The Wayward Gifted - Broken Point (12 page)

“I’m waiting Samantha Leigh,” Olivia
took a deep breath.

Still seated, Sam slowly lifted the
book from the table and held it high above her head. Using her full range of
motion she sent the thing flying across the room. The book barely missed a
decorative table holding Olivia’s special collection of crystal flowers and
angels. It hit the wall, ricocheted across the room, and slid over the table as
it raked the crystal pieces, one crashing into the other, pulling them down
onto the hardwood floor before landing on top of the newly shattered glass. Sam
threw the gloves across the room. She put her hands in the cake, grabbed a
fistful and threw it at her mother. She ran out the door crying and shouting,
“I wanted the paints!”

Steuart, up from his seat, turned to
his mother and began yelling, “
Cherry
Matzo!
She wanted the paints.
Cherry
Matzo
! My sister wanted the paints! Why don’t you care about us? My sister
wanted the paints!” He put his hands in the remaining mess of cake and threw it
on his mother’s dress before running out of the house into the cold November
night screaming “
Cherry Matzo!
”

Sam ran down the trail towards the
towers, over the bridge, crossed the river, jumped down, and crossed the brook.
She jumped up, leapt across the railroad tracks, and continued into the
Preserve. She ran to the tree house that she and Steuart discovered on their
first day in town, climbed the ladder and sat against the back corner wall.
Steuart quickly joined his sister. The two sat together sobbing. The night was cold,
snowy and black.

* * *

Sam and Steuart sat huddled together
shivering in the darkness. “This is the worst day of my entire life,” Sam
cried.

Steuart sat close to his sister. “You
might have picked a better night to run away. We should have grabbed our
coats.”

“You think I planned this? I wanted to
paint tonight. I feel like such an idiot.”

“I wish you hadn’t run out of the
house.”

“You didn’t have to follow me.”

“Yes, I did.”

“I was stupid. I should have known that
she wasn’t going to give me what I asked for. You tried to tell me.”

“You were just hoping.”

Sam continued crying, “Why did she give
me that stupid book? I don’t even believe it. I hate that book.”

“She wants us to be grown.”

“I know. She said there’s one waiting
for you too.”

“We’re in big trouble.”

“I don’t care. I never want to see or
talk to her again.”

“You’re angry. You aren’t serious.”

“I am serious. I don’t want to see her
ever again—as long as I live.”

Steuart shivered, “Eventually we’ll
have to go home.”

“Not me. I don’t care if I’m homeless,
eating out of dumpsters, and living in ditches for the rest of my life. Anything
is better than living with her. I’ll live under a bridge if I have to. Go back
when you get ready. I’m staying here.”

A noise came from the ladder, followed
by a light. Sam continued crying. She had trouble catching her breath.

“Great,” Steuart reached for his
sister, “I told you this would happen.”

They huddled together in the corner.
“You kids must be freezing.” A woman carrying a lantern stepped into the tree
house.

Sam and Steuart stared.

“Who are you?” the woman asked. “What
are you doing out here on a night like this?”

Sam used her most sarcastic voice, “We
could ask you the same thing.”

“I’m wearing a coat. I’m also wearing a
hat, a scarf, and gloves. You will also notice that, unlike you, I have warm
fuzzy boots on my feet. The two of you are not even wearing coats. Who are you?
Where did you come from?”

“We’re not allowed to talk with
strangers,” Steuart said.

“Excuse me,” the woman responded. “This
is my tree house. It appears that you’re the strangers.” She pointed out the
door and up the hill. “That’s my home. This is my property.”

Sam shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m Ceil Nunstern. Now we’re
acquainted. Are you okay?”

“We’re fine.” Sam said

“Do you have a bad cold? This is not a
good night to be roaming around, especially if you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick.”

“Do you live close by? I’ve never seen
you before.”

“We’re okay. We just need a place to
sit for a while. Is that a problem?”

“Yes, that’s a problem.”

“Why? We’re not bothering anything. We
won’t be here long.”

“That doesn’t matter. This is a
terrible place to sit during a snowstorm. The temperature is dropping fast and
this place is not heated. You could get sick. We’re expecting at least a foot
of snow tonight. You could get frostbite. If you stay out here long enough, you
could freeze to death.”

Steuart grabbed his sister and
whispered, “We’re too young to freeze.”

“It doesn’t matter where we live. We’re
fine,” Sam tried to back away from the woman, but there was nowhere to go.

“It matters to me.”

“Why?” Sam and Steuart asked.

“It matters because you’re in my tree
house. That makes both of you a liability.”

“What’s the problem?” Steuart asked.
“What’s the liability?”

“Let’s see. I am an adult and you are
not. This is my house.
 
I found you
here. That makes me responsible because you’re on my property. I can’t just
leave you here in freezing weather and pretend that I never saw you. It’s late
and it’s not safe.”

“Not safe?” Steuart asked.

The woman nodded, “That’s what I said. The
temperature’s dropping and we’re going to have a lot of snow.”

“Ma’am,” Steuart responded, “we don’t
know you.”

“No,” Sam repeated and shook her head.
“We don’t know you.”

“I don’t know you either. Does that
mean I can’t help you?”

“Yes it does. My brother told you;
we’re not allowed to talk with strangers.”

“I see. You can’t talk to strangers,
but you can run into a stranger’s yard and climb into a stranger’s tree house
late at night?”

Steuart looked at Sam and whispered
into her ear, “She’s got us on that one. I’m cold.”

“Maybe you’re dangerous,” Sam said
squinting and shivering.

“Why should we tell you anything?”
Steuart asked. “Maybe this isn’t even your tree house.”

“I see.” Ceil pursed her lips and took
a deep breath. She shook her head and thought for a moment. “Not my tree
house—maybe it’s not. Maybe I just came walking out into the snow for a
stroll on a freezing night during a snowstorm. Maybe I just decided to climb
into a tree house that has no heat or lighting with the hope of finding children
to harass me. Yeah, that makes a lot of sense.”

“It’s possible,” Sam said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you walk around the Preserve
late at night looking for children to murder and put into stew,” Steuart said.

“You’re obviously very bright and
imaginative, but we still have a problem. I can’t leave two runaway children
alone in weather of this kind. I’m not playing.”

“We’re not runaways,” Sam said.

“Looks like it to me. You have a choice.
We can talk about why you’re here. You can tell me what this is about.” Ceil
paused and wrinkled her forehead, “Has someone hurt you?”

“No.”

“Do you need to see a doctor? Do I need
to contact the police?”

Sam and Steuart shook their heads.

“Are you in danger? Do they need to
come to your home?”

“No,” Steuart said.

“I need you to work with me.”

Sam groaned, “Why can’t you just leave
us alone?”

“Because I can’t. We’re going to have
to come up with a plan. You can tell me what this is about, or, the alternative
is that I can get help from emergency professionals and report that I’ve found
two runaway children. You can work with me, or with them. It’s up to you.” She
leaned against the wall.

“We live on the other side of the
river,” Sam said. “I’m Sam.”

“We’re sort of new here,” Steuart said.
“I’m Steuart.”

“I see,” she nodded. “It’s nice to meet
you Sam and Steuart. Now that we’re friends let’s walk up to my house and continue
this discussion where it’s warm. I don’t know how the two of you are able to
sit here without proper clothing.”

Sam and Steuart were miserable but
refused to go to Ceil’s house. Instead, they quickly told her everything. They
told her about the day, about the book, about the watercolors, about the
tantrum and about visiting the tree house on their first day in town.

“I’m sorry you’ve had such a bad day,”
Ceil said. “Your mother must be terribly worried about both of you. The only
way to straighten things out is for you to go home and make them right.”

“No,” Sam shook her head and raised her
voice, “I’m never going home again.”

“Are you certain? That’s a long time.”

“You don’t understand. You don’t know
our mother. You have no idea what it’ll be like for us at home.”

“Do we need to have someone go with you
to your home? I’ve already told you, I can call for help.”

“No!” Sam insisted.

Ceil sighed, “You know where you don’t
want to go. Do you know where you want to be? We need to come up with an
answer.”

Sam was silent. Steuart was too. Ceil
offered to drive them home. “We’re not allowed in cars with strangers,” Sam said.

“We know our way home,” Steuart insisted.
“We can walk. It’s close.”

Sam agreed, “It’s very close.”

“Okay, I understand. But, It’s time for
you to go home. Your mother must be worried sick.”

“You can’t say that,” Sam insisted.
“You don’t know her.”

“What do I need to know?”

“She worries about herself, that’s
all,” Steuart said.

“She has rules,” Sam said, “According
to Mother and her
Right, Good, and
Appropriate
handbook, children…”

“Must obediently follow the rules,”
Steuart said.

“
That’s
the book you were given?” Ceil asked. “I know that book.”

“That’s the book.” Sam continued,
“Children may participate and talk. They must not talk very often. Children
speak when spoken to and they must ask permission if they want to speak in
company. Badly behaved children are punished.”

Steuart shook his head vigorously, “It’s
not pretty.”

“Rules, rules, rules. Children are
allowed to laugh,” Sam pretended a weak laugh.

“But not laugh too often, or too
loudly,” Steuart added.

“Children may occasionally eat sweets,”
Sam continued as her teeth chattered.

“Infrequently,” Steuart finished.

“Children can be creative,” Sam.

“Only within boundaries,” Steuart.

“Children cannot be pampered, for fear
that they will become hopeless emotional cripples.”

“Who knows exactly how much is too much
in these situations?” Ceil asked.

“That, of course, is the adult who is
in charge, the adult who is reading and interpreting the book,” Sam looked at
her brother as he nodded.

“There are definite restrictions
regarding everything,” Steuart added. “There are rules for when you get up,
when you go to bed, what you say, how you think, where you go, what you wear,
what you don’t wear, what you eat, what you don’t eat, with whom you choose to
spend your time, and there are rules for what you ultimately become.”

“It sounds as if you’ve got that down,”
Ceil looked out the door. “The snow is really coming down.”

“There are even rules about when and
where you can go to a bathroom,” Steuart said.

“We’re giving you the tip of the
iceberg,” Sam looked at Steuart.

“She’s right.”

“Your mother has rules. I get it. Some
of them sound sensible, some others maybe not so much. It’s not my place to
say, but you’re going to find that life is filled with rules. And as you get
older you’ll learn which rules apply…”

“We’re supposed to follow
all
of the rules,” Steuart said. “If we
don’t follow all the rules bad things will happen for eternity.”

Ceil shrugged, “We don’t have time for
that discussion tonight. Right now we have to address your immediate situation.
The issue is that you are underage. Unless you are being abused, you must go
home.”

“I hate this,” Sam insisted.

“There’s nothing more I can do. We’re
not talking about a rule. We’re talking about the law. All homes have rules. You’ll
find some are stricter than others. You may not like them, but going home to
household rules is better than staying out in the cold and freezing, unless
there is something you’re not telling me. Are you certain that you’re not in
danger? If you are, I can get help.”