Chapter Twenty-Two
Over a wall of rock and mosses, a cascade of water fell from the heights of the waterfall to land in the small pool at its base with a low roar. From there the water overflowed its rocky bowl and coursed down the hillside to the plains below. Amongst the boulders nestled near the waterfall's base sat Joseph and Mirabelle who were silently contemplating the water's journey.
They hadn't spoke all morning. After breakfast the two had set off with nary a word. It was as though there was some unspoken agreement between them to walk in silence, to meditate on the journey before them as though it were a pilgrimage.
Joseph led the way. He was more skilled than Mirabelle in backwoods travel. After following the horse trail up the hill, they turned off of it and headed north on a deer run. Making their way up the hill, they criss-crossed the stream a number of times to come ever closer to its source. When they finally neared the summit of the hill, they could see the waterfall from which the stream emerged. Its waters fell from the top of the rocky wall, zig-zagging down it like a lightning bolt. It was then, as they sat staring at the white foam and mist that bubbled in the pool, that Joseph began to speak to Mirabelle.
"I'm sorry I've been rude to you," he said referring to his often indifferent attitude towards Mirabelle. "It's just that..." he trailed off as he stared at the pool.
"What?" asked Mirabelle who was sitting beside him.
He turned to look at her, then continued. "There's something you ought to know..." he said, again allowing his train of thought to go unspoken.
"What?" questioned Mirabelle. The waterfall's roar caused her to raise her voice. She thought that perhaps Joseph was saying something and the roar of the waterfall was causing her to miss it.
"Let's find another place to talk," Joseph suggested who then stood up and walked away, heading across the hill.
Mirabelle watched him as he drew away from her. Just as she thought Joseph was going to leave her behind, he stopped to turn and motioned her to follow. Mirabelle got up to follow the mysterious stranger who had led her up to this summit.
Heading away from the waterfall, the pair made their way through the forest to a clearing composed of large boulders that were strewn about at the base of a cliff wall. The lack of trees here allowed the sun's light to make its finally make its appearance on what had been a rather dark and colorless journey. Finding that the view to the adjacent hillside to the north was nice, Joseph sat himself down then turned to watch Mirabelle as she made her way over the boulders. As she sat herself beside him, Joseph resumed talking again.
"When I first met you..." Joseph paused, then, following a deep break of silence, he continued, "Why were you in the river?"
Mirabelle wasn't expecting him to ask her that. Unable to come to grips with her emotions, she stammered, "I was troubled about something. I, I," She couldn't tell him what she had been feeling those many months ago.
"Did you ever have dreams," asked Joseph without looking at her. He continued to gaze at the distant hillside.
Mirabelle was silent for a long time then answered, "I did once."
"What were they?" asked Joseph, again not looking at her.
"Why do you want to know?" retorted Mirabelle. "What business of it is his?" she thought.
"Everybody has dreams don't they?" he asked her as he tossed pebbles into the air before them. The stones promptly disappeared into the tops of the pine trees below them.
"Well, I suppose they do," answered Mirabelle. "What was he getting at?" she mentally asked herself.
"I had a dream once," said Joseph. He was again staring at the adjacent hillside.
Mirabelle was curious. Maybe he was finally starting to open up. She asked him, "What was that?"
"Like the Nuhmuhnuh of old, I wanted to be a great warrior," answered Joseph.
"The who?" asked Mirabelle.
"Nuhmuhnuh. Comanche," replied Joseph.
"Oh," responded Mirabelle.
"I was young. I wanted adventure. There was a war going on..." Joseph trailed off. Having stopped his speech short he looked at Mirabelle then asked her, "How about you?"
"About what?" asked Mirabelle. She had been trying to imagine what experiences Joseph had during the War.
"Your dreams," he replied.
Mirabelle thought it over then answered, "I guess I wanted what every young woman is supposed to want." She thought back wistfully to what might have been.
"And did you find him?" asked Joseph.
"I thought I did," she replied as a sharp pang of forlornness arose within her.
"Love often makes mistakes," stated Joseph without looking at her. He had turned his head to face the hillside again. Perhaps he was saying it to himself or to the hills or to the boulders, in any case it only seemed partly directed towards Mirabelle.
The two were quiet for a long time, staring out at the ponderosa pine-covered hill that emerged across from the valley lying below them.
"Do you really go out to a hillside to pray?" Mirabelle asked Joseph as he sat there oblivious to her. Perhaps he was praying right now, she wondered.
"Yes," he replied, not bothering to turn his head towards her.
"Why?" she asked. Perhaps it was so that he could commune with God, with the Earth, with the natural world, she speculated.
Joseph turned to look at her, then said, "Basically, it's because I don't know what the hell I'm doing a lot of the time." He was being honest.
Mirabelle had to stifle a little laugh--it wasn't the answer she had been expecting. "Welcome to the club," she said to Joseph with her thoughts.
"I need to be alone a lot of the time so I can figure out what I should be doing," Joseph told her. Getting no response from Mirabelle, he continued, "I could never follow external guidelines on what I should be doing with my life: I have to follow my heart. It's just my way of doing things."
Mirabelle nodded, then asked, "How do you do that?"
"You have to be alone... in solitude, and you have to be quiet. Once you quiet down you can feel your feelings and look into your heart," he answered.
"Isn't that kind of selfish?" asked Mirabelle.
"Selfish?" asked Joseph, who looked at her with questioning eyes.
Mirabelle elaborated: "To follow your heart. To do your own thing in life. What about other people? What about society? People are expected to do certain things, behave in a certain manner. You can't just go through life doing whatever you want." At least that's what Mirabelle had always been taught, though she hardly ever acted that way.
Joseph looked away from her towards the distance hills and horizon then said, "I'd rather be living my own life than someone else's."
"Who else's life could you live?" questioned Mirabelle.
"My family's, my friend's, my society's," he told her. "Everyone has an opinion on what I should be doing. What about my own? Its my life," he argued.
"I'm sure such an attitude has made you a great many friends," Mirabelle said sarcastically. A guy who couldn't be controlled by others would hardly be popular.
"There are easier ways to live," replied Joseph who then added, "But is that really living? It's not even your own life."
"You're certainly a dreamer, Joseph," concluded Mirabelle.
"Everybody dreams their lives into being. Everybody dreams the world into being," he said, "and I would much rather be living my own dream than living somebody else's for my short, little lifetime."
"A lot of people would consider you to be the acme of selfishness," Mirabelle said to him.
"It's not that I don't care about other people, I do, but I have to follow my own path in life," he told her. "It's not like I think about doing evil and harmful things, I just have to live my own life," he finished, no longer caring to debate with her.
"Well, I can relate to that," thought Mirabelle. She wondered were his heart would lead him next so asked him, "So where do you go from here, Joseph?"
"Who knows," he answered, "I just hope on another adventure."
Mirabelle nodded.
"Let's head back," Joseph suggested and before she could reply they were already on their way back to the waterfall and down the stream.
