Chapter 7: ANOTHER LANGUAGE
"Do you know about radios?" she asked.
Jon was not deceived by the casual tone of her voice. The question was important to her, for behind it were those troubling thoughts about cars and money.
"Yes," he replied. Then he remembered the politeness word and said, "Yes, ma'am."
"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "It's coming back. Is it hard to talk?"
"It's hard- now. But-it is coming." He liked her bright hair and her quick blue eyes that were almost green. Sally looked much like her, but Brooks resembled his father.
"Well, we'll take it easy," she said. "Maybe I shouldn't talk to you for a day or two. You may have a concussion or something- I don't know too much about these things, but you've still got that big bump on your head. Does it hurt this morning?"
"Only- when I- touch it. Please-talk. It- helps."
"Okay. We'll talk up a storm. I'm the biggest talker in seven counties-when I have the chance." She laughed.
"Poor Thomas is too busy trying to keep the money coming in to listen to me half the time."
"Money?" he said. "Why?"
"There we go again! Money. You must know what money is! Everybody has to have it. You can't eat without it- though we manage pretty well, what with a garden and the stuff I can from it, plus chickens and a cow. They call this place a farm-but no farmer could possibly make a living from it these days, no matter how hard he worked. And we all work hard. Thomas is no farmer-but he studied geology after the war and managed to buy this place and started the rock Shop. That's where our money comes from-mainly during summer from tourists."
She stopped, her eyes crinkling. "Am I talking too much?"
"Oh, no! Please-please talk more."
"All right. About money. Are you absolutely certain you've never seen any before?"
"Absolutely certain."
"And the same for automobiles?"
"They are- strange to me."
"And you're getting stranger to me by the minute."
Mary Bean sat down, and he was aware of her growing bewilderment as she stared at him. His own bewilderment matched hers, but he fought it down while his mind sorted the dozens of new words he had to match the patterns that thoughts came in. It was very easy- but it took time.
Suddenly she jumped up,"Jon, I'm going through the house and point out things. I want you to tell me whether they are familiar or strange. You know about radios, so you should know about TV also."
"It is like radio- but has- pictures?"
"Yes, television. We don't have a set- we've been using our extra money for books- but we hope to get one soon."
"Television- it seems familiar."
"Good. What about books?" she waved to the shelves of books flanking the fireplace.
"Familiar," he said instantly.
"Can you read this one?" she handed him a copy of one of Sally's books.
"No. I cannot read- this."
"That's strange. I get the feeling that you're older than you look. Anyone who speaks English ought to be able to read this. Oh dear, I didn't realize- maybe English isn't your language."
"There is another language I- I seem to know."
"Now we're getting somewhere!" she exclaimed happily. If you could speak a little bit of it, maybe I might be able to recognize it."
Jon looked out of the window and let his mind rove over the greening valley in the distance. Suddenly he began to hum a little song about valleys. The humming changed to singing words. He wondered where he had heard it.
Mary Bean clapped her hands. "That was beautiful, Jon! Beautiful!" Her bewilderment returned. "I thought I knew something about languages-my father taught them in school. But this is a new one. How long have you known English?"
"I don't know it yet. I only began- last night."
She shook her head. "Say that again?"
"I- I am learning it from you, now," he said and instantly wondered if he should have told her. She didn't believe him. It was strange that she couldn't understand thoughts, even strong ones-but nobody here seemed to be able to. Only the animals…
"Jon," she said very patiently, "do you know the difference between truth and-and falsehood?"
"Truth? Falsehood? Truth is- is right," he managed to say. "Falsehood is- not truth. There is another word for falsehood but you have not spoken it yet."
"The word is lie," she said softly. "When you are not telling the truth, you are telling a falsehood- a lie."
His chin quivered a moment, and then stiffened. "You think I am not telling you the truth- but- I must! You are as strange to me as- as I am to you. Yesterday- in the morning- I woke up- on a mountain- far away from- from here. I hurt all over. I felt as if- as if I had fall- fallen. I did not know my name until last night when you asked me. Everything was strange. The mountain, the trees, everything… only the deer. I- " He stopped, all at once aware of the dog he had glimpsed last night. The dog was thirsty. It almost hurt to feel the dryness of its throat, the craving for water.
He told Mary Bean about the dog, but she shook her head. "Oh, I'm sure he was taken care of. Thomas would never forget Rascal. Anyway, how could you possibly-"
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