Snowflakes were falling slowly through the thin winter daylight outside the barn. In the large indoor stall the three brown horses were intent on their feed boxes, newly stocked with alfalfa and grain. Liberty’s long black hair bobbed amongst the horses, sometimes behind, sometimes between two of them, the large brush in her hand working over their shaggy winter coats.
Two of the horses, between which Liberty was currently standing, suddenly moved closer together. Her elbows quickly went into action, and her feet danced to avoid their hooves. “Move over, you big lunks!”
A few minutes later the door to the barn opened and Mr. Neils the caretaker stepped in, wearing a heavy parka.
“Hi, Harold! Pfu. Boy, I’m glad I’m not allergic to horse hair!”
“Miss Liberty, I am continually amazed at how tidy you are keeping the barn and what good care the horses are receiving.”
“Keeps me from getting too bored. No, Chelsea! I like my hair the length it is, thank you!”
Mr. Neils couldn’t suppress a chuckle.
“There, you guys are brushed, and I’m not going to do it every time you see me! Hand me that can of salve, please Harold. Penny’s got a scratch.”
“Hmm. We’ll have to walk the fences as soon as the weather improves a
bit and look for loose wire.”
“Yeah. Doesn’t look like anything bigger than fence wire.”
“By the way, I’ve got the mail. Would you like to do the honors?”
Climbing over the stall fence and hanging up her brush, Liberty replied with routine excitement, “Sure! And I’m starved! What’s cooking?”
“You don’t want to go back to hay and grain?”
She snickered. “You’re going to remind me about that for the rest of my life, aren’t you Harold? I only did it for three days!”
“Actually, I don’t think I’ll need to remind you. I have a hunch that every time you start losing your perspective, you’ll remember those three days of sleeping in the barn, running barefoot in the snow, and nearly starving to death while chewing desperately on alfalfa. I’ve got a meatloaf in the oven and some potatoes baking.”
They both pulled up their hoods and trudged through the snow toward the house. Inside, as they peeled their coats and sweaters, the caretaker handed Liberty the bundle of mail he had been protecting from the snow and then headed for the attached kitchen, pausing to brush some crumbs off the dining table, where an ample bowl of fruit and two place settings awaited the next meal.
Liberty plopped down on the couch and began looking at the large and small envelopes. She selected a small one and ripped it open. With a sarcastic voice, she read out loud, “‘Dear Mr. Neils. I’m sorry to inform you that we do not accept delinquents into our nationally acclaimed program...’”
She grabbed another one and opened it. “‘Dear Mr. Neils. In order to determine if we can provide services for Miss Liberty Buchanan, we must have a five-axis diagnosis from a licensed Psychiatrist on form 23-03...’”
“Any luck?” he called from the kitchen.
“Negative, unless you want to send me to a funny farm. I’ll add them to the pile.” She placed the letters and envelopes on an already thick stack of opened rejection letters, and looked at the mail again. A large blue envelope caught her eye, and a wrinkle of curiosity appeared on her face. “This is addressed to me...?” She pulled a letter and a large spiral bound book out of the envelope. The book looked like it contained a good hundred pages. She leaned back on the couch and began to read to herself.
November 12th
Dear Liberty,
I am addressing this directly to you because we do not accept applications from third parties. I have read the brief description of your background that was sent by Mr. Neils, and find you an interesting person.
I have enclosed a book that describes our facilities and services in considerable detail. If you find yourself interested in membership, please write back, addressing the questions on the second page of this letter.
Sincerely,
Sister Nancy
“Sister Nancy? I’m not going to some lousy convent!” she said with disgust and tossed everything onto the coffee table. When it landed, the letter slid off the book and allowed her to see its cover, an aerial view of numerous ultra-modern buildings, plazas, gardens, play fields, and even some corrals, pastures, and greenhouses. “Hmm. Sure doesn’t look like a convent...” She picked up the book and opened the cover to the first page.
Liberty was just turning to page twelve when Mr. Neils’ voice broke her concentration. “Any luck, Liberty?”
“Huh? Uh... no. I was just reading a magazine.”
“Dinner is ready,” he said, carrying plates to the table.
Before going to the table, she slid the book and letter back into the blue envelope and set it aside to take up to her room right after eating.
The snow had stopped and the sky had been dark for many hours as Liberty sat at the hardwood desk in her room, and by the light of a small lamp, finished the last page of the spiral bound book and closed the back cover. She was silent and thoughtful for several minutes.
Wow. I didn’t know a place like that existed. She sat thoughtfully for awhile longer, then read the letter again. And they wrote directly to me...
pretty neat! Finally, after another moment of reflection, she turned to her computer and started typing.
November 16th
Dear Sister Nancy,
I have read the book you sent me, cover to cover. Lyceum sounds pretty interesting. Actually, it sounds very interesting!
Liberty smiled, wondering if Sister Nancy really did match the mental image Liberty currently had of her: fat and wearing a nun’s habit. Not knowing what else to say at that moment, she looked at the questions on the second page of the letter. A number of expressions visited her face as she considered the first question. Finally, with a mental deep breath, she began to type.
I would be happy in a situation in which I had people to talk to about all the things I learn on my own. School is always so boring because everyone else is struggling to learn things (or more often just pretending to learn things) that I knew years before. Mr. Neils wrote to lots of places for gifted kids, but they won’t take me because... sometimes I do things that get me in trouble.
Liberty thought about the second question for a long time, searching her memory for things she had done in her life that required responsibility.
Finally, close to tears, she admitted to herself that the only thing that even remotely fit that description had come into her life only very recently.
I could be reliable and punctual if I knew that what I was doing mattered to the world. Right now I take care of three horses, which means doing things for them three or four times a day, and I never have to be reminded.
It’s sort of my first job, but I know in my heart that I’d do other things just as well if they were really, truly important.
The next question was easier, but even as Liberty began to type, she knew there was danger in saying too much, in letting all of her hopes and dreams pour out to someone she didn’t yet know, someone who might twist them around and say she was nothing but a flighty dreamer... or worse.
I’m not sure yet what I want to do in life, but challenges hold my interest that make me use my brains to the maximum, like the Smithsonian Seminars I went to summer before last. I was the youngest one there. There are many things I have dreamed of doing, so many things it would take many lifetimes to even get started on a small part of them. I know I’ll have to focus on one or two someday soon.
Liberty nearly bristled when she read the forth question. She felt angry —
at all the people who had given her very good reasons to fling back at them exactly what they had thrown at her — and at herself for learning well, maybe too well, how to protect herself from just about every imaginable danger and cutting remark. She breathed for several minutes, debating within herself how to approach the question. A mixture of tip-toeing and honesty was best, she decided.
I have friends in Philadelphia that have a lot less than me of everything, and I’ve always tried to be kind to them... but I have to admit I don’t always succeed. I’m very kind to animals, all the time. The only people I don’t know how to be nice to are people who are trying to force me to be like them for no good reason.
The last question was in the same vein as the one before, and so Liberty found the same tactic appropriate once more. But at the same time she was glad it gave her the opportunity to reveal something that she considered very positive about herself. She just hoped that Sister Nancy would also see it as a positive thing.
I try to be respectful of others, but I’m also warm and friendly.
Sometimes people think I’m disrespectful because I’m so friendly, or because I know something they don’t. I guess I have a lot to learn about using discretion when I’m with people I don’t know very well.
All of the questions answered, Liberty looked over what she had typed...
and realized that she was scared. She knew that there were so many things about her life that could be seen in a negative light by someone who wanted to cut her down for any reason. But she also knew that if she left those things out of her answers, she wouldn’t be saying much of anything at all. It was a risk she would have to take.
But, Liberty reminded herself, Sister Nancy already knew about her past from the history sheet that Mr. Neils had sent, and yet had written back in a completely positive tone. Maybe... just maybe...
Please let me know if I’m the kind of person you might consider for membership at Lyceum.
Sincerely,
Liberty Rae Buchanan