The Secrets of Hawthorne House

Chapter 5: Best Friends

As soon as he got home, Matt rushed inside and dove into his homework and afternoon chores, finishing them in record time so that he could get his room ready for Gerallt's arrival. He tossed the blankets back over his bed, threw his dirty clothes into the laundry hamper, and shoved everything else into his closet or under the bed. He had just laid out a pair of his favorite remote-control cars when the doorbell rang. Dropping everything, Matt raced down the stairs and was halfway to the door when Tina beat him to it.

"Oh. Hello, Gerallt," she said in surprise, as she opened the door and stepped aside so that Gerallt could come in.

"Hi, Gerallt!" Matt said, running up to stand in front of his sister. "Come on in."

"Hello, Tina. Hi, Matt," Gerallt said somewhat awkwardly, looking around the entryway with open curiosity. "Thanks for invitin' me ovah."

"Who's that?" Matt's father called from his recliner in the family room, where he sat watching the news on the family's big screen TV.

"It's Gerallt from next door," Matt said, as he led Gerallt into the room. Sam muted the sound and stood up to greet their guest. "Gerallt, this is my father. Dad, this is Gerallt Hawthorne," Matt said, introducing his friend, who stared in amazement at the screen as if he'd never seen a TV before. "I've got my homework and afternoon chores done. Gerallt and I are heading up to my room for a while, okay?"

"Hello, Gerallt," Sam said. He reached out to shake Gerallt's hand, but the boy's eyes were still fixed on the face of the silent set. Sam Mitchell dropped his hand. "So you like it, Gerallt? My wife bought it for us a few months ago with the proceeds from her last pottery exhibition."

"Definitely, Mr. Mitchell," Gerallt said, finally turning his eyes back to Matt's father. "I didn't know televisions could be so big. But then, I've nevah actually seen one up close befoah," he added a bit sheepishly.

"Oh, really?" Matt's father said, somewhat at a loss for words.

"Come on, Gerallt! Let's go," Matt interrupted, dragging Gerallt out of the room.

Gerallt followed Matt upstairs to his bedroom. Once there, Gerallt stood transfixed in the open doorway. "Savage!" Gerallt exclaimed, staring enviously at Matt's TV, video game system, CD player, and three-year-old desktop computer. "Is this all youahs?"

Matt nodded, surprised at his friend's unexpected question.

"I nevah dreamed you had so many gadgets. What's this?" Gerallt asked, pointing to the game system and its two controllers.

"That's my game system," Matt said proudly. "I got it last Christmas. What system do you have?"

"Uh ... I don't have any of them," Gerallt replied, somewhat uncomfortably. "My family doesn't believe in such things, and we've nevah had electricity."

"What?! You mean you've never watched TV or played video games before? I was wondering about that when I didn't see any lights on at your house, but I thought it was just your great-aunt being eccentric. You really didn't have electricity back at your home in Maine? Jeez, what do you do for fun?"

"Well, we read lots of books," Gerallt replied, defensively. "Gwyneth, Gareth, and I play cahds and board games. We used tah play family games like charades. We all play the piano, and my Ahnt Vivianne has a wind-up gramophone and a huge collection of 78's." He paused as a wistful, homesick look came over his face. "Back home in Maine, I'd spend a lot of time outside when the weather was good. I'd go hikin' up in the hills and walk alone along the cliffs above the sea. And in the evenings, I used tah..." He hesitated briefly. "Well, anyway, there's lots of stuff you can do that don't need electricity."

"I suppose... But what did you do for light after the sun goes down?"

"We have oil lamps, and Mothah used tah make these really wonderful candles."

"Wait. What the heck did you do with your food? How'd you keep it cold without a refrigerator?

"Well, we had our root cellah for the vegetables and the food Mothah canned. Every day when Fathah got back tah port, he'd bring home a few of the fish he'd caught so Mothah could cook them for suppah. Occasionally, we bartered fish for meat, and she'd always cook it before it went bad. We had a neighbor who gave us fresh milk in exchange for fish. I guess we nevah needed one."

Midnight, the Mitchell family's cat, marched majestically into the room. Ordinarily quite cautious around strangers, she walked right up to Gerallt and began lazily winding herself around his ankles.

"That's strange," Matt observed. "Midnight usually hides whenever anyone comes over and only comes out after the person is gone."

"Maybe she smells our cats, Nightshade and Belladonna," Gerallt said, sitting down on the floor so that he could get a better look at Matt's cat. Midnight looked up into Gerallt's eyes and gave a welcoming meow, before she rolled over on her back and stretched, silently demanding that he rub her belly. Gerallt obliged and meowed right back at Midnight before making a purring sound that matched Midnight's contented purr. Then, he looked back up at the Game Cube. "How about showin' me how tah play one of youah games?"

"Is that allowed? I mean, given how your family feels about electricity, wouldn't your mom get upset if she found out?"

"Ayuh, she would. She'd get ugly on me for sure."

"So?"

"So we don't tell her. I'm tired of always being told what I can't do. It's just a game."

"Okay, Gerallt. Here's your controller," Matt said. He spent the next hour teaching Gerallt how to use a game controller while playing Super Smash Brothers Melee.

"Ahnt Vivianne told us that you just moved tah Hawthorne too. So where did you live befoah movin' heah?"

"I grew up just outside of Port Orford," Matt replied, carefully keeping his eyes on Donkey Kong as he controlled his character's movements. "It's a little fishing town on the southern Oregon coast. We had a little cottage at the foot of a hill overlooking the ocean. I used to spend a lot of my free time walking on the beaches or hiking up into the Coast Range. It was wonderful, especially in the fall after the tourists had gone home. I could hike for hours and never see a single soul. Just me and the seagulls."

"I know what you mean," Gerallt said, hoping that Matt's mention of the gulls wouldn't turn the conversation back to the mysterious bird attack on the school fields. "We didn't live in town eithah. And I know what you mean about it being bettah once the summah tourists leave and things aren't so crowded. We lived out in the willie wacks, and our nearest neighbahs in The Colony were a quartah mile away. We could be ourselves and do whatevah we wanted." Gerallt paused briefly before changing the conversation. "So, why'd you move tah Indiana?"

"My mom...," Matt started to answer. His fingers, which had been flying over the buttons on the game controller, froze along with his video game character on the TV screen.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gerallt said, noticing the look on Matt's face. "I just assumed she was away from the house, grocery shoppin' or somethin'. Are your parents divorced?"

"No," Matt answered, forcing himself back from his painful memories. "Mom was one of the town's local artists and had a small pottery shop where she'd sell her work to the tourists. She'd pick up seashells on the beach and gather leaves from interesting looking plants. Before she fired her pieces, she'd press them into the wet clay so they'd leave an impression." Matt sighed. "Anyway, last summer she was walking along the coast road, picking plants for her pottery when the town drunk ran into her with his pickup. She was in a coma for several weeks before the doctors told us she was brain-dead and would never recover. The next day, Dad let them take her off the ventilator, and she just stopped breathing."

"Magna Dea! What ah pissah!" Gerallt exclaimed.

"Dad says I'm a lot like her," Matt said, somewhat surprised by Gerallt's weird curse. "I guess because we both liked to spend our free time walking along the beach or up in the hills. Anyway, she was beautiful, slender, and nearly as tall as Dad. She was also one-quarter Native American, with long straight black hair. And she always seemed to have potter's clay under her fingernails."

"She sounds nice. But you still haven't told me why you moved tah Indiana."

"Once Mom died, Dad got really depressed." Matt could feel the sorrow welling up inside him like the rising of the tide. "He said that everything kept reminding him of her: our house, the coast, the sea. He couldn't see anything without thinking about her. Pretty soon, Dad couldn't stand it anymore. One day, I think he just sort of snapped and told us he'd taken a job here where he grew up. A couple of weeks later, he sold our cottage, and we left. I think Dad wanted to move us as far away from the ocean as he could.

"How about you?" Matt asked, diverting their discussion from his own painful memories. "Why didn't your dad come with you? Are your parents divorced?"

"No," Gerallt said heavily. "Fathah was the captain of a small fishin' trawlah. He was killed last summah in a freak accident. Somethin' happened with the engine. The boat caught fiah, and the fuel tank exploded. He was burned over 90 percent of his body and died before the Coast Guard could reach him and his crew." Gerallt looked over at Matt, who stared back at him in shock. "Anyway, Mothah sort of shut down and stopped carin' about anythin'. Gwyneth and I tried to take ovah, but there was only so much we could do without the fresh fish and income from Fathah's fishin' boat. When Ahnt Vivianne heard how bad things had become, she talked Mothah intah movin' us heah tah live with her."

"Wow. We do have a lot in common."

"Matt and Gerallt," Tina called from downstairs, interrupting their conversation. "Dinner's ready in ten minutes! Come on down. And Matt, it's your turn to set the table. Hurry up, or else Dad and I will eat it all."

"What time is it?" Gerallt asked in alarm, looking around the room for a clock.

"About a quarter to six or so," Matt said, as he switched off the game. "What's wrong?"

"Whew," Gerallt said with relief as they headed downstairs. "I'm supposed tah be back home by six. I lost track of the time and was afraid I was goin' tah be late. Mothah wanted me back in time for suppah, and I'll bet she's got tons of questions. We'ah hardly ever allowed tah go to other people's houses. Thank the Goddess, Ahnt Vivianne put in a good word for you."

"Why don't you phone home and see if you can stay for dinner?" Matt suggested, surprised to hear Gerallt say "Goddess" instead of "God."

Curious, Matt almost asked Gerallt what he meant but decided not to risk getting into a religious discussion with his friend. Because Matt's mother had been into Native American religions and new age spirituality, she had taught him to respect other people's beliefs and never say anything negative about them. Matt's father had also warned him to avoid discussions about religion. As an atheist, his father believed religious discussions were a waste of time, mainly because most people would never change nor even question their beliefs.

"We're having tacos," Matt continued. "Tina always makes more than we can eat, so I'm sure we'll have plenty."

"That sounds great," Gerallt said. "But we don't have telephones. I'll have tah go home and ask in person, but that's actually good. Mothah's more likely tah say 'ayuh' if I ask her in person."

Gerallt walked back home while Matt set the table, adding an extra place setting just in case. Matt had just finished when the doorbell rang. He ran over and opened the door to see Gerallt standing on the porch. He had a big smile on his face and was carrying a large clay jug and wicker picnic basket.

"What's that?" Matt asked, as he led Gerallt into the brightly lit dining room.

"Mothah and Ahnt Vivianne wanted tah thank you for havin' me ovah for dinner," Gerallt said, placing the jug on the table and handing the basket to Tina. "My ahnt sent ovah some of her homemade hot spiced apple cidah, and Mothah sent one of the pumpkin pies she just baked. Be careful, they're both really hot, and the pie needs tah cool befoah we can eat it."

They sat down at the table, and Matt's father passed Gerallt a ceramic baking dish full of taco shells partially filled with steaming spiced ground beef. This was followed by bowls of chopped lettuce, diced tomatoes, grated Mexican cheese, and picante salsa. Meanwhile, Matt and Tina were helping themselves to the refried beans and chips. After putting the ingredients on his plate, Gerallt waited and watched curiously as the Mitchells made their tacos before carefully copying what they did. He looked skeptically at the refried beans and chips but put some on his plate to be polite.

"This is wicked good," Gerallt said, as soon as he had taken his first bite of taco. "You have tah tell me what spices you use; I've nevah tasted anything like them befoah. I'm sure Mothah and Ahnt Vivianne would love tah know what they are."

"You mean the taco seasonings?" Tina asked, somewhat surprised by the question. "It's mostly chili powder, I guess. Maybe some dried onion. I'm not sure, but the ingredients should be listed on the package. Do you mean you've never had tacos before? I thought everyone ate Mexican food. What do you usually eat?"

"Now, Tina," Sam said. "Not everyone eats the same thing, especially foreign foods."

"But, Dad," Tina said, "We're not talking about anything exotic here. This is just basic Mexican food. They even serve tacos at school every now and then."

"That's okay, Tina," Gerallt said. "I'm not offended. I guess they haven't had tacos in the cafeteria since I arrived. Anyway, I guess we ate traditional New England meals at home. We always used tah have fresh fish every day befoah Fathah died."

"Gerallt's dad was a captain of a fishing boat," Matt explained. "He died in a boating accident."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said.

"Anyway," Gerallt said, not wanting to talk about his father, "we had a large chicken coop, so we'd have lots of fresh eggs and maybe a chicken once every month or so. Mothah would always bake different kinds of bread every day or two. We also had a good-sized garden, so we always had potatoes, corn, string beans, squash, and pumpkins and berries for pies. And, of course, each fall, we'd have apples and pears from our trees for cidah, tarts, and pies."

"That sounds wonderful," Sam said. "It's cool that you grew most of your own food. Reminds me of when we used to stay with my grandmother when I was little. She had a huge garden and grew all sorts of stuff. She'd always be canning something or other. I remember that she had this amazing pantry full of mason jars filled with nearly every fruit and vegetable you could think of." He paused, sipping some steaming spiced apple cider from his mug.

"Wow!" Sam continued, taking a deep breath of the fragrant steam that curled out of his cup like fog from a winter pond. "This is definitely the best cider I've ever had. It smells heavenly and tastes just like McIntosh apples..." He paused to stare in surprise at the sparkling golden liquid in his glass. "Strange, I've never been able to tell what type of apple was used before. Is that a McIntosh apple tree in her backyard?"

"Yes, sir," Gerallt said.

"I taste cinnamon," Sam said, "but your great-aunt is also using some spices I've never tasted before. Whatever it is, I like it. You are going to have to thank her for me. Now I understand what Matt means when he talks about how good her lemonade is." Everyone smiled as the exotic spices in the cider filled their stomachs and hearts with the warm feeling of home and happiness.

"If you like home cookin' from yoah own garden, then you'd feel right at home eatin' with us," Gerallt said, as he helped himself to more tacos and beans. "We also had a big pantry of food that my mothah canned, and we brought it all with us when we came. In fact, in the spring we're plannin' tah put a large garden out back so we can have fresh vegetables and herbs. Matt, it's goin' tah be a honkin' big job, and I'm sure Ahnt Vivianne will want you tah help us."

"That would be great for you," Sam observed, "learning how to put in a proper garden. I always liked going out with my grandma and gathering food for dinner. We'd pick the vegetables, snap the green beans, shell the peas, and shuck the corn. There's nothing quite like fresh corn on the cob straight from your own garden! Store-bought vegetables just can't compare with homegrown."

"So why didn't we ever have a garden?" Tina asked, somewhat surprised by her father's reaction to Gerallt's description of his family's garden and the foods they grew. Other than the occasional meal out, for as long as she could remember, they'd always eaten food that they had bought from the grocery store.

"I don't know," Sam said. "Your great-grandmother lived in the Willamette River valley where there's a lot more sunshine than on the coast where we lived. You need plenty of direct sunlight if you want a good garden, and we had quite a few cloudy days on the coast." He paused and then admitted somewhat sheepishly, "That and a large garden's a lot of work. I guess your mom and I just found it was easier to buy everything at the store. Looking back on it now, though, I think that was a mistake."

"Gerallt, please pass the tacos," Tina said.

Glancing at the slightly uneven stitches on Gerallt's shirt sleeve, Sam suddenly realized that it had been sewn by hand. "Gerallt, did your mother make your shirt?"

"Yes, Mr. Mitchell. She makes all our clothes."

"Well, then, she's quite a seamstress. They're very nicely made. She must be very talented and self-reliant."

"She is," Gerallt said. "I think she can do almost anythin' if she sets her mind tah it. She makes almost everything we need. And anythin' that she couldn't make, she could usually barter foah. Back in Maine, she used tah have her own candle and scent shop for the summah flatlandahs. She'd make all kinds of scented candles, soaps, lotions, and packets of herbs. She used tah' do all sorts of stuff."

"So why did she stop?" Tina asked.

"She hasn't felt like doin' much of anything since Fathah died," Gerallt answered sadly. "I thought maybe she would get bettah once we moved in with Ahnt Vivianne. The two of them could talk and do things togethah, but it hasn't really helped. So now, she mostly just sits by herself in her room and stares out the windows."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sam said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable hearing such private information about Gerallt's mother. "I know exactly how devastating it is to lose a spouse. I couldn't do anything for the first month or so after my wife died. I think I'd still be sitting in a dark room if I hadn't gotten a new job and moved back here to start over again."

After dinner, they cleared the table and sat back down to sample the pumpkin pie Gerallt's mother had made. Like the apple cider, it tasted both familiar and somewhat exotic, as if it contained unfamiliar herbs and spices.

By the time they finished their meal, Gerallt said it was getting late and that his mother wanted him home so he could get plenty of sleep before school the next morning. But he promised to come again, as often as Matt could have him over and his mother would let him come.

After cleaning up from dinner and watching an hour of TV with his father and sister, Matt went happily off to bed. It had been a wonderful day. He had saved Gareth from the middle school bullies, and somehow Gerallt had saved him from Colin and Dylan with the unexpected help of a flock of seagulls. Gerallt had even been able to come over to hang out and have dinner. Lying in bed, he stroked Midnight who purred contentedly, especially when he scratched her under her chin. Mostly, though, he wondered what it would be like to live without his electronic games and TV. He also wondered how seagulls from the Great Lakes had managed to get lost and show up at school just in time to relieve themselves all over Colin, Dylan, and the middle school bullies, while totally avoiding Gareth, Gerallt, and himself. Matt drifted off to sleep, thinking that this day had been about as perfect as it could possibly be.

In his own bed at Hawthorne House, Gerallt was feeling the same as he fell asleep.