Falling in the Garden

Chapter Six - Reconnect

Chapter Six

Reconnect

I wish I could say that Ashley and I spoke the next day, but sitting again in The Meadow, I heard only static. That same lonely sound filled my days for almost a week. I brought breakfast (and a few times lunch and dinner) into the woods, waiting for her voice. With each passing day, I began to lose faith that it had happened at all. I also started to question my sanity. I mean, really, I could have fallen asleep and dreamed the entire thing. I certainly couldn’t dismiss this as a possibility. It would be another three days before Ashley and I spoke again. I was so close to just giving it all up, too, vowing never again to enter the secluded haven of The Meadow. When we were again able to talk, I began a journal and wrote down everything as the days progressed. I have this notebook with me now. I’ve read it often over the years, amazed at the wonder of it all. The journal has kept many of our conversations alive for me. I refer back to these words as I write now. What better reference could I work from, considering how many holes and trap doors our long-term memory offers? Still, my old journal makes it somehow more real. It’s one of the few things I still have from back then. My journal, the old photos and her letter. I haven’t gone back to The Meadow since I left Monroe for college. I still dream that I return there now as an adult—I can almost hear her through that small, plastic radio.

The second time we spoke, exactly eight days later, I made my way into the woods with only one of the walkie-talkies in my hand. Leaving everything else behind, I knew that this would be my final attempt. When I entered The Meadow, I sat down and caught my breath. It was definitely strange being there without my backpack and gear. I felt exposed and ill-equipped. How prepared you could truly be for the unexpected anyway? I never knew until then how important my supplies were to me in a psychological sense.

I stared down at the mossy floor around me. For the first time, I noticed that the moss cover was (for the most part) localized to an enormous rectangle about the size of a small house. I stood and walked its perimeter. In our explorations, Joe and I had come across many foundations of old houses that had long ago decayed or burned to the ground. We even found an old basement filled with branches, leaves and a few animal skulls. Each foundation, however, had been bare except for the hard packed dirt. I couldn’t recall ever finding one coated in moss and lichen like this, though. Then again, I thought, none of those foundations were directly exposed to sunlight like this one. All were under the cover of towering trees.

It came to me all at once that if a house had once stood there in The Meadow, it must have been Ashley’s. If it was gone now, then what happened to it? Another thought entered my head and made me sit down hard. Ashley would be about 67 years old in 1999.

Where, exactly, was she now?

If she was still alive, then why hadn’t she come to Monroe at the beginning of the summer to see me? I turned the walkie-talkie on and jumped.

“Michael?”

“I’m here!” I almost shouted.

“I’m sorry, I heard your voice the past few days, but my dad’s home and I’m not sure he’d understand all of this.”

“Why not?” I asked, though certainly knew what she meant. How easily would my mother embrace the reality of this situation?“My Dad gets weird when odd things happen. I guess he’s that way because he works for the government.”

“Where is he now?”

“He’s outside saying goodbye to my Mom. I can’t talk long, but I think we ought to set up a time to talk.”

“When?” I asked. “I can come any time since school is out.”

“We can talk in the evening, probably after six. I’ve convinced my Mom to let me keep the radio in my bedroom. Mom and Dad think it’s broken, anyway. We can’t tune into programs that well anymore.”

Strange, I thought. Her voice seemed even clearer than last time. And then I thought again about the foundation.

“I was wondering…” I began, and then stopped. I didn’t want to scare her with possible information that her house would one day be gone, but if it could save her…

“Is your house out in the woods? Maybe even where I—”

“I’m sorry, Michael, I can’t talk about the house. That’s one thing I can’t do. I promised my Dad. Mom can’t tell anyone either. I know it doesn’t make sense, but… I have to go, my Mom’s coming!”

“Bye,” I said.

I turned the walkie-talkie off and set it gently on the soft ground.

An amazing, low hum filled my body. She was back. She was real. Everything was real and I hadn’t dreamed or imagined it.

Another alarming thought: why hadn’t I called or written to Joe? Why hadn’t I let him know what was happening?

Should I call him later that night? Should I write to him and explain the fantastic news?

My answer was an immediate, guilty “no”. I’ll admit I was being selfish. I realized this completely and accepted it. Inside, I was still upset that he’d moved. I just didn’t feel like sharing right now. I would tell and show him everything one day, but this was my time. And what an adventure! My mind spun madly at it all. It surpassed even the most incredible times Joe and I had, which was extraordinary, since our past excursions were my benchmark for such things. Quietly, I scooped up the walkie-talkie and rose to my feet. I already felt like going home and taking a nap. Instead, I took the northern trail that led to the cliff. The land past the cliff was mostly unexplored territory. I knew a few of the paths, but it was mostly open forest from there out. I hadn’t brought my compass. Hadn’t brought much of anything. Didn’t care. I needed to walk. To think clearly instead of wandering with an edge of fear and panic and constantly questioning my own sanity.

Calmly, I took the long way down the cliff-side, chose a random deer path and began.