It Is Said (Mathias Bootmaker and the Keepers of the Sandbox) (7 page)

“Gladly,” he said with a smile as he sat and began making notes.

Then the woman noticed Mathias. She looked directly at him, and Mathias felt something tug inside him. His heart was drawn to her. For a moment there was concern on her face. Then there was great joy.

“Mathias,” she called out.

The children all turned.

“Mathias!” they all shouted.

All Mathias had for them was a simple wave.

“Now everyone,” Margery said to her class to get their attention. “What are the three most important parts of a story?”

“The beginning, the middle and the end!” they all shouted.

“Excellent as always. Now off with you, my son is here,” she shouted back as they all ran out of class. “Go dress for the gathering. Celebrate mightily. But remember, I must have tall tales and short stories from you when you return.”

The children all ran past and around Mathias and the little engineer. Margery came down the aisle behind them. She never took her eyes off of her son.

“Mathias Bootmaker,” she scolded as she got closer. “You need to visit your mother more often.”

Mathias looked into his mother’s eyes. There was a spark there.

“Mother Bootmaker,” the little engineer interrupted gently, “my poem is ready. I’ve made some changes. I think they made it even better. May I read it to you?”

“Of course, Robbie,” she said. “Now go by the wagon and wait for me. Center yourself. Prepare for your reading.”

The boy turned and went. Mathias could see him pulling his pocket watch out again to check the time. He closed it with a snap as he sat beneath one of the trees.

“He’s presenting his poem in the castle courtyard today as part of the celebration. He’s nervous, but he’ll be just fine.”

“He also has a train to catch,” Mathias added.

“Yes, he does,” she said. “He’s smitten with a conductor on that very same train.”

“Is he now?”

“Oh yes. Lovely girl. Her name is Lynn,” she whispered. “He has secured seating for her and her family at the castle courtyard ceremony.”

“I assume that took some doing?”
 

“He was determined,” she said with a laugh. “But, as the time gets closer, he’s realizing the position he’s put himself into. Now, let me look at you. Take down that hood.”

Mathias did as he was told.

“There’s my boy!” she exclaimed with delight.

She kissed him on both his cheeks and drew him into a very strong and very familiar hug. The smell of flowers came next. That seemed familiar too.

“Come, walk with me,” she said as she took him by the arm.

Mathias felt safe in this space with this woman as they walked to the wagon together. There was a gentility here that seemed to hold the activity of Sandbox Harbor at bay.

“What’s going on in the village?” Mathias asked his escort.

“Is this a riddle?”

“I wish that it were,” he said. “Humor me.”

“We’re preparing to walk the path.”

“Is the path the road I see?”

“Yes, Mathias,” she said, “it leads to the castle and we’re going to the castle for the gathering, but you know this. It’s your favorite time of year.”

There it was again, the absence of a memory. It was his favorite time of year, his favorite celebration he was sure. Yet, all he wanted to do was get away from it.

Mathias and the woman who called him son sat together on the wagon steps. She took his hand in hers.

“Mathias, what’s wrong?” she asked with concern.

Mathias didn’t completely recognize this stranger that was supposed to be his mother. She could be one of the many players here in Sandbox Harbor. But there was something in the sound of her voice, there was a tone that struck a chord with him.

“I think I’m lost in a story,” Mathias said without really knowing what that meant.

“Oh my,” she said with a sigh. “What form is it taking?”

Mathias didn’t really know what that meant either, but he had a good guess.

“I’ve been having bad dreams,” he tried. “Nightmares.”

“Do you remember them?”

“No. I just wake feeling lost.”

“Are there gaps in your waking memory?”

“I have no memories in my mind,” he said. “None, at least, that I can keep a hold of.”

“Do you remember me?” she asked with a quiver in her voice.

Mathias didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“I can feel we have a connection,” he said carefully. “But I don’t recognize you.”

“That’s your mind at work, or not at work in this case,” she said clearing her throat. “What does your heart tell you?”

“My heart and my mind are telling me to be cautious,” he admitted honestly. “But to be open to possibilities.”

“Smart boy,” she said. “With a bit of me and much of your father.”

“Where is my father?” Mathias asked. “The bookbinder said I should look for him.”

The woman stared at Mathias for a moment. He could see her mind begin to wander. She looked down at her hands as she smoothed her dress. Her eyes shifted to his feet.

“Mathias,” she said, “are those your bedroom slippers?”

“Yes,” he said with a small laugh, “I left the house rather quickly.”

“Those will not do,” Margery said as she stood. “You need a proper shoe for the rest of your journey.”

His mother stood up and went into the wagon.

Mathias waited and watched as Robbie paced back and forth, silently reciting his work. Robbie had a task and a destination. Mathias envied him.

The door to the wagon slapped shut, and Margery came down the steps with a box. She sat down next to him and placed the box on his lap. It was gold in color. It had the texture of sand. It sparkled in the light. Mathias pulled at the white ribbon that held it shut.

“The Bootmakers have provided shoes to our people for a very long time,” she explained as he removed the top of the box, “and now our family provides the footwear for every story we tell.”

Inside the box, resting on a bed of silky, gold fabric was a pair of beautiful black boots. They were plain but sturdy. The lines of each boot were perfect. The black stitching was placed and spaced with great care. Stitched in white, into the outside of each bootleg, was a blazing ball of radiating light.

“Your father loved crafting a good shoe. It was not his first creative love, but he did enjoy it.”

“Did he make these?” Mathias asked as he slipped off his bed slippers.

“Yes, he did,” she said.

Mathias took the boots out of the box. Margery took the box, and the ribbon and set them to the side. She watched as her son slipped each one of his father’s creations on. Mathias stood up and let himself settle into them. They were just the right fit.

“They feel comfortable,” he said to her. “They look new, but feel well lived in.”

Margery took her son’s hand in hers again and pulled him down to sit next to her.

“Mathias, your father died some time ago,” she said plainly. “Those boots were his. He wanted you to have them once I thought they would fit you.”

He didn’t hear what the woman who said she was his mother said next. Her lips were moving. Her eyes were sincere, but the words themselves were silent.

Somewhere in his forgotten mind, Mathias had lost his father.

“He would have been so honored to call you son,” he heard her say as his mind returned. “We have our sadness in Sandbox Harbor, but we’ve learned to celebrate the joy in every life. Look at the people, Mathias. Your father helped to make all this happen, and so did you.”

“I have no memory of that,” he said. “I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember this place. I don’t even know what I should do next. I’m not even sure any of this is real.”

“You are my son, Mathias Bootmaker, and it is no wonder you returned here. Sandbox Harbor is our safe haven, even in our dreams,” she said warmly. “But this is no dream. This is all very real.”

There was so much love and caring in her eyes. This must be his mother. Mathias felt that tug in his heart again. He wasn’t sure what or who he could trust, but he decided to trust this woman.

“Is he staring a hole in the back of my head?” she asked.

“Who?”

“Little Robbie.”

Mathias looked. The boy was standing there staring.

“I think he’s about to burst.”

“Mother Bootmaker, I’m ready now!” Robbie shouted proudly and impatiently.

“He knows we’re talking about him,” she said.

Mathias looked. Robbie was on his toes leaning forward to listen.

“I believe he does.”

Margery turned towards the boy.

“Alright little man, I’ve kept you waiting long enough,” she said. “Take your place at the head of the class. I will sit in the last row.”

Margery took Mathias by the hand and together they walked to the last row.

“Why sit there, Mother Bootmaker?” the boy asked.

“We must make sure you are heard. The castle courtyard is a vast space. You must smartly add lung power to the power of your words. There’s magic in that.”

Margery turned her attention back to her son. She put her hands on either side of his face. Gave him one kiss each, on his cheeks, and one on his forehead. She then hugged Mathias deeply.

“Walk the path to the castle, Mathias,” she whispered in his ear. “They’re expecting you there, and the walk will help clear your head. We’ll all be there soon. After the Gathering, you and I will sit and chat and tell stories of our own.”

Margery let Mathias go and went to attend to young Robbie. The boy was at the head of the class as directed. He folded his written poem and slid it into a pocket in his overalls. Robbie then pulled out his watch to check the time again.

“Don’t worry about the time, Robbie,” Margery said as she took a seat in the last row.

“Yes, Mother Bootmaker,” the boy said.

“When you’re ready, please begin.”

“Yes, Mother Bootmaker,” the boy said again.

As Robbie took a breath to center himself, so did Mathias. He was looking down the path. He had no idea what to expect from it. Like Robbie, Mathias wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into.

5.

Walking the Path

At this moment, the life of Mathias Bootmaker would not fill the shortest chapter in the cleverest of books. The puzzle pieces that made up his existence were scattered about in his mind, and they could not be reassembled because there was no clear picture to begin with.

As the woman he assumed and felt in his heart was his mother had suggested, Mathis travelled down the only road from town. He was hoping that the walk would help put his jumbled thoughts to rest. Help him see clearly. Mathias was also seeking refuge, sanctuary. A place he could go to and come back from in calmness.