No Place Like Home	 No Place Like Home by Mary

  

 NOTES: I see Benton Fraser as a man in search of, and struggling to come
to terms with, his true self, his life path -- the hero on his journey of
self-discovery. This is particularly evident in the episode "Victoria's
Secret," which is teeming with the symbolism and imagery mythology and
legend has long used to tell the 'hero's journey.' As scholars such as
Joseph Campbell tell us, in order to accomplish this journey, it is
necessary to be prepared to give up everything of the life we have been
leading, including everything that represents security. We must "let go of
the life you have found to make room for the life that awaits you." We
must live the life that we are called to live by the center of our being.
That is the only true life; the only fulfillment. 

 "The hero's journey always begins with the call. One way or another, a
guide must come to say, 'Look, you're in Sleepy Land. Wake. Come on a
trip. There is a whole aspect of your consciousness, your being, that's
not been touched. So you're at home here? Well, there's not enough of you
there.' And so it starts."   (from Reflections on the Art of Living, A
Joseph Campbell Companion, Selected and Edited by Diane K. Osbon)  

 "The herald or announcer of the adventure...is often dark, loathly, or
terrifying, judged evil by the world; yet if one could follow, the way
would be opened through the walls of day into the dark where the jewels
glow."	 (from The Hero With a Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell)  

 "High winds in northern sky will carry you away. You know you have to
leave here, you wish that you could stay. There's four directions on this
map, but you're only going one way...You could walk a hundred thousand
miles and never find a home. You always knew some day you'd have to strike
out on your own. You look up at the clouds and you can see which way the
wind is blowing..."   (from "dueSouth Theme Song", Jay Semko)  

 Disclaimer: Paul Haggis created a wonderful, complex, truly human
character, and Alliance brought him to my attention in the television
series, "dueSouth." I'm very grateful to them and hope they don't mind my
exploration of Fraser and their other characters. I also must thank Joseph
Campbell (and others) for helping me to understand and empathize with
Benton Fraser. 

 Drama; Rated G 

 NO PLACE LIKE HOME 

 By Mary 

 Life as a nine-year-old in the extreme northern village of Alert was
quiet -- you might even say boring. My grandmother, on the other hand, was
in her glory. We had moved to that sparsely-populated town when she was
offered an opportunity to supervise the schooling of the children.
Home-schooling had been the norm, but many of the residents had found that
option no longer met their needs and had pushed for the institution of a
more formal educational system. 

 My grandmother had seized the opportunity to accelerate my schooling. In
her mind, there was no better way to keep me occupied all day, day after
day, week after week, month after month, than with study. And I had
enjoyed it at first. Learning had been fun. But a nine-year-old can only
take so much study before he needs a new diversion. I hadn't been happy
about the move to Alert in the first place and, after a year of unwavering
routine in the 'northernmost permanent settlement in the world', which
wasn't much more than a radio and weather station, I had become unbearably
restless. 

 

 I began to gobble up my breakfast as soon as Grandma placed it before me.
I had plans for that day and didn't want to be running late. 

 "Slow down, honey, and eat like a proper human being, please," Grandma
directed with a pull on my ear as she came to the table to eat her own
meal. 

 I hid my scowl and complied, for a while. But before long, I was
shovelling in the food as fast as I could and swallowing with barely a
thought to chewing beforehand. 

 "Well, I'm off," Grandpa announced as he peeked in from the pantry. He'd
been out to the shed collecting supplies for a hunt. A hunt on which I
intended to accompany him. "I'll be home early," he promised. 

 "Okay, dear," Grandma answered. "Have a good day." 

 Grandpa turned to leave, but I jumped up from my chair to stop him.
"Wait, Grandpa! I wanna come with you!" 

 "Ben, sit down, please," Grandma ordered. "You're not going anywhere." 

 "Please, Grandma," I begged, failing to sit down. "I wanna go." 

 "I heard you, honey, but I've told you no." 

 "Why not? I'll be good and I won't get in the way or anything." 

 "You have schoolwork to do today." 

 "Aw, shucks, Grandma," I whined. "I do schoolwork every day. I wanna do
somethin' diff'rent." 

 "Fine. I've got some chores you can help me with." 

 "No, Grandma, somethin' fun! Like goin' with Grandpa!" 

 "Not today." 

 "But, Grandma, I could help, you know, by carrying stuff. Grandpa, can't
I come with you? Please?" 

 "Ben, if I have to tell you one more time that you're not going with
Grandpa, I'm going to send you to your room. Now, sit down and finish your
breakfast." 

 "I'm finished," I whispered, chastened. 

 "Then say 'good day' to your grandfather and then help me clean up. The
children will be here for their lessons soon." Grandma conducted lessons
in the library, which had been set up in a large room in our house. There
were probably between ten and fifteen students enrolled in the fledgling
school, and Grandma did her best to see that each child received private
instruction tailored according to his or her abilities and needs. 

 "Can I ask a question first?" 

 "Yes, you may." 

 "Will I ever get to do somethin' fun, somethin' I wanna do?" 

 "Yes, honey, of course." 

 "When?" 

 "We'll have to talk about it later. There isn't time right now. Don't
worry, I'm sure we can come up with an interesting diversion for you." 

 I didn't find this very reassuring. Her idea of interesting and my idea
of fun were not always simpatico. But it was clear that Grandma had
declared the subject closed for the time being, so I didn't press it any
further. I was extremely disappointed, however, and disappointed little
boys often have a hard time hiding that fact. 

 "Yes, Ma'am. 'Bye, Grandpa," I mumbled, favoring him with my pout. 

 "Come here for a second, Ben," Grandpa replied, setting his gear down so
he could coax me to him. 

 I went to stand before him and made a conscious effort to remove the
attitude from my face. "Yes, Grandpa?" 

 He slapped his hands on my shoulders and squeezed them firmly and forced
me to look him in the eyes. "I can count on you to be the man around here
while I'm gone, can't I?" 

 "Yes, Sir." 

 "You sure? It's a big responsibility. Lotsa times it means doing what has
to be done instead of what you wanna do." 

 "But grown-ups can do whatever they want, can't they, Grandpa?" 

 "Well, Ben, yes, you're right. But, then so can children." 

 "No we can't. We hafta do what grown-ups tell us or we get in trouble." 

 "Grown-ups have rules to follow, too, Son. And if we don't, we pay the
consequences. But we all, grown-ups as well as children, have free will to
decide whether we're gonna follow those rules or not." 

 "Oh." This sounded kind of tricky to my young mind, so I didn't know what
else to say. 

 "A good man knows when it's best to follow the rules." He paused to let
that sink in, then added, with a little edge to his voice, "A better man
doesn't mope about it." 

 Now it was clear. Grandpa was reprimanding me in his own 'Grandpa' way. I
blushed and swallowed my willful pride, humbled by my grandfather's gentle
show of authority. "Okay, Grandpa." 

 "Still think you're up to the challenge?" 

 "Yes, Sir." 

 "Good. Then I'll expect you to help out your grandma while I'm away and
mind what she tells ya -- just like I would if I were here. All right,
buddy?" 

 When I saw Grandpa wink and smile, my face broke into an ear-to-ear grin.
"All right, Sir," I answered with a reciprocal wink. 

 

 Grandma had excused me from kitchen duty and sent me to the library to
welcome the students as they arrived while she finished the cleaning up. I
was to see that they all took their seats and read or talked quietly until
she joined us. She let me do that every once in a while when the children
arrived before she was ready, but I was unprepared for what came next. 

 "Yes, Grandma?" I answered her summons, standing at attention before her
in the library. 

 "Is everyone present?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am. 'Cept Brian. He's sick so his mum made him stay home." 

 "I see. Very well." 

 I thought she was done with me, so I turned to take my seat, but Grandma
quickly stopped me. 

 "Benton?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am?" I replied, turning to face her with curiosity. The use of
my full name didn't worry me. She often called me Benton while in the
classroom. 

 "Would you like to assist me today?" 

 "You mean by doin' chores and stuff?" 

 "No, no, here in the classroom, with the lessons." 

 "I could help you with the lessons, Ma'am?" 

 "The youngest need help with their reading. Do you think you could manage
that if I show you what to do?" 

 "Sure, Grandma! I could do that." I smiled broadly as Grandma led me to
the table where the two youngest students sat. I don't think either of
them were even five years old yet, but Grandma was famous for her ability
to get children reading from an early age. She had me sit between them and
placed a book before me. 

 "Have them take turns reading from this. Don't just tell them any words
they don't know. Give them a chance to figure them out and help them to
sound them out if they have difficulty. The same as I taught you, okay?
Remember?" 

 "Yeah, Grandma, okay," I replied a bit brusquely, embarrassed to be
reminded in front of others that I hadn't been born knowing how to read. 

 The morning passed quickly as I listened to the children read for a while
and then Grandma had me help them practice printing the alphabet. We then
moved on to music lessons, which consisted largely of the two youngsters
banging out the scales on the piano while I listened and watched and
corrected their mistakes. 

 "Can't we play a real song?" Jack finally whined to me, as bored with the
monotonous exercise as I. 

 "Um, sure," I answered. "What songs do ya know?" 

 "We don't know any yet. Mrs. Fraser says we hafta learn the lessons
before we can learn the songs." 

 "Oh, then I guess you better keep doing this." 

 "Please, Ben. Can't you show us one? Just a easy song?" he begged. 

 I glanced across the room and found my grandmother engaged in quizzing an
older student. "Well, okay," I agreed, turning back to my charges. "Just
one and real quick." I began to play "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" very
softly and slowly, allowing the kids to repeat each phrase after me. I had
to remind them a couple times not to play too loudly, but they were having
such fun that they kept getting a little carried away in their enthusiasm.


 "Again!" they both continued to chime each time we finished playing the
tune. 

 "Okay, one more time, but then we better go back to your lessons before
Mrs. Fraser hears us. Let's see if you can play it all the way through
without stopping, okay?" 

 "Okay!" 

 I grinned and winked at my students as the last note faded, confident
that we had eluded detection. My grin disappeared in a flash, however,
when I felt a sudden tug on my ear. "Hi, Grandma," I said, without turning
to look at her. 

 "Hello, Benton. What's been going on over here?" 

 "Music lessons, Ma'am." 

 "The scales and fingering technique, as I instructed?" 

 "Uh huh." 

 "What else?" 

 I gave a quick glance at the children seated at either side of me.
"Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, Ma'am." 

 "I see." She tapped me on the shoulder. "May I have a private word with
you, Benton?" 

 I obediently crawled off the bench from between the two children and
followed my grandmother until she turned and leaned forward to speak to me
in a quiet voice. 

 "Honey, if you want to assist me in the classroom, you're going to have
to follow my directions to the letter. I have planned the lessons very
specifically and I can't have you ignoring my instructions just because
the children want to do something else." 

 "Yes, Ma'am. I'm sorry." 

 "All right, honey. Would you like to continue, or would you prefer to
resume with your own lessons?" 

 "I'd like to continue, Ma'am." 

 "Very well. You may go. And remember, if you have any questions, I'm
here." 

 I nodded my understanding and returned to the piano bench to oversee the
exercises. The children made no more complaints about being bored, but
they did thank me very earnestly for teaching them the tune. I smiled as I
realized it had been worth a lecture from my grandmother. 

 

 Around noontime, Grandma called us all to attention and told the class
that I would be in charge while she went to the kitchen to prepare some
lunch. I stared at her in awe. She had never placed me in charge before.
Whenever Grandpa was around, he'd take over. If he wasn't at home, Grandma
would put one of the older students in charge whenever she had to leave
the room for any length of time. 

 "Is that all right with you, Benton?" she asked in front of everybody. 

 I suddenly felt very important, almost as if I really were a teacher,
just like Grandma. "Yes, Ma'am," I answered with a nod. 

 "Good. You may all take a break from your studies, if you'd like. Benton,
you know the rules. No one leaves the room unless he has to use the
bathroom and no fighting or dangerous roughhousing is permitted. I'll be
in the kitchen if you need me. All right?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am." I ran to the door to meet Grandma before she had a chance
to leave the room. "Can I yell at 'em if they're bad, Grandma?" I
whispered after she leaned down to hear my question. It wasn't that I
particularly wanted to yell at any of the other kids, but I was feeling
oddly curious about what it would be like to release a scream. In fact, it
was almost an irresistible urge. 

 "I don't think that will be necessary, honey. The children don't usually
get out of hand." That was true. Grandma had a knack with children, an
ability to encourage their best, whether in their work or in their
behavior. She essentially challenged us to be who she thought we could be.
Of course, being children, we did have to rebel once in a while. But after
we got it out of our systems and served our time of quiet reflection at
the 'isolation' table, we were ready to again tow the line. Well...except
for that one persistently unruly student. Grandma finally had to apply a
fair measure of discipline to his backside with a ruler. 

 "But just in case..." 

 "If anyone misbehaves, you come and get me, okay? Your job is to
supervise and to report back to me. It's a very important job. Are you
sure you can handle it?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am. I'm sure." 

 Grandma was doing her best to add a little variety to my day, and I
appreciated that. But, as I stood outside the bathroom a few minutes later
to listen in case little Cindy needed my assistance, I glanced out the
window at the wilderness just beyond those four walls within which I felt
trapped, and I knew I had to do something. I couldn't have explained why,
but I had to be out there, a part of that wilderness, before the weight of
the house completely crushed my spirit. 

 I took Cindy's hand and walked her back to the group of small children
playing 'Simon Says' in the middle of the room. Everything appeared to be
under control as I surveyed the room so, after another glance out the
window, I made up my mind to venture outdoors -- just for a few minutes. I
told myself I'd be back inside well before lunch was ready and Grandma
would never even know I had stepped out. Yes, it was dishonest, but I was
desperate. 

 I announced to the students that I had to go out to the shed to fetch
something for Mrs. Fraser, and asked one of the older kids to keep an eye
on the classroom for me until I returned. Once outside, I snuck around the
house to the entrance into the foyer. Grandma was in the kitchen, just
beyond the pantry which adjoined the foyer, so I had to be extremely
careful not to make a sound or be seen as I entered to grab my jacket and
put on my boots. The ground outside was snow-covered, but the temperature
was relatively mild at that time of day, so I reckoned I didn't need my
heaviest coat since I would only be outside long enough to catch a breath
of fresh air. 

 I made my escape without attracting Grandma's attention and immediately
made my way around to the opposite side of the house, where she couldn't
glimpse me from a window in the kitchen. I could hear the wind whistling
its way through the hills about a half-mile distant, and without even
realizing it, I started walking toward them, as if the wind were calling
me. 

 It was very strange because, although I knew it was the wind I was
hearing, it wasn't the wind I was answering. It was Dad and Mum. I hadn't
seen Dad since we moved to Alert, but I knew he was 'out there' somewhere
and that Mum was somewhere perhaps even further out there, and the
whistling wilderness embodied both 'somewheres' for me. All I had to do
was follow that call of the wild and I would be home again, where I hadn't
been in over three years. 

 As I travelled over the glistening glacier that filled the fjord and
sparkled like diamonds, I was suddenly struck with the realization that I
was walking on water rather than land, and a sense of freedom such as I
had never felt electrified my being. I smiled and spun around slowly,
taking in the grandeur, and that was when I noticed: I had wandered out of
sight of the house. I looked again, in all directions, but the house was
nowhere to be seen, and, as I searched in vain for a familiar landmark, I
was unable to distinguish where I would be able to find my return path. 

 I knew that I had originally walked away from the house in a northerly or
northeasterly direction, but I was at a loss as to how to put that
information to use. The sun was well-obscured behind a thick ceiling of
clouds, and I was caught without my compass, despite my father's having
instructed me very insistently to never let that happen. I'd gotten out of
the habit of stuffing it into my pocket every day after months of never
leaving the house. Dad's gonna give me hell if he ever finds out about
this! I told myself. That is, if I ever get out of this! I resolved that
if I ever did find my way home, my compass would be the first thing I
equipped myself with every day, no matter how unlikely it seemed that I
would need to use it. 

 

 The brightness of day was waning and I had made no progress in finding my
home. Real fear started to overtake me, not just the superficial fear that
went along with getting caught disobeying my grandmother, but a fear for
my well-being, my life. I was not prepared to withstand the significant
drop in temperature and, in addition to the fact that I hadn't eaten
anything since breakfast, I had no prospects of seeing to my hunger. I
figured there was food, if you knew how to look for it. Dad would know
how, I thought to myself, but I didn't. Not in that alien environment and
with no tools for survival. It was going to be a real struggle just to
start a fire and melt some snow for drinking. Grandma's favorite
expression in the classroom came back to haunt me: Proper preparation
prevents poor performance. 

 Well, a fire was a starting point. It would be difficult, and I wasn't
sure I'd even be successful, but making the effort to do something had to
be better than giving up and waiting to freeze or starve to death. I began
a search for relatively dry tinder, and soon I had to remove my jacket so
I could use it to carry the kindling. Therefore, it became even more
urgent that I get a fire going. I added an assortment of rocks to my
fire-making supplies, and then sat down and began an attempt to generate a
spark that would meet my needs. 

 "Try the darker one," I suddenly heard a voice directly behind me and
swung around to see where it had come from, while my heart beat wildly in
my chest. The voice had sounded familiar, but it wasn't until I saw him
and had a chance to register his presence that I recognized him from a
meeting years earlier in Inuvik. 

 "What'd you say, Mister?" I asked calmly, knowing he posed no threat. 

 "The darker stone may prove more useful if you are trying to start a
fire." 

 "Oh." I glanced at the pile of rocks and picked up the one to which I
guessed he was referring. "This one you mean?" 

 "Yes." 

 I started applying friction to the stones and could feel the man watching
over my shoulder. I paused from my task and turned my head to look at him.
He carried a shotgun and supplies, unlike the last time we had met. "Are
you huntin' again, Mister?" 

 "Yes. Are you making the fire and waiting for your father again?" 

 "No, um, well, I'm makin' a fire, but my dad's not comin'. He doesn't,
um...he hasta do his job somewhere else, not here." 

 "Who do you make the fire for this time, then, young one?" he asked. 

 "Nobody. For me, I mean." I shivered spontaneously before I could even
say, "It's cold." 

 The man came and knelt beside me, dumping his supply pack to the ground.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a proper flint and handed it to
me. "Use this. It will be quicker." 

 "Thanks, Mister." I put the flint to use and in no time had a decent
flame warming me. It was a victory, however small, and I smiled. I scooped
up some snow and held it in my cupped hands near the warmth of the fire,
careful not to burn myself. 

 "Did you journey here without supplies?" the man asked, noticing my
urgent thirst as I lapped the water from my cupped hands as quickly as the
snow melted. 

 I nodded then countered with a shake of my head, embarrassed by my
situation. I bowed my head as I decided to explain. Perhaps he could help
me. "I didn't come here on purpose." 

 "Where did you want to go, if not here?" 

 "I wasn't s'posed to go anywhere. I was supervisin' the kids at school
for my grandma 'cause she had to make us lunch, but I came outside and,
um...and then I was here." 

 "You wandered away from home?" 

 "Yeah, I guess." I started to melt another handful of snow. 

 "How long have you been lost, young one?" 

 "I dunno. A pretty long time." 

 "You must be hungry as well as thirsty." 

 "Yeah." I eyed his supply pack, wondering if he had any food in it that
he might share with me, but I was too ashamed to ask for anything. 

 "I remember you offered me food when I was travelling with none." He
opened his pack and pulled out a piece of dried meat, which he then placed
in my grateful hand. "Now it is my turn to return the gesture." 

 "But you didn't take any food from me," I reminded him. 

 "The offer is the important thing, young one. You were willing to share
your plenty with a stranger and now I am here to reciprocate." I still
wasn't sure whether I should accept the food. If the offer was the
important thing, then perhaps I was supposed to refuse and be thankful he
asked. He must have understood my confusion, because he nodded to the
pemmican in my hand and said, "Eat, young Benton Fraser." 

 I chewed it up and swallowed without another concern and followed it up
with another handful of melted snow. 

 "The fire is dying," he stated after I had finished my meal. "And dark is
falling. Perhaps it is time for you to go home." He made it sound so easy!
As if it only required a decision on my part. 

 "I wanna go home, but I don't know how to get there," I explained. "The
house was there one second, and then it wasn't." 

 "The house is there, right where you left it." 

 "I looked and looked and I couldn't find it." He was silent and didn't
seem the least bit concerned about the dire nature of my plight, which
made me wonder. "Do you know where it is, Mister?" 

 

 "Wanna come in, Mister?" I asked as we stood outside my house. It was
pitch dark by that time, and Grandma was surely worried out of her wits
about my disappearance. I thought if Quinn would accompany me inside, it
might be easier to face my grandmother. 

 That was his name. Quinn. I'd finally gotten that information out of him
as he walked me back to my house, which had only been less than a mile
away the whole time. As elated as I was to be home, I wished for more. I
wished I could walk into the house and pretend this never happened. I
harbored no illusions that that wish would come true, however. 

 "Thank you, but I should be on my way," he declined my offer. 

 "Oh. Okay." 

 I continued to look anxiously back and forth between Quinn and the door,
wondering if there was any chance he might acquiesce if I explained my
hesitation. 

 "Your grandparents will not be pleased that you were wandering alone?"
There was no need for me to explain. He read me perfectly. 

 "Do you know my grandma and grandpa?" 

 "No, I have not met them." 

 "Oh, then you hafta come in 'cause Grandma says she has to know all my
friends." 

 "All right," he agreed. 

 "Really? You'll come in?" 

 "I will come in." 

 I breathed a big sigh of relief and Quinn stuck close behind me as I
opened the door and we entered the house. No sooner had I removed my
jacket and wet boots than Grandma rushed into the foyer from another room.
Without saying a word, she checked me over, then lifted me into her arms
and hugged and kissed me so vehemently you would've thought she hadn't
seen me in years. 

 "Sorry, Grandma. I, um, got lost," I struggled to confess against the
tight squeeze she was applying around my lungs, making it hard to breathe,
let alone speak. Then, without warning, she set me down, put on a stern
aspect, and smacked me hard across the seat of my pants. Although I was
glad the initial welcome was now behind me, so to speak, I suspected there
was more to come, so I winced and held one hand to my backside to comfort
and protect it, while I held out my other arm to indicate the man standing
behind me. "This is my friend, Quinn, Grandma. I, um, found him outside." 

 Grandma appeared a bit flustered as she ceased massaging the palm of her
hand which she had stung with my chastisement and extended her hand to the
stranger she had not even noticed. "Mister Quinn, I'm afraid I forgot my
manners. I was just so relieved to see Ben that I didn't even see you
standing there." 

 "No need to apologize, Ma'am. I hope I'm not intruding. I believe the
young one felt a need for my presence." 

 "Yes, I'm sure. I take it you brought him home?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am. He wasn't far from home, just a little disoriented." 

 "I see. Well, please come in and sit down. My husband is still out
looking for Ben, but I know he'd want to meet you, if you can wait for a
while. A cup of tea, perhaps, while we wait?" 

 "Thank you, but I'm afraid I can't stay, Ma'am--" 

 "Please call me Martha. Martha Fraser. And I guess you know little Ben." 

 "Yes, Martha. Young Benton and I have met once before actually. In the
woods near Inuvik." 

 "He's the man who told me 'bout the night noises, Grandma," I explained. 

 "Ah, I see." Grandma wrapped her arms around me from behind and, with her
hands crossed over my chest, drew me back against her. I wasn't sure
whether to feel embraced or captive, although I suspect there was a little
of both in her intent. "Well, you've made quite an impression on my
grandson, Mister Quinn. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you were
there for him again today." 

 "Yes, our travels have brought us together once more and I will look
forward to each crossing of our paths. He is quite a boy." 

 "Yes, quite a naughty boy at times, I'm afraid." 

 "As they all are, Martha, eh?" 

 "True enough. Well, Ben, you'd best thank Mister Quinn for bringing you
home, and then you and I are going to have a very serious talk." She had
moved a hand up to my ear and her fingers were firmly caressing the lobe
as she spoke. I could feel the ear heating up, but I didn't know if it was
from the friction or in anticipation of the impending rebuke. 

 "Yes, Ma'am," I gulped, then looked up at Quinn. "Thanks, Mister, for
finding my house and stuff. I'm glad you were, um, huntin' today." 

 He bent over and spoke in my face. "Just remember, young one, if you know
where you are going, you cannot get lost. So, before you wander off again,
you'd better know where you're headed." 

 "Okay, Mister." 

 

 The house was silent after Quinn's departure. Grandma gave a nod of her
head to indicate that I was to follow her then made her way to the living
room. I complied and came to an abrupt standstill when I spied her
standing a few meters away, frowning very disapprovingly at me, with her
arms folded across her chest. 

 "Are you real mad, Grandma?" I finally asked, squirming uncomfortably. 

 "What do you think?" 

 "You, um, look real mad, but you're not sayin' anything." 

 "What would you like me to say?" 

 I shrugged, although I could've come up with many answers that would have
been preferable to her next statement. 

 "Would you like me to tan your behind, because that's exactly what you
deserve." 

 "No, Ma'am. I don't want you to," I answered with a shuddering shake of
my head. 

 "Hmm." She took a step or two closer to me, and I fought the temptation
to back away. "Half the town is searching for you." 

 "They are?" 

 "Mister Quinn will pass along the word that you're safely home, but at
the next town meeting, you will make a public apology to everyone.
Understand?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am." 

 Grandma sighed and took another step closer. "I have been beside myself
with worry, Ben." 

 "Sorry," I whispered, at a loss for any words which could make that up to
her. 

 She penetrated me with her eyes for a silent moment. There was no doubt
that she was angry, but I could plainly see her reining it in. "Who gave
you permission to leave the house this afternoon?" 

 I hung my head and hesitated to reply. 

 "Answer me!" 

 "Nobody," I mumbled, without lifting my face. 

 "What's the rule about leaving the house?" 

 "I hafta ask you or Grandpa first." 

 "And what if we say 'no'?" 

 Again I was hesitant to respond. I knew I had, at best, a shaky defense. 

 "And what if we say 'no', Ben?" she repeated with increased volume. 

 "Then I'm not s'posed to leave the house." 

 "I wish you had listened to your grandfather this morning when he was
telling you about rules and the consequences of ignoring them." 

 "I did listen, Grandma," I asserted, finally looking at her. 

 "Oh? What did he say?" 

 "That everybody can decide if they wanna follow the rules." 

 "And how do we decide that?" 

 "I dunno." I paused, then offered, "I guess we do what we wanna do the
most." 

 "No, honey. That's not what Grandpa said. I think you know that, don't
you?" 

 "He said a man knows when he hasta follow the rules, but he didn't say
how he knows, Grandma." 

 "I see." Grandma thought for a minute, then continued her interrogation.
"Why do you think we made the rule about leaving the house?" 

 "I dunno. 'Cause you're the boss?" 

 Grandma sighed and scowled with annoyance. "We don't set rules just
because we're the boss and we want to make life miserable for you, Ben.
Think about it, honey. What happened when you broke this rule?" 

 "I got in trouble." 

 "What kind of trouble?" 

 "You got mad at me." 

 "What happened before that? What happened to you while you were outside?"


 "Um...I got lost." 

 "Yes, you got lost. You got cold and hungry. You could have been
seriously hurt." 

 "I didn't mean to, Grandma. I wasn't goin' far, just a little bit. But
then I couldn't find the house." 

 "You don't have to go far to get lost. Didn't you learn that the last
time, when you wandered away from your grandpa and me in Aklavik?" 

 I had hoped she wouldn't mention that incident. My grandparents had given
me very specific instructions not to leave their side as we were browsing
through that town one day. Not only did I disobey them, resulting in my
getting hopelessly lost, but I also destroyed one of my brand new good
shoes by boiling it when I became hungry and desperate for food. Needless
to say, I didn't actually eat it, but I wasn't exactly thinking straight
at the time, and by the time I realized my shoe was not a viable source of
food, it was already ruined beyond repair. 

 That had been one of the most frightening experiences of my life, and I
was never happier than when I was finally reunited with my grandparents.
Even Grandma's thorough correction of me hadn't spoiled my relief at being
home. However, now that Grandma had made reference to that previous
similar offense, I didn't want to imagine what I was in for this time. 

 "It was an accident, Grandma. I promise it was." Tears were almost coming
to my eyes. 

 "No, it wasn't, Ben. It wasn't an accident that you left the house. You
did that deliberately. If you had obeyed the rules, you wouldn't have
gotten lost and I wouldn't have had to spend the entire day sick with
worry because I didn't know where you were or whether you were all right.
That's why we make rules, dear. To protect you from dangers you are not
ready to face." 

 "Oh. I'm sorry, Ma'am. I won't disobey the rules anymore." I wanted to
tell her that I'd had no choice but to leave the house. That I was going
mad with boredom and I was ready to face something new. That I had been
called to disobey her. But she didn't seem to be in the mood for excuses,
so I opted for a show of penitence. 

 "Yes, well, you owe me a little more than that. Come with me, honey." She
led me to her desk in the library and brought me around behind it, where I
stood apprehensively with my hands crossed over my backside. It had been
ages since Grandma had taken the wooden spoon to me, but the memory of its
touch smarted enough to disconcert me. 

 "I'm real sorry, Grandma. I promise I am. Do ya hafta spank me too hard?"


 "I haven't decided whether to spank you. Grandpa and I will have to
discuss that when he gets home. You defied him, too, you know. And worried
him." She pulled out the chair. "Sit down, Ben." 

 I was happy to sit while I still could, and, as I did, I watched Grandma
place paper and pencil on the desk before me. 

 "Since I had to spend the day wondering what you were doing, you can
describe your day for me. I want to know where you went, what you saw,
what you heard, what you felt, what you thought, what you did --
everything." I kept my eyes on the paper the whole time she was speaking.
Suddenly, I felt her put the pencil between my fingers and close them
around it. "Start writing. And don't move your behind from that chair
until you've finished." 

 I was speechless until one question came to mind just as Grandma was
about to leave me. "What if I hafta go to the bathroom?" 

 "You may leave to go to the bathroom if you have to." 

 "Thanks, Grandma," I offered shyly, still trying to ascertain exactly how
angry with me she was. That was one thing about Grandma and Grandpa. When
I did something really bad -- or what seemed really bad at the time,
anyway -- they seldom raised their voices in anger. I could usually tell
when they were angry with me from their words and body language, but they
almost never let their anger explode in a rage. And even when they did see
fit to give me a sound swat, I never felt vented upon. 

 "You're welcome. Now, get cracking," she ordered with a tap to my
shoulder. "I'll check on you in a few minutes and I want to see some words
on that paper when I do." 

 "Yes, Ma'am." I was getting my chance to explain. 

 

 Grandma came back to the library every so often to see how I was doing,
reading a little of my work each time but never commenting, and, before I
knew it, hours had passed. I didn't even think about dinner because I knew
I wasn't leaving my chair until I'd finished my task. I found I had an
awful lot to relate. I started by explaining my feelings of mounting
discontent, which had come to a head that morning and spurred my attempts
to escape the monotony, first by asking to accompany Grandpa on his hunt
and, when that failed, by heeding the call of the wild which had beckoned
to me, disguised as Mum and Dad, from outside the safety of our house. 

 Despite my resistance, I became drowsy while laboring to remember every
little detail of my day and, with increasing frequency, I found myself
snoozing with my head propped against my hand. During one of these
snoozes, I was startled by a tug on my ear. My eyes quickly flew open, and
I saw Grandpa hovering beside me, with his hand now caressing my back. 

 "Grandpa!" I said, rubbing my eyes. "I thought you were Grandma." 

 "No. Grandma's Grandma. I'm still Grandpa." 

 I would have laughed in more favorable circumstances. "Did you just get
home?" I asked, followed by a yawn as I stretched myself fully awake and
sat up straight in my chair. 

 Grandpa sat on the edge of the desk and looked at me. "About an hour
ago." He then pointed to a tall glass of milk which had been set on the
desk in front of me. "Grandma sent that in for you." 

 "Thanks." I hadn't realized how thirsty I was until I saw that glass of
milk. I gulped it down in a matter of seconds and placed the glass back on
the desk near Grandpa. He looked away from me and began leafing through
the pages of scribbles on the desk. "You've been very busy, I hear." 

 I nodded and frowned in expectation. 

 "And just as busy since you got home, it would appear." 

 "Grandma wants to know everything." 

 "Oh my! That's quite a tall order, eh?" 

 "Uh huh. My hand hurts." 

 "Hmm. You're a little sleepy, too, by the looks of it. Perhaps you should
quit for the night and go to bed. You can finish in the morning." 

 "I can't leave this chair 'til I'm finished. Grandma said so, so that's
the rule. And I don't wanna break it, 'cause she doesn't wanna make my
life mis'rable." 

 "I see." Grandpa gave me a considered gaze, then stood up and started to
massage my neck. "I guess I'd better leave you to it, then. Are ya almost
done?" 

 "I dunno," I sighed despairingly. "It was a long day." 

 "Yes, it was. For all of us." 

 "Grandpa?" 

 "Hmm?" 

 "I'm sorry I didn't do what you wanted me to and made ya hafta go lookin'
for me. Did Grandma tell you that?" 

 "Yes, she told me." 

 "She said she had to d'scuss it with you when you got home." I wouldn't
come right out and ask him how much trouble I was in because I didn't want
to appear to be moping about it, but I hoped to find hints in his manner. 

 "Uh huh. We discussed it." Grandpa sent me an uncertain, subtle smile,
then picked up the empty glass and walked away toward the door, turning
back to face me as he reached it. "Why don't you finish your job, there,
and then we can all discuss it, eh, buddy?" 

 "Yes, Sir. Okay." 

 See what I mean? If Grandpa was as angry with me as he ought to have
been, he was doing an incredible job of hiding it. And although I
appreciated not getting shouted at, I couldn't help but be anxious about
facing this whole mess with my grandparents. 

 That discussion was going to have to wait for the next day, however.
Within minutes, I had dozed into a sound sleep right there at the desk in
mid-sentence. 

 I awoke in the middle of the night to discover that a blanket had been
wrapped around me and a pillow placed under my head. I also discovered
that I had an urgent need to use the bathroom. Notwithstanding Grandma's
permission to excuse myself temporarily for just cause, I hadn't ventured
from my chair since she'd consigned me to it hours earlier. My body was
numb as I stood up, but it quickly regained life and I ran my errand and
returned to my seat in the library. I guessed it would be permissible for
me to finish my paper in the morning, so I hugged the blanket to me and
rested my head against the pillow and was soon sound asleep once more. 

 

 Grandma was in the library early the next morning, gathering books and
materials in preparation for the day's lessons. The sounds of her activity
roused me from my sleep and my momentary confusion quickly dissolved as I
eyed my unfinished essay lying on the desk beside my head. Silently, I sat
up, tossed the pillow and blanket to the floor behind me, and resumed my
story where I had left off. I pretended not to notice when Grandma
approached and stood opposite me. 

 "How's it going, Ben?" she asked softly. 

 "Okay." I didn't pause from my writing. 

 "You've been at this for quite a long time now." 

 I looked up and met her eyes. "I fell asleep for part of the time,
Grandma," I confessed. 

 "Ah, well, I guess that explains it, then." 

 I went back to my work, but soon stopped when I saw Grandma pick up the
pages I had finished and drop the edges against the desk to align them.
Before I could return my attention to writing, she interrupted me again. 

 "There's some oatmeal on the stove, honey. Go fetch yourself a bowlful." 

 "I'm not done yet, Grandma." My stomach was growling with hunger even as
I spoke. 

 She took the pencil from my hand, and I willingly relinquished it.
"You're done for now. Do as I say. I need to read your essay before the
students start to arrive." 

 "You don't want me to finish it first?" Although I was trying to appear
dedicated to completing my task, I was secretly fantasizing about the
taste of the hot cereal and the sweet, plump raisins Grandma always added
just for me. 

 "I'll read what you have and let you know if it needs more work. Now,
scoot!" she ordered as she came around the desk to usurp my seat. As I
hurried on my way, she called out, "Wash up and put on a clean shirt
before you eat your breakfast!" 

 "My shirt's not dirty," I turned to inform her from across the room. 

 She turned her head and glared at me over her eyeglasses, and I
immediately regretted debating her instruction. "Put on a clean one,
anyway, smart aleck! And change your underwear while you're at it." 

 "Oh, Grandma," I whined with a deep blush. I wished she'd left my
underwear out of the conversation. A guy would just as soon pretend that
underwear doesn't exist, when talking to his grandma. To be forced to
admit not only to its existence but to the fact that it needs to be
changed every once in a while was beyond the pale! 

 "Just do it, honey." 

 "Yes, Ma'am," I grumbled back to her. 

 

 I sat in my usual spot in the classroom as Grandma got each student
started on an independent study. She saved me for last, and we stared each
other down as she finally made her way over to me. But she didn't put a
book in front of me. 

 "Would you please join me in the other room, Benton," she requested
pleasantly, so as not to make a spectacle of me in front of the other
kids. 

 I complied without question and followed her to the living room, where
Grandpa already sat, holding my essay in his lap. Grandma took a seat on
the couch across from Grandpa's chair and indicated for me to do the same.
I sat down at the far end of the couch, keeping as much distance as I
could from my grandparents. If I was gonna get turned over anyone's knee,
they were gonna have to come after me. 

 Grandma cleared her throat and began. "Now, Ben, first of all, you don't
need to write any more about your, uh, adventure yesterday." 

 "I don't, Ma'am? Do I, um, hafta do somethin' else instead?" 

 "Such as?" 

 I shrugged and looked at them both with expectation. "Go to my room, or,
um, do more chores or somethin'." 

 "How about if we just talk about what you have written, okay?" Grandma
suggested, without really answering my question. 

 "Are ya mad about it?" 

 "Mad about what?" 

 "'Bout what I wrote." 

 "Why should I be mad about what you wrote?" Grandma began to inch her way
closer to me. 

 "I dunno. 'Cause of what I said." 

 "You told me everything I asked you to tell me. I appreciate your
honesty." 

 "We do have another reason to be angry with you, though, don't we, Son?"
Grandpa interjected sternly. 

 "Yes, Sir," I looked him in the eye and conceded his point. 

 "And apparently, by what I read in your paper, you have reason to be
angry with us," he added. 

 "I do?" I did, of course, but surely he didn't expect me to admit it to
them aloud. 

 "You wrote that you felt like..." he looked down at my paper for the
exact words, "...'screaming your head off' because all we ever let you do
was study and we wouldn't let you go hunting with me yesterday." 

 "I didn't scream, though, Grandpa," I pointed out, as my face blushed
with shame. 

 "I know, Son, I know. You disobeyed us instead." He said that very
matter-of-factly, but, still, I felt great shame to hear it, and I hung my
head. 

 "It's not wrong to feel angry, honey," Grandma explained. "It happens to
all of us. It's how you deal with it that can be the problem. Do you
understand?" 

 "Should I of screamed at you instead of disobeying you?" I asked
sincerely. 

 "No," she answered. "You shouldn't ever scream at anybody because you're
angry. However, if you'd gone to your room and screamed in private, that
may have helped." 

 "Really? How?" 

 "Well, it could have helped in a couple ways. For one, it might have
released some of the sadness you were feeling, some of the anger. I don't
want to encourage such behavior as a matter of course when you don't get
something you want, but I think what you were feeling yesterday went
beyond that. I think it was more than a temper tantrum. Do you agree?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am. I'm not s'posed to have temper tantrums." 

 "And you're very good about that, for the most part. But sometimes,
honey, when you feel the way you felt yesterday, a good scream, or even a
cry -- in private -- might be worth a try." 

 "You wouldn't get mad?" 

 "As I said, I'm not telling you to scream or cry whenever you don't get
your way. Do you understand the distinction I'm trying to make between
that and what you experienced yesterday?" 

 "Uh huh, I think so." 

 "Good. Then if your, er, anger and frustration ever again reaches the
unbearable level to which you were experiencing it yesterday, I would much
prefer that you go to your room and, er, 'scream your head off' rather
than doing something that you have specifically been told not to do. Is
that clear?" 

 "Yes, Ma'am. But if I scream real loud, won't you still hear me, even if
I'm in my room?" 

 "Yes, I imagine we will. And if we had heard you scream in your room
yesterday, we would have known something was wrong and maybe we could have
helped you before you left the house and got lost." 

 "I don't understand, Grandma," I sighed and squinted at her. "If you
wanna hear me anyway, how come I shouldn't just scream at you and not in
my room?" 

 "Because if you scream at me, I'm going to feel hurt. But if I overhear
you screaming in private, I'm going to want to help you to feel better.
Have you ever felt hurt because someone yelled at you in anger?" I was
very hesitant to answer that question, but Grandma urged me to. "It's
okay, honey. You can tell us." 

 "Um...Dad sometimes gets mad and yells. But then he stops." 

 "Hmm. You don't like it when he does that, do you?" 

 "No, but he doesn't do it much." 

 "I know he doesn't. And when he does, he doesn't feel any better about it
than you do. So, it doesn't really accomplish anything. It just makes
everyone feel worse." 

 "Understand now?" Grandpa asked. 

 "Uh huh, I think so. But..." 

 "But what, Son?" 

 "I never hear you and Grandma screamin' in your room, so, um, is that why
you hafta, um, punish me sometimes, when I make you real mad." 

 "No, Ben. That's, er..." He looked to Grandma and they both appeared a
bit uncomfortable with my question. 

 Grandma moved closer to me, so that our knees were touching as we faced
each other. "When you misbehave, honey, it often makes me angry. So, it
may appear that I am punishing you because I'm angry. But that is not the
case. Punishing you does not lessen my anger. If your grandpa or I punish
you it's because we want to discourage you from repeating a bad behavior
by letting you know that you will face consequences if you do." 

 "Yeah, I know. That's what Mum and Dad said, too. But, so how do you stop
being mad at me?" 

 Grandma smiled and ran her fingers through my hair, pushing it back off
my face. "Mostly by reminding myself how important you are to me." 

 "Even when I'm bad?" 

 "You're not bad, Ben." Grandma started to rub her hand along my thigh as
she spoke. "You're an independent-minded young boy who's anxious to grow
up and occasionally makes a mistake or pushes a little too far beyond the
boundaries set for him. That's bound to happen from time to time. And when
it does, Grandpa and I will set you straight." 

 I nodded and, during the ensuing silence, I waited to find out how they
were gonna set me straight for my recent dalliance beyond the boundaries. 

 "We're very thankful to have you home, safe, with us," Grandma broke the
silence. 

 "Me, too, Grandma." 

 "And we're sorry we didn't realize that you felt like screaming
yesterday. You tried to tell us, but we didn't hear you." 

 "It's okay, Grandma." 

 "How do you feel now, honey?" 

 "I dunno," I shrugged. 

 "As bad as yesterday?" 

 "No, not that bad, I don't think." 

 "Are you sure? Because we need to know if you are hurting." 

 I nodded, but didn't speak. I was convinced I would always be hurting to
some degree, so there didn't seem any point in talking about it. As much
as Grandma and Grandpa loved me, they were not capable of healing my
wounds. But I had meant what I said. I was glad to be home with them. I
always felt safe with them, even when I had to answer to them for a
wrong-doing. Their love and understanding were a comfort, even if not a
cure. 

 "I want you to promise me something..." Grandma said with her hand on my
shoulder. 

 "I promise I won't ever leave the house again when you tell me not to,
Ma'am." 

 "That would please me very much, honey, but that's not what I was going
to ask. I want you to promise me that the next time you feel like
screaming and I fail to listen to you, that you will go to your room and
scream until I hear you. Okay?" 

 "Okay." I had to chuckle at the thought of actually doing that and
Grandma and Grandpa both smiled in return. I always remembered that lesson
from Grandma, but I don't believe I ever actually put her advice to the
test. I was capable of repressing quite a bit of anger and emotion, and I
eventually found other ways of letting off a little steam when it got to
be too much to handle. For example, I discovered that a well-placed word
or two could release my frustration, even if they weren't delivered with
inordinate volume. After all, my grandparents certainly knew how to
communicate their displeasure to me with civility. I must admit, however,
that my way of expression is more heavily slanted toward sarcasm than
theirs had been. 

 "All right, sweetheart. You may return to the library and put your nose
into your history book. You have a lot of work to make up. I'll be in in a
few minutes." 

 "That's it, Grandma?" Unless I had missed something, I hadn't even been
punished yet. 

 "Is it safe to assume I don't need to tell you that if you ever walk out
of my classroom again, you'll be penalized just as would any of the other
students?" 

 I answered with one slow nod of my head. 

 "Then I don't have anything else to say," she answered. "Do you have any
questions or something on your mind that you'd like to talk about?" 

 "Uh-uh. I don't think so." 

 "Are you still bored?" Grandpa asked. 

 I shrugged and looked at him shyly. "Kinda." I didn't like admitting it
because I knew Grandma didn't believe in boredom as long as there were
books to be read. 

 Grandma put her hand under my chin and gently raised it. "We're working
on that, Ben. That's a promise. Okay?" 

 I nodded and acquiesced with a slight smile. 

 "Besides, after your, er, deviation from routine yesterday I would
imagine you can wait a day or two for another, eh?" 

 I nodded again and blushed as I smirked in response. I didn't really
think it was funny, but for some reason I was spontaneously amused by her
reminder of my misadventure. Grandma wasn't, however. 

 "Make no mistake, honey, if this ever happens again, none of us will be
smiling about it -- especially you." 

 "I know, Ma'am," I replied with a gulp to remove the smirk. "It won't." 

 "Good." Grandma stood up, then pulled me to my feet and turned me in the
direction of the library. "Off you go," she commanded with a pat to my
bottom. 

 I suddenly ached for my mum because I knew that if she had been there, we
wouldn't have parted until we had hugged each other in forgiveness. Don't
get me wrong. I knew my grandparents had forgiven me, and I had forgiven
them. I also have no doubt that Grandma would happily have reciprocated a
hug, but I wouldn't allow myself that pleasure. Dad was rubbing off on me,
even in his perpetual absence. I felt I needed to be strong, and strong
men didn't need hugs. 

 I started to walk away, then turned back to ask, "Can I watch the other
kids for ya 'til you get back, Grandma? Like I did yesterday?" 

 "No, I don't think so. You didn't prove ready for that responsibility."
She could see my obviously crestfallen face. "Show me that you can be
responsible, and then someday I'll let you assist me with the children." 

 I nodded, mumbled, "Yes, Ma'am," and followed her instructions. 

 

 The very next day a new course was added to my studies: geology.
Specifically, the geology that existed in the landscapes surrounding our
house in the remote town of Alert. At least a couple times a week, I was
escorted by Grandma or Grandpa on an exploration of the area, including
the town as well as the wilderness, so that I could study it, draw
pictures of it, and even make maps to scale. In no time at all, Grandma
was allowing me to escort some of the other kids on these jaunts. And I
never again lost my way when venturing beyond the four walls. 

 

 THE END 

 maryspen@aol.com