Walk With Me (18 page)

All through the night, the family ran away from the flowing lava, trying to get beyond the reach of the volcano’s fury. Just before dawn, they realized they were finally safe and they could stop to take care of their wounds.

The entire family suffered burns, though Peter’s were the
most severe. Celeste carefully dressed the wounds of the little travelers, but she gave no sympathy to Peter. She didn’t realize that the sparks from the volcano had carried venomous barbs—and that without her help and forgiveness, the poison would work its way into his heart. Peter did the best he could to put bandages on his back, then he stood up to go, grimacing as he lifted his pack. Celeste said nothing, but she was surprised he wanted to leave so soon without giving his wounds a chance to heal. Sadly, he had no kindness, not even for himself. Though the burns on his back tormented him like a thousand pricking nettles, he again started walking on the King’s path.

Though Peter and Celeste traveled much slower than before, Celeste still managed to develop a set of nasty blisters. They preoccupied themselves with the needs of the little travelers; indeed, the little travelers were the only reason Peter and Celeste cared to keep together. They said little to each another except, “Shall we stop here?”; “All right”; “Can you light the fire?”; “Yes.” Soon they stopped talking completely and walked in silence, save for their shoes scuffing across the dirt and periodic squeals from the little travelers. When they came to the Dry Wash of No Arguments, they didn’t even discuss what to do. They headed down the sharp slope into the gully. At least there they would not have to worry about an angry volcano erupting.

The wide channel was quite dry, though the steep walls would fill to the top if a thunderstorm came. Everyone in the family became coated by the powdery brown dust. There was no water
to clean the little travelers, who looked dirtier than ever, but Peter gave up arguing about it. And though Celeste’s blisters were turning an ugly purple color, she said nothing. She was sure that if she said something, he would just tell her that her feet would toughen up.

As much as her blisters hurt, the loneliness Celeste felt as they continued walking through the dry wash troubled her more. She yearned for true companionship, not this dull, silent partnership. And in my dream, I saw how it was fortunate that no man with a smooth tongue came and talked to her, for she would have been easily led away.

After a few days, they came to a bend and saw a traveler, horribly battered and bruised, sitting on the channel wall.

“What’s wrong?” Peter called to him. “Can I help you?”

“No, it’s too late,” the man said.

“Too late for what?”

“Too late for help. My wife has been washed away, and I don’t know how I can go on without her.”

“How did that happen?”

“For a long time we were fine walking in the wash, just like you are. We drifted along without saying a word to each other. With all the dust, it was easier not to open our mouths. But one day we began having a tremendous argument. It was as if all the arguments we had avoided while we were walking in the wash had combined into one giant row. Then suddenly, dark clouds covered the sky. There was a violent clap of thunder, and it started to pour. It rained so hard, the water rose to our knees within minutes. Without any warning, a tall wall of water rushed down the
channel toward us, like a huge wave. By the time we saw it, we had no time to get out. It crashed into us with an awful roar. I managed to grab hold of a branch, but my wife was swept away.” The man shook his head. “The wash looked so safe and dry.”

Even after the disaster of the Vehement Volcano, Peter had a hard time believing that arguing could bring such a disaster. But the man’s story made him worry for the little travelers. If a flash flood did come, they would be in peril. He quickly lifted the little travelers out of the wash. Celeste, not wanting to be left, scrambled after them.

They brushed off the dust from themselves as best they could, then looked around. There was no sign of the Mountains of Maturity or the Highlands—and certainly no glimpse of the King’s City. All they could see were the Plains of Distance that stretched all the way to the horizon. They had long since given up looking at the map to decide which path to take, and without any discussion they started walking across the flat brown expanse. There was no proper trail, just footpaths that meandered around the plains. Ahead they could make out many travelers wandering alone, even ones who wore Cords of Commitment, for in such a wasteland it was easy to drift away from one’s partner.

They found a few small scrub bushes and scrawny trees by a stagnant pool, and Peter feared they would use up their food supplies before they got across the plains. He reduced their rations once and then a second time. Finally, when they had nothing left to eat, he went out to search. After a day’s hunt he came back with
barely enough for a single meal. In the days that followed, it became even harder for him to find enough food. He started staying away for long periods, sometimes several nights at a time. Celeste kept busy taking care of the little travelers, but she found it very tiring without anyone to help. The Cords of Commitment felt like lead weights around her wrist. How different she felt about her partnership now than when she and Peter first walked together. At the beginning, she could hardly stand to be separated from him; she had always waited eagerly for him to return so they could walk together in the woods. Now she only wanted him to return so she could fix something for the little travelers to eat and then have a bit of time to herself.

One day while Peter was gone, a family stopped by the camp. As all the little travelers played together, Celeste told the woman how lonely she was. The woman told the same tale, even though they had more food and her partner didn’t have to go on long searches.

“He is with me all the time,” she said to Celeste, “but he might as well not be. During the day he barely speaks to me, and at night when we sit around the fire, he plays his fiddle or repairs our bags—anything except talk with me. If we ever do get a few minutes to ourselves and take out our chalice, one of the little travelers is sure to wake up and call for me. Sometimes I think it wouldn’t make any difference if I was making the journey by myself.”

“But what about your cords? Would you really cut them?”

“I didn’t join with my partner just so I could become invisible to him. I decided to go on the journey with him because of these.” She opened her pack and took out six postcards of the most romantic spots one could imagine.

Celeste recognized the beautiful scenes. “I have my own collection too.”

“Well, take a good look around. Do you see anything that comes close to one of these cards? There’s nothing but dirt and more dirt. When we started off, my husband said we would be sure to visit these scenes. But we haven’t been to a single one. If we don’t soon, I think I will just go off on my own and try to find these places.”

“What about your little travelers?”

“I’ll take them with me—my husband certainly wouldn’t know what to do with them.”

Celeste wondered about what the woman had said. Other than her sojourns with Peter under the moon of honey and the time at the gathering hut when they had gone off alone with their hourglass, she couldn’t remember much pleasure in their journey together. Why had she ever thought it would be better to walk with him? He always took the most challenging routes. He was so quiet. He liked to get such an early start. He preferred to eat the same thing over and over, and he never appreciated the elaborate meals she made.

When Peter returned with more food, Celeste told him about the scenes in her postcards. “Why don’t we try to find one of those places? We could leave this plain in one long march.” She thought this might appeal to him since he always liked to walk a long way without stopping.

“Impossible with the little travelers. Maybe if they were older and could fend for themselves, but I need to get food, and you need to take care of them.”

“But it is so lonely and dreary here. I am tired of spending all
my time with the little travelers while you go off—and when you come home you are always tired. You never ask me how my day was, and if I ask you something, you just grunt. That’s not why I went on the journey with you.”

As Peter listened to Celeste, he thought how Celeste used to stare into his eyes lovingly and ask how she could help him. Now she only worried about the little travelers and told him what to get for them and when to come back. Worse, she was becoming rather plump, and her skin was starting to get wrinkles.

As they walked on across the plains, the sun became hotter and brighter and sharper. But this was not the King’s holy light that would cause a person to shield their eyes, nor was it the healing light of salvation. Rather it was a harsh, disillusioning light that exposed things that were unlovely, things that were impure, and things that were false and undeserving of praise. Instead of looking at Celeste with an admiring gleam, Peter complained that she spent too much time looking for pebbles. And Celeste complained that he never wanted to kick them with her. She griped about the clothes he wore; he griped about the way she sighed when they began to walk. She grumbled that he never told her what he was feeling; he grumbled that she was never quiet. And because they had stopped reading the guidebook, they did not remember the passage Lord Will and Lady Sophia had underlined for them about not complaining or arguing.

The longer Celeste looked at Peter through her critical eyes, the more she doubted if she had chosen well. Peter clearly didn’t
resemble any of the men in her postcards. He belched after he ate, snored when he slept, and often he didn’t bother to shave. She was sure that if she had known what Peter was really like before they joined together, she would not have gone with him. In truth, she had seen a vague vision of all Peter’s faults when they first met in the grove. But she had expected that after walking with her, his faults would disappear. They hadn’t. In fact, they seemed more entrenched than ever.

It was different for Peter. His original vision of Celeste was nothing like who she was now. At the beginning she had been so quiet and flexible, and content to stay with Peter. Now she always wanted to join up with other travelers. Somehow she had deceived him. He wondered what Faithfulness would say if he told him that Celeste was not the right one after all. She was so different from the woman she had been at the start that surely he might be excused from walking with her. Still, he remembered that Discernment had said, “It’s important to choose your partner wisely, but it’s even more important to choose to love her every day.” Discernment would tell Peter it was his duty to walk with Celeste—no matter how much she had changed.

At a little oasis crowded with other travelers resting from the grueling journey, Peter and Celeste sat at a distance from each other. Celeste said to the woman beside her how boring the scenery was. The woman agreed. She had tried to talk her partner out of coming, but he wouldn’t go any other way, so she had to follow after him.

“Why did you decide to go with him in the first place?” Celeste asked.

“That’s easy. He was so cheerful all the time.”

Celeste stole a glance at the woman’s partner, who was napping with a scowl on his face. “And is he?”

“Well, sometimes. But the journey has been much harder than he thought, harder than I thought too. I soon discovered his cheerfulness comes out only when everything is going well. Truthfully, it’s been a long time since we’ve been on a good solid path.”

“So why do you stay with him?”

“Because of the pledge I made.”

Celeste shook her head. “I know, that awful pledge.”

“Why do you say that? Maybe you made different vows, but ours were for better or worse. Now we’re in one of the worse parts.”

“But I didn’t think worse would mean this.” Celeste swept her hand toward the plains.

“Neither did I.”

“I feel so trapped. I thought Peter was different—or maybe I was sure the things I didn’t like about him would go away once we had been walking for awhile.”

“Only now they are more visible?”

“Yes, and uglier and unpleasant.” Celeste rubbed the cord on her wrist. “I think I made a terrible mistake.”

“Oh, I don’t think you did.”

“Why do you say that? You don’t know me, and you don’t know him.”

“Because I know that you joined with him and put on the
cords. It isn’t a question of making a mistake or not. You made a choice, and this is your life now.”

“If you were a more caring person, you wouldn’t say that. You’d understand how lonely and miserable I am.”

“No.” The woman leaned over to adjust the pillow under her partner’s head. “I’m afraid I understand too well.”