As summer turned into autumn, he became grateful for the blankets his mother had sent. If the nights were cold in the summer, they were far worse in the fall. He didn’t want to think about what winter would be like. Without a bed to keep the floor from leaching the warmth from him, he didn’t think the blankets would be enough.
Winter was fast approaching, and with it his fourteenth birthday, though he had little hope it would be marked by a celebration of any kind.
He was sitting on the porch one afternoon, pretending to add and subtract fractions, while his grandfather was off chasing deer—or whatever it was he did when he went out—when Eric appeared.
Will jumped up in excitement. He hadn’t seen another human being aside from his grandfather in months. “Eric!” he shouted.
Eric was hauling what appeared to be a wooden frame of some sort, and another of Will’s cousins, Sammy Cartwright, was holding up the other end. Sammy, short for Samantha, was Eric’s younger sister by two years. She smiled at Will, hazel eyes twinkling above a nose dusted with a light sprinkling of freckles.
The two of them brought their burden to the porch and deposited it. “Sorry this took so long,” apologized Eric.
“Hi, Will,” said Sammy brightly, using one of her now free hands to push back her strawberry blond hair.
“Hey,” said Will, giving her a brief nod. He wasn’t particularly fond of Sammy. Through most of his childhood, she had been an annoyance, always wanting to tag along when he and Eric were looking for adventure. Worse, when they were forced to accept her, usually by Eric’s mother, they weren’t allowed to go very far. Instead, they became glorified baby-sitters.
He turned to Eric. “What is this?”
“A cot,” said Eric proudly. He had a bundle tied over one shoulder, which he now pulled off and rolled out. It turned out to be a large sheet of canvas designed to fit over the wood frame. “I would have finished it sooner, but we had a busy summer.”
“Let’s take it inside and set it up,” suggested Sammy.
In spite of himself, Will was somewhat glad to see Sammy as well. Despite their history, she had obviously matured quite a bit over the past year. She wasn’t as gangly and awkward as he remembered her being.
As they unfolded the wood frame and stretched the canvas across it, he noticed that his cousin had changed as well. Eric’s formerly skinny arms now displayed an impressive bit of muscle, the product of his labor no doubt. Will couldn’t help but look down at his own arms and feel slightly envious. As far as he could see, he hadn’t changed at all. If anything, his occasional missed meals had made him skinnier than before.
Sammy had a bag as well, and she opened it to reveal a linen pillow. “Here, I thought you might need this too.”
Will turned it over in his hands, touched by the gesture. The pillow was off-white in color and stuffed with old, but clean, rags. One side had been embroidered with green and yellow thread, creating a simple design of grass and flowers. “Did you make this, Sammy?”
She nodded, then looked away. “Momma let me have the scraps for the stuffing. She’s been teaching me embroidery, but I’m not very good at it yet.”
“I think it’s amazing,” said Will, genuinely impressed. “It’s probably the best present I’ve ever gotten.”
Sammy blushed, but Eric gave him an abrupt shove. “Have you forgotten the cot already? I put a lot of time into that.”
Will grinned. “All right, the two best presents I’ve ever gotten. Honestly, you’ve probably saved my life. I’m sure I’d freeze to death if I had to keep sleeping on the floor this winter.”
“That’s better,” said Eric. “If you’re done giving Sammy a big head, I have something to talk to you about.” He glanced around for a moment. “Is the old man around?”
Will shook his head. “He’s off somewhere. Probably chasing deer again. What is it?”
Lowering his voice, Eric leaned close. “He isn’t our grandfather.”
Will frowned. By now he was firmly convinced the old hermit was insane, but he hadn’t shown any signs of dishonesty. Sure, the old geezer had a mean streak a mile wide, but as far as Will could tell, he was honest, often brutally so. “How do you know that?” he asked his cousin.
“I asked my dad. He said the first Cartwright to live in Barrowden was his grandfather, Nathan. Before that they lived in Branscombe. He said all his great-grandparents are buried there,” answered Eric somberly.
“That can’t be right,” said Will. “Mom said he was her great-grandfather. Did you tell your dad that?”
“No,” responded Eric. “He seemed so sure, I was afraid it might start an argument between them. He said he’s seen all their graves, though they died before he was born.”
Sammy pulled on her brother’s sleeve. “Tell him what else Dad said!”
Eric hesitated, looking uncomfortable.
“What is it?” asked Will.
“I probably shouldn’t say,” said Eric. “It’s not my place to talk about your mom.”
“Just tell me,” said Will impatiently. “I won’t get mad.”
“Your mom ran away from home when she was sixteen,” blurted out Sammy, unable to contain herself. “She didn’t come back for almost four years, and they don’t know where she was. When she did come back, she was pregnant with you.”
Will grimaced. He hadn’t known much about it, but he had expected something along those lines. “Did he say who my father is? Maybe the old man is my great-great-grandfather on his side.”
Eric seemed embarrassed. “He doesn’t know. He said he thinks your mom worked as a barmaid in Cerria. She probably got pregnant from one of the customers.”
Will’s cheeks flushed, and the candle flame flared. His hands balled into fists. “You’re saying she was a whore?”
His cousin held up his hands. “Look, I’m sorry. That’s just what he said. I don’t think he really knows what she was doing while she was gone.”
“He also said he doesn’t know anything about her being taught by the old man,” put in Sammy.
Will let out a long breath, calming himself. “I don’t know why she would lie about that. Plus, the old man said the same thing. Why else would he visit our house over the years?”
“You do know he doesn’t visit anyone else, right?” said Eric. “He’s never come into the village. Not once that I can remember.”
That seemed odd. Where does he get the butter then? wondered Will. His grandfather never seemed to lack for necessities like soap, salt, dried beans, flour—the list went on. The old man had to be buying things from somewhere.
Sammy broke in, “Dad says there’s been a hermit living here since he was a boy, and according to him, there was one here when his dad first moved to Barrowden, but he doesn’t think it’s always been the same old man.”
“What does that mean?” asked Will.
“The hermit in the woods was an old man when Dad was a boy. He’d have died of old age by now, so the one you’re living with has to be different,” explained Sammy. “Anyway, Dad said the old man who lived here when he was little had dogs.”