The Binkle and the Catawampus Compass (Binkles and Magic) (4 page)

Jeep saw Chris, his stepfather, leaning across her as he slapped her wrists again and again.
What did he do? Why would he hurt her?

 “Mom, you OK?” Her eyes were open but she didn’t seem to hear him.

 “Listen to me! You’ve got to listen!” Chris yelled with a brutish intensity loud enough to be heard above the shrieks. She paid no attention to him, either.

“What are you doing to her? Can’t you see she’s in pain?”

“Jeep, I can’t make her stop! Call 911,” Chris groaned.

After he made the call for an ambulance, Jeep asked Chris, “What now?”

“I wish I knew... Nothing works.” Chris’s face was ashen—etched with fear.

More screams and thrashing about by Jeep’s mother only deepened their uncertainty about what to do for her. Not many minutes passed before Jeep opened the front door to insistent banging. Three uniformed medics brushed past him, as he pointed toward the bedroom.

Jeep watched one of them insert a needle into his mother’s arm. Her hysterical screams stopped. The desired silence brought no comfort for Jeep, however.

Going through their well-practiced routines, the team efficiently lifted her onto a wheeled cot and rolled her limp body out to the waiting ambulance. Its flashing red and white light made Jeep’s head spin, as he slipped further into an eerie, unfamiliar world. One marked by fear and helplessness. One where time seemed to stand still.

After Chris and the medics climbed in and closed all the doors, the ambulance slowly pulled into the empty street. Barefoot and still in his pajamas, Jeep stood at the curb under the glaring streetlight. He watched helplessly until the red-and-white flashing lights disappeared into the darkness.

Jeep wrestled with his fears the rest of the night. Sleep was unthinkable. He didn’t feel like going to school when the time came, so didn’t. There’s not much an eleven-year-old can do to help at such a time, but he felt the need to stand by—just in case.

For breakfast that morning Jeep made pancakes for himself, just like his mom used to make them—with colorful candy sprinkles that she called “crumbled rainbows.” He even heated the syrup, the way she did. Although he wasn’t all that hungry he wanted to pretend she was there making breakfast for him—like always.

Jeep sat at the table eating his pancakes. But midway through he started to sob and couldn’t get another bite down.

Jeep couldn’t stop thinking about his mother or her weird ways of doing absolutely everything. She bragged about being
unpredictable on purpose
because she was steadfastly anti-habit. She’d say, “If you aren’t careful about them your habits will take over your whole life. And that’s what shuts your brain off. Look at all the zombies walking around. That’s not being alive—their habits took over.”

Helen would explain that as long as she did a task differently every time (not the easiest or fastest way, mind you) the “habit gods” couldn’t get in control of your life. So she was constantly inventing silly and strange ways to sweep the floor, or make a bed, or wash her hair. Like rinse
before
you wash, or stand on one leg the whole time.

Jeep loved that about her. He missed that quirkiness about what she did as much as her ever-cheerful, can-do attitude. Every day used to be full of surprises that way, instead of the dull and tedious way they became without her.

An exhausted Chris dragged himself home from the hospital about noon.

“Mom O.K.?” 

“They can’t tell yet. They have to do some tests. She’s sleeping now—that’s all I know.”

“But when do I get to see her? When is she coming home?”

Chris just shrugged and shook his head. A sorrow rose up in Jeep that was both sharp and unbearable—a feeling which had since taken up residence in his heart. Mom was gone, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.

No matter how often Jeep asked about his mother in the days that followed, Chris never told him anything specific. From those non-answers, Jeep suspected her illness had to be serious—too terrible to put in words. The dread of it gave him the shudders whenever she came to mind. Gradually, by silent agreement, Chris and Jeep stopped mentioning her at all—even to remember back to the time before...

Since that awful night, a whole year had passed—without Jeep hearing from her even once! Unbidden thoughts of her just brought back sadness and stirred up the fears that lurked just out of sight. Instead, he’d daydream about how things were going to be when¼ So little by little, Jeep pulled back into his private, lonely world, and only spoke when he had to.

~~~

Day? Night? Impossible to tell which. Being underground without windows, Jeep lost his sense of time when he woke up. He didn’t know how long he slept, but the first thing he noticed as he awoke was the brown rabbit curled up upon his chest. Its long ears were pressed against his ribs.

Adah saw Jeep stirring. “That rabbit adopted you, Jeep. See that? What her ears are doing? She’s listening to your heart.”

“What’s her name?” His fingers drifted through the rabbit’s downy fur, as he rubbed her neck and ears.

“Since she’s claimed you, it’s for you to name her. Give her a name in your language, anyway. She’ll answer to it. No idea what other rabbits call her.”

Jeep thought a moment. “I’ve always liked Lulu.”

He let the word roll around his tongue. “Lulu... Lulu...” Then pleased with the sound and sense of it, he lifted the rabbit so their noses touched.

“You’re my Lulu.” In reply she held his gaze without shifting a hair of the hare. They connected heart to heart—rather like shaking hands in sealing the deal. And from that moment on Lulu was never far from his side.

~~~

Grikkl introduced Jeep to the dog that was along on his rescue. It stood taller than Grikkl himself and was obviously bred for speed. “We call him Cerberus after the mythological three-headed dog that guards the gates of Hades. He’s gentler than he looks—unless you have wickedness in mind. In that case, watch out!” [Note: Cerberus – pronounced sur´ ber us - The guardian of the underworld from Greek mythology; a monster with three heads (sometimes said to have 50 or 100 heads), a snake for a tail, and a serpentine mane

Cerberus stretched his head forward and rubbed it against Jeep’s hand, making it easy for his fingers to scratch it. Rubbing the dog’s ears reminded Jeep of his own dog.
Finding MeToo is the first thing to do when I get home.

Almost like a mind reader, Adah leaned over and whispered in Jeep’s ear, “Don’t worry yourself about your own wee dog. He’s safe—you’ll see.”

 “Really? That’s great,” he replied with relief—without thinking to ask how she could know that.

The household also included a raven named Ramses, who perched above the fireplace and majestically looked down at everyone. Adah’s two black cats were called Heather and Yawn. As far as Jeep could tell, they were always asleep side by side. Both being black, it was impossible to tell where one cat ended and the other started. So Jeep thought of them as a single big lump of cat.

Later, when he tried to remember back to his time at Grikkl’s, he could never recall them having moved from the same spot. Alive, no question. But as active as the furniture.

~~~

A while later, Grikkl brought Jeep some more food. The boy took a spoonful and rolled it around his mouth without recognizing the flavor.

“What is it?”

“What would you like it to be?”

“Chicken noodle soup sounds good.”

“Then chicken soup it is.”

It was exactly the way Jeep liked it—with chunks of white meat, wide noodles, with lots of chopped celery.
This stuff might taste like usual, but this isn’t ordinary food. Not by a long shot!

Jeep pieced together from various conversations that Grikkl was nearly 800 years old and Adah was older still. They never had any children—or whatever you’d call a baby gnome. They came to America during the 1700s. A new start when they were already 500 years old! But what they had done before or since was rather vague. Grikkl and Adah made occasional visits back to Europe and fairyland (their true home). He heard longing in their voices whenever they spoke of the olden times and distant places.

Although the couple answered Jeep’s questions, their replies left him with more puzzles than he started with. He got the impression they were holding something back. But Jeep was holding something back as well, since he hardly said a word about himself or his life at home.

~~~

Over the next several days Jeep fell into the gnomes’ routines. Mostly he ate and rested while his strength returned. Adah gave him small tasks to help her, like sorting moonberries or grinding up smelly herbs he couldn’t begin to guess the uses for. Her busy hands never slowed as she told Jeep strange and wonderful tales.

Whenever Adah asked about his life at home he’d fidget and mumble. Since she could tell he wasn’t ready to talk yet, she was willing to wait until the time was right. They both seemed content for her to do most of the talking. And Grikkl? He hardly said anything at all.

Twice a day Adah rubbed a purpley, gloppy, strange-smelling cream on Jeep’s sore places that made them tingle. She proudly confided, “I make the cream myself. Trust it to ‘cure whatever ails you.’”

“That cream probably works O.K. But it doesn’t get the credit for fixing my cuts and bruises.”

“Oh? Really? What does?” Adah asked in puzzlement.

“Your magic. It’s there, isn’t it?” He softly touched her hands—almost in awe of the magic he sensed in them.

“Aye, magic!” she answered with a wink. “But it could be the magic of caring.”

“That too, no doubt. But you can’t fool me.

Jeep asked Grikkl why he kept saying “Kittens hendrini!” on their way to his chamber, but he hadn’t heard it since. Instead of answering right out, Grikkl acted embarrassed and stayed mum.

Since Jeep wouldn’t drop the question, Grikkl finally replied, “Oh, you saw that? I was afraid of that. Can’t be helped, I guess.”

“So what was it?” Jeep insisted.

“Well, let’s just say, there’s something special about this place where I live. I don’t have a problem as long as I stay near home. But when I have to go out and venture into the human world, it’s tricky for me to keep myself together. I fall apart.”

“That’s that I thought I saw. But you didn’t really. Right”

“Yes and no. It’s like I’m in more than one place at once. So I must concentrate really hard to keep them all in focus. One moment of forgetting—snap! I start to slip apart. They go into different dimensions—separate space.”

“Sounds terrible!”
And impossible.

Boy does it hurt! Then I need a spell to put it right.”

“Why?”

But Grikkl raised his finger to shush him, and would say no more. And Adah refused to talk about it either.

~~~

Adah brought out an old book with stories of a white knight named Laarik, and his trusty sidekick, Holger. The knight rode the countryside vanquishing evil and rescuing more than fair maidens. Old, young, hags, children, critters—he was in the rescuing business in a big way. With his magic powers, he and Holger turned everyday objects into whatever was required to save the day. In most of the stories he showed that one didn’t need strength as much as common sense to find an unstoppable solution. Whether Laarik confronted dragons or wicked villains, the knight found a way to leave a trail of tranquility behind him.

It was Jeep’s favorite kind of adventure, and every time he picked up the book it changed so it told a different tale than the last one.

“I can’t believe I never read about Laarik before. This book wasn’t in our library.”

“I’m not surprised,” Adah replied, “the
Tales of Laarik
are quite popular in fairyland. Since he’s a gnome, you know.”

 “Ohhhhhhhhh, I didn’t get that.”

Morning and night didn’t mean much in a place cut off from daylight. The ordinary passage of time made no difference so far underground. Sunrise and sunset passed without notice. Since the food tasted however Jeep wanted, meals gave no clue about whether it was breakfast time or dinnertime.

Eating continued to be a high point for Jeep. Somehow, the texture of each dish matched whatever flavor he chose. But how could that be? Adah explained that what he was eating provided plenty of healthy vitamins and minerals, no matter what it tasted like. He just had a choice about the taste of it.
All my favorite foods, one after another—pizza, brownies, chocolate sundaes, macaroni and cheese, whatever I want.

The more he liked something, the more flavor it had. Jeep figured if he wanted it to taste like liver and onions (that he hated) it probably wouldn’t have much flavor at all. But why waste a chance to have a treat to find out?

A large grandfather clock with six round dials on its face stood against the wall nearest his cot. Jeep couldn’t figure it out since none of the dials resembled the clocks he knew. Some of the dials had no recognizable symbols. Others had pictures which changed every so often—a flower, a bird, a bell, a hat.

Jeep asked Grikkl, “How does this clock tell time? It’s strange.”

“Don’t worry about that. Those dials tell me information about fairyland. And none of them measure time the way you’re used to. Just forget about time while you’re here.”

That’s not hard to do. Since I came I’ve pretty much forgotten about the rest of the world. But when I get home I’ll be in soooo much trouble
.

In a light-hearted mood Grikkl announced, “Adah isn’t the only one who makes music.”

From behind his back he pulled a concertina that looked to be as old as he was. The chamber soon echoed with an old Celtic tune that he played at a frenzied pace. Grikkl’s fingers moved so quickly they seemed to blur together.

Jeep couldn’t keep his foot from tapping in time. Even though he’d never danced before he found he couldn’t sit still. So he and Adah whirled around the chamber together. After playing a few peppy tunes, a winded and tuckered-out Grikkl had to sit.

“I don’t play often enough, even though it feels so good when I do it. This fine concertina deserves to be heard. Her name is Arla. She has her own mind and plays what she pleases, sometimes melodies I don’t know.”