For a while now, Honorera had suspected that someone was watching her in her dreams. And now she felt like someone was watching her during her waking hours. She couldn’t exactly explain it, she just had that eerie feeling that eyes were following her, and it was starting to irritate her. She scrubbed the dishes with more force than necessary, trying to expel some of her agitation. She hadn't slept well in weeks, because every time she drifted off, she was having some version of the same dream.
A sweet, feminine voice was calling her to come into the forest. "You'll find it there..." the voice promised. Find what? Honorera prowled the forest in her dream, looking for she-didn't-know what. Sometimes she forgot that she was looking for anything. Then she got that disturbing feeling that she was being watched. She scanned the trees, but she couldn't see into the darkness. She didn't know whether to be curious or afraid. Was someone else looking for something mysterious in the forest? Or was something sinister looking for her? She didn't like that theory. The forest had always been her safe place.
She held it in reverence like a great cathedral. The trees were her friends, her guardians.
She finished rinsing the dishes and wiped off the counters. Once the kitchen was spotless and organized, she tied on her shoes and slipped out the back door. The light was fading, but it didn't matter, she knew every inch of the forest by heart. She could navigate even in the dark of night. The forest seemed to welcome her, the trees collectively sighing in contentment as she aimlessly walked through the shadows. She trailed her fingers over the barks of the trees, caressing them gently. She ducked under low branches and tried never to break even a twig. Her feet always lead her to her favorite place... the place that she dreamed of every night. There had been a house here once, but all that remained was a ruined cellar hole, the remains of a collapsed fireplace, and the ancient apple orchard. Twenty or so gnarled and ancient fruit trees flanked the clearing.
To the north of the orchard, there was a stand of birch, and in the center of the birch trees, a hunk of slate rock jutted out. The rock used to be covered with briars and thorns, but she had carefully cleared them away, so that she could climb up the back side and sit on the top. She felt something strange there, strange but wonderful, as if the rock had energy, and by laying her hands against it, she could take that energy into her own body.
Across the small clearing, an ancient oak was surrounded by pines. She guessed that the Conservation Corps must have logged the forest after the Great Depression, but they had left the old virgin oak and later the pines had grown in around it. She lovingly referred to the oak as "Grandmother".
Grandmother seemed to be fading, some of her limbs had rotted and fallen to the ground last winter. But still, the mighty trunk remained, as big around as a car, and the remaining limbs had still sprouted leaves and produced a small harvest of acorns for the squirrels. Honorera knew where to find the foot holds to scramble up the trunk and sit in the crotch of one of the largest limbs. When she was younger and smaller, she used to venture further into the branches, but no longer. She was heavy now, and Grandmother was losing her strength.
She settled herself comfortably into the crotch of the tree and closed her eyes. The night sounds soothed her, and the strange comfortable energy flowed from the tree into her tired body. Even the constant ache in her ribs faded away. It was getting cold at night, and the mosquitos had all but disappeared. In the fading light she saw a few bats darting through the branches. She didn't fear any of the night creatures. She didn't mean to fall asleep but after so many restless nights, she couldn’t help but let her eyelids drift closed.
She was dreaming. She opened her eyes, and she was still in the tree. Night had fallen and the dew had left her skin and her clothes damp. She was aware that she was not alone. That someone, the intruder, was in the woods. She heard his footfalls crunching in the autumn leaves that had already started to fall. He was so close. He was going to pass right under her. "Where are you, Honorera?"
She gasped and covered her mouth to smother the sound. He knew her name. Not only that, but the voice was familiar. Deep and gentle and... she searched her mind trying to recall to whom that voice belonged. Mr. Shepherd! Her brow furrowed in confusion. Why was Mr. Shepherd in her forest, in her dreams?
"I can feel you here," he said softly. "I know you can feel me too." he came closer, under the umbrella of the oak's branches. He peered into the darkness, but of course, he could see nothing, and he did not look above him. "Honorera, my love. I have found you."
Found me? Obviously, he had not found her, as he was still wandering down there, headed out toward the clearing. And what was that endearment? "My love?" She shook her head in the tree. She knew it was just a dream, but she thought of the weird feelings she got when she met his eyes in class, the heat that seemed to burn in her chest, and the way his touch had tingled when he had picked her up in the hall, and then gently touched her ribs. It was like the spark of static electricity jumping from his fingers to her skin, not painful, but kind of exciting.
Did she have a crush on the substitute English teacher? That seemed like a very immature and childish thing, something she was sure she was beyond. Yes, he was very handsome. All the girls were sighing over his dark good looks and his piercing gray eyes. A few were even so bold as to be flirty and coy with him. But it was all a joke, after all he was a teacher, a grown man. What interest would he have in a bunch of giggly teenaged girls? What was the point of crushing on someone who was so far out of reach? For Honorera, there was no point in “crushing” on anyone at all. Her life was too terrible to even contemplate the complications a boyfriend would bring. It wasn’t even a possibility. Everyone at school despised her, and she never went anywhere else.
She leaned back in the tree and willed herself to wake up. Now that she knew the identity of the man in the woods, she felt somehow sad and disappointed. But at least she didn't have to be afraid anymore.
She woke up much the way she had awoken in her dreams, a bit stiff and sore from sleeping wedged next to the trunk of the tree, and damp and cold with dew. But there was no presence in the woods with her. The forest was singing its night-song, uninterrupted. She eased herself down out of the great tree and trekked back toward home. She vaguely noticed that her ribs were no longer sore as she ducked the branches of a young pine.
Inside the trailer, her uncle was still snoring loudly on the couch. The days when he came home and passed out peacefully were the best. He acted childish and needy, he cried for his dead wife, but at least he wasn't mean. He was like Dr. Jeckel and Mr. Hyde, and she never knew which one would come home at night or wake up in the morning. She locked the doors of the trailer and headed for the shower. As she pulled her shirt off and saw her upper torso reflected in the tarnished mirror over the sink, she saw that her bruises were all but gone. There was nothing left but a faint yellow-green discoloration. But that’s how it always was, she healed fast. It didn't seem unusual to her.