“It’s Chrissi’s,” Phil says hesitantly. Kesil realizes his tone was more aggressive than he intended.
“I’m sorry,” he says to Phil, and then turns to Chrissi, “You cannot go.”
“Excuse me?” Chrissi is shocked, and offended, at this guy who she barely knows, giving her orders. Who is he to tell her what to do? This is the most he has ever spoken to her! She crosses her arms in defiance, and, she hopes, independence, taking her stance with squinty and accusatory eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Kesil says again, shaking his head trying to wrap his mind around what is happening. Then he remembers the dream and her tombstone. Frantic, he realizes he must keep Chrissi Camden from going on the journey, or else go with her. Surely a young girl like her would never make it, that was what the dream must be telling him. He could at least give her a fighting chance if she is stubborn enough to go. “You’re in danger. I mean, this is dangerous and you really, really should not go.”
Lesia looks from Kesil to Chrissi. Jealousy flows through her and threatens to burst forth in her usual jibes.
“Oh please! It isn’t real!” she flings her hands up in desperation. Grabbing the card from Kesil she prepares to rip it in half. “They probably made it themselves and now they are making a fool of you Kesil.”
“No! Lesia, please don’t!” Phil says hastily. With all of his being he wants it to be real, he truly believes it is. “I remember now,” he says to Chrissi, keeping a watchful eye on Lesia, “the journeys. They can be difficult, but in all the stories those who know can make it through.”
“Know what?” Chrissi demands, irritated and more confused than ever.
“Please!” Lesia says in exasperation. “You’re crazy. This isn’t real,” Lesia moves to rip the card again and everyone yells,
“Stop!”
“Kesil? Seriously? This is their little joke.”
“I’m not so sure,” he tells her. Then he turns to Chrissi, “If you go, I’ll go with you.”
“What? Why?” Chrissi challenges him, her crossed arms becoming an even tighter pretzel. “I don’t even know you!”
“Because you will need protection…or help,” Kesil says awkwardly.
Chrissi raises an eyebrow, “That’s why I have Phil.” She cannot believe Kesil is taking this so personally, almost as if he knows something. Maybe he is just that kind of guy, feeling the need to guard any damsel.
Kesil glances at Phil briefly taking in his thin frame and pale skin. Obviously he spends more time indoors with books than protecting ladies in distress. He resolves, “Then I will go with both of you.”
Lesia is incredulous that Kesil is falling for their stunt, and jealous that he desires to go so badly because of Chrissi. He’s never shown interest in her before.
“Then I’m going to!” Lesia says, in a last attempt to become visible to Kesil. It isn’t like they’re actually going anywhere, she resolves to herself.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chrissi retorts, reaching for the card again.
“No, no!” Lesia reproaches. “If I don’t go, nobody does,” she says, once more beginning to tear their precious card.
“Lesia!” Phil yells as he, Chrissi, and even Kesil reach for the letter.
All four pairs of hands have the slightest touch on the card at once and the group begins to spin and rise up. Lesia screams and tries to let go but she can’t, the force is too great, nobody can move. Colors appear all around them like lights on a spinning carnival ride. Chrissi is mesmerized and begins to laugh. Phil hears her and looks ahead to see the beauty of the impossible event surrounding them. He smiles broadly. Kesil, terrified of where they will end up and the immediate challenge they may face, looks around frantically, preparing for physical altercation.
THUMP!
Everybody hits the ground hard and rolls apart. Kesil is the first to stand up. He takes a defensive stance, fists at the ready. Lesia stands and dusts herself off, expecting to see the meadow. When she looks up a small squeal escapes her. She looks around in shock. Phil and Chrissi begin to sit up, looking around.
“Where are we?” Chrissi asks no one in particular staring at a very different view than their lunchtime landscape.
CHAPTER TEN
Looking around Chrissi sees everyone is spread about 10 feet away from each other sitting on the ground all facing opposite directions, eyes wide. Slowly, they each stand up and close the gaps between them, their backs coming together making a human fortress so they can see all around. Lesia and Chrissi see a thick forest before them with tall sinister trees and a darkness that eludes a never-ending depth. An overwhelming sensation seeps from the darkness and Chrissi almost bends from the weight of it. The tips of her fingers tingle as a rush flows through her, bordering between peace and chaos. Lesia takes a quick breath in but Chrissi does not hear her let it out. Their shoulders touch and it is clear the darkness is felt by both of them. Lesia closes her eyes tight trying not to cry.
On the other side of them, Phil and Kesil see a desert with sparse shrubbery sticking out randomly over miles and miles of sand. Kesil stands in defense, eyes wide and confused. He feels the dry heat in waves before him and his heart pounds harder. Phil looks across the sand and all around him, incredulous at each site he sees. His heart beats wildly, but from fear or excitement he isn’t sure.
“It’s like two totally different worlds right next to each other,” Lesia observes looking over her shoulder at Kesil’s view.
“Different worlds,” Phil echoes in wonder. Chrissi looks over at him to see the biggest, goofiest grin. His science face.
“But where?” she asks again with apprehension.
“Who cares where? Where’s that stupid card?” Lesia begins searching frantically on the ground around them. “It has to be here somewhere. We landed here right?” She crawls out a few feet rubbing her hands through the grass.
“Lesia, it will be OK. It’s a journey from King Roi! We’ll be OK!” Phil tries to reassure her.
“OK?” Lesia bolts to her feet and stands nose-to-nose with Phil. For the first time he notices her dirt-ridden, tear-stained cheeks. “It is certainly NOT OK! I want to go home NOW!” Phil cowers slightly as Lesia stomps her foot with her order.
“Lesia, we can’t go home until we figure out where we are,” Chrissi says calmly, though her gloved hands shake.
“Chasock,” Phil says.
“What?” Chrissi asks, almost irritated with him and his goofy grin in this dire situation.
“Cha-sock,” Lesia repeats between sniffles. She points to a small wooden sign in the distance. Everyone turns to look. They slowly walk together towards the sign.
“There’s an arrow pointing straight ahead!” Phil says excitedly. “Let’s go!”
“Wait,” Kesil grabs Phil’s arm. “We have no idea where it leads. We need to regroup, see what supplies we have, and then make a decision together.” Phil flashes a look of disappointment but cannot argue with Kesil’s logic and concedes. They sit down near the sign and pour out the contents of Lesia’s purse, Phil’s sack lunch, Chrissi’s messenger bag, and Kesil’s pockets.
“Five lipsticks?” Chrissi says in frustration. “What good is that? Don’t you have a water bottle or granola bar in that gigantic bag of yours Lesia?” A quick but strong feeling of hopelessness washes over Chrissi. Four teenagers, five lipsticks and who knows how far away from home. What are they supposed to do? She takes a deep breath when the anxiety wells up within her. She must remain calm. It’s her fault they are all here. Possibly her journey. She needs to get them home.
“You’re pointing at ME?” Lesia yells back.
Lesia’s challenge causes Chrissi’s frustration to rise again. The girls move quickly becoming aggressively close, almost nose-to-nose. “You have a textbook, a disgusting lunch, and three-pairs-of-gloves! I mean really, what on earth are we going to do with a textbook?”
“Start. A. Fire.” Chrissi says back. Kesil and Phil roll their eyes.
“Haven’t we had en
ough bickering for one day?” Phil sighs humbly, putting his food back in the brown paper bag, then stuffing it in Lesia’s purse. She doesn’t even notice as she still hasn’t torn away from Chrissi’s defiant gaze and stance. She crosses her arms and Chrissi puts her hands on her hips.
“If it wasn’t for HER and her stupid card, we wouldn’t be here!” Lesia accuses.
“If you didn’t take it from us we wouldn’t be here!” Chrissi says. Kesil and Phil look at each other, eyes wide in male-bonding agony.
“As much as I would love this tension to continue,” Phil says. “It doesn’t matter how we got—”
“Shut up Phil!” the girls interrupt.
“OK. I tried,” Phil shrugs to Kesil. The girls continue arguing as the boys finish their inventory and split it between Chrissi’s side satchel and Lesia’s large tote of a purse.
“Let’s go,” Kesil says reluctantly. The girls suddenly stop to look at him. It is the first time he has spoken since reprimanding Phil and he sounds fearful, hesitant. “What?”
“Go where?” Lesia asks. “You said yourself we have no idea what lies ahead. What if it’s something bad? We should just stay put until someone finds us. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do when you’re lost?” Tears threaten to spill again and she takes quick, anxious breaths.
“Except we aren’t lost,” Phil says excitedly. His eyes widen in enthusiasm, “We were transported!” He spreads his arms wide and turns around, gesturing to the open land all around them. “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” he grins.
“You look like a loon,” Chrissi says half teasingly but seriously believing it. Phil laughs and then his excitement is contagious and Chrissi finally smiles. Lesia shrugs and gives in and the three begin walking and smiling together, a fair sight to see for over decade-long enemies. Kesil picks up the satchel and follows, keeping an eye on the looming forest to their left and the eerie openness of the desert before, behind, and beside them.
***
“We have been walking forever!” Lesia complains. “And there’s a humming in my head, I think I’m becoming fatally dehydrated.” She leans on Kesil as they walk, and for the first time he doesn’t move away. In fact, Lesia notices, it’s as if he hardly notices any of them. For the last half hour he has stared straight ahead, stiff and wearing a scowl.
“It has been awhile,” Chrissi agrees, trying to keep peace.
“I see something!” Phil says, pointing up ahead.
“Ugh, Phil, you’ve said that a hundred times!” Chrissi reminds him. “You saw something out there, there, and back there,” she points around them.
“I see it!” Lesia shouts, jumping up and down. “It’s a house!” she begins jogging ahead.
“Lesia, don’t!” Kesil yells in a deep voice that no one wants to protest. “Sorry,” he says quickly, clearing his throat, “we should stay together and approach cautiously.”
“Yeah…he’s right,” Chrissi agrees apprehensively. She doesn’t know why but she feels a strong desire to make sure no one is ostracized. No reason for this to turn into Lord of the Flies.
They continue walking together until they reach the outskirts of a small village composed of circular huts with straw roofs and clay sides.
“Quaint,” Lesia says. Everyone rolls their eyes.
As they come closer to the village they see women outside each hut making pots, looming, or cooking. Other women walk in the narrow path between huts chatting and trading vegetables, fruits, and breads. Children play freely, running with domesticated dogs and laughing, everyone joyous and carefree. Every woman wears a long, brightly colored dress while the children are in home sewn shorts and button up shirts or billowy blouses. Everyone is unique by way of service, product, and even race.
“Are we in a different country?” Lesia blurts out, suddenly very afraid and in shock. The women around represent just about every race and ethnicity of the world. Finally one woman approaches them from the nearest path. She dons a long, bright dress like everyone else. Hers has chevron stripes in reds, blues, greens, and purples. Chrissi notices a large gold necklace glint in the sunlight. The woman’s hair is short and her skin is a deep caramel brown.
“Not exactly,” she says with a bright smile, “Welcome to haw-zak,” she pronounces the name of the village slowly with a guttural sound from deep within her throat. Lesia blushes at her obvious mistake in pronunciation earlier, hoping no one in the group brings it up but fully expecting it as that is exactly what she would do to them.
“Where is Chazaq exactly?” Kesil asks.
“What is more important is what is Chazaq?” she answers with another query.
As if we need another question, Kesil thinks. “OK,” he says after a moment of painful silence. “What is Chazaq?” he asks, irritated.
The woman smiles warmly at each one before answering, “The Town of Encouragers. Welcome to the supernatural plane Kesil, Chrissi Lee, Phil, and Lesia.”
“How do you know my name? And what ‘plane’ did we come from if we’re on a different one now?” Lesia asks in an arrogant tone causing the woman to frown slightly, but only briefly.
“We have been anticipating your arrival from the natural plane! My name is Nahal, naw-hal,” she pronounces slowly for everyone again. “You,” she turns and points to Chrissi, “You are Chrissi Lee Camden, granddaughter of Ethel Camden, one of the Virtuous Women!” When Nahal says this every woman in hearing distance turns and strains to see Chrissi. Some begin to point and whisper making Chrissi blush in discomfort. Kesil and Phil step closer to her in protective-brotherly style, and Lesia feels herself turn green.
“The what women?” Chrissi asks hesitantly.
“The Virtuous Women!” Nahal booms with joy and the surrounding women stand and clap, then just as quickly sit back down. “Ms. Ethel is a mighty woman who came here once, long ago. I was but a little girl and she showed me so much joy and love. I can still feel her hug. We have heard many stories of her since from the earthly plane, and Roi tells us she has done many great things! Loving and kind things.”
“Even though she has difficulties!” a small Asian woman interjects from two huts down. She beams and sits back down to paint a beautiful blue clay pot.
“Yes,” Nahal confirms, “many great things even through hardship. You are a lucky girl Chrissi Lee to have such a beautiful woman with such wisdom to guide you in life.”
“Yeah, I am,” Chrissi smiles. “Please, just call me Chrissi.”
Nahal smiles even bigger in return, “Oh, I will!” then she turns to Lesia, “You, child, have such greatness before you! Lesia Walters, our uniter.” She taps Lesia’s nose in playful affection. Lesia is taken aback, no one was ever so proud of her, nor expected so much. “Now you, bright, brave, and bold Phil Jacobson, friend to all, you will be mighty and share your knowledge with many. Oh I cannot wait!” Nahal claps her hands together in excitement and several of the women nearest them follow suit. “And you,” she turns to Kesil, placing two fingers against his chest. His shoulders tighten. “Kesil Pike, you must stick closely to your path,” she says carefully, like a warning, “then you, too, will see greatness and peace.” Her bright smile returns and caresses his face gently, in motherly fashion, before quickly turning around to face the village. “Follow me!”
***
After playing with many of the children they are finally able to rest a few minutes before dinner is served. As the sun set men came flowing into the village from all around with various meats or goods. They sat down on the floor to a low round table with Nahal’s family. Her two young daughters sat still, speaking respectfully but not without six- and eight-year-old vibrancy.
“My daughters, Kodomay and Chazie, share the gift of encouragement, we are so proud! They will have special places in our village,” Nahal says proudly.
“A guide like you mama!” Kodomay says, beaming in her seat next to Chrissi.
“Perhaps,” Nahal says carefully. “Or perhaps greater,” she say
s looking at Lesia. The two girls smile at Lesia with wonder and admiration in their eyes.
“Where did they get this gift?” Lesia asks, hoping to deviate this strange new form of attention to anyone else.
Nahal ponders the quandary, “Many answers will come soon enough. You may know King Roi has many gifts he bestows. He gives knowledge, healing, humility, encouragement,” her daughters beam at the mention of their shared gift and lean into each other tenderly, “and he gives order, mercy, and generosity.”
“Doesn’t everyone have the choice to be these things?” Lesia asks, thinking what an awful “gift” humility would be.
“Ah,” Nahal’s husband speaks for the first time since returning home, “frankly no, child. Roi has bestowed a special gift to each of us, a gift he knows we will benefit most from and can handle. He spends much, much time knowing each one of us to truly recognize which gift we ought to receive. That is special, a gift carefully chosen and wisely given.” He stands and puts his dishes in the sink. “Girls? Ready for bed?” He motions for them to follow suit and they put their dishes away and run to a shelf, choose a short book and scurry off to their bedroom. As the group finishes their meal in bits of hushed conversation, they can hear the father reading charismatically to his giggling daughters.
“Is this what the journey is for, then? A gift?” Chrissi asks Nahal.
“Perhaps, for some, but everyone is different.”
Not long after dinner everyone goes to bed. Kesil and Phil retire next door while Lesia and Chrissi settle in the girls’ room. Six hammocks hang around the room in pairs like bunk beds. At least she can they can sleep far from each other, Chrissi tries to give herself some solace in sharing a room with Lesia. Chrissi chooses one near the door and lies down without hesitation. She looks straight ahead out a window that provides a perfect view of the star-filled sky.
To Chrissi’s surprise, Lesia climbs into the hammock above hers. Nahal’s daughters are sound asleep, evident by their deep, rhythmic breaths. Lesia and Chrissi lay in uncomfortable quiet for a few minutes until Lesia breaks the thick silence.
The Reconciling [Part 1] Page 7