The Mountains Sang Their Silent Melody

VIII

Frances found Ophelia sitting on the porch swing when they got back to their house.

"I borrowed one of the books from your room," Ophelia said as Frances entered the screen enclosure. She peered up at Frances from the book she was holding. "I hope you don't mind."

Frances gazed at the book. It was Haggard's Folly, a humorous tale about a man who lost a bet, accidentally gambling away his older brother to a troll. Haggard was forced to go on a long quest to trade the troll something of equal value to his brother, only realising upon his return that his brother and the troll had actually fallen in love. As Ophelia turned to the next page, Frances noticed the brass housekey hanging around Ophelia's neck.

Frances shrugged with one shoulder. Ophelia could read all the books in their room for all they cared.

"I have something to tell you," Frances said. Something about France's tone changed Ophelia's demeanour. She closed Haggard's Folly, directing all her attention to Frances.

Briefly, Frances explained how they had gone to the mountains and spent the night there. It was rather difficult to explain given that, from Ophelia's perspective, Frances had only been gone for a few hours. They explained about the shepherds, and the eagle, and Opus.

"I'll prove it!" Frances said. "Gertie!" they called.

When Frances's orange tabby was not forthcoming, they exited the screen porch and rooted around beneath its foundation. Frances was able to grasp Gertie by the scruff and haul her out from beneath the porch. Gertie hissed and clawed at Frances, but Frances held firm.

Frances plunked Gertie down on the sofa in full view of Ophelia. "Watch this," Frances said. "I can talk to animals now."

"Gertie, how's your day been?" Frances asked tentatively.

Gertie leapt down from the sofa with a soft thump and rubbed against Frances's leg.

"C'mon Gertie," Frances said, "I need to show Ophelia that I can talk to you."

Gertie looked up at Frances with intelligent eyes. Suspense beat in Frances's heart – they knew Gertie was about to say something deep.

"Prrrow?" Gertie asked.

Disappointment creeped onto Frances's face. "Hmm ... maybe it only works on eagles," they mumbled.

Ophelia collapsed onto the porch swing, howling with laughter. "I think you ate some bad mushrooms in the mountains," Ophelia exclaimed.

Frances stomped their foot. "I'm being serious, Ophelia. I met a woman named Opus, and she said she would teach me. She said years if it took that long. You could come with me. It's safe there, Opus says. Opus says the Corpus won't come up the mountain at all. Give it three years and you'll be sixteen. You'll be an adult and the Corpus won't be able to tell you to live with your father. And it's close enough that my mothers can come visit."

Ophelia didn't answer immediately. Frances drew their arms in close to their chest. "I thought I could fix things for you," Frances said slowly, "but you don't believe me."

Ophelia stood and took Frances's hands in her own. "My trust for you is greater than the mountains are tall. Tell me to go, and I will go. Tell me what you want me to do, and I will do it. I would follow you to the edge of the mountains, as far as the sea and beyond. I trust you, Frances Solomon, my deepest friend, the one whom I love more than all else in the world."

Ophelia hugged Frances tightly and attempted to lift them off the ground. Frances was far too fat and Ophelia too underfed and weak for this to work, but Ophelia made her best attempt.

"I'll pack my things and slip out tonight," Ophelia said. "You can tell your mothers. We can leave at first light tomorrow morning."

Frances couldn't help but smile as they watched Ophelia tread down the path. Things were finally beginning to turn to their favour.

Over dinner, Frances explained to their mothers about Opus, the holy woman. It may seem peculiar to you, the reader, that a couple would allow their nine-year-old to go live in the mountains with a stranger. But Frances's world was different from yours. It was not unusual for young ones to take an apprenticeship, though Frances was a few years younger than most. Some people from the valley who were slightly older – around Ophelia's age – had taken apprenticeships in the city with their parents' permission. It made Frances's mothers feel better that Ophelia would be going. It also made them feel better when Frances offered for them to meet Opus in the morning, and when Frances reassured them that they could visit as often as they liked. Frances was sent away from the dinner table for a half an hour while their mothers discussed it. After that time, Frances was summoned back into the room for their mothers to bestow their blessing upon the idea.

"Your mother bought some ice cream in town today," said Ida as the family cleared the dishes. "It's in the icebox."

Frances shook their head. "I've given up ice cream."

"But it's your favourite," Gianna intoned.

"No," Frances said firmly. "I've renounced ice cream in exchange for educational nourishment."

Gianna raised her eyebrow at her wife, but said no more.

Frances spent the rest of the evening packing their worldly possessions – that is, all that they could carry. When they had finished this, they went outside to prepare for Ophelia.

Setting up a tent in Frances's sloping yard would have been impossible, but the people of the valley had long solved this issue. Frances slung the ropes of the canvas tent overtop the sturdier branches of the trees in their yard. They clicked the carabiners into place like they'd done so often in the summer nights of their childhood. Of course, Frances was still well within their childhood, but it didn't feel that way to them.

They crawled into their tent and zipped the door shut to the night-symphony of forest insects. Frances flicked on the switch of their lantern and pulled open a comic book. The night had begun.

When Ophelia was certain that her father was deep enough into his alcohol-induced sleep not to be disturbed, she began pulling her clothes and other treasured objects into an old hiking backpack. After she'd finished going through her bedroom, she wandered out to the vacant common rooms of the home. There were some books that Ophelia had read a thousand times over, some utensils, and bits of clutter – nothing Ophelia considered worth taking. Ophelia's mind lingered for a few moments over the safe beneath the stairs. It might be good to have some money, after all. But Ophelia did not consider this idea long. The key to the safe dangled around her father's neck. Ophelia believed there was a good chance she'd be able to slip it off of him without him noticing, but he would realise at some point that the money was gone. Better not to take it. Best not to give him a reason to come looking for her.

Ophelia exhaled. She did not feel sad about leaving her house. Perhaps she felt a bit guilty, but she did not know why. From an external perspective, we know that Ophelia, a victim of abuse, had been conditioned to feel responsible for her situation. But Ophelia was twelve, almost thirteen, years old. She could not be expected to understand this, especially when she was in the midst of it rather than an onlooker.

Ophelia slung her backpack on her shoulder and slipped out of her bedroom window. It was on the second floor, but her bedroom sat on the mountain side house, not the valley side. This meant that the drop was only a few feet. Ophelia had done this many times before.

She took the foot trails to Frances's house like she had done the night before. Frances was waiting for her in their tent. The two settled themselves and Ophelia clicked out the lantern.

Ophelia had found sanctuary.