In The Field

I found her outside. She was sitting on the grass and unbeknownst to her, I had been panicking. She looked as if she had not a care in the world. Even though her back was to me, I knew her eyes would be closed because she was humming. She always closed her eyes when she was humming.

While I did not want to interrupt her peaceful afternoon, she had interrupted mine first when she had decided to disappear from the house. It was not uncommon for her to slip away unannounced while the rest of us searched in a flurry of fear. She must have heard me thinking, because the humming ceased, and she began to listen. I swear she could hear my thoughts from just focusing hard enough. I approached her.

“Caroline, there are people waiting for you,” I told her, speaking to her back.

“I would rather not be in the room with all of them,” her reply came without even a glance.

“You can’t just ignore the people who love you.”

“Surely if they loved me, they would understand.”

Her reply made me pause. Were we being selfish in forcing her inside? I knew we were only trying to keep her safe and to encourage her to be with the people who mattered. Were we not? Maybe she was right. Maybe she was safer out here. Her hair was pinned up off the back of her neck, probably her own doing due to the heat. The sun beat down on us. I found the heat nearly unbearable. I could feel the sweat on my forehead soaking into the brim of my hat.

“Caroline, I love you and I don’t always understand.”

I felt exasperated. I knew if I did not get her inside, I would have to pretend to keep looking. I would also have to explain why I did not find her outside, when she was right where I found her half of the time.

“I think you could understand if you tried a little harder,” she sighed, but she stood up.

Success. We could get going now. I could get on with my afternoon. She wiped the grass from her dress and fluffed out the skirt. She was barefoot, which I knew would make her mother furious.

“Caroline, your mother will have a fit over your feet,” I scolded her.

“And?”

“Your mother is easier to be in a room with when she is not having a fit.”

Caroline gave a half smile. It was not a happy smile, but a smile of understanding and experience.

“She once told me that the short fence line was 146 marigolds long. That was before she became afraid of dirt.”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked her how long the fence line was. I wanted to know to measure how fast I was running. And she told me 146 marigolds. My mother used to like flowers and worms. But the moment my father was at home in the dirt, she hasn’t been the same. It is as if he has polluted every speck of soil in her eyes.”

I did not know what to tell her. Her father had been an important person in her life, but a miserable addition to the days of her mother.

“Your mother needs you.”

“And I need her.”

I looked at Caroline. She was old enough now to know better. She was not a child anymore.

“Let’s go inside,” I said as not so much a suggestion, but rather an instruction.

Caroline did not say anything else, but she followed me up and over the small knoll. We walked across the meadow together, towards the path back to the house. Farther up ahead the short fence line was in sight, beginning where the trees ended. There were no marigolds planted there. The marigolds were planted in the front gardens only.

Caroline finally broke our silence, speaking low and slow, “If only he wanted to be buried at sea.”

I did not say anything. We had made it to the path. The trees on our left felt ominous to me. But not to Caroline. If she hadn’t been in the meadow, she would have been somewhere in there. I was happy that I found her on my first try. Her mother would come around one day.