little place. We’re in the living room, which is tiny, but warmly outfitted, with soft places to sit everywhere and a crackling little fireplace. A glass jug on the windowsill is filled with wildflowers, and there’s a second, much older-looking Border Collie deeply asleep beneath it, curled up into a circle in the fireplace warmth. Her name is stitched into the front of her dog bed: Molly.
“Sylvia and Kent are in the kitchen,” comes a soft murmur from behind me.
I turn around to answer, but Emmett’s dad goes past me to the doorway, where he shrugs on his coat and clicks his tongue for the younger Border Collie. Without turning back around, he slips out into the night and disappears, trailed by his dog. Leaving me alone with Molly.
“Um…” I whisper softly, slightly alarmed.
Oh, god. I hope I didn’t accidentally say something rude to make him leave like that, but I can’t think of what it was if I did…
I hesitate for a moment, rubbing my elbow through my flannel, but it would be weird to follow him outside to apologize, so I turn and weave through the living room to the kitchen.
I wonder how Kent is faring after a full day spent with people he doesn’t know, chasing around after two little ones. He’s probably exhausted.
I stop in the doorway, caught by surprise. Kent is leaning his elbows on the kitchen counter, looking relaxed and bright-spirited. Listening with close attention as the other occupant of the kitchen talks.
The woman pouring out a cup of coffee for Kent and topping off her own must be Emmett’s mom. She has Emmett’s same russet-colored hair. Hers falls in gentle waves to about her waist, and she has an olive green bandana over it. The smudges of earth all over her loose high-waisted jeans tell me that she’s the one responsible for the pretty lavender garden out front.
She has a chipped front tooth, and a warm, pretty face. Even when her eyes are anxious, like they are right now.
“-afraid that all the other parents at that school must think me and Mitch are just terrible,” she’s saying, with an agonized tone in her voice. “Like we did Emmett so wrong.”
Kent draws back in surprise, his eyebrows furrowing above his glasses. Emmett’s mom shakes her head, knotting her fingers around her cup of coffee.
“Because we were supposed to be homeschooling him,” she explains, anxiously twisting a strand of her hair. “And people probably think… Let's be honest, keeping him here at the farm, not sending him to school, him failing his state exams, being behind on every subject, held back a grade - it doesn’t look good, on the surface. I wouldn’t blame you if you were suspicious about us, too, Kent.”
“Hey, a lot of what’s happened with Ellen doesn’t look good on the surface, either,” Kent says sympathetically. “You’d think I wasn’t trying as a parent at all, based on some of the grades she’s gotten. Or based on how many times she’s been sent to the principal. Meanwhile I’m trying everything I can think of to make things better, and I honestly think Ellen is, too.”
“That’s - yes!” groans Sylvia, dropping her head back and rubbing her eyes. “Exactly! But shit, there’s a reason, isn’t there? And with Emmett, I mean… we kept him here because he wants to stay here. I’ve seen that sweet boy try to do his schoolwork. He’s just not built for it. We sent him to school once, when he was real little, and he came home crying with frustration every day. I don’t think that means he’s - he’s not smart… I actually think he’s real mature for his age-”
“If only grades were a clear indication of a kid’s intelligence,” Kent sighs longingly. “But they’re really not.”
“No, they’re not,” Sylvia agrees, sounding immensely relieved to hear it from someone else. “Me and Mitch knew Emmett wasn’t made for it, and we wanted him to be happy, so we kept him here. Tried to keep him learning however he can learn… but now the damn state tests! Emmett tried so hard, too. He just can’t do tests like that.”
Sylvia lets out another pained groan, glaring into her coffee like the state tests are at the bottom of it, then adds - “Mitch has been beating himself up over this like crazy.”
“What?” Kent lowers his coffee mug, startled. “Why’s he doing that?”
“Because - he was the same way, as a kid.” Sylvia shakes her head, looking up at Kent again. “So he thinks this all must be his fault, somehow. The way Emmett’s struggling.”
There’s a brief silence as Kent absorbs that.
“Alright, well, I don’t know if only one person’s opinion matters,” he says, a little more slowly. “And I know we’re just getting to know each other, but - you and Mitch seem like very loving parents to me. So. Not every parent at the school feels the way you’re worried about. At the very least.”
Sylvia pauses in surprise, then casts him a small, grateful smile from across the kitchen counter.
“One person does make a difference,” she says earnestly. “Ellen really has, for Emmett.”
Kent smiles brightly at that, his dark brown eyes brimming with fondness and pride.
“You’ll have to bring Ellen’s mom by the farm sometime,” Sylvia adds. “If she’d like to come.”
“Oh, um… my girlfriend isn’t Ellen’s mom, actually. But now that she’s moved in with us, Ellen is definitely starting to take after her. And I say that with heaps of gratitude.”
Sylvia makes an aw face at Kent, smiling, her eyebrows drawn up and together. “She must be a treat.”
“She is,” Kent laughs, clearly pleased by that phrasing.
I blink and look down as something cold presses into my hand. Molly, the old Border Collie that was asleep by the fireplace, has roused herself and is now busy curiously sniffing my fingers.
I shoot Molly a grateful look, because I hadn’t realized how long I was standing listening. It just didn’t seem like a good time to interrupt, over and over again, but here’s my opportunity. I clear my throat, then raise my hand in a wave as Kent and Sylvia turn to look at me.
“Hey! Sorry to sneak up on you guys, but, um…”
I trail off, not sure how to explain that Mitch just kinda left me in the living room.
“Oh, did Mitch give you the slip?” Sylvia laughs affectionately, apologetically. “I’m sorry about that, it’s just - him. Don’t take it personally. He’s really a sweetheart, but he prefers to be alone instead of around other people, generally speaking.”
She pauses, then breaks into a small, glowing grin. “Sure makes a girl feel special to be one of the very few exceptions, though.”
Kent and I both laugh as Sylvia takes a smiling sip of her coffee.
“I’m just glad I didn’t say something wrong,” I admit, pressing a relieved hand to my chest. “I don’t think he said more than three sentences to me before he was gone.”
“Three whole sentences? Oh, he must’ve liked you.” Sylvia beckons me into the kitchen, and I step inside, followed by Molly. “Come in, honey. Are you Jamie? I’ve heard good things.”
“Yeah, I am, and really, you did?” I turn to face Kent with an astonished expression on my face, petting the ears of the elderly dog. “From you, Kent?”
“Oh, ha, ha, you know I say good things about you!”
Sylvia flashes an empty coffee mug in my direction with a questioning eyebrow raised. I give her a grateful thumbs up, then move to stand next to Kent at the kitchen counter.
“It was all good things, really.” Sylvia pours some coffee into the mug, nudging a jug of milk at me with her other hand. “Kent said you - you kinda got your own ways of teaching?”
“Oh, yeah. In the sense that I have no training, really, and lots of it ends up being improvised. And I do have to look up the answers to some of Ellen’s questions on my phone while she’s not looking. And we did - start a small fire during class, once, admittedly. But we don’t exactly have a lab to work in, so-”
“God, Jamie, your honesty-” Kent cuts himself off and drops his forehead onto his forearms. “Why are you standing here making me look like a fool for saying good things about you?”
“He still sounds more qualified than I ever was to be a homeschool teacher,” Sylvia laughs, pushing my coffee towards me. She hesitates, then leans her elbows onto the kitchen counter and kneads her thumb into her palm. “Listen, Jamie - I hope it’s alright, me asking this, but… since you’re here anyways, would it be okay if Emmett…? He’s just so behind on every subject, I think even one extra science session might help.”
“Oh, he - wants to take tonight’s class?” I ask, taken by surprise.
“He’s curious about it, I think,” Sylvia answers hopefully. “Ellen made it sound good.”
“I mean, he’s welcome to!” I spread my hands at Sylvia, then give her a quick wave. “Of course he is! I just, um-”
Normally I have a class of one, and this would be a challenging class of two, it sounds like.
“I just hope I’m up to the task,” I finish, struggling to explain myself.
“I’m sure it’ll be great!” Sylvia says earnestly, then stops, reassessing. “Ah… tell you what, if he gives you too much trouble, just send him back in here to hang out with me.”
“Okay,” I answer, for some reason already firmly against that idea, determined not to have to do that. “Where are those two? I should probably get class started.”
“Well, they’ve been running all over this farm all day.” Kent laughs softly. “They both passed out for a while in the living room.”
“Like pretzels on the floor,” Sylvia snickers, crinkling up her nose affectionately.
“Now they’re up again like the crash never happened.” Kent glances at the back door of the kitchen, left open to the night breeze. “There are finally some signs of slowing down, though. I think they’re starting to get tired. At the very least, slightly less energetic.”
“Perfect time to start class,” I answer firmly. “So - where are they? We never landed on an answer.”
Sylvia nods at the open back door. “Probably with the horses, out in the barn. Emmett’s preferred place to be, if he has to be inside.”
I hesitate, caught by surprise. “The kids are - okay on their own, with the horses and all the animals…?”
“Oh, if Emmett’s there, they’ll be just fine with any animals, believe me.” Sylvia tilts her head back tiredly, running a hand over the back of her neck. “We keep catching him sneaking out of his room to sleep in the barn at night.”
She pauses, then adds fondly - “Just like his dad. Always looking for a quiet place.”
That strikes me as funny, because Ellen definitely isn’t quiet. But Emmett doesn’t seem to mind that, not one bit.
Maybe like his dad, he has his exceptions, too.
~~~~
The barn is set back from the house, across a small back garden and down a slender, starlit path. In the moonlight, I can make out fields with crops spread around me, along with other farm buildings, and the shape of a parked, hulking piece of farming machinery. There’s a little wooden chicken coop near the barn, with a soft light left on for the roosting hens inside.
Scattered wildflowers make shimmering droplets of color along the path. In the case of the snowdrops, droplets of pure, sparkling white.
The rich scent of rich land gently meets me as I walk, and the rustling sound of the wild daffodils moving in the breeze. A few white, downy chicken feathers bluster across the path, carried on the soft wind. The dark, clay-colored earth beneath my feet is the same kind of mud that clung to Emmett’s boots when he showed up at Kent’s door.
I find myself taking deeper breaths as I walk, slowing down to take everything in. This is a beautiful place, even in its night colors.
The barn doors are open, and when I stop in front of them I can see that the earlier rain didn’t make its way in. The inside is warm and dry, softly lit with the golden glow of a few lamps. Shadowy and quiet, with high, wooden rafters above and a deep gold blanket of hay below. Two half-asleep horses stand near each other on one side, heads down.
The whole place emits a kind of animal warmth that reaches me before I even step inside.
Ellen and Emmett are sitting together across from the horses, their backs to the barn wall. Ellen cross-legged, Emmett with his knees pulled up to his chest. Emmett has a grey beanie down over his russet hair, and Ellen is wearing a jacket that looks like it belongs to him.
They’re talking, but they both stop and look up when I step into the barn.
I look down, realizing that Molly followed me out here. She trots directly to Emmett, then cuddles up at his side and gazes up at him with adoring eyes, tail thumping the barn floor.
“Hey, Jamie!” calls Ellen’s little voice, and Emmett spreads his hand in a wave, using the other to scratch Molly’s chin.
“Hey, there! You two ready for your science class?”
Emmett blinks at me, going pale. “Oh, I’m - I gotta take it, too?”
“If you want to,” I answer hopefully.
“Yeah, take it with me, Emmett!” Ellen fixes him with an encouraging smile, tugging on his sleeve. “There’s no quizzes or tests or anything.”
“I-” Emmett nibbles his lip, then winces, faltering before the pleading look in Ellen’s eyes. “I - yeah, okay.”
Ellen beams at him, then hesitates, glancing over at me. “Do we have to do it right now, though, Jamie?”
I can tell they were in the middle of talking about something, and they both look so warm and cozy nestled up against the wall that I don’t really want to make them get up, anyways.
“No, I can wait for a little. I’ll be right out there, okay? I’m keeping an eye on you, so don’t think about running off and skipping class.”
“We weren’t gonna!” Ellen laughs, even as Emmett bites his lip guiltily, like maybe he was thinking about it.
I head back outside and sit down on a grassy stretch near the barn, then lay on my back and spread my fingers on the grass, savoring the sweet softness of the white and yellow daffodils around me.
The little voices in the barn start talking again. I can tell right away that both Ellen and Emmett have already forgotten that I’m here. I sit up again to remind them, but they’re looking at each other, not at me.
Emmett must have inherited some things from his mom, after all, because he’s not quite as quiet as his dad.
“It’s so weird that you’re here,” he tells Ellen. He picks at the laces of his boots, screwing up his face, then lets out a little laugh. “There’s not normally girls out on the back forty.”
“On the what?” Ellen giggles.
Both of their voices sound drowsy with the day they’ve had. Soft, clear, but a little sleepy.
“I don’t remember what we were talking about,” Ellen is saying, wincing at Emmett. “I was paying attention, though! I just - Jamie came in, and now I-”
“It’s okay, I remember. You were tellin’ me what that Naomi lady said about you.”
“Oh,” Ellen answers, twisting a piece of hay between her fingers. “Did I say what she said?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh.”
Another silence, during which Ellen stares at Emmett searchingly, then draws her knees up to her chest, growing a little self-conscious. It dawns on me that she told some random boy in her class about this easily, with no nerves at all, but clearly waited some time to tell Emmett.
He’s gazing across at the horses, his eyebrows knitted, hazel eyes thoughtful.
“Well - do you feel better now?” he asks, looking over at Ellen again in the soft light of the barn. “Now that you know?”
“Yeah,” Ellen says slowly, after a moment. “I - I’ve always kinda felt like I was looking for something, but I didn’t know what. Now I think maybe I was looking for… for other people like me.”
She looks searchingly at Emmett again, but he doesn’t seem to think too much about that. His face did brighten when Ellen said she felt better, though. He adjusts his beanie over his russet hair, thinking again.
“I’m jealous,” he blurts out suddenly, leaning his head back against the wall.
Ellen blinks at him, then lets out a little giggle of laughter. “You are?”
“Yeah, ‘cause - is that why you can soak up information the way you do?” He makes a pouty face at her, stroking Molly’s ears. “I can’t do nothing like that, ‘n I’m eleven.”
“Hey, I’m almost ten! And I - I don’t know if that’s why. I’m not sure what’s ‘cause I’m autistic, and what’s - me?”
Emmett’s eyebrows furrow again. He scratches Molly’s nose gently, turning what Ellen said over in his mind for a beat before he answers.
“Think it’s all you, right? Either way. You should take the credit for the - the cool things you can do.”
Ellen blinks hard at him again, then drops her gaze to her shoelaces. Hiding her face from him, but I can see her smiling so hard that her eyes are turned into two little dark crescents of eyelashes.
She shrugs her shoulders shyly instead of answering.
“I like that both of us hate birthday parties,” she says abruptly.
Emmett must be used to the sudden switches of topic with Ellen, because he only looks surprised for a second.
“Ugh, birthday parties,” he groans. “S’all so - much. All at once. All the people, and noise - and then you feel bad, because you’re supposed to be having fun. Everyone wants you to have fun.”
Ellen nods earnestly, obviously relieved that Emmett understands. “And it’s really, really hard to pretend that you are, if you’re not? Even if you’re trying your best?”
“Birthday parties are hell,” Emmett agrees, with a weary sigh.
Ellen pauses, then lets out a soft, scandalized wave of giggles at the curse word. Emmett smiles at the sound, opening his hazel eyes again to look at Ellen.
She quickly turns her face away, and ends up determinedly staring at the horses. Emmett tracks her gaze to them, then sits up a little more.
“How come you don’t want to get near them, El? You sounded excited to meet them, before we got here.”
Ellen gets a faint, blushing glow to her cheeks.
“I just - didn’t know they were gonna be so big,” she admits, watching the horses with nervous eyes. “It’s kind of scary.”
“Scary? No, they’re not-” Emmett breaks off, staring at Ellen in surprise, then gets to his feet, dusting some hay off of himself. “Come on, I’ll show you.”
Ellen reluctantly follows him across the dimly-lit barn to the two horses. Molly gets up, shakes herself off, and sticks close to Emmett’s heels as he goes.
The nearest of the two horses shifts uneasily as they get closer, then lets out a sudden, high-pitched whinnying sound, ears swiveling. Ellen stops in her tracks and shrinks back, an anxious expression taking over her face.
But Emmett steps right up to the horse, unconcerned.
“S’alright,” he tells Ellen, speaking over his shoulder. “She’s just a little nervous around new people. Came to us from a bad place.”
Emmett turns back to the horse, who turns her head to look at him with wide, fretful eyes. He slowly lifts a hand and strokes the horse’s forehead and muzzle, with infinitely gentle, soft movements. The horse’s ears flick back forward after a moment, and she closes her big brown eyes, lowering her head into Emmett’s hands.
Emmett rests his forehead against the horse’s side, then turns and rests his cheek against her instead, murmuring in a quiet, subtle voice. Molly lays down again, yawns, and sleepily rests her chin on Emmett’s boot.
The horse stops shifting around, gradually going quiet and still again. Emmett smiles as he senses her calming down, his fingers still soothingly stroking her forehead.
Ellen stares wide-eyed at Emmett, suspended in perfect stillness and silence for a long moment - then presses her fingers to her cheeks as they start to glow with what must be a deep blush.
She drops her hands immediately as Emmett turns around and offers her one of his own. She blinks very fast, staring at him, then slowly takes it. Emmett gives her fingers a tug, drawing her up to the horse, then guides her hand to rest on the horse’s nose.
“See?” he murmurs, smiling at Ellen, looking at her with warm, shy eyes. “Nothing to be scared of.”
Ellen smiles shyly back, then giggles as the horse pushes her nose into her hands and snuffs her palms.
This seems like a good moment for me to gently remind them about the class I think they’ve both already forgotten about, so I get up and poke my head into the barn again.
“Hey, you two. Ready to get started?”
Ellen nods eagerly, but Emmett flinches, his smile falling.
“We’ll stay outside,” I quickly reassure Emmett, who immediately looks a little relieved. “Actually, I was thinking we might start at the chicken coop. Maybe you can help me with that, Emmett? I’d really appreciate it.”
Emmett stares at me in surprise, then nods slowly. “Yeah, okay.”
He falls into step beside Ellen as she crosses the barn to me. Molly keeps at his heels, and he winds a hand into her fur, taking a deeper breath.
“Hey,” he murmurs to Ellen, when we step outside. “D’you look up, yet? Since the sun went down?”
Ellen looks up, then lets out a soft, startled gasp.
I follow her gaze to the night sky, and find it spread with a riot of stars, some of them so fine that they form a blanket of glimmering stardust. There’s so little artificial light to cloud the view of them, out here. The night sky is a backdrop of purplish black velvet, heavy with an infinite sea of glittering diamonds.
Ellen stares up at the stars, frozen. Her mouth is slightly open, and her eyes are perfectly round with amazement, reflecting back the starlight.
Emmett lets out an elated little laugh as he takes in her expression, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been looking forward to you seein’ that.”
“Is it like this here every night?” she breathes, staring at the sky without blinking.
“When it’s not raining,” Emmett promises. He’s looking at Ellen, not the stars. “You can always come and see them again. Whenever you want. If you want.”
He says it with obvious, tentative hopefulness in his voice, but I don’t think he needs to worry.
I can tell from the expression on Ellen’s face that she’ll be back here soon enough, and only in part because of the stars.
Want to leave a comment? I would love it if you did, and you can do so on the Tapas episode!