Braeland

Chapter 2. The Medallion is Back

Sitting on the small bed of his bedroom in the cottage, Peter held the medallion in his hands and spoke to it as if it were alive.  "What shall I do with you?" he whispered.

He kept his voice down because Parsnips was sleeping, and he knew that the little fellow would fret.  When he had pulled the medallion out of the hole he found not a scratch upon it and the dust which with it was covered was blown off by the wind that now entered the burnt circle.  The chain was not connected because of the missing link that Peter had given to Prudence and perhaps because of other missing links. "I wish Grandfather Martin was here," Peter had said, "he would know what was best to do." 

Peter had tucked the medallion into the sheath before heading back to the cabin.  Over the next few days, he carried the medallion with him as he went for walks along the shore of the lake or out in the woods, only taking it out of the sheath to look at it when he was alone.  All the time he and his father went fishing or for walks together, and once on a golfing expedition, he kept thinking about this one subject.  Jim thought that Peter's distraction and silence were part of the grieving for the mother, although the boy was not in as bad condition as his sister.  Peter did reminisce about his mother, of course, but the thought of an escape to another world was taking him over.  

The links of the chain were harder than steel and there seemed no way of rejoining them.  He tied the two ends together with a sturdy piece of string but it seemed wrong somehow.  Even if he were to ask Prudence to return to him the missing link there was still no way to reconnect the chain.  However, something strange happened.  When he returned to the burnt circle there was a change – weeds were sprouting and there were some blades of grass poking up.  It made him think that the medallion had been waiting for him to find it.  He was the only one who could touch it without a searing heat unless he gave it freely to someone else, or at least that's the way it was before it was broken.  But, there must be some good purpose behind the discovery even though last time it had introduced so much danger.

So, after days of wondering what to do with the medallion, Peter slipped it on late one night and he said to himself, "Charlotte, Farmer Goodwine, Mortimer, my friends in Greenwold, let me come to you."  

The next morning, he remembered the dream he had of flying above clouds that kept changing.  There were huge fluffy clouds that he flew in and out of and occasionally he caught glimpses of familiar land down below, rolling plains, forests and, once, a mountain range.  He flew into a storm cloud and felt himself tossed about, getting soaked, feeling afraid of falling and yet wanting to get down to land if it could be done safely.  It couldn't be done.  As much as he tried, he was barred from getting down on the ground.  He woke up in a sweat.  The sun was already quite high in the sky but he felt exhausted, as if he had not had a wink of sleep, and he was not hungry even though his father had poked his head in Peter's room and said, "Come on sleepy head.  It's lunch time.  I have some sandwiches made for you and Prue, and then I propose we go fishing for perch. One of these days I'm going to wake you up at sunrise when the real fish are biting," he said.

Peter was able to eat his ham sandwich after all but Prudence took only two bites of hers and then asked to be excused from the table.  She was getting extremely thin and this refusal to eat happened regularly.  Peter's father glanced towards Prudence's bedroom when they heard her climbing back into bed.  He sighed.

Later, in their small rowboat, the sun beat down on the water and on the man and the boy.  Both wore caps and sunglasses.  They had to keep the worms in a cooler or they would fry in the heat. They were anchored about 20 feet from shore, just where there the deep water began.  It was their favorite fishing hole and, within an hour, they had already caught 13 perch, 5 of which were large enough to keep and would be tasty to eat at supper.  Peter had been quiet, saying only a few words like, "Dad, that's a good one" when his father brought in a fish. 

After letting a small one back into the water, Jim said, "Peter, there's something I want to talk to you about.  It concerns your sister."

"What about Prue?"

"She needs more help than you or I can give her in dealing with her mother's passing.  Now, I don't want to scare you but I think you are old enough to be told that her health, including her mental health, could be in danger if this starving herself and lying in bed all day goes on much longer.  I have tried but I just can't get through to her."

"She won't talk to me about mom either," admitted Peter.

"No, and your grandfather told me before he left that she wouldn't open up to him either.  And so, unless she starts to come out of her gloom in the next few days, we will return home a week earlier than planned. I have already called up our family doctor.  He has made an appointment for me to meet with him tomorrow before he refers Prue to a psychiatrist.  So, the two of you will be alone for the day."

"She won't like being told to see a psychiatrist Dad."

"I know . . . but that's why I'm telling you this so you can help me persuade her to go.  I'm afraid there isn't any other alternative."

That night, after supper, Jim invited Peter to go on a walk along the shore but Peter said he wanted to finish reading a book. That wasn't exactly true.  Before retrieving the medallion, he had been reading fantasy books to escape but that had been a far cry from the real experience of going to Greenwold.  He took the sheathed medallion in hand and went up to Prudence's door, knocking before putting his head in.  She was lying with her head up on pillows, awake but not reading or listening to anything on her iPod.  

"What do you want?" she said in a surly tone, and added, "I suppose you're here to try and cheer me up the way Dad has been doing."

"He hasn't been successful.  I know because he told me so today," said Peter.

"And what business is that of yours?" 

Peter responded, "I didn't come here for that reason."

"No, well I'm not interested in anything.  You're not making any sense."

"I came to tell you I found the medallion."

"You found . . ." Prudence said and paused, caught off guard.  

"Yes.  But it's not working the same way as it used to.  It's weird. . ."

"Show it to me," Prudence said, glancing at the sheath in Peter's hand.  She was interested now.

Peter withdrew the medallion from the sheath.  "Look, I've tied up the place where the link blew off with string.  Maybe that's why . . ."

"Now I see what you want," said Prudence, sitting up and reaching behind her neck to unclasp her necklace that contained the link.  She started handing it out to Peter.  

"I gave it to you freely," said Peter.

"Well I give it back to you freely and wish you happy dreams.  But, watch out.  Don't get into trouble like you did last time.  Here, take it!"

Peter hesitated.  "Let's talk about it Prue," he said, finally.