Harbinger in the Mist (Arms of Serendipity)

by Anabell Martin

  “I understand, Elion. But first I want you to talk to a woman who lives near the area in question. She knows first-hand about that which troubles you now, and about the consequence of the choice you are about to make.”

  Uriel pulled a pendant from thin air and handed it Elion. “Take this. Give it her and she will tell you everything you need to know. If you still feel that you need to get to know the girl, you have my permission. If you decide to leave the Brotherhood, though, you will need to see Camael. But please talk to me before you make such a decision.”

  Elion clasped his superior’s hand. “Thank you, sir. And please do not fret. I have no intention of doing such thing. My calling is too strong. I just want to know what the big fuss is about.”

  “So say them all. God speed, Elion.”

  Elion followed the rector’s directions and found himself in front of a small, yellow house. A chorus of frog croaks and cricket chirps echoed in the humid night air. Fireflies floated around his head and the smell of Confederate jasmine and ripe honeysuckles tickled his nose. He climbed the three brick steps and stood on the small concrete porch in front of the whitewashed door. He rang the doorbell and waited, the heavy bronze pendant dangling from his hand.

  An elderly woman answered the door, opening it just a crack and peeking out below a gold metal chain. “Can I help you,” she drawled.

  Elion held up Uriel’s pendant and said, “I was told to give this to you, that you would understand and be willing explain something for me.”

  The woman shut the door. He heard her unlatch the chain. When she opened the door she was smiling warmly.

  “They allowed you come just like that did they? They didn’t give you any grief?”

  “Nay. But I haven’t done anything, nor do I plan to. I just want to ask you some questions. If, after this meeting, I still want to get to, well, let’s just say that I have been given permission to do so. I am not set on that path yet, though.”

  He followed the woman into her sitting room. A multihued crocheted afghan was draped across the back of a small, leather loveseat. A fan sat on the coffee table, circulating the heavy air around the room. The woman handed him a glass of iced tea and a coaster. She took her time putting her own glass on the table in front of them before turning to him.

  “I’m probably the last person you want to ask about this. I’m gonna tell you to go for it. If you feel the pull, she’s worth it. But ask me what you will, son, and I’ll tell ya what I know. And if you need help, I’ll do what I can.”

  “I currently have no intention of leaving the priory or abandoning my calling. As I said, it is a simple curiosity that brings me to you tonight.”

  “And is this ‘curiosity’ a girl?”

  Elion didn’t answer, he knew how it would sound. He couldn’t even make sense of the urge for himself, so he couldn’t expect anyone else to understand it.

  The old woman smiled at him. “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

  Eleven

  Lindsey woke the next morning stretched out on the sofa, one leg thrown over the back cushions. It took her a moment to remember why she was downstairs in the first place. Then she looked at the fireplace. The embers had grown cold long ago, but the remnants of the wudu board were still visible.

  She stood up and stretched. She’d slept with her head cocked up against the arm of the sofa, so her shoulders and neck ached. She walked over to the door and looked out toward the estuary; the early morning sun was reflecting off the water and a low mist was hanging over the water and reed bank, like a cloud that had fallen to earth. A snowy egret spread its massive wings and took flight, but the misty air didn’t stir.

  Lindsey went to the kitchen to get a bucket and trash bag so that she could clean the fireplace out before her mother saw the mess inside and starting asking questions. What excuse could she have for lighting a fire in the middle of July? Aimee was obviously home by now – her keys were on the counter and her Danskos by the front door. It was quiet upstairs so she assumed her mother must be sleeping.

  She was nearly finished scooping the ashes out when there was a knock at the backdoor. Looking up, she saw Maddie’s face looking in at her.

  “You’re still in your swim suit? Good gracious! Go and get dressed!” she said through the glass. “Wind Dancer is in labor! Wear jeans and shoes with a toe and we’ll take the other horses out riding once she’s dropped the foal. Come on!”

  Maddie ran off the porch and back across the backyard. Lindsey tied the bag in a knot, ditched it in the trash can, and ran upstairs to change.

  “Hey, Lindsey,” Aimee was sitting in the middle of her bed, peering over her laptop.

  “Morning, Mom!”

  “Come here for a sec.”

  “What’s up, Mom? I’m on my way over to the Robbins’. Maddie’s horse is finally in labor.”

  “Oh, I won’t keep you then. Just remind me later that I have something to tell you, OK?”

  “Sure, Mom. Is everything OK?”

  “Oh, sure honey. I’ve just been doing some research on … well, on some things and I need your input. But before I can do that I need to come clean with why we’re down here in the first place. I also have a little surprise to tell you about, but we can talk about all that later. I need to get some sleep and you need to go witness the miracle of birth. I love you.”

  Aimee closed the lid of her computer, placed it on the floor by the bed, and scooted under her covers. Lindsey ran into her own room and changed clothes like Maddie had instructed. She walked into the quiet barn ten minutes later, pulling her hair into a messy ponytail.

  “Did I miss anything?” she whispered.

  “No, you're just in time, dear,” Barbara said.

  Lindsey moved in closer and saw Wind Dancer lying on her right side. Her back left leg was extended out and vibrating. Her tail, which was still bound in the bright purple wrap, stuck out at an odd angle and jittered with each contraction that racked through the large mare’s body. The horse groaned. Lindsey could see two small, black hooves on two skinny, black legs jutting out of the mare's backside; they were covered in a glossy film.

  Maddie was rubbing the mare's neck and whispering words of encouragement as the mare shuddered again and a tiny nose began to move down and out. With another groan and intense push, the little foal slid halfway out onto the hay-strewn barn floor.

  “Good job, Windy,” Maddie crooned. “Such a good momma! It's almost here. Just one more push, girl!”

  Lindsey could also hear Michelle’s Nikon clicking away, capturing the moment.

  As if listening to her owner, Wind Dancer vibrated violently one last time and the entire foal slid out onto the hay, its amniotic sac still intact. Barbara and Maddie went to work, removing the encasing film and rubbing the foal's face and forelocks dry with a towel. It appeared to be jet black, just like Horus, but with a white diamond on its face like his mother.

  Wind Dancer lay on the ground, breathing heavily for a few more moments. Then she stood up, umbilical cord still hanging from her body, and began to inspect and bathe her newborn son.

  They all moved away to allow the new family to bond. Horses can get protective over their newborns, so it’s best to give the pair ample space Barbara had told Lindsey a few days earlier. Once they were sure that mom and baby were fine, Barbara suggested that they leave them alone for a while. She said she was going to go in and call the vet again and that she’d keep an eye on the bonding pair until he got there. She’d clean up the afterbirth as soon as it was safe to do so.

  Although the girls wanted to stay and watch the new baby, they took Mrs. Robbins’ advice. After they’d washed up, they began to tack up the other three horses. Michelle saddled Horus, congratulating the new father during the process. “Did you see, him, big boy? He’s striking, just like his daddy!”

  Since Maddie’s horse was out of commission and Lindsey didn’t own a horse at all, they used Barbara and Owen’s horses. Maddie took her Dad’s horse, Sampson,
since he was the larger of the two and, as Maddie had once put it, temperamental. Lindsey rode Barbara’s dapple Rosita.

  It was a beautiful day for a ride. The sun was shining but it wasn’t too humid yet. The heavy scents of the land hung low on the air – honeysuckle, Confederate jasmine, magnolia, crepe myrtle, and azalea blossoms mingled with the dry grass, soggy reed banks, and dirt. Cicadas buzzed in the trees branches overhead.

  “Can you believe that?” Michelle asked once they were walking slowly out of the barn, the leather of the saddles squeaking under each of the girls with every step the horses took. “How precious was that?”

  “Do you think Mom will let us keep him or do you think she'll want to sell him?” Maddie’s hopeful face was glowing.

  “Oh, they'll sell him, I'm sure. Look at his parentage.”

  “What do you mean?” Lindsey asked. “I mean, a horse is a horse, of course, of course... right?”

  “No. There are tons of different breeds. Dad’s horse, Sampson, is a Persheron. That’s a breed of draft horse. Rosita is a standard American Quarter horse. But Horus here,” she patted his neck, “and Wind Dancer are special. They’re Kiger Mustangs – a breed that is descended from the horses brought over by the Spanish Conquistadors. Dad bought them at auction a few years ago. They’d been abused and neglected by their owner and were horribly emaciated once animal control took charge of them. It took nearly a year to nurse them back to complete health. But since then, they’ve been DNA tested and their blood lines verified. They’re rare... and expensive. I can’t see mom and dad holding on to the colt once he’s old enough to be sold.”

  “But how do you know that Horus is the father? I mean, Sampson and Horus are both black. So couldn’t it really be a, a hybrid or something?”

  Both girls laughed, but Lindsey thought it was a very valid point. How did they know for sure who the father was? Even if they had seen Horus and Wind Dancer mating, how could they be so sure that Sampson hadn’t gotten there first?

  “Well, Sampson is a gelding,” Michelle said as if that explained anything. When she saw Lindsey’s blank look, she added, “He’s castrated. He can’t reproduce.”

  “Ouch! Poor Sampson,” Lindsey frowned. “No wonder he’s temperamental.”

  “Good Lord, I thought you came from a farming town, Lindsey,” Maddie kidded.

  “Well, I was never into the whole FFA or 4H thing. I was the kid that spent her free time volunteering in the local library, not hanging out on a farm. Now, if you have any books that need rebinding or help with a crossword puzzle, I’m your girl. Otherwise… ”

  They were laughing and enjoying the slow ride as they neared Lindsey’s house.

  Then it happened.

  The normally docile Rosita reared up on her back legs, baying loudly at something unseen. Lindsey clenched her thighs against the saddle and held on to the mare's neck with all her might. The horse stomped her front legs back to the earth and took off, galloping as hard and fast as she could. Lindsey had let the reigns go – their long leather straps flapped in the wind beside the fleeing horse – and opted instead to hold on tightly to the saddle horn. She could hear Maddie and Michelle yelling, but couldn’t make out what was being said over the thunderous sounds of Rosita’s hooves beating the ground and her deep panting and snorting. Lindsey’s eyes stung from the wind and the mare’s mane flying into them. But she was too scared to close them.

  She looked up and saw that they were heading toward the main road. A mile or so down their stretch of highway, Lindsey saw that a logging truck was barrelling their way, its bed loaded down with freshly felled trees. And, based on her trajectory, Rosita was going to be running right in front of it. Lindsey’s heart pounded in her chest as the mare closed in on the pavement and the truck closed in on them.

  The driver must’ve seen them, too, because he laid down on the horn in an attempt to get their attention. Did he think that she was unaware of his proximity to them?

  At the point where hooves should have met pavement, Lindsey saw a swift movement to her right as a hand reached out and grabbed the flapping reigns, jerking the racing mare’s head around and her body to an abrupt halt. Clumps of earth and dirt flew in the air from her skidding hooves. Lindsey nearly flew over the horse’s head. The logging truck careened past, still honking its horn.

  “Shhhhh. It's OK, girl. Calm down,” cooed her unknown saviour. He was one of the most breathtaking men Lindsey had ever seen. He was at least 6-foot-4 with dark brown, wind-blown hair. Beads of sweat slid down his golden bronze face. It was obvious that he spent a lot of time outside – his exposed skin was sun-kissed and his build was that of an athlete. A runner, perhaps? He was wearing khaki shorts, a navy blue, short-sleeved shirt that was unbuttoned, revealing a white t-shirt underneath, and a pair of brown hiking boots. He rubbed Rosita's sweaty forelocks out of her eyes and continued to whisper to her. The horse’s breathing slowly calmed, but Lindsey’s had momentarily stopped.

  “Lindsey! Are you OK? What happened?”

  “Did she see a snake or something?”

  Maddie and Michelle were both yelling as they thundered to where Lindsey and her unknown hero stood. And, try as she might, she could not make her mouth open and respond. She was too busy staring at the man who’d just saved her life. Feeling her eyes on him, he looked up at her. His eyes were deep emerald green and way too easy to get lost in. He couldn’t have been older than 22 or 23. He smiled up at her; his perfect, white teeth were framed by soft, pink lips. The smile touched his eyes, making them sparkle.

  “Are you alright, miss?” He asked, but Lindsey was too dumbfounded to speak.

  Maddie and Michelle exchanged looks before Michelle said, “Maybe we should take the horses back to the barn.”

  Lindsey was frozen, both with fear, although it was dwindling since the danger was gone, and with shock. When she didn’t answer anyone for several heartbeats, the man walked to the side of the horse and jumped on Rosita. He sat on the back of the saddle, his body intimately close to hers, pushing her against the horn of the saddle. He reached out a well-defined arm and grabbed the reigns with his right hand, but made sure to place his left hand on Lindsey’s side. He pulled the reigns to the right, clicked his tongue, and followed the twins back toward the barn.

  When they neared the opening to the path close to Retreat House, Rosita went mad again. She started bucking and kicking, her eyes rolling madly in her head. Her ears were so far back that they were flat against her head.

  Lindsey felt the man behind her tense as he struggled to control the raging mare. He wrapped his left arm more firmly around Lindsey and leaned forward slightly. Instead of stopping the horse, he kicked her hard, forcing her to run from the danger she sensed. The smooth gallop of the horse wasn’t as scary this time thanks to the man sitting behind her.

  Rosita calmed as she approached the barn. When they were stopped, the man slid off the horse, took Lindsey by the waist, and gently lifted her down to the ground. He handed the reins to Maddie who was standing beside Sampson, dumbstruck as well.

  “Well that was fun, eh?” he asked, attempting to break the tension. When neither girl said anything, he continued. “My name is Elion, but you can call me Eli. My aunt Darby is visiting next door.” He looked at Lindsey. “I’m assuming that you are Mrs. Foster’s daughter?”

  “Um … yeah, that’s me, I mean, I am.” she flushed deeply.

  “I'll walk you home. Will you two be OK?"

  “Sure, yeah,” Maddie said at the same time Michelle was saying, “Totally.”

  The man gently touched Lindsey’s elbow and walked beside her back through the trees, through the heather and dust, toward Retreat House. Eli began to talk when they were inside the confines of the trees.

  “That was a rather interesting introduction. But still, good thing your mom sent me to find you, don’t you think?”

  “Why did my mom send you to ‘find’ me?” Lindsey stopped and faced the man, one eyebrow higher than the
other.

  “I am going to be using your guest room for the next month or two while I am here on retreat.”

  “Wait, what? My mom is letting a complete stranger move into our house?” Her gratitude toward this man was turning into cynicism. She had enough to worry about as it was and now this strange man was added to the mix?

  “Your mom and my Aunt Darby were having coffee this morning and the topic of my visit came up. I was staying with Aunt Darby but there’s simply not enough room in her little house for the both of us. Your mom offered the guest room at your home.”

  “So?”

  “Well, I think your mom wanted to introduce us sooner rather than later. I also got the distinct feeling that she also wanted some private time with Aunt Darby."

  “Oh. OK,” was all she could say.

  It was hard to concentrate on speaking coherently when all she could think about was the way he smelled like freshly laundered cotton sheets mixed with a ripe peach, or the way the heat from his body had penetrated the back of her shirt as she leaned against her earlier, or the way his hands felt on her waist as he held on to her during the ride or when he removed her from the mare. Or the way he was standing much too close to her at that very moment. It was electrifying. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

  “Everything alright?” Darby drawled as they ascended the stairs on the front porch a few minutes later. Darby was sitting in one of the rocking chairs drinking a glass of iced tea. Aimee was in the other seat, looking half asleep.

  “Yes, ma’am. Just a little excitement with the horses. Nothing to worry about though.”

  “Lindsey, this is Eli. He came to stay with Darby this summer but she really doesn’t have enough room for him to have a private space all his own, a place where he could be alone,” Aimee explained, unaware that he’d just told her as much. “When Darby introduced us and told me why he was here, I offered the guest room downstairs. He said that he’d trade handy services for room and board. I figured we could use someone to help us keep the yard up and it might help you feel a little safer in the house when I’m working. So…”