“What are they, some kind of crazy cult?”
Her mother lifted her chin. “We’re not a cult, Helena. We’re Lemurians.”
“What are Lemurians?”
Her mother glanced up at the peak of the barn as if overcome by an urge to check the direction of the wind vane. When she turned back to Helena, she needed an extra breath before answering. “Lemurians believe the world was once undivided, a single continent called Lemuria. It was a place of the spirit and the arts, but a reckless faction came along, seduced by the pursuit of knowledge, and tried to control nature. As a result of their experiments, the continent was split in two: one land for those who worship reason, and the other a refuge for the blessed.”
“Are you serious? You can’t possibly believe—”
“Whether I believe it or not doesn’t matter, only what it symbolizes. Benjamin asks us to focus on the way of the blessed rather than the soulless. The rituals remind us to pause, to sense the Spirit in the wind, and to remember that water is the source of life.”
“So Benjamin’s your teacher now?”
“I don’t recall needing your permission for what I do. Why are you carrying on so?”
“Because you’re talking nonsense. You and Dad taught me to believe what the mind can explain and prove, not what’s just... made up.”
Her mother stepped closer, her serenity gone. “That’s right. He believed in science—make a hypothesis and test it. We’d work on an experiment for weeks, and when one succeeded, we’d go to dinner and celebrate over a bottle of wine. But where is he now?”
“But you’re mythmaking, creating an arbitrary story with no grounding in—”
“Aren’t you listening?” Her mother’s voice rose. “Where is he now?”
“He’s gone. He doesn’t exist anymore.”
“Is that the best you can conceive of?”
She stared at her mother, hoping she’d provide a better answer, but she stayed stubbornly silent. Finally, her mother wandered past her to the small landing at the back of the great house and settled on the steps, smoothing her dress across her lap and down to her ankles.
“Come sit with me, dear.” When Helena didn’t move, she tilted her head and beckoned.
Helena edged closer but couldn’t bring herself to sit. She hovered nearby, while her mother crouched on the stoop, seeming older than she remembered... and more frail.
She softened her tone. “So you’ve become a believer now?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Being with them just makes me feel better.” Her mother brushed the porch floor with her fingertips, making patterns in the dust. “When I first came here, I was running away with nothing to live for. Benjamin helped me. He teaches that it’s better to affirm life than to deny it. To affirm the....” Her voice trailed off as if she’d just realized to whom she was speaking.
Helena remembered one of her father’s favorite quotes from a writer long gone. He’d displayed it prominently on the wall of his lab: “Faith is a myth, and beliefs shift like mists on the shore; words, once pronounced, die; and the memory of yesterday is as shadowy as the hope of tomorrow.”
“To affirm what?” she said, more desperate this time.
“I’m not asking you to adopt these beliefs, Helena, only to respect them. Benjamin teaches that too many of us run around trying to accumulate money, reputation, and recognition, but none of that matters. Life itself is gift enough, and we should be grateful for the time we have. Since nothing else is certain, we should be willing to accept a power greater than ourselves.” She paused and took a long breath. “Please sit.”
Please sit. The words took her back to the white room.
***
“Please sit,” the technician said.
Helena took the chair in the corner while her father was prepared for a bone scan.
The technician laid him down on a plastic slab, his feet bound and his arms wrapped to his side. A camera hung overhead, and at the end of the slab was a round tunnel.
The technician turned a screen toward Helena. “The camera will scan his body. You can follow if you like. You’ll see his feet appear first and then proceed to the head. This clock in the corner will count down—twenty minutes.”
The technician pressed a button and left them alone.
Seconds ticked off the clock as the slab inched her father’s body beneath the camera. After a minute, white lines appeared on the screen outlining her father’s feet, then extended as the slab progressed.
Her father had been told not to move, but he remained so still she had to check if he was breathing. The line doll on the screen continued to be drawn as the timer ticked down: 12:43, 12:42, 12:41—a digital hourglass, measuring what was left of his life.
Before his torso entered the tunnel, he spoke, his voice distant in the white room. “Helena, are you there?”
“I’m right here.”
“Do you know why your mother never comes with us?”
“No, I don’t.”
A pause. The machine whirred on.
“Is it because she’s angry with me?”
“Angry?” Helena said, fighting to hide her own anger. “Why would she be angry?”
Finally, as he was about to vanish into the tunnel, he said, “It’s all right, Helena. You can be my guardian angel instead.”
Her hands wanted to fly out to her sides, but she froze them in place, feeling like she had to remain as still as him.
His guardian angel? How can she ever live up to his expectations?
***
And now, too late, her mother thought she’d become a guardian angel, protecting both Helena and Kailani. No. She hadn’t earned it.
Faith is a myth.
“Where was your faith,” she said, “when my father lay dying? You have no more answers now than when you abandoned me to run off to the farm—nothing but the ramblings of that odd little man.”
“I’m... so sorry, Helena. Please, come sit.”
She turned her back and stomped off to the barn. At least there she could produce something she could touch and feel, something of substance, something real.
***
Benjamin crept through the night mist, down the service road to the back entrance of the great house. Unable to sleep, he’d spent half the night praying, purging his anger at Sebastian—Sebastian, whom he’d helped at every turn. This was Jason’s fault; he’d turned the managing director against him.
Never mind. None of them know my purpose, and my purpose is all that matters.
For years he’d struggled to bring the message to the soulless, but few had heeded his call. He was not gifted in a way that others followed, and he preached only a vague recollection of the words. During his brief stay in the Blessed Lands, while in their holding cell, a pious guard had offered him the Holy Book to read for comfort. When it became clear they’d send him back to the soulless, he begged for a chance to take the scripture with him, but the Treaty of Separation forbade it, not even allowing him to take notes.
While waiting in vain for his appeal to be heard, he memorized as much as he could. He tried so hard, barely sleeping for three nights, but his imperfect memory had failed him.
Then, a perverse fate had placed him in this outpost in the north country, far from the centers of population where he might find converts. He’d volunteered to do the newsletters so he could use them to spread the word, but Sebastian combed through each article and censored what he could say. He stayed in touch with his most loyal followers by communicator, but he had so little time to have a conversation alone, and not many of them were willing to forgo sleep like him.
Now everything had changed. The child from the Blessed Lands had come. She’d learned the scripture all her life, had lived it, and beyond the scripture, she had the gift—the Spirit shone through her. If others could hear her, they’d understand and believe. And by the grace of the Lord, she’d brought Jason and a way to bypass Sebastian’s restrictions.
Sebastian had forbid
den him from attempting such a story again, and he was bound to obey, but through the device Jason had brought to the farm, he could send messages without Sebastian’s knowledge. Yes, he’d need to work in the middle of the night. No matter. His purpose was more important than sleep.
Now he just needed the password.
He stumbled into the office and fumbled for the power switch. A pale light emerged from the screen, flickering off his hands as they groped for the keyboard.
After he’d entered Jason’s name, the white box challenged him again. He positioned the pointer and typed. T. A. K. What was the rest? He closed his eyes and prayed for a vision. He prayed harder than ever before, relaxing his fingers as if to let the Spirit guide them.
Then an answer came and he struck eight more keys. The box now contained eleven letters. Taki Shimana, the town in the Blessed Lands where he’d been imprisoned. It had to be.
He pressed enter, and the screen flickered a response:
Access denied.
He tipped his head back and glared at the unseen heavens. He was not yet worthy and would need more time. The miracle would have to wait.
Chapter 19 – Dust in a Sunbeam
The second Thursday of October, 8 p.m.—time for the farm’s monthly town meeting. Helena flowed with the crowd from the cluster of cabins toward the barn. In the past two days, the foliage had exploded with color, a final celebration before yielding to winter, but as the leaves turned, the air had assumed a sharper bite. She drew her sweater tighter about her shoulders and hoped it would be warm enough on the way back.
She studied the faces around her. With members wandering in and out of the dining room during meals, she’d never seen everyone together. So many people, so many stories. Did they all have gaps in their hearts?
Her scientist father used to say people were like dust particles in a sunbeam, mingling in a multitude of ways, sometimes reacting positively, and at other times doing damage for no reason at all until their energy was spent. She’d learned differently. People were unlike dust particles because they knew what was happening to them.
A step ahead, Kailani skipped along with the crowd despite the firm grip Miz Martha kept on her. In her free hand, she grasped the eagle feather Sebastian had found, absentmindedly stroking its soft edge against her cheek.
“More members than I expected,” Helena said. “Quite a congregation.”
“Not a congregation, dear. A town meeting. If we called it a congregation, we’d have the department all over us. Now remember, if you want to speak up, be careful what you say. People here can be easily offended, and there are some who’ll argue your ears off. Frankly, unless you feel strongly about something, I’d keep quiet.” She wagged a finger at Kailani. “That especially means you, young lady. You’re not to speak up at all.”
As soon as they entered the barn, Helena scanned the room for Jason. He’d gone back to his office after dinner as usual, with a promise to join them later. Tables had been pushed aside, and rows of seats now faced two lecterns at the front of the room, one for Sebastian and the other presumably for speakers. She rose on her tiptoes to see over the crowd. To her relief, Jason waved from the aisle and pointed to four empty chairs, and she waved back.
Her mother kept going in the opposite direction.
Helena pushed through the crowd, bumping into people and apologizing as she went until she caught up. “Jason’s over there. He saved seats for us.”
“But I always sit with my friends.”
“And I always sit with Jason.”
Her mother ignored her and headed for a block of seats guarded by Benjamin, with the Lemurians already occupying half of them.
“I don’t think Kailani should be sitting with them.”
“Really, Helena, you make them sound like criminals. Just because they see things differently from you doesn’t mean they’re bad people. They’re fascinated by Kailani. She’ll be fine with them.”
More members poured through the double doors, forcing Helena farther from Jason. As her mother dragged Kailani toward the Lemurians, she was jostled by strangers.
Sebastian had begun to gavel the assembly to order. No time to argue.
Helena squatted close to the child so she’d be able to hear amid the hubbub. “Will you be okay with Miz Martha? I’d like to go sit with Jason for a while.”
Kailani took on a dreamy look as if she were searching another world for an answer. When her focus returned, she responded with confidence. “You go with Jason. You belong with him. I’ll take care of Miz Martha. We’ll be together soon.”
Helana gave her a squeeze and threaded her way through the crowd to Jason.
“Where’s Kailani?” he said.
“My mother insisted they sit with Benjamin and his bunch.”
Jason scrunched up his nose and glared across the room, but before he could comment, Sebastian pounded the gavel three times and called the meeting to order.
Several hands shot up. As each speaker was recognized, they stepped to the second lectern and spoke with passion on a variety of issues, from the scarcity of carrots on the lunch menu to the need for a fourth communicator in the common room—apparently the wait had become too long, more than an hour during prime time.
Benjamin kept raising his hand, and Sebastian kept ignoring him—a form of punishment perhaps for that misguided newsletter. After everyone else had their say and the little man’s hand was still raised, Sebastian had no choice but to recognize him. A collective groan met his ascent to the podium. Once in front of the group, standing beside Sebastian, Benjamin took a few seconds to organize a sheaf of notes before speaking.
“My fellow members,” he began in his nasal whine. “Glen Eagle Farm has become home to us all, a home we love because it provides succor for our deepest needs, needs our society has chosen to ignore. That’s why we have an obligation to promote our accomplishments in order to strengthen the farm.”
There was a smattering of applause from the Lemurians.
Benjamin waited until the room quieted down before resuming. “We make a mistake if we don’t take advantage of the wonderful stories we have to tell, stories that humanize us. Just as we’re free to express ourselves in art, we should be free to publish what we want in our newsletters. For the good of the community, we should reject all forms of censorship.”
Helena jumped to her feet. “That’s not right.”
Sebastian intervened. “I’m sorry, Helena. This is your first meeting. Rules of order require someone with a comment to raise their hand and be recognized.”
She remained standing but raised her hand.
Sebastian turned to Benjamin, urging him to continue, but Benjamin made his annoying little bow instead. “Let the young lady speak. I yield the floor to her.”
Once all eyes were on Helena, she became flustered. “We shouldn’t.... The greater good can’t be good if it takes advantage of a child.” She paused to reconsider her words. “We shouldn’t....”
Jason was suddenly at her side.
“Freedom of expression applies,” he said, “only if it doesn’t infringe on the rights of others. I’m sorry to disagree, Benjamin, but you’re mistaken on this issue.”
Mutterings clashed as the crowd split both ways, but most seemed to agree with Jason.
When Benjamin tried to shout over them, Sebastian gaveled the crowd to silence. “It seems the majority disagree with you, Benjamin.”
“I call for a vote,” Benjamin said.
“I think you’d lose, but no vote is necessary. Our bylaws protect the rights of the individual. As always, thank you for your point of view. Now please take a seat. You too, Helena and Jason.”
Sebastian asked for a motion to adjourn, and a minute later the meeting concluded without further incident.
As Helena waited for the crowd to disperse, she turned to Jason. “I made a fool of myself, didn’t I?”
“More hero than fool. We both need to look out for Kailani.”
He w
as being kind, but she felt better—until she scanned the room. Her mother, apparently offended by the proceedings, had vanished... along with Kailani.
***
Helena waited with Jason for the barn to empty, having no desire to mingle. When they finally left, the moon shone brightly on a clear path. She and Jason walked along hand in hand, saying little.
After they passed through the pergola, she stopped beneath the sentinel tree and glanced up. Moonlight and spotlight conspired into an unearthly glow that made the branches shimmer like ghosts when they swayed. It made her queasy and she had to look away, back to Jason, who’d never taken his eyes off her.
“Is there anything I can do?” he said.
She shook her head. “I just need to sleep it off.”
As she started toward their cabin, still keeping an eye on the tree, she tripped over a loose stone and stumbled.
Jason immediately caught her and propped her up.
She turned to him. “I always seem to be off balance lately, and you always seem to be catching me.”
She moved to pull away, but he clasped her a moment longer, pressing his face to her neck. He kissed the soft skin above her collarbone, then her forehead, her eyes, her nose.
She lifted her chin and pressed her lips to his, letting them linger.
They began to walk again, but this time he kept an arm around her waist.
When they reached the cabin, she hesitated. “I feel like such a bother to you.”
“A bother?”
“Talking you into coming here and then being out of sorts.”
“I’d rather be with you than away from you, in or out of sorts.”
He tried to draw her closer, but uneasiness settled over her, as if the weeks of mourning had all at once taken their toll. She pulled away. “Go ahead without me. I need some fresh air, a chance to clear my head.”
“Will you be all right?”
She nodded and gave him a last kiss, insisting she’d be fine. When he’d left, she wandered back to the pergola, settled on a stone bench, and sat there for a while, listening to the stirring of the chimes.
The Daughter of the Sea and the Sky Page 14