Chapter Two: Children of the Summer Wind

 

"Give me a push. My wheels are stuck," Windslow yelled over his shoulder at his older sister.

"I thought you said your new chair could go anywhere? Maybe you need to recharge the battery. I want to go back to the campsite anyway," Hillary said. She grabbed the handles at the back of her brother’s wheelchair. Before she gave it a shove, she used an edge on the back frame to scrape dirt off the side of her hiking boot.

Clear of the temporary obstruction, Windslow sped ahead. Hillary watched his brown hair bob up and down as the wheels of his all-terrain wheelchair bounced over the rough ground. She smiled to herself as she imagined his head as a giant pinecone and his freckles as seeds. Her friends thought she and Windslow looked alike. Their hair color and complexion gave them a similar look, so much that people often thought they were natural brother and sister instead of step. She wished he'd let her fix his hair. Cut short, it stuck out at odd angles. She tried to put gel in it once and he freaked.

"These stupid sticks are hard to roll over. My battery is fine," Windslow yelled as his chair rolled over dry needles and small dead branches from the trees. He looked up into the tall pines and stopped. Digging into his side pack, he searched for his bag of acorns. "Watch this."

He loaded an acorn into the leather pad of his slingshot. Holding the wood handle out straight, he pulled hard, stretching the rubber cords back to his chin. When he released the pad, the acorn flew high into the pine trees, clipping free a few needles as it whizzed through the branches. The crow hopped along the branch, cawed once, and flew away.

"You’re so mean," Hillary said. "When I filled up your acorn bag, you promised me that you wouldn’t shoot at any animals. This is a state park and you’re breaking the rules. Stop it or I’ll dump the whole bag in the trash."

"If you do, I’ll tell mom that you have makeup. You’re not supposed to use it until next year when you’re twelve. It’s stupid to wear it on a camping trip anyway."

"It is not stupid," Hillary said. She closed her tiny lipstick case and mirror and shoved it into the back pocket of her jeans. "Mom wouldn’t care."

"Then why do you wipe it off before we go back to the tents?" Windslow said and moved the joystick control for his chair to pivot around and face his stepsister. "You’ve got lipstick on now."

Hilary stuck her tongue out at him and ran ahead, deeper into the woods. After ducking behind the broad trunk of a pine tree, she pulled a small package of tissues from her shirt pocket and wiped her lips. "Ouch," she said and snapped open her lipstick case. She puckered, trying to curl up her lip. "Stupid braces. Who cares, or even knows what an overbite is anyway." She had to twist and turn the lipstick case to look at her lip in the skinny mirror. Before she put it away, she saw a small reddish chip of bark. It nearly matched the color of her hair and clung to her curls near her shoulder. As she pulled it out, she winced, flicked it away, and sighed.

She liked camping. Bill, her stepfather, knew a lot about the woods and was fun--most of the time. At least he made her mother happy. Windslow was fun too--at first. Hillary liked having a stepbrother. Windslow had been like Bill. Windslow laughed a lot and could think of fun things to do until the accident. Now instead of thinking up adventures, he just got her into trouble. She felt like his personal servant. But even worse, she felt guilty about the accident. It was her stuffed bear that he was trying to rescue. He liked to show off and had made her watch while he climbed up on the roof of their house. He slipped and fell when he held the bear up like a trophy over his head.

Hillary picked up a handful of dry pine needles and threw them. The gentle breeze blew them back at her. She scowled as she brushed them off her flannel shirt. She knew she should check on Windslow, but also knew he’d yell for her if he needed anything. And almost anything he wanted, he got, including most of the attention. She couldn’t imagine what not being able to walk must be like. But she missed the days when she and her mom would do things together. Now everything they did seemed to be for Windslow.

"Hillary? Hillary!"

Hillary jumped to her feet and ran back to the clearing. "Where are you?" she yelled.

"Look for my wheel tracks. I found something back in the trees. It’s the ruins of an old cabin."

His wheels hadn’t left a clear trail, but Hillary could see the direction he had gone and ran into the woods. "I can’t follow your tracks!" she yelled. "Say something."

"You sound louder. Keep coming. I’m in another clearing. I’ve got a new adventure for us. It starts at midnight."

"Sure!" she yelled as she walked fast through the trees. "An adventure for you, but I’ll just get grounded. It’s not fair that you never get punished."

"This chair is the ultimate grounding. How’d you like to trade?"

He was right, Hillary thought as she batted away a branch and then saw his tracks just to her left. She was lucky and shouldn’t complain. She ducked under a limb and saw him up ahead.

"Isn’t this cool?" he said. Windslow had the side of his chair up against the remains of an old stone chimney. He held a dead branch and jabbed it at the old hearth. "We haven’t had a good adventure since I got sentenced to this chair. Tonight, we’re going to have one."

"Why at night?" Hillary asked as she walked around the chimney. She poked at the stones with the toe of her hiking boot. "This is just an old cabin."

"We need to come here at midnight so we can call up ghosts. That’s the only time they come out, you know."

"How would you know?"

"TV. Remember? I watch a lot of it now. People who lived in old places like this didn’t use banks, either. Lots of them hid their valuables under the big rocks they made their fireplaces out of."

"Just because you’re changing it to a treasure adventure doesn’t mean I’ll do it. Mom and Bill won’t let us come here after dark. You know that. And I don’t think they’d want us here now either."

"You know they won’t do anything to me. They won’t even know. And it’s a ghost and treasure adventure. We need to call up a ghost to find out where the treasure is. Come on, Hillary. It’ll be fun. Just like the adventures we had before I got hurt trying to do something nice for you." Windslow dropped the stick and drove his chair around the chimney to where his stepsister stood. "Please, Hillary?"

"All right," she agreed. She knew it was useless to argue when he had his mind set. And after all, he was right. He used to do nice things for her all the time and she had encouraged him to show off that afternoon. She wanted to impress her friends and had them come watch when he climbed up on the roof. She bragged to her friends that she could get him to do anything for her. Maybe the tables had turned because she acted silly that day. She didn't want to let those dark thoughts drag her back down again. Hillary forced a smile and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder. "But if I get grounded, I’m going to let the air out of your wheels."

"You’re the best, sis. We better get back to the campsite. I need to recharge my battery for tonight. Grab an armful of those sticks over there. We’ll use them to mark the trail. Put one over there," Windslow said, pointing as he drove his chair back toward the trees. "And another one there."

Hillary grabbed some of the dried sticks. Each time he pointed, she either sighed or shook her head and then shoved a stick into the ground. Twice she threw one at him, but missed.

***

"Windslow," Hillary said softly as she ducked inside his tent and knelt beside her brother.

"It’s about time you got here," he said. "Help me outside."

"How am I supposed to do that? I can’t lift you. And how are you going to get into your chair?"

"Easy. Just grab the blanket, wrap it around my feet and pull. Help me roll over onto my stomach first. Then I can push with my hands."

"This is stupid," Hillary said.

"Just do it. We need to get there before midnight."

With his sister’s help, Windslow rolled over onto his stomach. He looked back over his shoulder and watched Hillary wrap the end of the blanket around his boots. "Pull," he said and began pushing with his hands.

Hillary strained and pulled. She was surprised that the blanket slid easily on the grass. It was like dragging a big pile of dry leaves on a canvas. Just like they did before his accident, when they raked the yard. But he was heavier than a pile of leaves and she knew he’d be the only one having fun this time.

The bigger challenge was getting him into his chair. Together they struggled, whispered a few sarcastic words back and forth, and finally managed to get him in the seat. When they heard Bill cough, they looked at the tent-trailer where their parents slept. The night stayed silent, except for the spring peepers calling down by the pond.

"Push me until we’re away from the tent," Windslow whispered.

"Great adventure," Hillary whispered back a bit louder than he had. "I think it’s just going to be a lot of work for me. And look over there. That’s lightning off in the distance. There might be a storm coming. Maybe we--"

"Maybe you should push. This is our last chance. We go home tomorrow."

Hillary was about to give his chair a shove that he wouldn’t forget. As she pushed, he moved the chair’s joystick forward and sped ahead. She nearly fell before she caught her balance.

"Would you warn me before you do that?" she snapped, then ran ahead to catch up with him. Windslow suddenly stopped and she ran into the back of his chair.

"Watch out," he said to her and began searching his pack. "You could get hurt. One of us in a chair is enough. Maybe if I wasn’t stuck in this thing, I could be a better brother and watch out for you."

Hillary wanted to both smack him and hug him. It was nice when he was like he used to be. ‘In the time before the chair,’ as Windslow would say. "Wait," she said and ran back to her tent. When she returned she carried a shawl, knitted from pale yellow yarn. "Here," she said and handed the shawl to her brother. "It’s the one mom knitted for me with our names in it. Just in case you get cold."

"If she finds out you brought this camping she’ll have a hyper-spaz. But thanks. Here." He handed his sister a long flashlight with a shiny red-metal case. "I fixed mine up with Velcro. Watch." He smiled at her after he pressed his flashlight against the side of the chair’s armrest and the light stayed in place. "Come on," he said and pushed his joystick forward. "We’re late for our meeting with the ghosts who are going to make us rich. What are you going to buy with your share?"

"A new servant for you so I can go on a vacation," she mumbled.

***

Black of night and midnight blue from the approaching storm chased colors away from the forest. The longer meadow grass bowed to puffs of wind the storm chased ahead of it through the valleys in the foothills. Night creatures sniffed the air and scurried back into den or thicket, giving the night up to those more courageous or foolhardy. They granted this night to the two children of the wind who moved steadily toward the ruins. Hovering high in readiness the clouds flashed with far off lightning and hid the ruins below from the stars, moon, and all else above.

"Windslow, it is going to storm. I saw lightning again. Maybe we should go back," Hillary said and unconsciously clutched her lucky crystal pendant, hanging from a thin chain around her neck.

"We’re almost there. Look," he said as the beam from his flashlight swept across the stones of the chimney up ahead. "Besides, it’s almost midnight."

When they reached the ruins, Windslow tried to move his chair close to the chimney. As he struggled with his chair, the wind puffed stray gusts, cooler than the others. Hillary felt their chill and took the shawl from her brother’s lap and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"That’s as close as you’re going to get," she told her brother. "Let’s just get started. I don’t like this adventure. We’re going to get rained on. And if you catch cold, mother is going to--"

"Hillary. Look there. At that stone. I saw something when the lightning flashed. Help me out of my chair."

"Windslow. What are you doing?"

Hillary moved to her brother, who rocked his chair, trying to get out of it by himself. "All right. Here. Put your arms around me."

She strained while Windslow helped with his arms. Moving him barely ten inches at a time, she boosted him closer to the chimney until he could lean against the pile of round stones.

"There," Windslow said and pointed. "Brush off the hearthstone, that big flat one. That’s where I saw it."

"Saw, what?"

"I don’t know. Something. When the lightning flashed. It was like the stone turned into a big block of ice. I could almost see through it. I wish it would lightning again."

"If you’re doing this to scare me," Hillary yelled at her brother, "then you have! Let’s go back. I don’t want any more lightning and your chair might attract it. Did you ever think of that?"

"Good. I want to find out what I saw. There. See that?"

Lightning flashed again, still far off. In the seconds between the flash and the distant thunder, the large two-foot square hearthstone turned nearly clear, like cloudy glass.

Brother and sister huddled together, each trying to get a better view of the stone. A stronger gust of cold air swirled past them. The wind rushed into trees and rattled a dead branch against a hollow trunk. Windslow sat up straight and looked into the forest as the branch kept rapping.

Hillary gave a short scream when she heard the sound. "What was that?"

"I don’t know. Maybe just the wind. It was nothing," Windslow said. "Get my backpack."

Hillary stayed on her hands and knees and scrambled to her brother’s chair. She unsnapped the bag and dragged it back to the chimney.

"What are you doing?" Hillary asked when her brother pulled out his slingshot and pouch of acorns.

"Just in case," he answered and put an acorn into the leather slingshot pad.

Wind buffeted the trees, announcing the closeness of the storm. The dead branch broke loose and crashed to the ground. Windslow pulled back on the acorn, stretching the rubber bands tight. Both Hillary and Windslow screamed when one of the cords snapped. The acorn flew back, ricocheted off the chimney and struck Hillary in the cheek.

"Ow!" Hillary held both hands to the side of her face and began crying. "You shot me," she said between sobs. "Look. You cut me!" She grabbed her brother’s flashlight and held her hand under the beam. Her palm had a smear of blood on it.

"It’s not that bad. I’m really sorry, Hillary. I--" Windslow’s mouth stayed open, but his words stopped. He stared down at the hearthstone.

Hillary looked at his expression and she couldn’t tell if she saw fear or excitement. She knew he wasn’t pretending. "Windslow?"

"Look. No wait. Sit up a little," he said and used one hand to push her back.

Hillary sniffed and swept her hand across her cheek, both to wipe away the blood from the tiny cut on her face and her tears.

"Give me the flashlight." Not waiting he grabbed it from her. "Lean forward again. Just a bit. Let your lucky crystal dangle into the light."

"Windslow, what--"

"Do it, Hillary. Do it! It makes something happen." He looked up at her, his eyes bright. "This is working. There’s something here. Really."

She leaned forward until her crystal pendant hung over the hearthstone. Windslow moved the beam from the flashlight around until the tiny rainbow of light from the glass prism washed across the stone. Lightning flashed. The hearthstone turned milky white, then slowly turned clear as glass. While Windslow and Hillary stared at the clear stone, a single tear ran down the edge of Hillary’s nose and splashed near the rainbow. The clear stone shimmered. The change startled her and she sat up straight. Her quick movement shook a drop of blood from her cheek. It landed next to her tear.

Lightning flickered close this time. Thunder boomed and shook the ground. The hearthstone was gone.

"Don’t touch it," Hillary said. She grabbed her brother, trying to force him back from the space where the hearthstone had been. "It could be--"

"Let me go!" Windslow yelled and wrenched his shoulder away from her hold. He fell forward and tried to thrust his hand into the hole. Hillary pinned him down.

The wind kicked up stray blades of grass and twigs. Lightning crackled in drawn out choruses that ended in loud, ground shaking booms. Hillary had to let go of her brother to grab the fallen flashlight.

"Hillary, it’s a book. Didn’t you see it? Help me reach it and then we can get out of here. All of this is starting to scare me too."

She swept the light down into the hole as Windslow tried to get a look. His hand brushed his pouch of acorns and a single nut fell into the hole. They watched the acorn roll across the studded leather cover. When it touched the clasp that held the book closed, the acorn stopped. With a loud "click" it turned to brass and the leather strap fell away.

They both sat up and hugged each other when they heard the clear yet whispering voice carried on the wind that swirled around them.

Book in a stone stays out of sight.

Seek with a rainbow in the night.

Tears from a girl with an overbite.

Nut with a cap where the pine cones fall.

Names of love in a mother’s shawl.

Laughs from a boy who ain't too tall.

Lightning reveals.

A tear unseals.

Blood heals.

Windslow grabbed the book.