by Unknown
After five rings, it went to voice mail. Not knowing what to say, he hung up.
He waited a few minutes and tried her cell again, lost connection before the call ever went through. Damn piss-poor reception in the mountain passes. He slung his phone across the cab of his pickup truck, doffed his cowboy hat, and jammed a hand through his hair.
Over the years, he’d let very few people get close to him. Grandpa Joe had been one, Zoey the other. Mallory had often accused him of loving his pal Zoey more than he loved her. It wasn’t until Mallory cheated on him that Jericho realized she was right. Zoey was the one he turned to when things went bad. The one he called when he had a victory to share. She was his go-to girl, and now all of that was in danger.
What if he’d hurt her beyond repair? He had walked out on her after he’d promised nothing would alter their friendship. What an idiot he’d been. Of course making love to her had altered everything.
As he drove past Telescope Road, which led to the astronomy summer camp where he’d been a counselor the summer Zoey had jumped off the Telescope Cliff into Tranquility Pool, he saw the back of a white van with lettering on the side. From this distance, he couldn’t make out the emblem on the vehicle but his hopes rushed into his throat. Was it the Cupid’s Rest B&B van? He made a U-turn, circling onto the side of the road and kicking up dust as he went after her.
“Zoey, where are you going?” he mumbled, pressing hard on the accelerator and zooming after the van that had already started up the grade to the summer camp.
But she had a good head start and even though he was speeding along far faster than was prudent on the weathered asphalt, he couldn’t catch up to her. Ten minutes later, he drove through the gates of Camp Cameron, spied the van parked outside the cantina, and felt an unexpected flutter deep in the center of his chest as if his heart had torn loose inside him and was flapping around like some crazed bird trying to escape a too-small cage.
He hopped out and saw it wasn’t Zoey’s van at all but a local delivery service bringing in food supplies. His heart snapped back hard against his spine. Dumbass. He adjusted his hat, climbed back in his pickup, and took another route down the mountain that meandered past the peak from which Zoey had dove into Tranquility. He parked, got out, walked to the spot, and looked down.
A horde of laughing and screeching kids splashed about in the water.
He knelt one knee down on that hard dry ground, remembering that moment when Zoey so fearlessly flung herself over the edge, to the surprised and delighted gasps of the other children. Recalled how helpless and alone he’d felt when he thought for those horrible minutes—the worst of his life—that she’d drown.
The terrifying fire of that moment swept over him again and he felt as lost and helpless now as he had then. She’d done it again. Made a surprising move without him. Left him behind. Just as his parents had when they’d gone off to China and left him with Grandpa Joe and Junie Mae. He’d been crippled by that abandonment, even as he’d tried hard not to show it. Rationally, as an adult, he understood why they’d left him, but that kid, the one who’d tried to dig to the opposite side of the world with his gregarious pigtailed neighbor, still felt as if he’d done something to cause them to leave.
A hard realization hit him. A possibility he’d never considered. For years, he’d kept Zoey at arm’s length because he was worried that such a mercurial woman would never be able to commit, when the problem wasn’t with her, but with him.
The real question that had been lurking in the back of his mind like the Grim Reaper sharpening his scythe—a question he’d turned a blind eye to because to examine it hurt too much—was that maybe he was the one who could not sustain a long-term romantic relationship. He’d let Zoey take the fall for his inadequacy. He was the one who had no role model for a workable family. He was the one who prized his career above relationships.
Zoey might have her flaws, but the woman was fearless. She’d never had a long-term relationship because she’d known none of those other men were right. That’s what she’d been trying to tell him. She had faith. She’d just been waiting for him to catch up to what she already knew.
All along, all this time, he was the one who was afraid to commit to love.
SINCE THE MCCLEARY side of the family had seriously let her down, Zoey turned to the Greenwood-Fant legend to guide her. She’d been raised to believe in the romantic idea that Cupid could fix your love woes, and she would give anything to have Jericho’s friendship.
So she did what many of her relatives had done before her. She made a pilgrimage to the Cupid stalagmite tucked away in a dark cave of the Cupid Caverns.
This time of night the Caverns were closed, but Zoey, being a Greenwood-Fant, knew where to get a key to the padlocked gate.
She took a pen and paper and drove up to the caverns. By the light of the moon—the same damn moon that had smiled down on her and Jericho the night before—she opened the gate and slipped inside.
Inside, the caverns were a good ten degrees cooler than outside. The wall sconces stayed on all the time, so she didn’t really need the flashlight she’d brought with her, but from the time she was small, she’d been trained to bring one with her whenever she went into the caverns, just in case.
The slow, steady drip of stalactites echoed loudly in the silent space—plop, plop, plop—straight ahead, a downhill path that diverged in two directions amid the jagged teeth of rock formations. She knew the place by heart, had been up here more times than she could count. Although she’d never been as particularly enamored of the romantic legend as the rest of her family, she had to admit, in the quiet stillness, there was a serene reverence here. Of course, serenity and reverence had never been Zoey’s style, but then look where her style had landed her so far. Might as well give this beseeching Cupid thing a shot. She had nothing left to lose.
The left-hand path led to the cave that housed the Cupid stalagmite. Jagged rocks of orange, green, yellow, and brown protruded from every direction—up, down, left, and right. As a kid, she liked to pretend she was a tiny dragon slayer about the size of a peanut and after the dragon had eaten her, all she had to do to slay him was slide down his throat and cut out his heart. When she told Natalie her fantasy, her sister had shuddered and said she was a morbid child, but Jericho had given her pointers on a few other ways she could take down a dragon.
Plaques had been mounted underneath key wall sconces that told stories of the people who had come before. There was Mingus Dill who’d first found the cave and prayed to Cupid to save him from a relentless sheriff’s posse, and his prayers had been answered in the form of a lonely widow, Louisa Hendricks, who saved his life by agreeing to marry him. There was the story of her great-grandmother Millie. The story of how Wallis Simpson had once visited the Cupid Caverns and not long after her sojourn King Edward abdicated the throne for her.
A quarter of a mile into the cavern, she entered a smaller cave that housed the Cupid stalagmite. The path was a cul-de-sac with Cupid in the center. There was only one way in and one way out of this room. The stalagmite towered more than seven feet tall and almost touched the top of the cave’s ceiling. The rock formation that looked like Cupid stood on one leg, with the other leg bent at the knee as if he were running, a cocked bow in his arms, an arrow ready to be flung into unwitting hearts. There was a big blob where a face would have been if it were a man-made sculpture.
As she stood staring at it, an old memory that she’d completely forgotten washed over her.
Jericho’s sixth-grade science teacher had assigned the homework of visiting the Cupid Caverns to study the rock formations, and Jericho allowed her, a silly second grader, to tag along on his expedition. She recalled standing in this same spot, looking up at Cupid, with her mouth hanging open.
“How’d this get here?” she’d asked.
“Water containing minerals seeps into a cave,” he said.
“Huh? That don’t make no sense.” She shook her head vigorously. “Wat
er can’t make a rock.”
“Sure it can,” he said easily. “The water drips from the ceiling to the floor.”
“So? I spill water at home and it doesn’t turn into a stalaggy thing.”
“Your house isn’t a cave and it’s not a continual drip. Depending on how much water evaporated and what kind and amounts of minerals were in the water, some are left on the ceiling and some drop to the floor. You can remember which one is which by thinking that stalactites cling tight to the ceiling, while stalagmites might rise up from the floor. Over time, the stalagmites and stalactites will meet and form a column, just like they did with old Cupid here.”
Awed, she studied his face. His eyes were lit with an unusual fire and his voice grew louder. He loved this stuff and she loved that he loved it. Her stomach hurt in a weirdly pleasant way like it did when she ate too much candy.
“You think what they say ’bout this is true?”
“What’s that?”
“That if you ask Cupid to help, he’ll bring you together with your one true love?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “It’s just a stalagmite. How can a stalagmite help you find love?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, you’re right.” How come that hurting in her stomach wasn’t so pleasant anymore?
A drop of water splashed onto the top of Zoey’s head, yanking her back to the present.
“Well, Cupid,” she said. “It’s time to put your money where your mouth is … er, although I guess in your case it isn’t. Let’s see if this myth is total bullshit or if there’s something to this after all.”
She sat cross-legged on the path—the cave floor cool against her fanny—turned on her wide-bottomed flashlight, and stood it upright beside her. A yellow glow fell over her lap. From the notebook, she tore out a piece of paper, clicked her roller ball pen, and did what she’d never thought she’d do. Wrote a letter to Cupid herself.
Dear Cupid,
I’ve gone and ruined everything by falling in love with my best friend. Now, not only have I lost my lover, I’ve lost the one person in the world that I could tell anything to. But that’s not the half of it. I thought I was doing a good thing by searching for something meaningful. People accused me of being frivolous and shallow, so I was determined to earn a little respect, prove I could commit, dig deep, find my roots, and discover who and what I am. Guess what? I did and that’s what started all the trouble. The things I have uncovered could destroy people I love. I’m at my wits’ end. I don’t know how much longer I can hang on. Help!
Spontaneous to a Fault
She glanced down at the letter, saw water drops staining the page. Not tear drops. Oh no siree. She wasn’t a crier. The water had to be coming from one of those pesky stalactites dripping down on her.
Swiping a hand under her nose, she looked up at the impressive stalagmite. “What now?”
Her question echoed around the small cave.
What now? What now? What now?
Not sure what she expected, Zoey folded the letter and stuck it into the pocket of her hooded sweatshirt. One thing was for certain; she wasn’t going to find an answer to her questions here.
ZOEY DIDN’T WANT to go back to the B&B in case Jericho was spending the night at Junie Mae’s house. She wasn’t ready to face him yet. She folded down the seat, crawled into the back of the van, and tried to sleep.
No sooner had she closed her eyes than her cell phone rang.
Jericho!
Eagerly, she checked her phone, only to have her hopes shudder to a halt when she saw Lace’s name on the caller ID. For a moment, she considered not answering. Surely by now the grapevine was buzzing with the news of how she’d screwed up the dig and she just didn’t want to talk about it.
Nah, she had to answer. No doubt the family was worried about her. As much as she would like to stick her head in the sand and ignore her family, she couldn’t do it. “Hello?”
“Zoey,” Lace said. “Have you seen Jericho? I’ve been trying to call him for hours.”
“He might be on Triangle Mount,” she answered. Obviously, Lace hadn’t yet heard about the mess she’d caused. Good. “The reception is for shit up there.”
“Why aren’t you on Triangle Mount?”
“Long story.”
“Is something wrong?”
“What did you need to tell Jericho?” she asked, neither wanting to lie nor get into the details of why she wasn’t at the dig site.
The ploy worked. “Both the seeds and petals you found in the medicine bundle are from the Golden Flame agave.” Lace breathed. “I’m so excited. This is incredible.”
“It’s gotta be gratifying to be proven right.”
“It’s the find of a lifetime. You and Jericho are going to be famous.”
“Hey, you too. You’re the one who always believed the plant existed. We were originally looking to debunk or confirm the theory the flatiron was a pyramid. We had no idea we’d unearth your holy grail.”
“Yes, but without your dig, I would never have been able to prove my theory. But that’s not the half of it.”
“No?”
“Hold on to your hat, because here’s the really exciting part.”
“What’s that?”
“The Golden Flame is a true centennial plant. I did calculations based on these seeds. I factored in the genetic—”
“Zoom!”
“Gotcha,” Lace laughed. “I’ll cut to the chase. If my figures are indeed correct any Golden Flame agave plants that might be in existence on foundation land could burst into bloom any day now. Of course, I could be off base on the timeline. Predictions like this certainly aren’t foolproof, but all signs point to a summer bloom this year!”
“If the agave still exists.”
“Even if it doesn’t,” Lace said, “there’s a possibility that I could extract DNA from these botanicals and clone a new agave. Can you imagine? An extinct plant brought back to life? Of course, I wouldn’t be around in a hundred years to see those plants bloom, but just to be able to revive a long dead species is any botanist’s dream come true.”
“That’s so exciting. I know you’re over the moon. I’ll be sure to tell Jericho when I see him.”
Lace paused a moment. “Are you okay, Zoey?”
“Sure.”
“You don’t sound like your usual zippy self.”
“I’m fine,” she reiterated.
“Is there something going on between you and Jericho? You guys didn’t have a falling out, did you?”
“No, no,” Zoey lied, desperate to get her cousin off the phone before she broke down and told her everything.
“Because if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”
“Listen, Lace, I’ve gotta go, but thanks so much for telling me this super exciting news.”
“I can’t wait to write this find up. I’m sooo glad I didn’t take that job at the Smithsonian.”
From the background, Zoey heard Lace’s husband, Pierce, call to her. “Hey, sexy botanist, take me to bed or lose me forever.”
“Sounds like Pierce is ready for some lovin’,” Zoey said, relieved to have a good excuse to end the conversation.
Lace giggled.
Giggling? Lace? She couldn’t believe this was her serious-minded cousin. Falling in love with Pierce had changed Lace in countless ways, all of them for the better.
“Don’t give up,” Lace said, and then purred softly, “Oh yeah, do that again, cowboy.”
“You talking to me or Pierce?”
Lace giggled again. “I was never very good at multitasking, but don’t despair if you’re having a few bumps in the road with Jericho. When you redefine any relationship you have to expect some ups and downs.”
“We’re not—”
“Don’t try to deny it,” Lace said. “Anyone that sees you two together knows you’ve slipped from being friends into lovers, and honestly, we’re thrilled for you both. We were wondering when the two of you were going to ca
tch up to what everyone else already knew.”
“What’s that?”
“You guys were meant for each other.”
“Zoey,” Pierce’s voice came on the line.
“Uh-huh?”
“Gotta take my wife to bed now, she’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Pierce.”
“Night,” he said.
Lace giggled some more.
Zoey let out a wistful sigh, hung up the phone, and noticed she had ten missed calls, all of them from Jericho.
It took her a good ten minutes to work up the courage to call him back, but when she did, his phone went to voice mail. “Hi, this is Jericho, I’m probably out digging something up somewhere. You know what to do.”
A beep sounded.
“Jericho, I …” She had no idea what to say. “Never mind.”
She switched off her phone and lay back down, thinking about the miserable day and everything her cousin had said. After several restless hours, she fell into a fitful sleep.
A tumble of images assaulted her. The etchings on the tomahawk came to life—a handsome brave, a beautiful young woman, a deadly scorpion with a black stinger on his back, coiled and ready to strike. She whimpered in her sleep, tossed and turned. In her dream she kissed a frog and it turned into a coyote. She saw Little Wolf and Clarissa as children, holding hands, and at some point their images fractured and turned into Jericho and Zoey.
Then from somewhere in the dream, Great-Great-Uncle August appeared and glowered at them. She turned around and Jericho was Little Wolf again, carrying the medicine bundle under his arm, and she was sick, so very sick, burning up with a high, hot fever.
Sweat drenched her body, but Little Wolf knelt at her side, bathing her face with a cool cloth, and insisted she drink a foul-tasting tea. Was she Clarissa now or still Zoey? She gulped it down just to please him and discovered, to her surprise, that she soon felt much better.
Little Wolf hovered over her, his face full of distress. She reached up to touch him, but he shied from her. That’s when she saw the flames licking up from Triangle Mount, rolling fast and quick down the mountain, and in the center of the flames glowed a bright yellow flower in full bloom.