That’s when I remember he must have been walking for half of the night to be here at six in the morning. “Come inside, I’ll put the kettle on and tell you what happened. You must be exhausted.” Together we start the fire in the wood-burner come stove contraption and not long after, the water is boiling.
“I’m pleased to see you can boil water.” Is he trying to make a joke or is he flirting with me? I ignore his comment and take two tea bags out of the tin and fill two mugs with hot water. If he is flirting, he’s wasting his breath, because I feel nothing for him. He’s my neighbor, and that’s it. Yes, I feel nervousness in my tummy, but that must be hunger. Heaven knows when I last had something to eat.
He pulls a second chair up to the table and takes a seat. “Why did you take off?”
I blow over the surface of my tea and look at him, trying to decide if I should go into lengthy, third-hand explanations of what happened, or if it’s okay with the Tribe if I push the notebook to him to read for himself. After waiting in vain for some kind of reaction from my fellow Tribe people I pass him the book.
“Here, read for yourself, because I wasn’t around for much of yesterday.”
While he reads, I sip my tea and watch his face. There are tiny signs that show me what he makes of our notes. The dilated pupil when something surprises him, a holding of breath, a twitching of the corner of his mouth, swallowing, a draining of color, a quick glance at me.
When he’s finished, he leans back and squints at me.
“What do you think of it?” The more I’m waiting for his verdict, the more I’m getting nervous. Have I misjudged him? Could he be on my—our—side? It’s getting hard to stay calm. If he doesn’t say something soon, I’ll strangle him. Maybe not, but I would like to. I can’t stand the tension.
“You can’t stay here. It’s not safe. I’m sure they are searching for Prince. I would like to get you away to somewhere safe. Out here, they’ll catch you sooner or later. I suggest we go to my place using a different route than you took to get here, take my truck and drive to Christchurch. I already spoke to my lawyer friend, and he’s keen to help.”
“It scares me to get closer to the police again. All my instincts urge me to put as much distance as possible between them and me.”
“And we will, but not on foot. You’ll freeze to death somewhere between Mount Aspiring and Mount Cook. We need to get wheels and from then on it should be plain sailing.”
I agree. But I’m aware I am not the only opinion that counts. At this moment I don’t just want approval from the Tribe, I need it. What if I overlook an important point or forget something that needs consideration? Because if they catch us that’s it. That’ll be the end of our dream. I have no illusions about that.
“Could you give me a little time to think about it? Perhaps you could fill my water bottles with fresh water?”
“Sure, but don’t take too long.” He grabs my two-liter milk containers and leaves the hut.
I close my eyes and concentrate on my inner world. Actually, not my inner world, but on the tree house as Sky described it once to me. I don’t think I’m getting it right, but visualizing the others sitting in a big circle seems to help. I can hear voices. Many voices. Not as many as with the choir I’m used to but still too many to distinguish among them.
“Please, one at a time. I don’t want to do anything that’s not right for everyone. I’d like your input. Scott says we are running out of time, and I believe he’s right. He found us, so the police can too.”
To my surprise, the voices stop. I never would have thought that to be possible. I only had to ask. And then I hear her. It must be Sky, soft-spoken with a silvery ring like a precious bell.
“Thank you for asking for our opinion. Yes, it’s me, Sky. I’m sorry we excluded you yesterday. It wasn’t on purpose. We all got swept away by the threat and our fear. Scott is making a good point. We won’t succeed without outside help. We trust your common sense.”
I can’t believe I’m having a conversation, a real conversation, with one of the others. How is that possible after all those years?
“My hunch is, it’s a matter of believing it’s possible, trusting the inner world, wanting to connect, and caring about other parts. After all, you are one of us, even if you didn’t know it.”
So, this is what Miss Marple calls talking to each other. She threw that in as if it’s a piece of cake that takes no effort at all. In fact, it was a rocky road coming to this point. It feels amazing and I’m feeling jealous about the other parts that seem to be able to talk to each other all the time.
“What did you decide?” Scott entered the hut and put the water bottles on the table. “Or haven’t you yet?”
“I have. It’s okay. We’ll go with your plan. Give me five minutes to pack and then we can go. Unless you need more rest before we leave?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m used to tramping for hours on end. I’ll wait for you outside.”
My mood is lifting, and I feel like dancing through the hut and singing. I’m no longer alone and fighting invisible time-thieves. We’ve built a bridge. We’ve found a viable path of communication.
What a beautiful day, what a beautiful moment.
I almost forget that there is a threat hanging over us that could take all that away and throw
