The Dark Dark Woods

Life in the Woods: Chapter Three

Ma hummed softly as they walked back to the house, where she promptly handed Josiah a broom and Credence a bucket. 

She placed a kiss on each of their foreheads and gently commanded, "Back to your chores," before going inside to do whatever it was that mothers did.

At dinner, Ma retold their escapade to Pa, who grew more stern-faced as the story progressed. When Ma finished, Pa skipped right over his children's good deed and began listing their offenses:

"Shirking chores, climbing on the roof, eavesdropping..."

The children braced themselves.

"You know there are consequences to every action, to every disobedience."

"Yes, Pa," they whispered in unison.

"There's a balance in the world. What you put into it, good and bad, will be visited back."

"Yes, Pa."

"So when you disobey, when you commit wrong—what returns to you?"

"Punishment."

"That's right."

Pa sat back in his chair and tapped his fingers, the way he always did when he was deep in thought. Ma said it was because he had given up his smoking pipe, and his fingers were ever searching for something to do. After a short, tense silence Pa's expression softened.

"But maybe," he said, "if you disobey in order to help...that can also bring balance."

The children looked at him, curious but cautious. Pa stood up, towering over them.

He broke into a wide smile.

"You did a very kind thing today, helping someone in need. Why should I punish that? I won't. Kindness never deserves punishment. Kindness deserves kindness."

He opened his big arms and the children rushed into his embrace. That was the mysterious, wonderful way with Pa: He could change the mood of the whole world in an instant.

"I am very proud of you two today. So proud to be your pa. And Ma..." He looked up and the children followed his gaze to find Ma standing at the table with a small cake in her hands. "Ma is proud of you, too."

***

As they were being tucked into bed, Credence couldn't stop the questions swirling around her mind.

"Ma..." Credence began, her tongue tingling with the burn of a difficult question.

"Yes?"

"I didn't know you could talk to birds. How do you do it?" 

Ma shrugged. "It's just something I was always able to do."

"Can Pa do it too?"

"No," said Pa, "but with Ma here I don't need to, do I?"

"Can Josiah and I do it?" 

Ma sighed. "I don't know. I don't think it's something one can teach or learn. I think it's just something one is born with."

"Could your ma do it?" 

Ma's face grew sad. She didn't like to talk about her before family, everyone knew that, and Credence suddenly felt very embarrassed to have brought it up. 

But she was on the brink of telling Ma the truth: That sometimes she could hear animals, too. Instead she bit her lip, and along with it, her secret.

"My mother could not do it, Credence." 

"Can you do it with all animals?" This came from Josiah, and it was so sudden that both parents turned to look at him in surprise. Ma laid a hand on his head.

"So many questions from you two! But now is not the time. We can discuss it more tomorrow if you like."

The children frowned. This answer meant they would not discuss it tomorrow. Or the next day. Discussing things tomorrow always meant the same thing: That the conversation would never happen. It would remain one of the thousand unanswered riddles of their parents.

***

It was late into the night and Credence was struggling to find sleep.

"You're keeping me awake," groaned Josiah, "with your loud jostling."

"Sorry."

There was a moment of silence, and then in the darkness Josiah's voice whispered, "Will you ever tell Ma that you can hear animals, too?"

Credence was asking herself the same question, but she didn't have an answer for either of them.

"I don't know."

"Do you think she'll get mad?"

"No."

"Then why—"

"Josiah, I don't know!" Credence hissed, more angrily than intended. Josiah cleared his throat, a signal that his feelings were hurt.

"Sorry, 'Crence. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Josiah. I love you."

"Love you too."

Credence wanted to tell her parents she heard the birds that day, or at least had understood a hint of their meaning. Maybe she could practice in secret, and one day she would be as proficient as Ma. Wouldn't that be a wonderful surprise?

She should tell her parents. It wasn't right to keep things from them.

They'd probably be delighted to know it. Ma might even help—

No. 

Ma was full of secrets, too many to count. Pa kept his hatred of the towns laid bare, but the reason why remained locked inside his head.

Credence arrived at a decision that felt like one of the most important choices she would ever make:

Perhaps we can discuss it tomorrow, she thought slyly, perhaps I will keep some secrets of my own.