Keeper (Seed Savers) Page 2

  “Surrounded by water?”

  “Yes—like islas … island? Surrounded by water.”

  “The “s” is silent.”

  “What?”

  “The “s” is silent. It’s not ISland, it’s AY-land.”

  “Stupid,” he muttered, kicking the root of a tree that snaked out of the ground onto the trail. “Anyway,” he said loudly, “they like because it is like their Ay-land, surround by water. And in the creek is fish and other things to eat. They say the ocean was their supermarket. So they want to continue tradition as most they can do.”

  “What about all the supplies we brought up here?”

  “I ask that, too. They say, ‘We like fresh food, but we don’t like to starve!’” He smiled wide and laughed. It seemed to me Arturo stepped easily into this new culture. I wondered about Mexico and his life there. He never talked about it.

  We stopped. To our right a trail ran down toward the creek. To our left, a trail up to the ridge. “Climb mountain today?” Arturo asked.

  Without answering, I took off running up the hill.

  “I catch you!” he called. “You cannot get away.”

  I stayed ahead the whole way up. When I made it to the top I almost missed the view, puffing and panting, out of breath, leaning forward with my hands on my thighs. It was Arturo’s voice that brought me back.

  “Oh, Li-ly. Is beautiful.”

  From our place on the ridge we had a view of the stream looping around Whisper Creek Village, which it surrounded on three sides. Cabins dotted the hills, while down in the flats the roofs of the larger, shared buildings peeked through the trees. Along the creek were three spring houses that acted as village refrigerators.

  Autumn had arrived with a vengeance, threatening to burn my eyes. I’d seen leaves turn color before, but the variety and intensity here was stunning. A slight breeze blew over us, causing me to shiver.

  “Cold, Lily?” Arturo moved closer.

  “Not really.” I stepped away.

  “A view very wonderful,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “So you talk to your dad more about the plan?”

  “Not yet. Did you hear about Bronco?”

  “Yeah,” he said, chuckling. “Aubrey tell me.”

  “You saw Aubrey?”

  “He come with Chief. We go swimming.”

  “Mmm.”

  “I think he like Jenny. What? Why you…?” He screwed up his face, mimicking me, I guess.

  “I’m not doing that!”

  “Yes. You do.”

  “Am not.”

  “Yes,” he insisted, making his face even uglier.

  Before I could clobber him, he took off, crunching branches and stirring up dust as he pounded down the trail. I didn’t bother. I waited for the dust to settle and then made my way leisurely down. He was nowhere to be found when I arrived at the main trail.

  “Arturo?”

  I looked around. There was the trail veering down to the creek, or the main trail going forward, or back the way we had come. I called again, but there was no response.

  The sun had gone behind the mountains, daylight dwindling. I headed back toward the village. Arturo could take care of himself.

  As I came around a bend, a deer stood just to the right of the trail. She lifted her head—large ears attentive to my graceless movement—and swallowed me up in her enormous eyes.

  “Hi,” I said softly.

  I had seen my first deer only recently, traveling with Arturo, and I never thought I would tire of seeing them. We stood, looking at each other for several moments. I can’t imagine that the deer was as enchanted with me as I was with her. Curious, maybe. Finally she lowered her head to nibble the flora and gradually moved to the other side of the trail before bounding down the hill.

  “I am going to live in the forest forever,” I whispered to myself as I picked up the pace, worried that I was farther from the village than I realized.

  A branch cracked up ahead. Another deer? I slowed my walk so as not to frighten it.

  “Arrr!” Out from behind a large tree jumped Arturo.

  I screamed at the suddenness and his loud yell.

  “Ha, ha, ha—scared you!”

  “You always scare me,” I said dryly.

  He swung his arm around my waist, pulled me in, and planted a kiss right on my cheek before I knew what was happening. Then he was off running down the trail.

  “Come on, is getting dark,” he shouted as he galloped ahead.

  What could I do? I ran after him.

  Before we had shown up, Dad had been planning to leave in October. He was still figuring in my unexpected and untimely arrival when GRIM arrived in Cherokee territory on account of Bronco. Chief was right, of course. There was no way they would find us in the remote village, and for the Cherokee to protest other than the obligatory amount would rouse suspicion. Dad realized a fall departure was out of the question. The dust must settle before he made his move.

  In a way it was a relief. After the initial scare and disappointment, I sensed my father was at peace about the delay. No more was said about me returning to Ma. Once I learned that he had been planning to relocate, I understood what a monkey wrench I was to the plan. Now that we’d be having a Smoky Mountain Christmas, I think Dad figured there was plenty of time to factor in me and Arturo.

  We would be traveling to Seed Savers Headquarters on the West Coast. Although HQ had once been in our town, Portland was the newest location. It was a good locale for a few reasons. One, it was about as far away from GRIM as you could get; two, the surrounding land was fertile and the climate less extreme. Three, being near the ocean, on a river, and on a train line, afforded several modes of escape should it be necessary. And apparently there was still an independence movement fomenting called Cascadia—supported by Seed Savers—for which Portland was ideally positioned should anything become of that.

  Having only recently heard the story of Dad’s escape from Cuba, I was eager to hear it again and again. I wanted Arturo to hear it straight from Dad, so late one evening they joined me at the Jakeo cabin for dinner. A light rain was falling outside.

  “Dad, tell Arturo the story of how you got here—that is, if it’s okay,” I added, wondering suddenly if it was secret information.

  “Oh, brother. Everybody knows that story,” Jenny said. “I could tell it myself.” She smiled at Arturo, running her tongue over her lips, lifting her eyebrows.

  “So could I,” I replied in short syllables. “The point is that I wanted Arturo to hear it from my dad. Because he was actually there.” I stared at her until she looked down.

  Arturo laughed nervously. “Yes, Mr. Gardener. Please tell the story.”

  Dad shrugged modestly. “Well,” he said. “I just followed the plan. One day I got a note delivered with my mail.” He looked down at his hands as he spoke. “I didn’t get a lot of mail. I supposed much of it was blocked. But I got letters from my folks. Then, out of the blue, I get this sealed envelope with no writing on it. No stamp. Nothing.

  “Inside were instructions on how I was to break out.”

  I looked around the room. The eyes of all the villagers smiled. Arturo waited, anticipation written on his face.

  “The note gave me the day and time of the breakout. It said I would receive a box with special clothing and that I should be ready and do as I was told. I was supposed to send a sign of agreement. I guess in case I wasn’t willing. I’ll admit I had my doubts, but my gut told me to go with it.”

  “And the sign?” Arturo asked.

  “The sign was to sneeze loudly in the breakfast line.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “In the days leading up to the breakout day I can’t tell you how excited I was that I would finally get out of prison. But I was also nervous. Who exactly was planning this? I had some hunches, but I really didn’t know. How would it happen? Would the escape be successful? Would any of my fellow inmates be going with me? I had to constantly remind myself to stay calm and act normal.

  “At last the day came. The escape was set to happen at 1:24 a.m. The box of clothing was in my cell when I returned from dinner. My cellmate was mysteriously absent. Inside was a lemon-colored jumpsuit identical to what I wore every day except with an attached hood. ‘What the…?’ is what I was thinking. Then I spotted a folded sheet of paper. This is not a regular jumpsuit. Put it on. It blocks you from heat sensors. It will change color to blend in with your surroundings when the prison lights hit it. Keep the hood up and your face down.”

  Everyone oohed and aahed even though they had heard the story before.

  Dad continued. “I’d never heard of such a thing. The next paragraph made my heart drop. Just in case, be sure to wear the special underwear. It will keep bullets from penetrating and is antibacterial in case you are hit.” Someone hooted and one of the boys made a crude remark. Dad smiled, but kept talking. “The underwear was a full, hooded white pantsuit made of what seemed to be silk.”

  “I cannot believe!” burst Arturo. Jenny smiled at him sweetly. I reached over and grabbed his hand.

  “I know,” said James. “So I put on the clothes and waited. The first note had said to do as I was told. Around one o’clock a guard I knew well came and opened the door. ‘Follow me, Gardener!’ he barked. I didn’t know if he was in on the breakout or not, so I couldn’t really say anything, ask questions. ‘What’s up?’ I finally said. ‘Just do as you’re told.’ There it was, the exact words.

  “He led me to the rec yard. ‘Over there,’ he said, nodding toward the fence, where I see this gaping hole. ‘Get through it. There’s a truck waiting for you.’ I protested. I remember looking at him, up at the guard towers, the fence. ‘Isn’t there a laundry truck I could get in on
the inside?’

  ‘Do as your told,’ he repeated. ‘You got the clothing on?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good luck.’

  He walked away. I said a quick prayer and ran for it.”

  Dad paused.

  “Ay ay!” Arturo shouted. “What happen?”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” Dad laughed. “Nothing at all happened. The lights passed over me. It was like I was invisible. No alarms went off anywhere. I literally walked out. Well, except I ran.”

  The Islanders were turning to each other, nodding, smiling, chuckling.

  “And after?”

  “It was like the note said. There were people every step of the way just telling me what to do, and I did it. The truck. The ship—”

  “Dad came by boat, all the way along the coast up to South Carolina,” I told Arturo.

  Dad turned and smiled at my interruption.

  “That’s right. And after that I still had help, all the way here. It was part of a master plan and it worked, smooth as butter.”

  I loved when he said that: smooth as butter. Dad took special pleasure in using food expressions.

  “So who was the master planner?” Arturo asked.

  Someone in the room whispered “JALIL.”

  “I never found out,” Dad answered. “It wasn’t who I thought it was.”

  “Was it JALIL?” Arturo asked bluntly.

  “Possibly,” Dad said, offering nothing more.

  I loved this story. Thinking about Dad’s exciting escape and Arturo’s and my own recent cross country adventure made me anxious to hear the new plan about traveling to Portland—and whether or not I would be included.

  4

  A New Plan

  The original October plan had Dad leaving by truck. A couple of guys on the reservation were long distance haulers and had expected to smuggle him from North Carolina to Oregon with the cargo. Now that Bronco had been traced to the area, the timing wouldn’t work.

  Everyone agreed Dad should wait until spring to leave, and I was hoping the new plan would be elaborate enough to accommodate two more. In the meantime, I was enjoying village life. Well, everything except for Jenny Jakeo.

  It’s hard to avoid someone in a small village. Especially if you share a hut with them. And a bedroom.

  “Is Arturo your boyfriend?”

  “No. We’re friends.”

  “He’s very handsome, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Does he ever talk about me?”

  My eyes rolled involuntarily. “Um. No, not really.”

  “What does he talk about?” she asked.

  “What does he talk about? That’s a weird question, Jenny. You’ve heard him talk. He talks about stuff just like anyone else.”

  She giggled. Nothing was funny, yet she giggled.

  “How come you guys always leave when he comes over? He should stay more.”

  “Sure,” I said. “Ask him to. I’m sure he’d be happy to.”

  She laughed. Why is it I liked the laughter of the Islanders in general, but with Jenny I found it annoying?

  Jenny took me up on it. When Arturo arrived for our after-dinner walk, she rushed up to him, looped her arm through his, and walked him to the couch.

  “Lily suggested I invite you to stay! Won’t you sit? I baked cookies.”

  I was so shocked I left my mouth hanging open for a good four seconds before my senses returned. I was still standing by the door where I’d gone to meet Arturo. They were sitting tightly together on the couch.

  “Uh—I’m gonna go see what Dad’s up to,” I said, bolting out the door.

  Dumb, dumb, dumb. I ran in the opposite direction of the Keeper.

  Living in the woods had given me a new way to relieve stress. Back home I rode my bike or wrote in my journal. Now a walk or jog among the trees was quickly becoming my mainstay. After I calmed down, I decided I really should go see Dad. Maybe I would work up the courage to ask about the plan. See if it included me.

  I felt a little bad broaching the subject, mainly because I was the reason a new plan had to be hatched. But Dad hadn’t offered it up, and it wasn’t my nature to wait patiently. I had tried weaseling it out of Chief, but if he knew, he wasn’t telling me. “Your father will tell you,” was his only response. Whether he meant, “Ask your father,” or “Don’t ask me,” I wouldn’t presume to guess.

  I brought Arturo along for moral support after rescuing him from Jenny’s clutches. She looked at me with curious eyes as I pulled him away.

  After some small talk with Dad about his new fondness for fishing, I popped the question. “So, has a plan been made yet about the move?” The smile vanished from his face and was replaced by a knitted brow.

  “Yes,” he said.

  My lower lip quivered and I shot a quick glance at Arturo.

  “Oh,” Arturo said, interpreting my look as a shout for help. “I hope it includes us.” He laughed a little “heh heh” laugh that sounded fake.

  Dad’s eyes shifted between the two of us. “It does.”

  I sighed and Arturo squeezed my hand.

  “But I still think you should consider other options.”

  “You mean Ma?” It came out sounding bitter and I saw the shock in his eyes. We are still strangers, I thought. What must he think of me?

  “There are other options.”

  I gave him a look that said, “Oh? Continue.” Or something like that. That’s what I was thinking, anyway.

  Arturo laughed nervously.

  “Of course I think returning to your mother is the best alternative. We’ve thought of a way to get you home without disclosing our location here.”

  I had folded my arms in front of me without thinking, which he read as defensiveness—maybe it was.

  “… or you could stay in the village after I go to Portland.”

  I snorted, causing Arturo to jump.

  “I thought you like it here,” Arturo said, apparently shocked at my outburst.

  I did like it, but what would be the point of staying here indefinitely while the Movement coursed on in the real world without me? No way. I froze Arturo into silence with one cold look.

  “Anything else?” I asked Dad, somewhat sarcastically.

  “Your grandmother has agreed to keep you.”

  Body slam. I had a grandmother?

  My tightly woven arms fell limp. The tears I’d been holding grew in an instant and slipped out of my eyes. Arturo whispered “Dios mio,” and slid his arm around me. Dad looked down, just for a second. When he lifted his face, his eyes brimmed with tears, though they never fell.

  “What grandmother?” I finally managed to ask, tight-lipped.

  “My mom,” he said. “You know her as Sara Jane.”

  Sara Jane? The thin woman who had directed us here? He saw the light of recognition in my eyes and nodded.

  “Yes. She told you how to find me.”

  “Ay ay ay,” said Arturo.

  Would the secrets never end? I pushed down the urge to panic. Stay on track, Lily.

  “Are those my only options? Ma? Here? Grandma?”

  His eyes were still moist. I wasn’t sure how he kept the tears from jumping the dam. His mouth turned up a little and he shook his head slightly. We were sitting at his tiny table. He reached across it toward me, though my hands were in my lap where they’d fallen.

  “No, Lily,” he whispered. “You both can come with me to the West Coast.” He shook his head again. “But I don’t know if I can do right by you. I just want what’s best for you.”

  After Dad had said again that we could go with him, I jumped up and ran to him. He stood so quickly his chair flew over with a clatter. We embraced and apparently that’s when his tears finally let go. I felt the wetness leaking out and onto the top of my head. I heard Arturo sniffing, though he denied he had cried when I asked him later. “Allergy,” he said.

  We probably would have stayed longer, but an important call for Dad came in over the Monitor. Just as well, as I needed some time to digest that Sara Jane was my grandmother and that I would be going with Dad to Portland. As usual, I sorted things out by writing in my journal and walking in the woods. Some things I talked over with Arturo. He was a great sounding board. And whether it was because of his English, or he was just smart, he didn’t try to offer advice.