Copyright © 1993, 2008 Jason Carter. All rights reserved. 

Mary Goddart was amused at the bold little waif who stood on her doorstep. "Really", she responded, "and what is it that you want, Michael?" He was probably collecting donations for some school project, she thought to herself.

"I’m a storytaker." He said.

"You mean a storyteller." She corrected him.

"Yes, ma’am, that’s it, a storyteller." He coloured at his mistake.

For some reason, Mary was captivated by the little urchin. He looked so forlorn in spite of his audacity.

"You know what, Michael?" She said. "I bet I can find some cookies for you if you tell me one of your stories."

"I’d like that, ma’am." He said politely.

She led him into the kitchen and sat him at the table with a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. The cookies disappeared quickly and she realized that he must be very hungry.

"Would you like some sandwiches, Michael?" She asked.

"Yes, ma’am." He replied.

Fortunately, Mary had sandwiches on hand for her children’s party that afternoon. She put a plate in front of him. He wolfed them down and emptied the glass of milk. A second plate of sandwiches and another glass of milk disappeared more slowly.

"Would you like more, Michael?"

"Oh, no, ma’am."

"Now," she said, "as to the story, what kind of stories do you tell Michael?"

"All kinds, ma’am."

"Can you tell me a story about a mountain?" She asked.

"Yes ma’am."

She was amused at his temerity, but when he began, she was startled and then enchanted by the change in his voice. He told a fascinating story as if he were somehow reliving an experience not his own. The words flowed from his mouth and she was astonished at the maturity and delicacy of his tale. He came to the end and paused.

"That’s it, ma’am." He said simply.

"It was a wonderful story, Michael."

"Yes, ma’am."

Suddenly, Mary had an inspiration. This strange storyteller would be a godsend for her children’s party.

"I wonder," she asked him, "if you would do me a favour, Michael."

"Yes, ma’am?"

"My children are having a party this afternoon, with a few friends, and they would love to hear your stories. Do you think you could stay a while and tell them some stories?"

"Will there be lots of children?" He asked. He was shy, after all.

"Oh, no; only five."

"I think I can do five, ma’am." He answered.

"Then it’s settled." She said with a smile.

That afternoon, Michael was the highlight of the party. The children were enthralled by his stories and they clamoured for more. Eventually, the party came to an end.

"I want to thank you, Michael." Mary Goddart told the little boy. "You have brought something special to us."

"Yes, ma’am." He responded.

"I’ve made up a parcel of food for you; take it and remember, you’ll always be welcome here."

His eyes flickered as if, for a moment, he doubted her words, but he said nothing more than a quiet, "Thank you, ma’am", and left.

A few days later, Mary Goddart received a phone call from her friend Muriel.

"Mary", Muriel gushed, "I just have to thank you for inviting Jed to the wonderful party you put on. He just hasn’t stopped talking about it!"

Mary smiled. "Yes, it seems that all the children enjoyed it."

"Tell me something. That boy, Michael, where does he live?"

"To be honest with you, Muriel, I don’t know. He just appeared on my doorstep."

"No. You don’t say. How strange."

"So how are things with Jed these days. You told me that you had sent him for special counselling."

"There’s something I was going to tell you! Listen, Mary, you’re not going to believe this, but I think the program is working. Just yesterday I found my yellow vase broken, you know, the one I picked up at the flea market. Well, imagine my surprise when Jed told me he had broken it. No excuses, mind, he just flat out told the truth! I don’t know what those counselling people are doing, but they’re getting results, that’s for sure. Look, I have to run, I just wanted to thank you."

"Okay, Muriel. Listen, before you go, can you ask Jed to bring the lawn mower over and cut my grass. Since John passed away I haven’t been up to handling some of the heavier chores."

"Don’t give it another thought, Mary. I’ll send him over tomorrow."

"Thanks, Muriel, you’re a real friend."

She hung up the phone and sat down at the kitchen table. A lot of things were different for her now that John had gone, but she had to face the loss and get on with her life. She owed that much to Joe and Nancy. There was no sense in reliving the past, but it was so hard to avoid the temptation.

The phone rang again and she picked up the receiver.

"Mary? It’s Gina. Look, I was talking to Muriel yesterday and I realized that I hadn’t thanked you for inviting my Ellen to the party. Apparently, the kids had a wonderful time."

"Yes, they did. How is Ellen by the way?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, I think she’s coming down with something."

"Oh, no."

"It’s probably nothing serious. She just hasn’t been her usual bubbly self lately. She just comes home from school and goes straight to her room. Do you think I should call Doctor Smith’s office and make an appointment?"

"It’s best to be safe with these things, Gina. Give him a call. It’ll put your mind at rest."

"You’re right. How are Joe and Nancy?"

"They’re doing well. I just got the half-term report from school."

"Straight "A"s as usual?"

"Well, almost."

"You must be proud of them, Mary. If I could just get Ellen up to speed. But she’s at that age, you know; boys first, school somewhere down the line."

"Yes, it’s hard sometimes. But she’ll pull through, you’ll see."

"I hope you’re right. George isn’t too happy with her grades."

"Don’t be too hard on her, Gina, we were that way once, remember?"

"We were?"

They both laughed.

"Listen, Mary, there’s something else I wanted to tell you. George and I are having a few friends over next week and we were wondering if you could come. Joe and Nancy are old enough to look after themselves and you need to get out more."

"I don’t think I can make it, Gina. It’s too soon."

"Nonsense! It’ll do you good. At least tell me you’ll think about it."

"All right, I’ll think about it."

Who was she fooling? She knew she wouldn’t go. In spite of her resolve, she wanted to cling to John a little longer.

"Whoops! Something’s burning in the oven. ‘Bye, Mary."

"’Bye, Gina, and thanks for the invitation."

If she could only let go completely. She knew it was the right thing to do.

A few days later, Mary received a call from Joe and Nancy’s English teacher.

"I didn’t want to bother you, Mrs. Goddart, but I ran into a slight problem today with Joe and Nancy."

Mary’s heart lurched. "A problem?"

"It’s nothing serious, really. I assigned an in-class essay today. You know the sort of thing – write something about your family. Well, to get to the point, both Joe and Nancy couldn’t come up with anything. They weren’t the only ones, and you have to appreciate that this sort of block happens from time to time. The thing is, I need the mark to round out this part of the course. So what I’ve done is ask them to come up with something in the next few days. Could you do me a favour and help them out with a few ideas?"

"Of course, Miss Carter. It won’t be a problem."

"Thank you so much, and thank you for your children. They are two of the best."

Mary smiled as she hung up the phone; it was true.

That evening at suppertime, Mary broached the subject to her children.

"You know, Joe", she admonished gently, "I’m surprised at you, and you too, Nancy. There are so many things you could write about."

"Maybe there are too many, mother." Nancy suggested.

"Now look," Mary said, "Joe, you could write about that incident with the swing in the park, and Nancy, there’s always the story of how you found your doll again."

Joe shook his head and Nancy bowed hers.

"I know, mother," Joe said, suddenly. "Tell us the story of how you met dad, again. That’s the one I want to write about."

"All right." Mary conceded.

She began to think back. Strangely, nothing came to her. Try as she could she couldn’t recall a single incident of that meeting.