One night, before mother had left them, a bear had come to their cabin. She remembered hearing her father yelling and the sound of breaking branches. Her mother had screamed, “Harley! Harley what is it!” Mother had pulled Grace into bed and flung a blanket over their heads. “Is it robbers?” She had asked, terrified. Her mother just held her tight and shook her head, “I don’t know…but I can’t take this much longer.” Later it quieted and her father had come in, lit the lamp, and then laughed at the two of them, clinging to each other beneath the blankets. “Boo!” he yelled, slapping his hands on the bed. They both screamed then her mother just fell apart--she wept at Grace's side with hair and hands twisted across her eyes. Her father looked pained when he pulled the blanket back, “It was just a bear dear. A harmless black bear. It was just as frightened as you.”***
“Howdy,” a man in a green cap and matching green coat sauntered up from the park store. “How are you two this morning?”
“Fine,” her father replied. “We came to see the bear.”“Good for you! Did you camp here last night?”
“No, we’re local. Just over in Wagner creek.”
“Okay, then.” The man replied within genuine warmth, then kneeling beside Grace he said, “You ever seen a real bear?” Grace shook her head. “Well, whaddya think?”
Grace shrugged her shoulders. “He seems sad.”
The man laughed, “Sad? Naw! This bear’s as happy as can be. He gets plenty of food, lots of treats, and lots of admirers. No. I’d say this is the happiest bear you’ll ever meet.” The man winked at her father, patted her on the head, then stood up and left her to her own thoughts. “So. Wagner creek? You got fruit trees?”
She listened for a moment while her father told the story of the peaches he’d brought from Ohio and the damage they suffered and the difficult winter. Soon her attention turned back to the bear who was now on all four legs and turned so that its brown eyes met hers. She looked and noticed a thick shackle around one of its hind legs. The black iron band had worn the hair just above the bear’s ankle exposing a halo of smooth, pink, skin--like a human being. She looked up, and again the bear met her eyes and she felt immediately that the ranger was lying. This bear was sad. Deeply sad. She looked and looked and the bear looked back until both girl and bear were caught in each other’s gaze--Grace jumped when her father tapped her on the shoulder.
“Grace, we’re going over to look at a map. You want to come with me?” Grace shook her head. “Alright then. Don’t cross that rope line.” Her father reached into his pocket and pulled out the golden pear. “Here. Go ahead and eat this. I’ll be back in a moment.” Grace took the pear and held it up to her mouth. It smelled like leather and clover. She remembered the fall, when her father would bring home pears and her mother would bake them with butter and cinnamon.
She pressed the pear to her mouth when she suddenly noticed the bear standing, standing on its hind legs, standing with a front leg held out. For a timeless moment the bear stood, and the girl stood, looking at one another--the bear with its front leg outstretched, the girl with the pear to her lips, frozen in wonder at the upright beast. They stood and stared and stood and stared, each as silent as the pines. Then, without thinking, Grace stepped passed the rope, walked slowly toward the wild animal, and carefully set the pear onto its sharp, outstretched paw. The bear took the gift, lifted it to its mouth, and swallowed it with one wet swallow. It descended to four legs then stretched its big black snout until it reached Grace’s ear. Grace felt a hot billow of air across her cheek and then heard--heard in the deepest of voices, “Help me.”
Grace stepped back and looked at the large head, the fanged mouth, the redwood eyes, her whole body burning with wonder. There was a scream. A woman was screaming and pointing from somewhere in the trees, “Help! Help!” Grace looked intently at the woman trying to see what was troubling her, when she suddenly heard her father cry out in fear, “Grace! Grace! Get away from there! Run! Run!” A large rock flew through the air and struck the bear’s shoulder with a dull thud. The bear’s head jerked back, it bared its teeth and growled at the park ranger who now stood waving his arms, shouting for the bear’s attention at the roped perimeter. Then Grace felt her father’s arms knock violently against her waist as she was pulled from the ground. There were two men and a group of boys running toward them, rocks and sticks in their hands as her father scampered beneath the rope barrier. She heard the bear’s chain rattle taught as it pulled toward the human beings, growling and swinging its arms in helpless anger.
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