by Lynn Ames
“It’s not for sale,” Renée snapped.
There it was again, that shuttered attitude. Yazhi sat back in her chair, stung. “I see.”
“Look, my memory of the hospital stay and everything that happened right before that is fuzzy. One second I thought I was dead, and the next I’m waking up in a hospital bed to see your face. I’m betting you can fill in a significant number of details for me.” Renée’s eyes flitted around the room again. She looked everywhere but at Yazhi.
Yazhi frowned. “I’m sure I could.” She picked up a napkin, produced a pen from her pocket, and began writing. “When you’re ready to answer my questions honestly, I’d be happy to return the favor. You can find me here.” Yazhi slid the napkin across the table, rose, and walked away without looking back. Still, she could feel Renée’s eyes on her back, and she imagined the shocked look on her face. Yazhi was willing to wager that not many people snubbed Renée Maupin.
***
For the fourth time in ten minutes, Renée fingered the napkin in her pocket. What the hell had happened back there? She shoved away from her desk, rose, and went to the window overlooking Christopher Street.
She had been wanting to know about the events surrounding her rescue for a long time. But no one she’d asked had been able to tell her anything. Something had shifted for her that day, reawakening parts of her she’d thought she’d left behind. It frightened her beyond words. Now, out of nowhere, came this mysterious woman who could answer her questions, and she wouldn’t do it. Renée crossed her arms over her chest. Why was she being so unreasonable?
Out of the corner of her eye, Renée eyed the framed photograph leaning against the wall and frowned. Yazhi wasn’t the only one being unreasonable. Why hadn’t Renée wanted to sell the image to Yazhi? After all, she’d taken it to the gallery for Sabrina to sell.
“Because you’re a bitch, that’s why.” Renée shook her head. That wasn’t it and she knew it. Yazhi had rattled her, and Renée had done what she always did in such situations—she retreated behind an impenetrable wall.
“The best defense is a good offense. Jerk.”
Not only did Yazhi hold the key to the missing pieces of Renée’s recollection and the sudden re-emergence of phenomena Renée had thought dead and buried, but she was beautiful, too. So what was the problem?
Renée wrapped her arms more tightly around herself. The problem was that Yazhi somehow had known about Renée’s dream—no, she corrected herself—her vision. Renée wondered if Yazhi also had picked up on anything else. She shuddered as a chill crept up her spine. She hadn’t felt this exposed in years. Damn.
“Well, old girl, you’ve got two choices. You can stick your head back in the sand, hope the visions go away, and never know what happened back in that canyon. Or you can go find Yazhi, explain about the visions, risk having her think you’re a raving lunatic, fill in that gaping hole in your memory, and find out what was so life-changing about that experience. What’s it going to be?”
Renée walked over to the desk and snatched up the napkin. She made it all the way to the door and had her hand on the knob before turning back. “In for a penny, in for a pound.” She grabbed the wrapped package and headed out the door.
Chapter Four
The knock on the door startled Yazhi. She finished folding her jeans and placed them neatly in the suitcase she was packing.
“Who is it?” she asked, her hand poised on the security chain.
“It’s Renée. Renée Maupin.”
Yazhi smiled. Although she’d believed Renée would come, she hadn’t been sure. The photographer’s fear had been so strong…it still was, Yazhi thought, as she extended her senses. She slid the chain off, unbolted the lock, and opened the door.
“Hi.”
“Hello. Come in.” Yazhi moved aside so that Renée could pass.
“You’re packing.” Renée’s voice expressed surprise.
“Is it customary in New York to leave your clothes behind when you check out?” Yazhi busied herself re-locking the door to hide her smirk.
“What? N-no, of course not. I just…”
Yazhi finally turned around and allowed Renée to see the laughter in her eyes.
“You have a sense of humor?”
“This surprises you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Well, yeah.”
“Why? And please, sit down.” Yazhi indicated one of two chairs at the small table in front of the windows.
“No reason, I guess,” Renée said as she placed the wrapped package gently against the wall and folded herself into the seat. “Do you need to leave right now?”
“No, I’ve got time.” Yazhi sat in the other chair. “Don’t tell me you buy into old stereotypes of spaghetti Westerns and the stoic, hostile Indian.” Yazhi poked her tongue in her cheek; she was enjoying Renée’s discomfort.
“Of course not. It’s just…” Renée narrowed her eyes. “You’re messing with me, right?”
“I am. Native Americans do have a sense of humor, just like anyone else. You do not have any prejudice in you, so I assume your reaction was to what little exposure you have had to me.”
“How do you know I’m not a bigot?”
“The same way you know to trust me, and that I mean you no harm. It goes hand in hand with our gifts.” Yazhi watched as Renée nervously twisted the simple gold band on her right ring finger.
“Our gifts? I don’t know what you mean.”
Yazhi shook her head. She knew she could play along with Renée’s feigned ignorance, but in this instance, she surmised, directness would be best. She suspected that no amount of preparatory small talk would have made her guest more comfortable, anyway.
“Why do you fight it?” Yazhi asked. “You have been given a blessing, and yet you seem to view it as a curse.”
“I’m afraid—”
“Yes. That is exactly the problem. You are afraid.”
“That’s not—”
“What you meant? I know it isn’t. But it is the truth, and it holds you back.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Perhaps not. But I can see, for I am not afraid to use all the senses I have been given. You are frightened by the powers you possess that go beyond the five senses you think you should have. This limits you so much.”
“I’m doing just fine, thank you.” Renée jumped up and shoved the curtains aside to let in the daylight.
“Are you? Can you not see that it is the same as taking a photograph with a macro lens when you should be using a wide angle?”
“Now you’re a photography expert?”
There it was again—the sarcasm. Yazhi sighed heavily. “You are ignoring your gifts, and it is causing a great disturbance in your energy field.”
Renée crossed her arms and turned to face Yazhi, but said nothing.
“I’m sorry.” Yazhi spoke softly. “I know you think it’s none of my business, but I was put in your path for a reason, and I am beginning to think I know what it is.”
Renée sat down heavily. “How did you know about the boy?”
“I saw him in a vision.” Yazhi watched the emotions swirl in Renée’s eyes and pressed ahead. “Who is he, this boy?” When Renée said nothing, Yazhi added, “I assume you would not have come if you were not prepared to tell me. Please, don’t be afraid.”
Renée bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. “I don’t know who he is. I’ve never seen him before. I didn’t recognize the alley, the boy—any of it. I’d been asleep, and then suddenly it was as if I was there, watching.”
“Ah, I was seeing your vision through our connection. Now I understand.”
“That makes one of us. Why am I shown things I can’t do anything about? Is it just to torture me? And what connection?”
Yazhi reached across the table and covered Renée’s hand with her own. “Do you feel that?” When Renée tried to pull away, Yazhi tightened her grip. She felt the energy surge between them and stared har
d into Renée’s eyes, until the other woman looked away.
“Yes.” Renée’s voice was so quiet Yazhi had to strain to hear her. She sounded defeated, and Yazhi felt a stab of pain in her heart. She couldn’t tell if it belonged to Renée, or to her.
“But you wish you didn’t.”
“Yes, I wish I didn’t. I’ve struggled all my life to shut out the visions, and the knowledge, and the ‘feelings.’” The last was said derisively.
“You must be very tired. That kind of effort takes so much energy.” A tear rolled down Renée’s cheek and Yazhi reached out with her free hand to wipe it away.
“Why do you fight your power instead of embracing it?”
Renée swallowed hard and Yazhi sat patiently, aware that her guest’s admissions were made with great reluctance and that fear still permeated the air. Trust clearly was not something that came easily to Renée, and Yazhi imagined that emotional displays in front of strangers were not the norm for her, either.
“You don’t have time for this.” Renée gestured in the direction of the suitcase. “You must have a plane to catch, or something. How about if you keep your end of the bargain, and we go our own ways?”
Yazhi raised an eyebrow but made no other move.
“You said if I was honest with you about the boy, you’d fill in the gaps in my memory of the accident. I told you what I knew about the boy. It’s your turn.”
Yazhi frowned. If she did as Renée asked, she had little doubt that the photographer would disappear without another word, and Yazhi would have failed to fulfill her purpose. She still was not certain she knew exactly what her role was, but it was clear that it had to do with helping Renée overcome her fear and accept her abilities.
“You’re right. I must go.” Yazhi stood. “I will, as you say, keep my end of the bargain, but not today.” She picked up a pen from the table and wrote hastily on a nearby hotel memo pad. “This is where you can find me. If you really want to know what happened, you should see for yourself.”
“You’ve got to be joking.” Renée popped out of the chair and brought her face within inches of Yazhi’s. “I came over here in good faith, answered your question, and you pull this load of crap? Who the hell are you? And why do you keep fucking with me?”
Yazhi stood her ground without flinching.
“I’m out of here.” Renée spun on her heel and headed for the door. It was only after she tried to fling it open that she realized that Yazhi had reset the security chain. “For God’s sake.” She fumbled with the metal and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
***
“Shit!” Renée squeezed her hand to stem the flow of blood squirting from a two-inch gash. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She nudged the jagged edge of broken framing glass with her booted foot, rose, and hustled to the sink in her darkroom.
The water stung, but it gave her a clearer look at the damage. “Could’ve been worse.” Renée shut off the faucet and reached into the drawer for the butterfly strips.
Just as she finished drying her hands and applying the bandages, the doorbell buzzed. “Now what?”
“Whoever you are, go away,” Renée growled into the intercom.
“Ms. Maupin?” The voice was timid, tentative.
“No, it’s the Easter bunny. What do you want?”
“Sabrina told me to bring this package back to you.”
“Could the day get any worse?” Renée buzzed the messenger in and leaned against the open door to wait.
“Sabrina said to tell you…” The messenger, whom Renée recognized as one of the go-fers from the gallery, fished a tattered Post-it note from his pocket and shifted from foot to foot. “Your little friend dropped this off for you. Seems you left it in her hotel room.”
Renée could just imagine Sabrina’s voice dripping with disgust. “Perfect.” She fished a ten-dollar bill out of her pocket, shoved it into the clearly uncomfortable messenger’s hand, and slammed the door in his face.
It was humiliating. Really. First Yazhi gets her to give up the truth about the vision without coughing up the details about the accident, and then she goes to the trouble to return a photograph she clearly wanted. Not only that, but knowing she’d been in Yazhi’s hotel room, regardless of the circumstances, would give Sabrina one more reason to hate her. Renée leaned heavily against the door. She hadn’t felt this off-balance in, well, forever.
***
The sun was little more than a hint on the horizon. Yazhi closed her eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath, savoring the early morning sounds of bird song and enjoying the solitude.
“Thank you, Great Spirit, for the beauty of this day, for the gifts of sight and knowledge you have bestowed upon me, and for the wisdom to use those gifts to help others.”
Yazhi smiled as the warrior she knew as Joseph appeared in her mind’s eye. Over the years he had become a frequent presence in her life. He was one of three spirit guides that visited regularly, advising her and lighting her way.
Today will be an important day.
She’s coming today, isn’t she?
Yes. She is troubled.
I know. Her visions are more frequent and she does not sleep well. What must I do?
She is torn. She does not know what it is she seeks. Even as she doubts herself, she will trust you. You must show her the way. Teach her to use the abilities she has been given without fear or judgment. You understand her in ways her own people do not. Her experiences have taught her to ignore what she knows. Be patient, but strong.
I understand. I am ready.
Yes, you are.
Yazhi remained still a moment more before opening her eyes. She raised her chin to the sun, which had begun its ascent. It had been nearly a month since she’d given Renée her address. At times she had wondered if the photographer would show at all.
Yazhi knew Renée’s visions had become almost a nightly occurrence, for they awakened her as well. She had come to tell the difference between her own energy and Renée’s. It was a relief to know that she might have an opportunity to help Renée so that they both might get some rest.
Yazhi could have shut out the visions, but in so doing she felt she would have been turning her back on Renée at a time when the woman needed her.
“Be honest, Yaz, this isn’t only about assisting in her spiritual journey and you know it.” From the first second Yazhi had wrapped herself around Renée and pulled her from the canyon, she had felt an irresistible connection. It was more than simple attraction—it was a recognition of a soul she had known…and loved…many times before. Renée Maupin was her twin flame.
Up until this moment, Yazhi had been unwilling to think about that, but now…now Renée would be coming to her. Yazhi’s stomach did a small flip. “First things first, Yaz. Heal the spirit and the rest will follow.” She stood up from the ground and dusted herself off. It was going to be a long day.
Chapter Five
Renée pulled the rented Jeep to the side of the road and snatched her camera off the passenger seat. The sun was minutes away from disappearing below the horizon, and the scene to her right was backlit so that the rocks virtually glowed. Overhead, a ripe full moon hung in the indigo sky, watching over the tableau.
“Amazing.” Renée jumped out of the car and began shooting. She concentrated first on the larger landscape, then changed lenses, got down on her belly, and composed the close-up texture shots she preferred. The ripples in the red-hued sand loomed large in her viewfinder, and she snapped off a series of shots from a variety of angles.
When she was done, Renée rolled over onto her back and stared up at the darkening sky, marveling at the raw beauty of the colors, the crispness of the late-fall air, and the purity of the moment. This was what she loved, what she lived for. Out here, there were no crumpled bodies in alleys, no women cowering behind garbage cans, their clothes torn and their bodies violated. Out here, she felt calm and at peace.
A chill breeze jolted Renée back into the moment
. She shivered and scrambled up from the ground. It would be full dark before long, and she wanted to reach her destination while she still could see where she was going.
She checked the car’s navigation system one more time as she pulled back onto the road. If the GPS was correct, she should arrive at the address Yazhi had given her within ten minutes.
“Then what, genius?” Not for the first time, Renée’s stomach clenched. She imagined what she would say to Yazhi. “Hi. I was just in the neighborhood…” Yeah, right.“Hi. I don’t know if you remember me, but you said I should stop by if I wanted to know what the hell happened to me in that canyon more than a year ago.” Brilliant.“Hi. I haven’t been able to sleep since you left New York. Truthfully, nothing has been the same since I met you. I’m having nightly visions, I know when someone thinks about me, and I see dead people. If that isn’t enough, I can’t get you out of my head. So I came here to exorcise my demons. Hope you don’t mind.” That ought to send her running for the hills.
“Turn left in point two miles, then turn right.” The sound of the mechanized voice emanating from the GPS on the dashboard made Renée jump.
“How the hell is it that some computer tracks all these dirt roads, anyway?” She followed the directions and found herself on yet another dirt road. There were three one-story adobe houses several hundred feet apart.
“Arriving at address, on left.”
“Huh.” Renée pulled into a wrap-around driveway and parked behind another Jeep. She opened her window, shut off the engine, and sat stock still. Her heart hammered and her palms dampened. “You’re nervous? This is ridiculous. Just ring the doorbell and say hello. She’s the one who gave you the address and told you to come, remember?”