Chapter 52 The Pull II

The trees were inside the house now. Not just pressed against the walls. Inside. Their roots had broken through the foundation, through the plaster, through the lath, and their trunks stood in the east wing, in the hallway, in the chamber, their branches reaching through the ceilings, their leaves, which had not been there in winter, growing now, green-gold leaves that glowed with the mold's light, and the leaves were the deep's way of reaching the surface, the deep's way of touching the light, the deep's way of becoming what it had always been beneath the house, beneath the root, beneath the symbols and the wards and the locks. The house was no longer a house. It was a root system. The walls were the root's branches. The floor was the root's skin. The ceiling was the root's canopy. The windows were the root's eyes, looking out at the woods, at the trees, at the world above, and the world above was the deep's world now, the deep's surface, the deep's skin, and the skin was the trees, and the trees were the deep's body, and the body was the house, and the house was the deep's home. Eli walked through the east wing and felt the root's pulse in the floor, in the walls, in the ceiling, in the trees that stood in the hallway, their trunks smooth and seamless, their bark covered with the green-gold mold, and the mold pulsed, and the pulse was the deep's heartbeat, and the heartbeat was the sound, and the sound was the deep's voice, and the voice was saying: I am here. I am the house. I am the root. I am the trees. I am the deep, and the deep is waking. Nora was in the chamber. She sat on the packed earth floor, her back against the root, her palm on the root's surface, and the root was warm, and the pulse was in her hand, in her body, in her bones, and the deep's voice was in her, and she was listening, and the listening was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open. "The deep wants to go up," she said. "Not through the root. Not through the trees. Through the house. Through the roof. Through the sky. The deep wants to touch the sky." "The deep is the ground," Eli said. "The ground does not touch the sky." "The ground touches the sky every morning, Eli. The ground touches the sky at dawn, when the sun rises, when the light hits the horizon, when the earth meets the air. The deep wants to touch the sky the way the ground touches the sky every morning, slowly, gently, with the patience of a thing that has been waiting for centuries." Eli stood in the chamber and looked up at the vault, at the dark earth above, and in the darkness he could see the root's branches spreading, and the branches were reaching upward, through the earth, through the foundation, through the house, toward the roof, toward the sky, and the reaching was the deep's way of touching the sky, the deep's way of becoming what it had always been, the ground that touches the sky every morning, slowly, gently, with the patience of a thing that has been waiting for centuries. The deep was reaching for the sky. The root was its hand. The trees were its fingers. The house was its body. And the body was waking, and the waking was the deep's way of touching the light, and the light was the deep's destination, and the destination was the sky, and the sky was the deep's home, and the home was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open. And the deep spoke, and the speaking was the reach, and the reach was the trees, and the trees were the deep's body, and the body was the house, and the house was the deep's home, and the home was the keeping, and the keeping was the door, and the door was open, and the deep was here. The trees moved through the night with the deliberateness of glaciers. Their roots pulled free of the earth with a sound like rope being cut, a soft, fibrous tearing that echoed through the dark yard and faded into the silence that followed. The silence was not empty. It was full of the deep's hum, the low, sustained tone that filled the air the way water fills a basin, and the hum was the deep's way of saying: I am here. I am in the ground. I am in the trees. I am in the house. I am the deep, and the deep is waking. The nearest tree, an oak as thick as Eli's torso, had moved three feet since morning. Its roots were visible in the disturbed earth, pale and glistening, and the glistening was the deep's light, the green-gold glow of the mold that covered the bark, and the mold pulsed, and the pulse was the deep's heartbeat, and the heartbeat was the sound, and the sound was the deep's voice, and the voice was saying: I am here. I am the tree. I am the root. I am the house. I am the deep, and the deep is waking. The tree's branches touched the house. They pressed against the east wing wall, and the wall cracked, and from the crack the mold emerged, spreading along the branches, climbing the trunk, covering the bark, the tree becoming part of the house, the house becoming part of the tree, the two merging, the boundary dissolving. Nora stood at the window and watched the trees move. She watched with the steady, appraising gaze she had brought to every crisis in their marriage, and she did not speak, and Eli stood beside her, and they watched together, and the watching was the keeping, and the keeping was the conversation, and the conversation was the deep's voice, and the voice was the deep, and the deep was here. "They're coming," she said. "The trees. They're coming to the house. The deep is calling them, and they're coming." "They're drawn to the root." "They're drawn to the deep. The root is the deep's hand, and the hand is reaching, and the reaching is the deep's way of touching the world, and the touching is the deep's way of being in the world, and the being is the deep, and the deep is here." The trees continued to move. The nearest one pressed against the wall, and the wall cracked, and the crack widened, and the mold spread, and the glow brightened, and the sound deepened, and the deep was here, in the tree, in the wall, in the crack, in the mold, in the glow, in the sound, in the house, in the world. ---