River

Gregor

Today is the day that I will deliver Dalila and Ayola to Homochitto. She has healed, and I cannot keep them here with me forever.

“You could, though.”

“You know I can’t. Not here. Not if I want to carry on with the steamboat project. I have everything planned out. If I was to try to steal them away from Stephen and Margaret it would all have to change.”

Wolk shrugs his wolf shoulders. He knows what I am trying to do. And he knows that with Homochitto being much closer to Natchez, I will be more readily available in any emergency. I certainly never expected the problem which arose at Ellis Cliffs, but I cannot see anything like that happening at Stephen and Margaret’s plantation. They will be only minutes away with how fast Issoba can run, Wolk will always monitor them for me, and I feel that Ayola’s safety is assured more certainly at Homochitto, without Abraham’s erratic presence looming as it was at Ellis Cliffs. I wonder how things are going there, with the Ellis family. I have not heard from Thomas and Samuel, and it has been nearly a week.

I am in my study, waiting for the rest of the house to awaken. The sun has not yet risen, but it will soon. The early dawn is starting to shift the sky through the window from black to a grayish purple. I have papers regarding the dock project strewn on the desk before me, but I am not focusing on them. I have been neglecting my duties with the dock this whole week. I am thinking about Ayola, and how I will miss having her here with me. It has been a remarkable week. We have both grown accustomed to the woosh that we feel together, and I know we will both miss it.

“Ayola is awake, darling, but Dalila still sleeps.”

I quietly steal back up the stairs, and push open the door to the guest room where they have been sleeping. Ayola’s Guardian tells her that I am coming, and she carefully climbs out of bed and slips to the floor. I see her walking towards me in the dark. Wolk has told me that she can see in the dark as well. She walks far more confidently than any other child of her age.

When she reaches the door I pick her up, then quietly close the door behind her. Dalila won’t be alarmed when she wakes up and finds her daughter gone. We have done this almost every morning they have been here.

“Good morning, Ayola,” I whisper into her ear, as I carry her down the stairs.

“Woosh,” she replies.

I smile and plant a little kiss on the top of her curly head. “Indeed. Woosh.” It never diminishes, every time we touch, the rush of delight that comes from our contact.

I help her use the chamber pot, one of the ways that she is more advanced than other children her age. Then I take her into the kitchen for some breakfast, some sliced fruit and biscuits. We sit together while she eats, and the light coming through the windows grows brighter.

It is still the very end of summer, and even though the sun is not quite up, it is warm enough outside to take the baby out there. I stop by the parlor where the tiny baby shoes that I obtained for her are waiting, and help her put them on, then we go for a little walk in the garden.

I see that overnight the humidity in the air has condensed into a fog, which is clinging like a low mist all along the river.

We hold hands, and I don’t mind having to lean over so that we can stay in contact as we stroll. We wander up and down through the rows of vegetables Moses has planted in the garden, and I tell her the names of the things that are growing there. She repeats every name. I am adoring her little face, the caramel brown skin exactly matching the color of her eyes, her dark curly hair framing her baby features, as she carefully forms each word that she is learning.

When we get to the edge of the hill overlooking the river, she seems somehow excited by the view. She points to the mist curling along the water, and says, “That?” This means, “what is that called”. I have heard her ask this question many times.

“Do you mean the river?” I ask her.

“No. That.” She points again, with emphasis.

“Wolk?” I silently ask him.

“She means the fog, the mist. It reminds her of what she sees when she looks at her Guardian.”

“Ah! You see the fog there along the water, yes? It is like a cloud laying there on the river. It is very misty.”

“Misty?” she asks.

“Yes, it is misty.”

She smiles, looks to the side, points, and declares, “Misty!”

Wolk grins with delight. “I knew this would happen, my dear.”

“What?”

“Just as you named me, Ayola has named her Guardian. For the mist that she sees along the river. Her Guardian’s name is Misty.”

“You have named your Guardian Misty, haven’t you, Ayola?” I ask her.

She nods emphatically.

“That is a lovely name for her. Remember, though, my dear, like I have told you, keep that a secret, just for you and me. Nobody else can see our Guardians. Only you. Only me. Nobody else would understand, so we don’t talk about them to anybody else.”

“Only you, only me,” she repeats, and I know she understands.

Silently, so that her Guardian can hear, I say with a smile, “Welcome, Misty.”

Ayola’s

Wolk predicted that this would happen, but nevertheless I was not prepared for it.

I have been named!

I am Misty.

I am overwhelmed with emotions, joy foremost among them.

Wolk says, “Congratulations, my friend. Misty. You are part of a very small group of named Guardians. Welcome to the club!”

It is the most meaningful development of my existence, excepting only the moment that I realized Ayola’s status as a Seer at her birth.

It will take me a long time to adjust to my new reality, my new name.

Misty.

“Misty,” Ayola addresses me, looking at me with a smile.

“Thank you, my darling, for my name. I love the name Misty. I am very happy to be Misty for you.”

Rosy’s

As my beloved sleeps, I observe Gregor as usual. I have developed the habit of watching him as intently as I watch my own dearest human. His behavior is the only clue I have to observe and learn anything that might affect Rosalind.

He and the child are walking together in the garden, and when I overhear their conversation I discover something I had not contemplated before. “Nobody else can see our Guardians,” he tells the baby.

They can see their Guardians.

They are Seers?

This must be it, the secret he keeps, the reason behind all of his mysterious and inexplicable actions.

He is a Seer.

Somehow, my beloved has married the most unique of all humans, and I had no idea until I overheard his quiet conversation with a baby. Who is apparently also, somehow, a Seer.

An overwhelming rush of understanding and amazement floods through me. I begin to re-evaluate everything I know about him in this new light, and realize that it all makes so much more sense now. Why he always can guess the thoughts of his wife, why he can anticipate so much of what is happening, why he often seems so isolated from other humans. I wonder if it explains some of his other unusual characteristics, his lack of sleep, his eyesight, the strange comfort that he brought to my beloved with his touch the night before he proposed to her. There is still so much that I do not know.

Foremost is that I do not understand why his thoughts are hidden from me. And the child’s, I had realized as soon as Rosalind met Ayola for the first time. I did not know that Seer thoughts were hidden from other Guardians. But as I have never encountered a Seer before, I do not know whether this is typical of their kind or not.

Suddenly, Gregor stops walking, and sputters out a brief laugh. “Well, apparently I’ve done it now,” he murmurs. The child looks up at him questioningly. “I told you to keep our secret, darling, and in doing so I have revealed it.” She does not appear to understand, and he shrugs. “Never mind, sweetheart, let’s keep walking.” Her tiny hand clasped in his as he leans to the side to keep hold of her, he continues their stroll. As he does so, he whispers aloud, but very quietly, too softly for the child to discern what he is saying. I am shocked to realize that he addresses me.

Me!

“Hello, Rosalind’s Guardian,” he greets me, obviously knowing I have been here all along. “Sorry for keeping the secret from you. My Guardian maintains my privacy for me. But I think I am glad you know. You should also know that I love Rosalind, and I will always do what is best for her. You can ask Wolk any questions you have.”

The morning of astonishment continues to unfold, when his Guardian, apparently with a name, Wolk, then addresses me as well. Guardians speaking to Guardians! Will the shocks never end?

“I am the reason Gregor’s thoughts are concealed,” the strangely formed Guardian informs me, the wolf apparition regarding me. “I have been hiding our thoughts for a long time, it seeming safest for my beloved to have secrecy from all others. Until we met the little Seer. He has authorized me to answer any questions you might have.”

I regard the wolf manifestation, too astonished to speak. I have never imagined speaking to another Guardian. Seeming to understand my dilemma, the Guardian continues. “I am sure that you wish to know the extent of Gregor’s feelings for Rosalind. Please be assured that his love for her is most genuine, and grows deeper with each passing day. He had not originally intended to grow so attached to another human, but while he was on his journey to Pittsburgh I convinced him that his feelings towards her would best be realized through this marriage.”

It was this Guardian, then, that caused Gregor to save my beloved from the dire situation of abuse in which she was trapped. It is this knowledge that gives me the wherewithal to find a way to speak to another Guardian. “Thank you,” I say, with a rush of gratitude for both the Seer and his Guardian.