"Sister Adelaide?" Rosamund entered the church; grateful she had the day off. She had questions and somehow or other Adelaide always had the answers she was looking for.
"Rosa!" Sister Adelaide greeted her with a hearty clap of her hands and a warm smile. Sister Adelaide was a jolly warm-hearted woman, around the same age as Rosa, with rosy round cheeks and a full figure. Her copper hair was pinned back into a bun, but several unruly ringlets always managed to escape. "I hear tell that you aided our new friend in finding his name."
"Ah, yes, it was the strangest thing—"
"Peter told me all about it, what a fascinating name it is too! I've never heard it before. For the life of me I can't believe all the fuss that is going around. The prattle will never cease." Sister Adelaide chided the rest of town warmly.
Rosamund smiled. Adelaide was the warmest and most affectionate person in the village, she could never bring herself to say a cross word to anyone.
"Oh, I heard the prattle. On and on throughout the whole village!" Rosamund paused, unsure of how to continue. "But you have to admit the whole thing is rather...odd."
"Odd in what way, Dearest?"
"No one has ever gone near the river before. I can't even recall who first told me it was poisoned. But all the same he fell in. It feels like there is something more at work here. Besides if he was in the river, you've seen how swift the current is."
"Why would it spit him out on the bank of our little village instead of somewhere else?" Adelaide finished for her. "I do see your point. I must admit I am fascinated by the possibilities this brings with it."
"I thought there were no other people outside of our village," Rosamund said, more thinking to herself.
"That is the only part that is odd to me. There have never been visitors in all the years...all the time that I have been a part of the church. Peter poses some disconcerting questions."
"My thoughts exactly." Rosamund looked up towards the altar of the church where the easel had been. It was gone, but there were still some flecks of white paint on the wooden floor.
"Have you seen him sleeping?" Sister Adelaide whispered this, so quietly Rosamund had to read her lips to understand it.
"Yes, he slept right in front of me yesterday when I came. Such a curious thing. I was half tempted to try it—"
"No, Rosa." Sister Adelaide cut her off sternly. "Do not try it."
Rosamund bit her lip to keep from admitting that she already had.
"Doctor Lyle said it's the most dangerous practice he has ever seen! He is in examining Peter now. I do hope he's healthy but all the same we should not give ourselves over to—"
Just that moment the door at the front of the church beside the altar opened and out came Doctor Lyle with his medicine bag. His green eyes were confused and there was a hard-set grimace on his lips. Rosamund had never seen him look so serious before.
"How is he, Doctor Lyle?" Sister Adelaide asked.
"He is...not like us. It appears the river caused him no harm, but he has these memory lapses that I can't explain. He doesn't know where he's from or what he's doing here. All he knows is that the Sand named him Peter. All he knows is yesterday. I examined some of the things he has been painting and I advise strong caution against getting too close to him."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that until we know where he's from, and what exactly he was before coming here, I believe it wise that we don't give him too much freedom within the village. But that is at the discretion of Sister Adelaide and the Good Mayor to decide. I will give him a copy of the report I'm giving you." Doctor Lyle handed Sister Adelaide a stack of papers. One flew out from the stack floating delicately down towards the ground.
Doctor Lyle snatched it up urgently, but Rosamund still had enough time to see what it was. Another drawing. Another drawing of her, but in this one she was holding Puff. A shiver went down her spine.
"Thank you, Doctor. Would you like any refreshments for on your way back to the office?"
"No, no thank you, Sister. Good day to you both."
Doctor Lyle excused himself and, in a rush, left the church, no doubt off to give the mayor his report.
Sister Adelaide chewed on her bottom lip, a look of concern in her green eyes. "That was you and Puff, wasn't it? Did he see Puff?"
Rosamund was only able to shake her head. She had left her dog outside to play with the daffodils yesterday. There was no way Peter should have known about him.
"Until we get a clue about where all of this is leading, I suggest that you...you avoid Peter for the time being."
"I don't understand, aren't we supposed to help him?"
"We will, we are. But Rosamund, I know the mayor and I know Doctor Lyle. I know that you want to help Peter, but the best thing you can do for him now is let brother Arthur and I take care of him until we are sure of who he is. You trust me, don't you?"
"Of course I trust you! Adelaide you're the only real friend I have here." Rosamund held her hand affectionately to her own cheek. The two shared a look of knowing between them. "I do trust you; I'll leave everything to you and to Arthur."
'I'll leave the door unlocked, tonight at nine.' Sister Adelaide mouthed the words silently.
'Thank you,' Rosamund replied.
The two had used lip reading on any number of occasions. Just because Slumber was a sleepy little village did not mean that there weren't dangers lurking in the shadows.
Rosamund returned just before 9pm. She left Puff to play at the cottage with his toys. Her dog was not always known for his discretion and would bark at the daffodils before she had a chance to shush him.
The lights within the church were off already. Arthur and Adelaide each had their own homes they returned to in the evenings. Rosamund didn't know what Arthur spent his hours outside of the church doing, but Adelaide spent every moment she could reading.
The church doors swung inwards with the gentlest push and Rosamund stepped inside.
Peter was near the altar again. Shafts of moonlight and the occasional burst of golden shimmering sand illuminated him and the new canvas he had on his easel.
He looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. The smile was bright, it made her stomach flip and her cheeks flush. His brown eyes were warm with recognition and silently he beckoned her over to see the painting.
"Sister Adelaide told me you would come," Peter said. His voice was more confident and awake than it had been when she had first talked to him.
"What are you painting now?"
"I'm painting...the pictures I see in my head." This picture was of a beautifully mossy glen, a shimmering pool reflected the moonlight and all-around little glitters of greenish light danced around the canvas.
"It's almost like they're alive," Rosamund said admiringly. She reached her hand out to touch one and to her surprise the small bug alighted on her finger.
She and Peter looked at each other with wide eyes and jaws dropped. The bug blinked its little light on and off, on and off, and then fluttered up into the rafters.
"How did you do that?"
"I didn't know I could!"
Before they had even finished speaking more of the little bugs began jumping from the canvas and out into the air around them. They glowed like stars, blinking and winking at one another in a merry way. Rosamund couldn't find the words. Another pulled his little legs from the wet paint and off he flew with his friends. The church was full of the dancing little—
"Lantern bugs," Peter said definitively. "They're lantern bugs!"
"I've never seen anything like them." Rosamund let one crawl along her hand until it spread its iridescent little wings and flew up to float with the others.
"I remember there used to be hundreds where I lived. They would come out every summer and my mother and I would catch them in our hands to look at them and then let them free. I always wanted to keep them, but mother said that free things need to always be free..." Peter's words grew quieter as he went on, until, wide eyed, he was whispering the last sentence. "I have a mother. I remember something. Is that a good thing?"
"I think so," Rosamund smiled at him. Now that she was standing so close it was hard to ignore the difference in their heights. Rosamund had always considered herself a tall girl, but Peter stood almost a full head taller than her. "What else do you remember?"
"I don't know. I see the pictures, but I don't feel like they all come from me. It feels like—"
Just then there was shuffling outside of the door. Rosamund had locked it on her way in out of habit, and now the handle jerked loudly. Rosamund ducked down, pulling Peter with her. They crouched behind one of the pews.
"If its Sister Adelaide, why doesn't she just use the key?"
"I don't think it's Sister Adelaide..." Rosamund whispered back. There was the sound of metal scraping against metal. Rosamund took Peter's hand and pulled him into the back room of the church.
"Where are we going? My painting!" He whispered in a panic.