Somebody to Love

by Unknown

  “The significance of which you and I haven’t even been able to talk about yet.”

  “Because we resolved to stay away from each other as much as possible.”

  “That’s not working worth a damn anyway. Here we are alone again and it’s all I can do from yanking you into my arms and kissing you silly.” He blew out his breath, dragged a palm down his face. “There’s something else you don’t know.”

  The concerned look in his eyes sent goose bumps spreading up her arm. “What is it?”

  “While I was helping get Avery out of the pit, I noticed that the rungs on the ladder had been filed down so that they would break. It wasn’t any damn ghost that did that.”

  Zoey gasped. “Are you saying one of the other students did it? That he or she purposely filed down the rungs so they’d give way and strewn tools around so someone would fall and get hurt?”

  “I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just telling you what I observed.”

  “That’s heavy duty, but sort of random. I mean what were the odds that even if the ladder broke that someone would fall on a sharp tool?”

  “I’m not even sure the filed down rungs relate to the tools being left out. Could just be coincidence.”

  “Maybe Catrina did see someone in the dig last night.”

  “Big question, why was she really out there to begin with?” he asked.

  “You wanna go to Chantilly’s? Get a beer? Discuss?”

  “I have a better idea,” he said. “Let’s grab a six-pack, and go back to Triangle Mount. I hate leaving the place unguarded since we’ve made those finds. I know I told everyone they couldn’t talk about it, but you know human nature. Someone is bound to talk and the last thing we need is a bunch of people snooping around up there.”

  “Maybe one of the students already did talk about it and that’s why someone was snooping around the dig,” she said.

  “But why file down the ladder rungs?”

  “Make it look like angry spirits?”

  “To what end?”

  Zoey shrugged. “To scare us off.”

  “Again, why?”

  “I dunno. I’m not Sherlock Holmes.”

  “This feels more like a Scooby-Doo mystery to me.”

  She smiled. “In the Scooby-Doo mysteries it’s always the caretaker who done it.”

  “Does the nature preserve have a caretaker?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I have no idea, but I could check.”

  “That was a joke.”

  “I know.”

  “So about that six-pack …”

  “Umm,” she hedged. “I don’t know if going back up there with just the two of us is a smart idea. I thought we agreed that we weren’t supposed to be alone together.”

  He looked at her. “We’re not. We shouldn’t, but dammit, Zoey, I’ve missed talking to you. I need to talk to you. Without you to talk to I feel like half my brain has been removed.”

  His words warmed her from the inside out. She reached out to touch his cheek. “I feel the same way.”

  He clenched his jaw. “We’re treading on dangerous ground.”

  “We are,” she said. “Which is why I think we should go see your granny Helen again instead of being alone with each other.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “What for?”

  “You’re not curious to hear more about the Keepers of the Flame?”

  He blew out his breath. “Yeah, well I don’t think I’ve fully processed the fact that my great-granny was in possession of the same medallion we found on a two-hundred-year-old artifact.”

  “Is that because you could very well be descended from the Keepers of the Flame?”

  “It’s damn eerie.”

  “That’s why I think we should go see her again.”

  “What if she’s no more lucid than she was the last time?” He doffed his cowboy hat, pierced his fingers through his hair. “Hell, she could be worse than before.”

  “What have you got to lose?”

  “My whole identity of myself?”

  “No way. I’ve never met anyone more certain of who he is and what he wants out of life than you are. From the time you were eight years old you knew that you wanted to be an archaeologist.”

  His eyes met hers and his sultry expression telegraphed a clear message. I want you.

  Her pulse flamed inside her veins. She glanced down the hallway. A kitchen attendant was pushing a large rolling metal meal cart toward the elevator. Quickly, she darted out her tongue to moisten her lips and thought he’s going to kiss me.

  But he did not. He simply stood there staring at her so hard, setting off the trip-hammer of her pulse.

  He reached out with those long, capable fingers and cupped her cheek. “This is killing me, you know.”

  “Too bad,” she said tartly, because if she didn’t do something to erect a barrier she was going to kiss him and they were in a public place. No telling who might see them. “I’m going to visit your granny. You can come if you want, but I’m not waiting around.”

  “Oh you’re not, huh?” An amused smile plucked at the corners of his mouth.

  “Nope.” She turned and headed toward the exit, her heart hammering crazily.

  “Anyone ever tell you that you’re a sassy wench?”

  She stopped, turned back. “All the time. You coming or not?”

  “Not until you do,” he quipped, stalking toward her.

  It took her for the full length of a heartbeat to realize what he meant. “Seriously, dude, unless you want me to strip off your clothes and do you right here in the hospital corridor, ya gotta stop talking like that.”

  He hissed in his breath through clenched teeth, his dark eyes burning with rolling heat. “I don’t mean to talk like this, but whenever I’m around you, I can’t seem to help myself. Is this what you feel like all the time? Unable to filter every thought that pops into your head?”

  She caught her bottom lip up between her teeth. “Yeah, I guess, kinda.”

  “It’s a startling way to live.”

  “Tell me about it.” She laughed. “But you must be rubbing off on me, because I’m having some thoughts right now that are locked in the vault.”

  He lowered his voice. “Would you tell me your secrets if I had a key?”

  You’ve already got the key, Magic Tongue. “When the dig is over, I promise I will tell you everything.”

  “We better stop this,” he said, practically panting.

  “You started it.”

  “I’m trying to finish it.”

  “You’re not doing a very good job.”

  “Yeah, I know that.”

  “So let’s take our minds off us and put them where they belong.”

  “Where’s that?”

  “Scooby-Doo.”

  Chapter 15

  Migration: Moving from one country, region, place, or site to another, for feeding or breeding.

  “JERICHO,” Granny Helen said when they walked into her room. A vase of fresh-cut roses in full bloom sat on her bedside table. She was in the wheelchair again, but today, his great-grandmother looked much more alert and she’d recognized him right away. Positive signs. “And your pretty girlfriend too.”

  “Zoey,” he said. “Her name is Zoey.”

  “Helloey, Zoey.” Granny Helen giggled and her face melted into a gummy smile. “That rhymes.”

  “You’re in a good mood this afternoon,” Zoey said.

  “I remembered what I had for breakfast. It’s always a good day if I remember what I had for breakfast. Oatmeal with cinnamon and raisins, strawberry yogurt, and buttered toast!” She looked as proud of herself as if she’d won the lotto.

  “Short-term memory recall is a good thing,” Jericho said. Maybe they would be able to get some more information out of her.

  He waved Zoey into the chair beside his granny and crouched on the floor in front of her. “Do you remember the other day when we came to see you?”

  She shook her head
. “No, but Joe came to see me.”

  “That wasn’t Grandpa Joe,” he said. “That was me.”

  “It was?” She squinted at him.

  “Yes, and you gave me this.” He pulled the beaded medallion from his shirt pocket and showed it to her. “Do you remember?”

  “The Keepers of the Flame,” she said softly and held out a hand as gnarled as a tree root.

  He put the medallion between the knuckles of her fingers and she held it up to her face and repeated, “The Keepers of the Flame.”

  “We found a similar medallion beaded into the hide of a medicine bundle up on Triangle Mount,” he said. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “Little Wolf and Clarissa,” she said promptly.

  “Did Little Wolf live on Triangle Mount?” he asked.

  “That’s where the Keepers of the Flame lived.”

  “Was Little Wolf one of the Keepers of the Flame?”

  She nodded.

  “When we were here before you told us about Little Wolf and Clarissa,” Zoey said. “But you didn’t finish your story.”

  Granny Helen rubbed the medallion against her chin. “How far did I get?”

  “You told us that they shared at kiss at the mission school and Little Wolf got kicked out and Clarissa’s family wouldn’t allow her to leave the settlement,” Zoey reminded her.

  “Oh yes.” Granny Helen sighed. “So sad.”

  They waited, and when she didn’t continue, Jericho nudged her a bit. “Did Little Wolf and Clarissa ever see each other again after that?”

  “Yes they did. Such a shame.”

  He and Zoey exchanged glances.

  “What happened?” Zoey leaned forward, rested her elbows on her knees and her chin in her upturned palms.

  “So much sorrow.” The way she said it was so mournful and low it drilled a chill down Jericho’s spine.

  “Were Little Wolf and Clarissa real people, or is this just a romantic story?” he ventured.

  She raised her head and looked at him with crow-sharp eyes. “They were as real as you and me. Little Wolf and Clarissa pined for each other. That kiss had ignited a deep passion that had grown and flourished from the seed of their friendship. They were deeply loyal to each other. Would die for each other.” She stopped, hiccupped. “They did die for each other.”

  Zoey flashed him a look that said, Uh-oh.

  Granny Helen’s memory could not be trusted, plus she did have a flair for the dramatic. He could not take what she said to heart and yet he found himself getting drawn into the narrative, her whispery voice full of creaks and hesitation and as soothingly interesting as a soft breeze rattling dried beans in mesquite trees.

  “Little Wolf and Clarissa sent each other messages through a homing pigeon that would fly high above Clarissa’s settlement by the lake to Little Wolf’s home on the mountaintop. Every day they would write to each other about their plans for the day they would finally be old enough to be together.” She paused to catch her breath. Shook her head at the beaded medallion. “Ah, the folly of youth.”

  Her eyes glazed as if she was staring into her own past and for a minute, Jericho feared she’d slipped into confusion, but she shook herself with a determined movement and extended the beaded medallion to him. It was warm from her hand.

  “One day, the pigeon did not come back. Little Wolf tried not to worry. Maybe Clarissa’s parents had found out about the letters and stopped her from writing, he thought. Another day passed, and then another. Still no letter.”

  A nurse had come to stand in the doorway, but she did not interrupt. Just stood with her shoulder against the doorjamb, listening.

  “It was the dead of winter and Little Wolf feared the pigeon had died. He desperately wanted to see Clarissa, so in the middle of the night, he slipped down into the settlement, quiet as a shadow, and waited.”

  Zoey scooted to the end of the chair, her knees tight as springs, her hands clenched into fists.

  “The menfolk were on the porch, talking in hushed tones. They looked very sad. As he listened, Little Wolf soon learned a great plague had fallen upon the village and his beloved Clarissa was deathly ill. The white man doctor said there was nothing he could do to save her. But Little Wolf could! His tribe was the Keepers of the Flame. They had great medicine that could heal any plague. He went back to his home and made up a dose of medicine and the next morning, he went back to the settlement to face Clarissa’s father.” Granny Helen’s voice had quickened as she spoke as if to get it all in before the curtain of forgetfulness fell over her again.

  Jericho could feel his great-grandmother’s urgency but he didn’t know how much of it had to do with the mesmerizing tragedy of the story she was telling or the fact she was trying to outtalk the memory loss that was snapping at her heels.

  “She’s having a very good day,” the nurse murmured.

  Granny Helen cut the nurse a sharp glare and kept on going. “Clarissa’s father immediately took him prisoner, but Little Wolf explained that he was there to save Clarissa’s life with a special potion. Her father was suspicious of Little Wolf’s offering, but Clarissa’s mother begged him to let Little Wolf try to save her. They had nothing to lose. Clarissa was dying. Finally, her father relented. By the time Little Wolf reached Clarissa’s side, she was almost gone.”

  If someone had dropped a pin in the room it would have sounded as loud as a bomb, it was that quiet. Another nurse had come to stand beside the first nurse. “I haven’t seen her this lucid in years,” she whispered.

  “Did he heal her?” Zoey asked. “Did Little Wolf’s potion save Clarissa?”

  “It did indeed. It was powerful medicine, and combined with the power of Little Wolf’s love, Clarissa was healed.”

  “Oh thank God, I thought she was going to die.” Zoey splayed a hand over her mouth.

  “Yes, Clarissa was saved, but when her father saw how much Little Wolf loved her and how much she loved him, he was very concerned. He could not allow his daughter to love a savage. He would rather she be dead. That’s the way it was back then. Forbidden love. Besides, there was the matter of the medicine that could heal the plague. Clarissa’s father wanted that medicine to save his settlement.”

  “Oh no he didn’t,” the second nurse exclaimed.

  “Oh yes he did.” Granny Helen nodded ruefully.

  Jericho’s anthropologist mind was trying to piece together how much of this might be true, how much was a wide stretch of myth, legend, and overactive imagination. Over the years such stories invariably gathered momentum, growing more farfetched as each teller of the tale embellished and made it his or her own. He thought of the Greenwood-Fant legend that permeated Cupid, understood it had been blown out of all kinds of proportion, where in order to promote tourism, the town actively encouraged the belief that if you wrote a letter to Cupid asking for his intervention in your love life, that your wish would come true. It was absolute foolishness, but people wanted to believe it, so they did. Maybe it was because at the core of any good fable there was a grain of truth, and in this one, the truth seemed to be that Little Wolf and Clarissa had been childhood friends whose love had bloomed into something bigger and threatened the mores of their time and culture.

  He studied Zoey in profile—that pert nose, those loveable cheeks, and that determined little chin. Every time he looked at her, it took his breath away. He felt a sense of complete wonder. Had Little Wolf felt like this the moment he realized that love for his friend had turned into something so overwhelmingly wonderful he could not even fathom the depths of it?

  “So they imprisoned Little Wolf,” Granny Helen went on. “And the men of the village went to his mountain home and took the medicine from his people by force. They stole the healing plant that rightfully belonged to the Keepers of the Flame and they left behind their sickness. Their plague infected the Keepers of the Flame, and without their medicine, they all died. While the settlers cured their own people with the spoils of their pillage.”

>   “Assholes!” Zoey exclaimed.

  “You can say that again,” Granny Helen said.

  “Assholes.”

  Granny Helen smiled at Jericho. “I like her.”

  Jericho grinned at Zoey. “She is pretty special.”

  “You oughta marry her.”

  He was about to say, Maybe I just will, but a panicked expression reddened Zoey’s cheeks, and doubt set up in his stomach like cement. He was so much farther down the road to committing to her than she was to him. He could see it in the way her body went rigid and how she shifted her legs away from him. A lump doubled up in his throat, and he gulped it back.

  “Clarissa was beside herself with grief over what they’d done to her beloved Little Wolf.” Granny Helen stopped to moisten her lips. “When no one was watching Clarissa, she stole the keys to the shackles her father had used to imprison Little Wolf and she sneaked to the shed where he was being held captive.”

  “She must have been so scared.” Zoey pressed a fist to her lips.

  Granny looked her squarely in the eyes. “Great love conquers all fear.”

  “If only it were that easy.” Zoey hunched her shoulders inward and peeped at him from the corner of her eye. What was going on in that head of hers?

  “Oh, there’s nothing easy about it,” Granny Helen declared. “Clarissa and Little Wolf ran away together, but the only way out of the valley was up one of the mountains. They could not go to Little Wolf’s mountain because the sickness was there. So they had to climb a much higher mountain to get out of the valley.”

  A third nurse had joined the first two in the doorway. Granny Helen was becoming the attraction of the day.

  “When Clarissa’s father found both her and Little Wolf gone, he sounded the alarm, and the men of the valley tracked them up the mountain. It was winter, remember, in the blowing cold, and Clarissa was still weak from her illness.”

  “This is getting worse and worse.” Zoey cringed on the edge of her seat.

  “Indeed.” Granny Helen shook her head. “They made it to the top of the mountain, but Clarissa’s father and his men were right behind them. They knew if they were caught they would be separated or worse, that Little Wolf would be killed for daring to run off with her.”