Strawberry Hill, Chapter 3

Recommended for 8 and up. Raleia's parents take a hands-off approach, and it makes her feel unwanted. She wishes she was from a time when families were involved in every aspect of your life, and everything was slower, prettier, and more substantial. In the summer of 1976, she gets that chance because they're going to stay in Tidal, ME, a place that hasn't changed much since a tidal wave hit it in 1911. Then she hears about Ian Rutherford, the recluse. Who is he and what is he hiding?

Transcript

Hello,

This is A Lafay of Sylvanasalee and I'm going to be reading to you from Strawberry Hill and we'll begin with chapter 3.

But before we do,

Let's talk just for a minute about fear.

Fear is rarely logical.

Fear can be all consuming.

Fear can be a little niggling thought in the back of our head.

Fear is something we need,

Actually.

It often prevents us from doing things that are too dangerous or warns us when we need to be a little more cautious.

But fear can also be crippling or prevent us from doing things we really should do.

So when you're facing fear,

Ask yourself,

Is the fear justified?

No,

That's not the right word.

Is the amount of fear you feel well balanced with the jeopardy you are in?

For instance,

If you find something terrifying but other people find it ordinary or everyday,

Then perhaps you should ask,

Hmm,

Maybe my fear is not well balanced to the jeopardy I'm in.

When that's the case,

Sometimes it's important to ask,

What exactly am I afraid of?

What do I think is about to happen?

If you are sure you are in a safe place and you have the support system you need,

Then why don't you find out?

Try what you're afraid of.

You might discover there's nothing to fear.

Or the fear is an exciting thing that leads to new discoveries.

Sometimes what you discover is that you had every right to be afraid,

And you should be careful.

So make sure your fear is equal or well balanced with the jeopardy.

If it's not,

Explore alternatives that allow you to let go of that fear,

To whittle it down until it becomes nothing more than a wooden nickel size of a problem that you can tuck away in your metaphorical pocket.

So let's take a moment to join the Pendle family in Chapter 3 of Strawberry Hill.

The door above them rattled like the lid on a boiling pot.

Rare you could hear the trees lashing the house,

But the howling wind in the mix and the storm made her feel as though she were stuck inside a noisy,

Plate-cracking dishwasher,

A spoon wedged in among an ice-cream scoop,

A salad fork,

And his tiny dessert companion.

The cups rattled above,

Torrents of water washed over her.

The motor roared and rumbled.

The blades below swung.

Raya told herself it was only a stupid dishwasher,

Cleaning up the town.

In a few more hours they would shut off when the cycle was over.

Nothing to worry about.

Sure,

Water dripped through the door and landed on her head,

But it was just water.

No harm would come to them.

Raya tried to believe it,

But Tiny was crying,

Hugging her belly and rocking in Max's arms.

Tiny looked so much like his little girl.

Max whispered to her,

Saying,

It'll be okay.

Tick grabbed Raya's hand and leaned against her.

She took a deep breath.

Tiny said,

We need to keep that baby safe.

We're safe.

Max kissed her on top of the head.

We're all safe.

Raya barely remembered when Tiny was pregnant with Tick,

But Tiny's last pregnancy was clear in her mind.

And it was nothing like this time.

The last time Tiny had acted like being pregnant was as natural as growing your hair out.

She'd even gone horseback riding when they took a vacation in Wyoming.

It was Mayetta's death that put the fear into Tiny.

Mayetta would have been two that summer if she hadn't died as a baby.

Small and frail,

Mayetta had to be kept in an incubator all her life.

Teams of doctors in the long white coats hovered over her like misguided storks for three days,

But she still died.

Raya had made God promise nothing that awful would happen to her again,

So she knew Tiny's baby was safe.

She told herself that over and over again.

Trying to sound cheerful,

Max said,

How about a poem?

No one answered.

Hugging Tiny,

Max recited A.

A.

Mellon's The Island.

The thunder backed him up on the boom,

Boom,

Boom,

And made Tiny clutch him tighter.

Tick leaned closer against Max's shoulder.

Raya wanted to cuddle up with him,

Listen to the poem,

And imagine herself on that island with his coconut trees and steep white sand.

Be a part of the cozy little family.

It was her own family.

But she didn't fit in.

Storm or no storm,

She wanted to get out of there.

Gripping the ladder,

She wondered if rain near the sea tasted of salt.

She watched her parents for the right moment,

Half hoping they'd see her,

Half wishing they wouldn't.

She tried to screw up the courage to bolt up the ladder.

She'd shout out into the storm with the thunder and lightning to cheer her on.

But the weather refused to back her up with a new flurry of wind and rain.

Just as she was about to jump up,

There was a rumble of thunder in the distance followed by silence.

Is it over?

Tiny asked.

A few quiet gusts of wind howled above.

Sounds like it blew over,

Max answered,

Looking up towards the door,

His face orange in a lantern light.

What a way to pass our first night,

Tiny shook her head.

I'm going up,

Raya charged up the stairs.

Tiny shouted,

Don't open that door.

There could be flying debris.

Raya wondered who Tiny was really worried about,

Her or the baby.

Tiny had every right to worry about the baby.

But just once,

Raya wanted her mom to be worried about her.

She felt a little pleasure at ignoring her mother's order.

She hated that feeling and loved it at the same time.

From the height of the sun,

Raya knew it was already mid-morning.

The house looked exhausted.

It leaned slightly toward the hills,

Its seaward side covered with glossy,

Wet leaves,

The tiger lilies lying flat on their beds.

Shingles from their house and others spotted the lawn.

A pogo stick poked out of the shrubs.

Branches covered the roof of their car.

It had been one wicked storm all right.

Heavens,

Max gasped as he came up the stairs.

What happened?

Tiny called from below.

As Max gawked at all the wreckage,

A tick came tearing past him.

He could go from deep sleep to a full run in 60 seconds flat.

I bet there are plenty of worms on the sidewalks!

He yelled,

Rushing for the front of the house.

They have real windblowers here,

Don't they?

Max asked Raya.

It makes you wonder why people stay,

She kicked the shingle.

Tiny called from down below,

Asking,

What happened up there?

Max turned back to the cellar.

Come on out,

Tiny.

It's safe,

He smiled.

There's something exciting about surviving storms like this.

It's like beating nature.

He turned to the sea.

His hair blowing in the wind.

Raya thought he looked like a sea captain who had navigated his ship through a gale.

She laughed.

It wasn't a safari,

Max,

Raya told him.

It was a storm.

You wouldn't be so thrilled if a tree fell on the root cellar or squashed your beautiful car.

Max stared off into the ocean.

Give me a storm any day.

I just don't want to face one of the waves an earthquake spits out.

Can you imagine a wall of water big enough to wipe out half a down?

Raya watched the ocean crash into the stone wall at the end of the street.

The water came down with such great force that the spray reached over the line of trees planted behind the wall.

But the stones didn't so much as shake.

She couldn't imagine any wave being large enough to swallow part of a town.

Tiny came out of her hiding place humming,

Riders on the Storm,

In a high pitch.

She stood beside Max,

Clutching his shirt sleeve.

Max shook his head.

Just think,

Half a century ago this town reached out a quarter of a mile farther.

There was a beach and a market area along the shore.

The creek at the stores said they even had a carnival down there every year when his mother was young.

Stop it,

Max.

Tiny swatted him.

You know I hate to hear about things like that.

Max laughed as Tiny walked toward the house.

Seeing Raya,

Tiny gave her hair a tug.

Hey,

You're all wet.

Raya didn't hear Tiny.

She was imagining a wall of water rising over her head,

The weight of it like an avalanche of the heaviest snow.

The wave crashed under the beach,

Tearing up the boardwalks,

Knocking down ferris wheels,

Crushing people.

All those people.

Raya!

Max shouted.

He was wagging a towel in front of her.

Tiny brought you this.

Thanks.

Max shook his head,

Saying,

You'd better start spending your life in the here and now,

Before you get run over by a truck or something.

I haven't seen many runaway trucks plowing through black backyards,

Max,

But I'll keep my eyes open.

Rubbing her hair dry,

Raya went into the house.

She grabbed a few cold cuts from the fridge on her way through the kitchen,

Then went to find her room.

Her trunk blocked the doorway of the upstairs room closest to the sea.

She jumped over the trunk to have a look around.

The ceiling came to a point in the center of the room.

The side walls were so short she had hunch over to get through the door,

Which had a corner cut out of it to fit the roof.

Two narrow windows faced the ocean.

If another tidal wave hit,

She could see it coming.

What good would that do her?

Half the people who lived there when the tidal wave hit were buried in a crowded cemetery somewhere.

It was just like Max to take them to a life-threatening town.

The summer before,

He'd traged them down to Brazil,

To a lake tucked away in a stifling hot jungle filled with enough poisonous creatures to kill every third person.

Venomous snakes,

Toads,

And lizards.

Hack,

There were even beetles that spit poison.

Joy and Tiny spent the summer in their bungalow batting with bug spray,

Fly swatters,

And jackknifes against those creepy,

Crawly,

Stinging,

Biting,

Spitting little beasts.

Where it got so good at beheading scorpions,

Senor Silva,

Their host,

Made her a scorpion-tailed necklace as a going-away present.

He called it a badge of courage.

She felt pretty brave,

Whacking her heads right off those prancing little creeps.

But a tidal wave?

How could she fight water?

Look!

Tick shouted,

Running into the room.

He nearly fell as he climbed over the trunk.

It's a spring peeper!

He held out a tiny brown tree frog in his hand.

Tick spouted off its scientific name.

Hi-la-bla-bla-bla-bla-bla.

But what Ralia was really fascinated by was that all tree frogs were really toes,

Who just had smooth skin like a frog.

The sneaks.

Fascinating,

Ralia mumbled as she went to drag her truncate to the room.

Tick scowled at her.

The toad gave a shrill peep as he left.

Tick came back toadless and full of questions.

Can I have a bite?

He lunged at her and snapped a chunk out of the cold cut she held in her hand.

Creep!

Ralia nudged him with her elbow.

But she was just happy he didn't touch her food with his toady hands.

Munching with his mouth open,

Tick asked,

So what did you find out about that Rutherford guy?

Just a lonely old man.

Is he nice?

I guess.

Ralia was too embarrassed to tell Tick the whole story,

So she ignored him and started hanging her wrinkled clothes in the closet.

They looked like dried leaves dangling from a stiff branch.

Tick took a running jump onto her bed.

She could hear it rattle as he landed.

You were probably too busy looking at the house and all his antiques.

Even though he was right,

Or maybe because of it,

Ralia turned to yell at him.

Seeing his dirty feet,

She moaned in disgust and rolled him off the bed saying,

You're a pig!

Snorting,

Tick crawled out of the room on all fours.

Ralia couldn't help but laugh.

Then she realized he'd gotten out of cleaning up after himself by leaving.

Tick!

She called as she ran after him.

Get back here and clean up this mess.

He was racing down the steps laughing.

Ralia followed.

She cut up to him as he bolted out the back door.

Tackling him,

She tickled him until he couldn't breathe.

They lay in the wet grass,

Clutching their breath,

Catching their breath,

And staring at the sky.

That one looks like a pregnant elephant!

Ralia said,

Pointing to a bulging cloud with a wispy tail resembling a trunk.

Tick was quiet for a moment and asked,

Do you think this baby will be born okay?

He might as well have dropped a rock on Ralia's chest.

She felt suffocated and heavy.

The thought of their baby sister always made her feel that way.

Little Mayetta,

Well you remembered her skin.

So thin.

Her veins were visible like tiny little highways and a road map leading to her heart.

The baby will be fine.

How do you know?

Tick asked,

Sitting up on his elbows.

Dad told me so.

He really hadn't,

But she convinced himself he had.

Hmm.

I hope you heard him right.

Tick lay back down.

They watched the clouds drift over for a few minutes.

Then Tick sat up and scanned the hills to the west.

Does Rutherford live up there?

Why are you so curious about him?

Because you went and I didn't.

Then you should have come along.

Tickton bit his lip and said,

Not with those creeps.

Tick,

Raya sat up.

No matter what you do,

People are going to tease you about your name.

I'm going to change it to John.

Tick pulled a blade of grass and tried to split it.

Nobody teases a John.

Hey John John,

The crapper man.

I like your porcelain throne.

She gave him a push.

He laughed.

She said,

Everyone gets teased.

So he searched the trees along the outgoing road,

Hoping to see a glimpse of Mr.

Rutherford's house.

She saw a small patch of green shingles visible above some branches.

She pretended it was his roof and pointed.

Take Mr.

Rutherford,

For example.

He lives up in that house,

Minding his own business,

And kids spy on him,

And tell stories that make him out to be a murderer.

He killed somebody?

Raya shoved him.

Oh,

Silly.

He's a harmless old man.

How do you know?

Did God tell you?

I saw it on his face,

Ray answered,

Remembering Rutherford's look of horror.

Why was he so scared?

Sure she'd snuck into his house,

But what did he have to fear from a girl like her?

You'd think she'd tried to set his house on fire.

Maybe he thought she was a vandal looking for hidden money.

She couldn't have him thinking that.

She had to explain.

Set things straight.

Give an appropriate apology.

Raya was on her feet and halfway to the garage before Dick could shout,

Where are you going?

She peddled furiously toward the hill.

When she reached the bottom,

She didn't even bother to try to pedal up it.

She just jumped off her bike and started to climb on foot.

She was still out of breath when she entered the woods to go around the gate.

Walking up the driveway,

She saw the queens and lace and wild roses,

And realized she should have brought a gift of apology.

Having her pockets for some little trinket she might have stowed away,

She looked down and realized she was still in the dress she wore yesterday.

Except now it was rumpled,

Dirty,

And smelled of must and body over.

She turned around.

There it was.

The beautiful gate.

It seemed so old-fashioned.

So closed.

So utterly perfect.

She whirled around and marched right up to the front door.

No dirt or wrinkles or bad smell was going to keep her from setting Mr.

Rutherford straight about her.

She'd assure him she didn't intend to rob him,

And swear to ward off those pesty boys for good.

She could see herself in the woods behind the house,

Armed with stingweed bombs.

Ben Danner and his gang would come clamoring up the hill.

She'd pull on her leather gloves and let the bombs fly.

They'd run home screaming and itching.

There was no answer to her first knock,

So she knocked again.

She heard the small window beside the door open,

With a vacuum seal pop.

Then a small,

Shy voice said,

I didn't order any groceries.

Ray had stepped to the side to see if she could catch a glimpse of him,

But with the sun reflecting off the white shingles,

She could see nothing but the gray of the screen.

Mr.

Rutherford?

He snapped the window shut.

Ray didn't know what to do.

Should she try again?

Should she go away?

Frozen,

She waited for a flash of inspiration.

Mr.

Rutherford came to this green door.

What do you want?

He asked in a whisper.

To apologize.

Ray had stepped forward.

He stepped back.

I didn't mean to break in.

I mean,

I didn't mean to end up in your house.

I was—everything she thought of was too ridiculous to say.

Spying on me?

Yes,

Sir.

When you came to apologize— I didn't want you to think I was trying to rob you.

He laughed.

The scratchy sound of his laughter startled her.

Rob,

Ian Rutherford?

The murderous recluse of Gandon,

Maine?

Gandon?

What's the name of this town?

At least it was when I moved here.

It's the rightful name of the place,

I should think.

Like Gaul for France.

It's a bit like that,

But I don't see cause for naming a town after a catastrophe.

Ray laughed,

But his silence told her he hadn't made a joke.

Sorry.

You certainly look it.

You couldn't decide if she should be angry or embarrassed.

We spent the night in the road cellar on account of the storm.

I wanted to get up here and apologize before I lost the nerve.

Well,

You should go home and come back when you're presentable.

Then I'll accept your apology.

With that,

He slammed the inner door.

Ray was shocked.

She'd come all this way to apologize and he didn't even accept it because she looked a little rumpled.

There was no way she was going to try again.

So she turned to leave.

At the end of the driveway,

She stopped.

For no reason at all.

She felt strange about walking through that gate,

Like it was a sin or something.

She told herself someone built the gate for people to walk through.

So she did.

But the clack of the wood as a gate hit the frame made her shiver.

On the other side,

She wondered what could make the gate seem so special.

Walking down the road,

She swore she'd never learned the reason because there was no way she was ever going back to see cranky old Miss Rutherford ever again.

You know what they say about saying never.

It's probably not a good idea because more than likely,

Whatever you swore off will come into your life again.

You know,

Sometimes it's hard to apologize when you've done something wrong.

But I promise you,

Good things can come of it.

Not only do you feel lighter letting go of the guilt of what you did,

But hopefully,

By taking this action,

By showing your strength and your willingness to accept your mistakes,

Perhaps you'll inspire the person you're apologizing to to consider being equally friendly and kind and gracious to you.

Well thank you so much for listening to this chapter of Strawberry Hill.

This has been A Lafay of Sylvanosity.

Until we meet again.

Reviews

Wow 🤩 thanks a lot please make more chapters soon