by Kathy Miner
She pulled up close to the cabin and cut the engine, then let herself in, locking and barring the door behind her. A few seconds later, she had a hurricane lamp warming the stale interior. They hadn’t been gone that long, so maybe it was just her state of mind, but it felt like the cabin was already starting to decay around her. Naomi shook the sensation off impatiently and hustled through the nighttime routine of filling a bucket of water for Hades and Ares, should he deign to return, and bringing in a load of wood in case weather moved in. Hades was already snoring on the floor when she carried the lamp into her bedroom, then crawled into bed with a near-sob of relief. She was so tired she ached, so tired, she barely remembered to blow out the lamp, so tired, she had mere moments to think of Martin and miss his warmth beside her before sleep took her down, hard and fast.
It was the light that woke her. Naomi blinked, then blinked some more. She could have sworn she had blown out that lamp. Maybe she hadn’t snuffed it all the way in her weariness. She sat up to blow it out again, and finally registered that the light was coming from behind her. She turned, and saw them, sitting on the edge of her bed.
Scott and Macy.
Naomi collapsed back against her pillows, clutching the covers to her chest with fists that shook, afraid to breathe, afraid to move. She stared at them, drinking them in, her eyes racing over their beloved features. She’d dreamed of them both, of course, but never so clearly. Never so vividly. The light was coming from behind them, a light that reminded Naomi distinctly of Verity. As she stared, they looked at each other and grinned.
“She thinks she’s dreaming, doesn’t she?” Scott’s voice. Had she really forgotten the exact timber of his voice? The realization came as a shock, so much of a shock, it took her a moment to realize what he’d said.
“Yep. But she’s getting there. In five, four, three…” Macy’s voice, Macy’s sweet voice. Naomi sat bolt upright and clapped both hands over her mouth, but she couldn’t stifle her cry of inarticulate, indescribable joy.
“Scott, love, Macy, honey! You’re here! You’re really here!” She stretched her hands out to them. “Can I touch you? Oh, please, can I touch you?”
“No, honey.” Scott shook his head. “We’re just visiting.”
“We can’t stay,” Macy chimed in, “But we wanted you to know it’s okay, you leaving Woodland Park and the cabin and all. You’ll be fine, and Piper will find you.”
“Have you visited her, too? Is she okay? Where is she?” Naomi’s words tumbled one over the next. “Where are you? What’s it like there?” She couldn’t take her eyes off them, their faces mobile and animated once more, instead of locked in the stasis of her memory. “I miss you both so much. Why haven’t you visited before now, if you can?”
Again, Scott and Macy traded smiles. “I told you she would get to that question sooner rather than later,” Macy said. “You weren’t ready for us to visit, Mama.”
“You needed to figure some things out,” Scott added. “As Verity would say, you needed to find your path and set your feet on it. We didn’t want to interfere with that process.”
Naomi was startled. “You know Verity? How is that possible?”
Scott grinned. “Are you kidding? Everyone here knows Verity. I don’t understand how it all works yet, but she’s a special case – she could cross back and forth at will, until she came over to stay.”
“Wait – to stay? Are you saying Verity is…?”
“Yes, Mama,” Macy nodded gently. “She’s here now, reunited with her brother.” That sly smile. Naomi’s heart tore right in two at the sight of it. “The guides are pretty flustered, trying to keep up with them, but the angels keep her in line. Sort of.”
Naomi absorbed this, wondering why Verity had chosen – and there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she had chosen – this particular time to leave them. Why now, just as they were getting ready to start a new life? The loss ached in Naomi’s chest, but there was a rightness about it, too. She thought about Verity, remembering her particular brand of nonsensical wisdom, her silly, irrepressible joy, and smiled. Even if Verity had chosen to stay, her practical input couldn’t have been relied upon, now could it? She’d given them her gifts. It was up to them, to figure it out from here.
Naomi looked back up at Scott and Macy. They both looked so healthy, so vibrant and damn it, alive. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?”
“You’re not dreaming, but you’re not fully awake, either. It will all make sense, one day.” Scott was gazing at her with such love. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you. What you’ve survived, what you’re helping this community accomplish, what you’ve taught Piper about life, and living, and love. She’ll be back, honey. You’ll see Piper again. We can tell you that much.”
Relief, a treasure to look forward to. But… “You have to leave soon, don’t you?”
“Yes.” Macy’s smile, the curve of her cheek, the tilt of her pert nose, all of her sweeter than Naomi could bear. “You need to rest, and sleep will help you understand all this.”
“Will you come back? Will you visit again?” She knew the answer, before they exchanged looks, before they returned their eyes to hers, filled with the first sorrow she’d seen in either one of them. She held her hand up to stop them from talking. “No, don’t say it.”
She scooted down in her covers, snuggling back against the pillows. Her eyes were so, so heavy, she could hardly keep them open. “Just let me watch you until I go to sleep, okay? And I’ll pretend, just for a little bit, that you’re both here. Scott, you’re sleeping here beside me. Macy, you’re on the trundle.” Her eyes slid to slits, and still she fought, just a little longer. “In the morning, I’ll make blueberry pancakes, and we’ll go down to the lake, see if we can find any wildflowers for Macy’s book…”
Her eyes shut. She smelled Macy’s favorite shampoo, felt her soft lips brush her cheek. “Love you, Mama. We’ll be here, when you’re done. Right here, in the sweet by and by.”
EIGHTEEN: Grace: Rock Ledge Ranch, Colorado Springs, CO
Grace would never be able to remember a single detail of her trip back to Rock Ledge Ranch. She slept somewhere, a deserted house or a shed maybe, slammed into the ground by exhaustion and grief. Persephone woke her at dawn, and they continued on their way with Persephone leading her one stumbling step at a time. Not until she found her father standing by the dining room table at the ranch did things come back into focus.
Martin had found the notes and diagrams she and Brody had left, and was hunched over them. He looked up sharply when she entered, his features ancient with worry. He took one look at her face, and covered his own face with his hands. Terrible, harsh sobs ripped out of him. He dropped his hands and came towards her, not trying to hide his tears.
“Gracie,” he breathed. He gathered both her and Persephone in his arms, then sat down in one of the dining room chairs and just rocked them both until Grace fell into a doze. She was vaguely aware of him lifting her, of being settled on the bed in the front bedroom. Then nothing once more.
Raised voices woke her hours later. She sat up and had to swallow a surge of nausea. Hungry, she thought, and dehydrated. She stood up and moved towards the kitchen, using the walls as support, and heard her father’s Marine voice.
“I don’t care who you say you are, or how you claim to know Grace. You look an awful lot like members of that gang to me. So move along, or I’ll risk the sound of a couple of shots.”
Grace ducked down and looked out the dining room window, to the grassy rise outside the kitchen door. Tears rose in her eyes, and she covered her mouth with her hand. They’d made it. Adam and Tyler had survived.
“Dad.” Her voice was a froggy croak. “Dad, it’s okay. They’re friends.”
Martin’s head snapped in her direction, but he didn’t lower the rifle he had pointed at the boys from behind the shelter of the kitchen door. “Honey, I can’t tell if you suffered a head injury, so take a really good look. Be sure.”
; Grace looked to appease him, then nodded, which made her head throb. “Their names are Adam and Tyler.”
They filled the kitchen moments later, vibrating with victorious energy and looking around. “The others aren’t back yet?” Tyler asked. His eyes swept over Grace, and he frowned. “It looks like things didn’t go exactly as planned. You need to sit, Grace, before you face-plant.”
Her dad was there in a heartbeat, supporting her elbow. “Bed or couch?”
“Couch.” She let him settle her in the sunny front room, what she and Quinn had always called the sewing room. The boys followed. Adam leaned back against the wall and slid down it with a sigh, scrubbing filthy hands over his face, combat-booted feet sprawled in front of him. Tyler dragged a delicate antique chair closer to the couch, then perched on the edge of it.
“I’m not a medic, but I’ve patched a few folks up.” He started to reach for her cheek, then looked up at Martin. “Sir?”
Her dad nodded, and Grace had plenty of energy to roll her eyes. “Long live the patriarchy,” she muttered. The corner of Tyler’s mouth twitched up, then he frowned in concentration as he pressed along her cheekbone. Grace’s eyes stung and watered, but she didn’t complain.
“Your cheekbone isn’t broken, but this cut should have a stitch or two. Maybe we can scare up some butterfly bandages.” His eyes cataloged the bruises starting to darken her arms, took in the filthy state of her clothing, and he started firing rapid questions. “What did they beat you with?”
“Fists and boots.”
“Any signs of concussion? Double vision or puking?”
“No. I have a headache and I’m dizzy, but I haven’t had anything to eat or drink since we left here.”
Her dad disappeared at that and Tyler went on with his inquiry. “Any trouble breathing, or coughing up blood? Cold sweats or abdominal tenderness?”
“For someone who claims to not have medical training, you ask a lot of questions.” She shook her head. “No, none of those. I thought he broke some of my fingers, but…” She trailed off. She couldn’t explain. Not yet.
Her dad returned with a glass of water and of all things, a Hershey Bar. He handed both to her. “Been saving that candy bar, just for you. Naomi sends her love. I’ve got some jerky and fresh vegetables when you’re ready.”
Grace nodded at him, and Tyler slid the next question in before she even had a chance to dread it. “Did they rape you?”
“No.” Her dad slumped against the wall and covered his face again. Meanwhile, Grace took a moment to appreciate the strength of her own voice. “No, they did not.” Her face twisted of its own accord, and she had to lift her fingers to discover something between a snarl and a smile there. “They were too busy kicking my ass for verbally castrating them in front of their groupies.”
Complete silence met her pronouncement; then Adam barked out a laugh. He leaned forward, his big fist extended for her to bump. “Hooah, little sister.”
Tyler scooted his chair back, tipping it against the wall next to Adam. Again, silence fell. They were both watching her with sad eyes, eyes that knew the message she had yet to deliver. Grace looked away, while something huge and monstrous tried to claw its way free of her chest. “I saw the explosions. Tell me.”
Adam started. “Well, we didn’t accomplish anything as kick-ass as verbal castration, but we did complete our mission.”
Without looking, Tyler held his hand out to Adam. Their palms cracked, slid and twisted together in a complicated congratulatory handshake. “No birds left to fly, Gracie. Not a one.”
“I had a little trouble with pilot-boy, though.” Adam nudged Tyler’s leg with his elbow, then left his elbow resting on Tyler’s knee. “He wanted to bring that last Apache home in the worst way. All this blah blah about how we’d use it for good and shit.” Adam’s voice fell to a deeper baritone, and he spoke with a passable British accent. “’But through him, the ring would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine.’” Adam dropped the Gandalf imitation and grinned. “So I blew it to smithereens when he went to take a piss.”
Grace found herself grinning, too. “Any other damage? Their fuel? Any tanks?”
“Their avgas is up in smoke, unless they were smart enough to store some elsewhere and let’s be honest, ‘smart’ is not the operative word going on there these days. With a little more time to plan, we could have either destroyed or taken control of all their munitions. But that wasn’t the mission, and Brody doesn’t take kindly to improvisation.”
His name dropped like a bomb in the room. Her dad straightened slowly, his eyes examining all their faces, coming to rest on Grace’s. “Did he say ‘Brody?’ The same man that brutalized Piper and kept her against her will?” His eyes returned to Adam and Tyler, once again narrowed with hostility. “Which would make you the men that colluded in her abuse.”
Grace felt a sigh rise up from her very bones. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could be easy. She took a deep breath, and held her hand up to her father. “Dad, please sit here beside me. You need to hear all of it. Then, if you want to be angry with me, that’s your choice.”
And so she told him, all of it, all the way back to the beginning. She told him about a message from a dying president, and finding in that call to action a reason to go on. She told him how she had considered leaving the neighbor boy behind, the same boy that would one day save her life and the life of her daughter, because she was afraid he’d be a burden she couldn’t carry. She told him she’d found her breaking point, and it hadn’t been at the hands of rapists. A tiny newborn with her brother’s eyes had shattered her, sent her plunging into the most dangerous situation she could find, in an effort to atone for her failure as a mother. She was still trying to atone, she recognized that, and accepted that she probably would be for the rest of her life.
Then, she told him about meeting someone who understood her, in a way no one else ever had. She told him about a man whose cool logic and analytical mind matched her own, and a relationship that became a place of safety. In Brody’s company, she was not unemotional. Not cold. She simply was. She’d known who he really was from the very beginning, though she’d tried to delude herself out of loyalty to Piper. She was still working on that and would give just about anything to talk it out with Piper herself. She told her father of strategies and hope, realizations and justifications. She told him about the door she sensed but could not open.
And then, she told all of them about the end. The angels. The peace on Brody’s face. Verity’s healing touch. To the boys, she delivered Verity’s words verbatim. When she was finished, Adam’s head was hanging between his bent knees, and Tyler was staring at the ceiling, his eyes brilliant with unshed tears. Grace rose and went to them each in turn, giving them the kisses Verity had left in her keeping. Then, her legs simply went out from under her. She crumpled there on the floor beside Adam, leaning into him, and felt Tyler’s strong arms close around them both. Her heart cracked open, and her loss rose out of her on a long wail.
She cried for Verity, because the world was so much colder and so much less ridiculous without her, and that was a tragic thing. She cried for Brody, because she knew with absolute certainty no one else on this Earth would. Persephone burrowed into her lap and snuggled close, licking Grace’s chin in comfort and love. They stayed there, bound together in their grief, while the world around them altered and changed and spun on. Finally, Grace sat up and wiped her face. Her father had disappeared. She gave both the boys another kiss on the cheek, from her this time, and went to find her dad.
He was in the kitchen, working at the stove. He turned when he sensed her and gestured at the small table. “Sit. I’ve got a soup started. Can you eat a granola bar with that jaw, or do you need something softer?”
Grace sat, relieved that they could both take refuge in the practical. They would talk, eventually, but for now, this was so good. “Where did you find a granola bar? Wait –” She held up a hand. “Same place you found a Hershey bar, and
there is no amount of money I wouldn’t bet that Naomi had something to do with both.”
Her dad smiled, and there was something different in the expression, something private. Interesting. He brought her another glass of water and a peanut butter granola bar that tasted so good it brought more tears to her eyes. Taste of the past, soccer games and track meets. While she ate, he filled her in on what they’d learned. They discussed the Bear Creek people and their plan to settle near Monte Vista, which Grace considered adequate but vastly inferior to Pagosa Springs. He told her about Naomi’s plan to organize the relocation of Woodland Park as quickly as possible, and once again, Grace found herself in tears. She lay her head down on the table and just gave in to them.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered to her dad, when he crouched beside her and started rubbing her back. “I guess I’ve just held it all in too long.”
“I know someone else who struggles with that tendency.”
She shut her eyes, and pillowed her head on her arms, enjoying his nearness and his soothing touch on her back. During the long winter days of her pregnancy, Quinn had often comforted her like this. She missed him suddenly, the ache so deep and lonely, it brought on still more tears. Her dad scooped her right out of the chair, just like he used to do when she was a child, and took her back to the front bedroom. He settled her on the bed and pulled a light cover over her, then moved a chair to sit beside her.
“Sleep,” he said simply. “Rest your heart and your mind, Gracie. I’ll be right here.”
She slept through most of that day, waking only to eat and use the bathroom, and right through the night. She slept most of the next day as well, and the next, until she started to think there was something wrong with her. She said as much to Tyler, when she woke to find him keeping vigil. One of them was always with her, most often her dad.
“You’re healing, inside and out,” he said. “Sleep is the best thing for you. For now, there’s no rush. Just let your body tell you what it needs.”