The cries of Jacob

The sun was mid past High Point when Cora finished her shopping. She had stopped by the Tannery to see her husband and bring him some lunch before visiting the market. She used to love the market. The bright colored bolts of cloth, the garden fresh vegetables. Crafts and tools made by people you knew. Even the hand crafted leather goods her husband William had made. How the women would chatter about the heat or cold, and gossip. Oh could those women gossip. It was all light hearted, and for the most part in jest, that is until last year.

Now Cora dreaded the market. She hated how the conversations that were competing to be heard over the crowd faded to whispers as she neared. When she would make a purchase and try to haggle the merchant would rarely make eye contact and either mutter a simple “Fine then.” Or “That’s the price.” And the conversation was over.

She could feel the eyes of those she once considered friends fixed on her as she passed by. They shared their dark musings and unspoken suspicions. Sometimes Cora would turn deliberately towards a group of townswomen and stare at them. They would scatter like the bugs of the forest when you turn over a log. It was infuriating, frustrating and outright uncalled for.

Cora made her way home with her days purchases packed neatly in the leather carry-all William made for her. She adjusted the shoulder strap to shift the weight off her right hip. More’s the pity how she would feel the ache in her joints now as much as in her heart. She missed the feeling of acceptance as she left behind the righteous idiots who judged her so unfairly.

She passed the time remembering how not so long ago these same women would praise her for how she had raised six boys. “Every one of them is bright, and handsome like their father.” They would say. The oldest, Billy soon to enter his fifteenth season, was strong as an ox. His very presence would stop any scuffle among the town’s children. If there was bullying going on the bully would make haste to be somewhere else to avoid having to answer to Billy.

The twins Adam and Andy at eight seasons this past names day, with hair as golden as a sunrise over the wheat fields and piercing blue eyes. How mischievous they were. Always into something they weren’t supposed to be and then claiming they were the other twin so no one knew which one was really to blame. Jason eleven and Richie nine were inseparable, always playing, working or fishing, but never far apart. Brian at just age six was still finding out who he was. With a single deep dimple on his right cheek and a smile that only occupied one side of his mouth like a smirk, he was going to be a charmer. The ladies already claimed he would be such a nice boy for their daughters one day. Cora would smile and say “We’ll see.” Then came her youngest boy. Jacob.

Jacob came into this world like all his brothers. A strong set of lungs announced his arrival. A check up from the Healer woman pronounced him healthy. His name was given and written in the town ledger. There was plenty of talk back then, of course. Great things were expected of Jacob from his first breath. Townsfolk not seen at their home since The Roofing some 15 years past would just ‘drop by’ to see Jacob. For her husband William Tanner was also the seventh son of his family.

After bringing six other boys into this world, Cora had a good sense of what to expect in raising a newborn. Jacob would have none of it. His nights were never peaceful. For two years he would wake up the household every couple of hours. Cora nursed him as she had the others, and this would at times calm him back to sleep. Other times pacing the floors from kitchen to hearth and back would have him sleeping again. Other times there was nothing that would soothe the cries of Jacob. By the time he first slept through the night, the family had adopted that saying as an oath. “By the cries of Jacob, you will not do that again!” or other similar statements that needed a serious and impactful emphasis.

It wasn’t long after this season of sleeplessness that Cora was able to recognize other milestones were a bit off. By not long past the second names day all of Jacobs’s older brothers were saying first words and more. Jacob had not uttered a word since drawing breath. When you held him and spoke to him he would be looking far away only occasionally looking at you, but not really seeing you. He would look most intently at the oddest things at times. Studying the brightly painted pictures from his brothers hands, held on the door of the pantry by a small nail. It seemed the longer Jacob went without talking, the more the women of the town would talk about him, and her.

She had done nothing wrong. No one had ever leveled a charge at her accusing her of any neglect. The boy was always fed, never dropped, and never neglected. So what did these women think she did to him? Though they had precious few books in their home, Cora would read to Jacob as she had read to all his brothers. He would look at the drawings on the pages as she read, sometime making a fuss if she tried to turn a page. If she read on he would grow angry and cry until she went back to the page with the illustration. Then he would pull away. In fact, as he became more ambulatory it became obvious he did not want to be cuddled or held. He would wander around the house looking after what ever caught his eye, then move on. Most times he would be found staring out the front window. It being low and full he could see all that the outdoors had to offer. He would stand there for hours if you let him. His silent vigil like a Holy Quest.

***

It was just over a season ago that he went missing for the first time. Him being just shy of three and having just mastered walking, Cora was in a panic. She checked the house and yard top to bottom. She called his name but knew she would hear no reply. Brian was the only one home at the time, and Cora asked him,

“Did you see where Jacob went off to? Is he playing hide and seek with you?”

“No Ma’am, Last I saw him he was standing watch at the window.”

“You stay put young man, when your brothers get home if I’m not back yet you tell Billy to go and fetch your father. Let them know I’ve off to the woods to look for Jacob.”

“Yes Ma’am. Do you think he really wandered into the woods? He don’t know which ways up let alone how to find home again.”

“Saving Grace, that’s why I hope to be finding him before dark. He can’t have made it far.” And out the door she went.

Cora found Jacob the same time as William found her. It was near twilight and William had a sheen of sweat on his brow born of fear and angst as he caught up to his wife on the bank of the river.

“Jacob!” Cora cried out as she rushed up to him. He was standing on the edge of the grass staring down the three or four feet to the waters ripples. She picked him up in an embrace he vainly tried to escape from.

“Cora!” She heard William call as he came into view. “Here, Will, I’ve got him! He’s ok.”

“Thank the Maker.” The relief washed over them both as they met up in an embrace, young Jacob, caught between them, started to fuss.

William took him up in his left arm, saddled on his hip with a strength that left no room for escape. Jacob tried to lean back to distance himself, but was no match for his father’s grip.

“What happened?” asked Will. “When Billy came to town he was so winded he couldn’t get the words out to tell me. He must have run the whole way. Once he got his breath he said Jacob had lit out and you were in the woods looking.”

“Bless Brian’s soul, he did just as I said then. It’s true, Jacob let himself out of the house and was not to be found. I checked the whole of the yard, the barn and the shed with no sign. He had to have gone to the woods.”

Jacob sat his father’s hip, unmoved by the exchange between his parents. His attention was focused upwards. To the treetops and the leaves or the sky above no one knew. He, as always, kept his own council.

As the three of them made it home just as twilight dimmed to night, the Tanners saw with surprise Morgan Potter, the town Archon, sitting their front porch with a glass in his hand and a look of concern on his face.

“Archon Potter.” William greeted the man, setting Jacob down on the decking in front of the door to the house.

“William, Mrs. Tanner. I see you’ve found the boy. Is everything all right then?”

“Yes, thank you.” Cora stepped in-between the men and stopped whatever it was William was about to say. “It was kind of you to come all this way to see about him.”

“Some of the women at the commerce came to me squawking about young Billy charging through town like a wild boar. Said he never waved or made greetings on the way by. Said he looked a fright as he wound his way to the Tanner’s shop.” Morgan took a long draw from the glass he held, tipping it up to get the last of the cider the boys had poured for him. “The ladies insisted something must be dreadfully wrong for him to snub them so.” He set the glass on the porch rail as he stood. “I went to the Tannery and found it empty. The bakers boy was closing it down and said you let out in a hurry and asked him to close up for you. So I thought I should come out and see if everyone was safe.” The Archon stepped off the porch and turned. “Has there been any… new developments with young Jacob? We are all very curious how the boy will… distinguish himself among his siblings.” The Archon eyed Jacob like he was expecting to see him perform some feat or speak a prophecy.

“Well now there will be plenty of time for that.” Cora ushered Jacob through the door into the house, “we’ve had quite enough excitement for one day. Good night, Archon Potter. Thank you for your concern.” And she followed Jacob into the house.

Mr. Potter turned to William, “Jacob was fortunate. All manner of forest creatures could have happened upon him. What do you suppose drew him out there?”

"He tends not to speak his mind much."

“Well Will, I’m sure it left him just as scared as you, I don’t think you need to worry about him wandering off again. Good night, Will.”

“Good night Archon.”

***

As Cora walked up the path to her house, she thought to herself, “if only t’was true”. That was the first time Jacob had set off into the woods, but it certainly wasn’t the last. In fact, two weeks later Cora woke up to find Jacob gone and the front door open. She woke the house and the search began again.

They went to the spot by the river where they found him last time, but no sign of him. That time the men of the town were organized for a search. They spent most of the day combing the woods. The two Townson brothers had a run in with a wood bear. They scared it off without a scuffle, but it made them all the more concerned for the boy.

That time, he was found on the edge of the clearing towards the north side of the woods, where the leaf trees changed to Pines. He was laying on his back staring at the sky. The Farrier, Doug Wendell, came upon him and thought him dead at first sighting. When he called out the boy’s name as he was rushing towards him, Jacob didn’t stir. Not a flinch. Fearing the worst, he cried out “I’ve FOUND HIM!” As Doug drew close, the news could be heard echoing through the woods as it was shouted around to the rest. When Doug tried to pick the boy up, he pulled away with a whine and just kept staring skyward.

As people started to gather in the clearing, they too cast their gaze to the clouds above. “What are we looking at?” asked one. “No idea, but something has the boys attention.” Came the reply. Suddenly, with no reason or warning, Jacob looked down at the people now assembled in the clearing. He cast his gaze from one side of the group to the other. His expression one of certainty, like he knew a great truth that they were not privileged to. The people went silent, straining to hear the first words this wander lust filled boy would ever utter. This seventh son of a seventh son of whom so much was expected, saw his mother coming through the gathering, and his expression went back to the absent stare that was not focused on anyone present.

“That’s it?” came a comment from the group. “What’s wrong with the lad?” was heard from the back. “Did anyone see what had him fixed on the sky?” came the Farriers voice over the rest. “No clue Doug, we expected to see some spectacle for sure, but nothing but clouds.”

“All right gentlemen that will do.” Archon Potter took over and redirected the conversation. “The boy is safe and with his mother. No one was hurt, except maybe a wood bear, he is probably emotionally scarred now for having smelled the Townson’s up close.” A chuckle swept the gathering and talk went from tense to jovial as they made their way back towards town, or their own homes. The Townson’s could be heard defending themselves with cries of, “What do you expect? We’ve been in the field since sunup!” and, “Let’s see you work the land for crops and come back smelling like wildflowers.”

It was almost a month before Jacob went missing the next time. Only a few of the men came out that day. He was found in short order in the center of the same clearing in the woods. Sitting cross legged and staring at the pines. They didn’t even wait for Cora to thank them. Once they saw her reach the boy, they headed for home. With one exception.

The constable, Leon Frey, kept pace with William as they worked their way back to his home through the woods. “Will, I’m glad the boy’s alright and all.” Leon’s voice was measured and carried an air of caution. “But the town is starting to think there might be something to him running away as he does.”

“And just what do these kind hearted, well-meaning people think that ‘something’ to be?” asked Will.

“Now don’t get your hackles up Will. After all they have stopped everything to help look for the boy now twice.”

“And we are grateful.” Will replied. “But as sure as the Maker Made Man, I will not stand for my wife’s care of the boy to be questioned.”

“Nobody is leveling any charges, Will. They are just, asking questions. Out of concern for the boy, you see.”

“They have raised questions about Master Jacob’s lack of speech. Is he mute? Does he talk at home, to Cora or the boys maybe?” the constable went on, “The way he doesn’t respond even when his name is called, is he deaf as well as dumb?”

Will Tanner stopped just short of coming out of the forest and into the field leading to his home. His shoulders dropped and a sigh escaped his lips. “Honestly Leon, Cora and I have asked ourselves these questions time and again. We don’t know.” He started back towards the house and confided to Leon, “We will hear Jacob humming or maybe singing to himself at times, but no words we can make out. When we ask him what he is singing, he just stares out the window, or at the wall, or at his own reflection. We ask his brothers if he has spoken in their presence, and to a one none of them have heard a word.”

“Perhaps,” said Leon, “You should have Mrs. Beverly check him over? Has the Healer been called out since bringing him into this world?”

“Beverly Jenson has enough to keep busy without coming out here to find problems where none exist.” William replied. “The boy will find his tongue in his own time. Just because he walks his own path in this world doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with him.”

The constable nodded his head and pursed his lips before saying, “True that is, Will. I just wish his path didn’t lead out into the woods so often. Good night, Will.”

“Good night, Leon.” Said an admonished Will as he entered the house.

***

Cora, now home, stepped through the door of the house and took the leather carryall from her shoulder. She set it on the butcher block and rubbed her shoulder to ease the muscle.

“Adam and Andy!” she called, “come and set the table for dinner. Jason, go and draw fresh water from the well.” The boys came out of nowhere and set about the chores set before them. “What did you bring from market today?” The twins asked in unison. “Now just keep your noses on your faces and out of my carry-all, go on, get.” Then. “Where’s your brother?” Nobody asked ‘which one’. They all knew. A quick scan of the house turned up no sign of Jacob. Richie came out of his room with the look of sleep still in his eyes.

“Why is everyone staring at me?”

“Where’s Jacob? You were supposed to be watching him.”

“Yes Ma’am, I was. We was in my room and I was painting him a new picture to put on the pantry. He was watching at first, I thought he was gonna say something, I really did.” Richie rubbed his eyes and stretched. “When I finished the painting, he went to sit on my stool and staring out my window. So I started reading him a book. Next thing I know, you were home and calling on me.”

Just to be certain, Cora led the way to the room Jason and Richie shared, but there was no sign of Jacob. On the floor in the middle of the room were the paints and brushes abandoned from before, and the newest painting Richie had done. It was a pretty good image, it looked like the clearing in the woods where Jacob was found twice now. The line of pines distant and the leaf trees assumed behind. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds, and in the middle was an odd looking bird of some overblown proportions. It looked so out of place that Cora asked her son about it.

“Richie, what is that bird there supposed to be? It is so big.”

Richie looked at it, picked up the picture and stared at it. “I don’t know mom. I didn’t paint that.”

“Well if you didn’t, that means”

“Jacob must have!” interrupted Richie.

What could have inspired this new talent? Was this finally a peek inside the child’s mind? What did it mean?

“I’m going to the clearing to fetch Jacob. Jason, get the large pot on the stove and get it lit. Fill it half full with water, no more. Add as much salt as you put sugar on your porridge, then get to peeling the potatoes and add them, some shallots, celery and carrots all cut to finger length after you wash them, and get them in the pot before it comes to boil.”

“Adam and Andy, stay out of trouble or by the cries of Jacob you’ll answer to me when I get back.”

“Yes Ma’am.” they said in unison.

“When Billy gets here have him fetch a couple chickens from the yard and get to prepping them. I will fry them up when I get back.” And off she went.

As she made her way quickly through the woods towards the clearing, she kept wondering what the strange bird was that Jacob added to Richie’s painting. Was he finally starting to engage with his brother? Was this him reaching out? As she got closer to the clearing, she couldn’t help herself. At every opening of the canopy of trees above her, she found herself staring at the sky same as Jacob was that first time in the clearing. Nothing could be made out but clouds and birds. What are we missing? She thought.

***Jacob***

That first trip to the woods just over a year ago, was the first time I felt at home. To be in the woods and staring down at the river, even if only a few feet, brought the feeling of soaring high above and over the winding river. It felt so familiar. My heart raced as I tried to smell the land. It was no use. I would fill my lungs trying to taste the air, but it was pointless. The world was pale, bleak, and tasteless. I was about to head north when the people found me. Gathered up unceremoniously and squished between my caretakers. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to break away but the grip of the man was relentless.

I waited my chance and was rewarded by another chance in but a couple weeks. I wasted no time on that journey. I set out for the northern woods. These short and frail legs took such short steps. It will take half a day to get there. I had made it to the clearing, I could see the Northern Pines. I ached to smell their richness. To roll in the bed of needles on the ground. I was so close, but I was exhausted. I lay in the field and looked to the sky. I will catch my breath and then continue on. As I lay there, I saw the first movement through the clouds. Barely more than a shimmer, but I knew. I was about to leap up and call out when I sensed the presence of another. His shouts of “I’ve FOUND HIM!” surely cleared the entire field. I was furious. The man smelled of horse. I knew that smell. My stomach growled and my mouth watered, but there was nothing to do for it. More people gathered. They were all staring at me. I looked them over just briefly, I could burn them all to ash. Then I see my caregiver woman in the crowd and I resign myself back to solitude. I look to the skies in vain as it is empty for sure. Then I am returned to the structure I am housed in. once more to bide my time.

Twenty eight days, that’s how long it took for me to lull the brood and caretakers into not watching me constantly. I made my way back to the clearing. I parked myself in the center, facing the North and started to sing. I had been practicing when I was alone. It sounded awful. My tongue was not capable of forming the words I needed, I was forced to hum the tune. It was offensive to me. I was glad my ears were inadequate to hear what I was trying to produce. I had to try.

I began my song, watching the woods for any sign that I was heard. These eyes, for all their youth may as well have been closed. The green richness of the Pines were pale to look upon, and if a creature stirred in the woods, I could not make it out from this short distance. I was considering wandering into the Pines when I was again met up with. Again I was taken back to the structure. I have decided this body is still too weak to effectively make the journey. I will give it a year. I can wait that long. Surely by then I will have learned to sing. If not the lyrics, at least the tune. I can wait a year.

I am in the care of one of the brood. I am vigilant looking for my chance. The man had left early as he did most days but as the sun rose to the mid-day, the woman departed as well. Could this be it? My heart raced. I need to calm myself. The other young are all distracted or gone. There is but one tasked with keeping me here. He is putting brush to paper, trying to get me to engage. I watch as he adds colors. He is not terrible, as the image begins to take shape, I take more notice. The image emerging on the paper is my clearing! He adds the line of Pines and the dark shadows beneath. The field is plain, but recognizable, the sky is an obvious blue with a scattering of clouds, and then… he is done. I am appalled, how can he leave it unfinished? He offends me with this mockery. I retreat to the stool and gaze out the window. He has grabbed a book and began to read it aloud. Soon his words are slurred and quieting as he nods off. His first gentle snore is like a starting gun. I slide off the stool and start to head towards the door when I am confronted by the painting. I can’t leave it like that. I grab a brush and look for a suitable color. There are none, so I choose black. I add the missing piece to the page. In the center of the sky in the place of prominence. That is better.

Out the door and through the field to the edge of the woods. The now familiar way goes by quickly. I reach the field while the sun is high overhead. With no clouds to cast shadow it is too hard to see, but I am not winded this time. I start to sing as I work my way across the field. I dare not try and form the words, it would be insulting. I settle for a kind of humming and vocalizing the tones of the song. It is crude, but should be recognizable. I reach the Pines and enter their shade. The bed of needles beneath my feet is soft, like a pillow. I smile. I close my eyes and inhale. Even this tiny nose brings the pine scent to bear. For the first time I feel… contentment. Like I am home after a long absence.

I set off through the woods, repeating the melody I have worked so hard to produce. I move deeper into the forest to where the field is no longer seen. The birds and insects grow quiet from my presence. I am almost there. I hear the sound of water rushing over rocks and as I push through the brush I am rewarded by the site of the river. This was not the same as the little tributary running through the woods of the leaf trees, this was Pine River. It was broad, deep and the currents were strong. I was standing at the edge of a precipice and the drop to the river must have been ten feet from here. I am drawn upstream along the bluff to a smaller clearing. The branches above overlapped into almost a dome more than sixty feet high. The clearing not more than twenty feet around was my destination. I move to the center and sit cross legged, and begin to sing again.

I can sense more than see a presence. Like I am being studied. Scrutinized. For the first time I feel… afraid. Surely I will be welcomed. Won’t I? My song stops as fear steals my breath. I consider leaving. I stand and turn, my decision made, when I am confronted. My way is blocked.

I hear in my mind more than in my ears, for they are not equipped to hear such things.

“Are you lost, young one?” Eyes larger than my body stare at me from half the height of the dome. “What was that sound you were making? Where did you learn it? Answer me truthfully child, your life depends on it.”

It was at this moment I realize my error. I cannot project my thoughts. How am I to respond? I take a breath and start my song again. The massive head turns to one side and leans down as if to try to hear me better. I pick up a stick from the ground and as I sing I draw. Like in the painting earlier I do my best to draw in the forest floor, a dragon. Like the one before me, but different. I hope he recognizes the markings. And he recognizes me for who I truly am.