PASSE-PARTOUT: Book Two, Chapter 6, Variant
Isla woke up to the sound of ashes sifting against the ground in the wind. the old man lay beside her, a gentle, quiet snore trembling his whiskers ever now and again. He lay wrapped in a blanket, save for one arm holding the blanket close to his chest with a substantial stone resting in the palm. She turned away and looked toward the glade. She could hear the sound of water running through the creek in the forest. She closed her eyes and knelt in the ray of sunshine allowed through the window. The light warmed her eyelids, and she could feel the flush of cool air flicking away the heat from her face.
She angled the bench towards the window and contented herself with looking across the pasture. At the sound of the bench moving against the ground, the man awakened and watched Isla in the sunlight. He smiled (how long had it been since he had done that) and got up to sit on the bench beside her.
“I am sorry I was late yesterday. There was so much work to do, and I wanted to be able to finish as much of it as I could, so I could stay here with you more,” he asked.
“Do not be sorry. We do what needs to be done. Did you work on your parchment some more last night?”
“I did. I was very quiet and did not stir the coals more than necessary. I did not want to wake you.”
“I slept so well. I think I knew you were watching over me.”
The old man laughed, “I have soft blankets.”
“I am glad you are safe. Thank you for your letter, Amos.”
Hearing his name caught him by surprise and he blushed, “It was a gift. I was not happy to see you here, at first. I knew that the lands between your home and here sustain themselves with danger, but now I am glad you came. You gave me a gift, too, this morning.” Isla tilted her head to the side and quizzed Amos with her eyes. “I saw you this morning and I smiled. I was sad to leave you when I came here, though I had hoped that your new love would be reason enough for you to stay, to keep you from following. You are my child in every way but blood and so I wish for nothing but peace for you, but I am glad you are here.”
Isla stood up, walked around him, and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him, wishing he could scoop her up in his arms as he did when she was a child, letting her play with his beard, pinch his face. “I love you. I will never leave you. You pray every night to God for help, for comfort, and I am here. He has sent me to you. I know this because I arrived here safely, not because God loves me, or that he even pities me, but he knows that the prayers of a righteous man availeth much. God wants you to be happy, even in these years of sadness, and so I am here. God loves you, Amos, and, so, I am here.”
Amos felt his breath sink into his chest, fill it to bursting. He turned around, lifted the woman’s hand to his cheek with both hands, rested the hand there, then it moved to his brow. “You are my child. I will always pray for you, and God will listen because he pities me, a worthless old man who plays the scribe for Him. I speak so blasphemously against Him, and he repays me with tender lovingkindness. God above, or the God that created him, is merciful.”
Isla rose and pulled Amos’s hand with her to walk outside in the sunlight, towards the glade, towards the filled creek, away from the dusky room, and God loved them. And God loved them. And God loved them. And God loved them.