Renee crouched behind the fence and watched in silence as the rest of her family arrived at the church. It was mid-morning and the chill of winter was gone, replaced by the growing warmth of spring. The sun played hide-and-seek amid scattered clouds, giving the day alternately a subdued and moody cast among some bright spots. This was most appropriate as far as Renee was concerned given her thoughts at the moment. Earlier in the week, she had overheard her parents talking about the tragedy, and ran out of the house, tears streaming down her face, slamming the back door in anger. Charley Savage had died as a result of a freak occurrence that no one could explain in words that made sense. His funeral was today, and Renee wasn’t handling this very well at all.

Charley was one of those rare spirits who have roamed the earth from time to time, leaving a telltale mark on all those whose paths they’ve crossed. He made a connection with Renee from their first contact, and they were immediate and fast friends. He had a sense of humor that was outrageous, and a smile and a twinkle in his eyes that touched your heart regardless of how bad a day you might be having. Charley was definitely an old soul, and Renee and her family welcomed him in as though he were family. He and Renee often went to their secret cave, spending days in such secrecy as seven year olds entertain. Actually, everyone knew where this secret spot was, it being one of those places only hidden amid shadows of the mind of a child. All Charlie and Renee knew was that pirates and buccaneers and all manner of marauding types never came around this special place – of course they didn’t, it was secret. This place was a minor indentation, hardly a cave at all, carved in a hillside by ancient forces of nature, obscured now in the midst of a stand of poplar trees, and set back not far from the old road to Crystal Lake. Everyone knew when you didn’t see Charley or Renee on any given day, they were most likely out at their “secret hiding place.” Everyone smiled and winked an eye over it.

Charlie was actually nearly nine, and a very old nine years of age at that. His parents were archaeologists of some renown, and he and his family had lived in some of the most exotic places on earth – places with strange-sounding names to a New Englander, but which Charlie took in stride as pretty much normal. They were – normal, that is – at least for him and his family. A month ago, his parents undertook a most exciting excavation at Charleston Sound just north of Beaverton on the coast, a location thought to be a ceremonial site for indigenous peoples dating back to the period of the early 1400s. Beaverton was a sleepy little place that seemed to have remained unchanged since that time. The ebb of time was as molasses in January. Everything in town closed up on Saturdays and Sundays, and families did things together as families – quaint, but a really nice touch. Charlie loved these family excursions, especially those with his little sister, Ariel, who was a very old two going on 17. Ariel doted on Charlie, and would have tagged along with him like a leech, except their parents knew enough to insure a little privacy for Charlie. He seemed to take it all in stride, spending considerable time on his own with her, reading her stories, taking her for walks, and sometimes just sitting with her as she dozed off into afternoon slumber. Family was very important to Charlie, and he didn’t mind his sister as a tag-along.

The day Renee first met Charlie there was something magical in the air. She had just left the church at the corner of Leavenworth and Downing Streets, and was racing with the wind blowing through her hair, her shirttail now pulled out and flying behind. As she rounded the corner of the alley behind Stuckey’s Liquors, she caught movement out of the corner of her eye and deftly sidestepped a shadowy figure walking in the other direction. She skidded to a stop, sand scrapping under the rubber soles of her sneakers – and there he was. He seemed larger than his slender frame would hint, and his shock of red hair stood out like a beacon in the sunlight. His eyes were hazel-green and penetrated you with such intensity that you felt almost intruded upon, except you felt he had only the most harmless of intentions – you felt safe with Charlie. You could tell that right off, as he was fair transparent from the first contact. “Hi,” he grinned, “Great move.” “Thanks,” she said. “Great brakes, too,” he said. “Yeah – do that a lot – run a lot,” she countered, the beginnings of a smile moving across her lips. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Renee,” she replied. “You?” she queried in return. “Charlie,” he answered. “Wanna go over to the Sound and throw rocks into the water?” he asked. “Now?” she returned. “Yep,” he said. “Sure,” she replied. And they were off and running with the wind at their backs, their eyes bright, and broad grins lighting up their faces.

Politically, Charlie’s parents were to the left of grand central, being originally from California. More than that, they were from Northern California and the San Francisco Bay Area, which made them pretty far to the left of most of middle-America, comparatively speaking. So much so, that they were at best oddities in the conservative confines of Beaverton, and at worst the objects of much negative projection as the bearers of evil to this quaint seacoast town. Evil is as evil does – and for some in town, Charlie’s parents posed a most distressing presence with their West Coast thinking whenever they were around. In a small town differing loyalties stand stark and severe in the light of day, and often take on a dark cast in the midst of twilight shadows. Most people were civil to Charlie’s parents, cordial and courteous as bespoke good breeding, but not close. And in times of distress, that distance could become a yawning abyss of immense inner space, or more to the point, prejudice, or could be the spur to the beginnings of deep healing.

The day before the tragedy, Charlie and Renee had gone to their cave to read comics and talk about whatever. The day was just like any other for the two – a mix of talk, spaced with silences as deep as the sky was high. In those silences they read a favorite comic book or lay on their stomachs watching the scurrying of ants around their hill, or listened to the wind rustling leaves of the trees above as they day-dreamed dreams of whatever. And when they talked in quiet tones, they touched on everything from school, what they thought about brothers and sisters, watching steam engines coming in down at the train station, and Renee’s budding interest in science, especially astronomy. Charlie knew a lot about a lot of things, science included, and his word pictures of stellar phenomena brought chills to Renee. Time seemed to stand still within the confines of their secret cave – its boundaries blown out to the edges of their imaginations, transporting them beyond the outer reaches of even their own personal galaxy. Charlie was perfectly at home in these transportations, and relished them – no, loved them. Renee tagged along for the ride being a really good sport, and was the only one his equal on their mind walks through wonder-filled galaxies.

Then, a strange darkness crept into the corners of their world. At first it was only an uneasiness felt below the levels of awareness, but it gradually grew until it was a presence felt in their minds. A change was taking place in their intimate world, and change is always fraught with, well, change. Ah, youth – life is eternal, never-ending, and a joy and a challenge, and change is nothing if only something different. “Get out! Get away!” screamed Renee, her arms thrust skyward, her index fingers pointing toward the zenith, her steel-grey eyes ablaze reflecting a deep fire within. “Be gone!” shouted Charlie. “Gone….Ixnay!” And he, too, thrust his arms toward the heavens, his right hand balled into a fist, his left clutching a Marvel Comic. Renee screamed; Charlie shouted. Renee roared from deep within and rolled her eyes and threw back her head, her hair flying. Charlie leaped across the heavens, his two hands fending off the darkness in the corners of his mind projected above the ether. And the two fell into a heap, exhausted, their arms and legs flailing, their minds numb from the fray, but laughing so hard their stomachs ached. Season’s greetings, change – the season is summer, and summer is forever – “Hoo-Hah…!”

Death came unannounced in the wee hours of Thursday morning. It neither knocked, nor called ahead – there were no warning signs, no indications that anything was wrong, nothing to cause alarm or indicate that anything was anything but fine. It came as pressures blew out the sidewall of the main artery feeding the brain – it was an explosion that ripped into the cranial cavity, spilling precious life-blood until the pressure there was too great, and it was all but over in mere seconds. Death came with sharp pains that were wrenching to the mind, causing all thought to fly in the face of dread if but briefly, leaving the breath of life ebbing, just ebbing, until the stillness and darkness merged as one. Then all was quiet, the undercurrent of one heartbeat silenced forever. Charlie was dead at age eight, going on a very old nine.

Renee could not believe it – would not believe it. It just wasn’t fair! “Who does he think he is doing this, goddammit?” swore Renee aloud. “Charlie, you get your ass back down here!” she flung at the heavens. She half expected to see him walk in her front door any moment to tell her it was all a very bad joke. Her parents were as devastated as Renee, and tried to comfort her through all of this, but Renee was deeply distressed, enraged and disbelieving, and had a difficult time accepting any reassurances and support. Who could have known? How could this have happened? Why didn’t someone do something for Charlie?

Renee pushed the weeds aside and peered between the boards of the fence next to the sanctuary. The church organ sounded behind the stain-glass windows above her, melancholy and distant and lost to the heavens – there was only the pain, and it wouldn’t go away. Tears came and went, and came and went away again, leaving her eyes misty and red-rimmed – but the pain in her chest wouldn’t go away. The music stopped, and Renee could hear the muffled voice of the pastor. She couldn’t make out his words, but his voice was soothing, likely voicing the pain of wonder lost, and invoking the powers of some higher plane to give solace to the heart in distress. He would touch on the appreciation and debt felt by the town’s people for having known Charlie, if only for a blink in the span of time he was here. The murmured thoughts continued, and Renee sat in silence, a gentle breeze wafting through her space in the sun. “A nickel for your thoughts,” came a voice from behind her. She turned and found her Dad standing there, his hand resting on the top of the fence. “I’m sorry I got so mad the other day, Dad,” she whispered. “I know, Hon,” he replied, “He was something else, that Charlie, and it hurts that he’s gone.” “Why, Dad?” she asked, “Why does it hurt so much?” Dad didn’t answer right away, but knelt down and sat in the grass beside her next to the fence. “It hurts anytime someone leaves us.” Silence. “Charlie was a good friend, and anytime something good is gone, it matters.” Quiet. “Will the hurting stop?” asked Renee. “No, not all of it – but in time some of it will heal. You’ll remember Charlie and the good things you and he shared, and you’ll feel the loss – and then one day you’ll be thankful that he came your way.” Dad sat in silence and laid his arm across Renee’s shoulder, pulling her to him. “I love that he came by and I got to know him, Dad,” whispered Renee, tearing up. “Me, too, Hon…”