by Andrea Engel
Sadie stood unimpressed and regretted letting Mom teach her. The feeling intensified with each passing second.
It was an hour later by the time they touched briefly on each of those “basics.” One very tiring hour.
“Okay, let’s try to put it all together,” Mom suggested. “Stand here, and put your hand on my shoulder.”
Sadie did as instructed, but as Mom counted out the beat, Sadie pushed away.
“This is just too weird! I don’t know if I can do this with you, Mom.”
In an instant, the look of enthusiasm on her mother’s face shifted into one of sadness. “But Sadie, we used to do this kind of stuff all the time. Don’t you remember? I used to pick you up and swing you around.” She reached out and tucked a wayward strand of Sadie’s hair behind her ear. “We’d sing songs and laugh until our stomachs ached.”
Sadie nodded, then shook her head. “I kind of remember, but that was so long ago. I’m not a kid anymore, you know.”
“You’ll always be my little girl.” Her mom lowered her deep-brown eyes and sighed. She was far away in thought and time. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”
“Weird, Mom. Like I said, weird.”
“Come on. Give it another try. Don’t think about it so much.”
“I’m sure I won’t be the only one who doesn’t know how to dance properly. You act like I can’t do anything. I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
“Oh, come on Sadie. You know I don’t think that.”
“Really? I think you do.”
“Well, that attitude isn’t going to get us anywhere. Come on. Let’s continue.”
Sadie let out a groan. “I think we’ve done enough for today. I’ve got geometry homework to do. Maybe we’ll try again later, okay?
Mom’s shoulders slumped. “Of course. It’s just that this is the first time in a long time that I have your full attention. I was enjoying our moment.”
Sadie shrugged. “Well, the moment’s passed. Thanks for the lesson, Mom. See you later.” She walked down the hallway. Before entering her room, she turned to see her mom staring at the floor. Her expression gave her sadness away. Sadie hesitated. Part of her wanted to go back but also didn’t.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
A River of Golden Fire
“Mr. Finn, are you okay? You were yelling. You were yelling at that girl again. Telling her to stop staring at you.”
Finn pushed Basset off him, ignoring the worried look written all over the younger man’s face.
“I’m fine! I’m fine. I don’t need you clawing all over me. Always asking me how I am. Always asking me where I’ve gone. It’s perfectly obvious I’m right here.”
“But Mr. Finn, I never know where you are half the time. After all those years of never leaving the cabin, all of a sudden you’ve started disappearing for days at a time, leaving me alone to worry.”
“Nonsense. I only ever go for a couple of hours at most.”
Basset dropped the subject…again.
Finn got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, shoulders slumped, dragging his feet. A lot had changed over the many years since he had first seen the girl outside his window. She came to his dreams often. Staring at him. Laughing at him. But this time, it felt different. He was shaken.
He stared at himself in the mirror. More than three decades had passed since they had come to live in the cabin. Lines flooded his face now. Gray covered his head. There was a tremor in his reflection too.
Fire swirled up behind him. The muscles in his back tightened and flexed in anticipation of the searing heat. If this was his final exit, he preferred to see it coming. He turned to face the inferno but was met with only the white tiled wall of the cramped bathroom.
There was no heat. No searing flesh.
He turned back to the mirror. This time he saw a towering tree in the distance, rising upward, its trunk expanding until its chest burst open. A flash flood of golden lava emerged, rushing down the hill through the trees. Nothing burned in its path. It glowed its fiery light all the way down to level ground.
The girl peered from behind the tree. “Finny,” she sang to him.
Shocked at hearing her call his name, he almost lost his balance. He held on to the sink for stability.
He stared at the mirror, looking to see what she would do next.
“What did you do to me, Finny?”
The piercing light from her eyes zapped through the mirror and knocked him over. Finn banged the back of his head on the towel rack on his way to the floor.
“Mr. Finn! Are you okay?” called Basset from the other side of the door.
“Yes, Basset.” Finn felt the back of his head where his thin hair was now matted, sticky with warm blood. He heard a high-pitched beep, barely within his range of hearing. He sat up and smiled. “I’m more than okay. I’m perfect.”
Finn rushed out of the bathroom. “Pack a bag, Basset. It’s time to leave.”
“Leave, Mr. Finn? What do you mean ‘leave’? When will we be back?”
“We aren’t coming back. It’s time to move on.”
“I don’t understand. What happened? Mr. Finn, you’re bleeding. I don’t think this is such a good idea.”
Finn looked down at his bloody hand. He brought it up to Basset’s chest and pushed him hard against the wall, holding him there. “I know I’ve given you a lot of leeway over the years, but I don’t need your questions, fleabag. Do you understand? You’ll do as I say. Remember your station.”
Basset opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“I remember now. I remember everything they did to me,” said Finn. “They won’t get away with it.”
Finn’s eyes blazed into Basset’s. He loosened his hand on Basset’s chest, and the younger man fell to the floor. He got up, frantic, unable to look Finn in the eyes.
“Yes, Mr. Finn. I’m sorry. I was out of line. It will never happen again.”
“It’d better not. We have a lot of work ahead of us, and we can’t go about it in a haphazard fashion. I need you at your best. Can you be that?”
“Yes, Mr. Finn. Of course. I’ll do anything you ask me.”
“Good. That’s settled. Let’s get out of here. I want to be there by morning.”
❄❄❄❄❄❄❄
They traveled down Route 63 until only fumes remained in the beat-up Ford truck. The engine started to knock.
“I need to pull into that truck stop for gas,” Finn said. “If you need to go about your business, make it snappy. We don’t have time to waste.”
“Yes, Mr. Finn. I’ll be fast.”
Ten minutes later, Basset emerged from the mini mart, a big bag of barbecue potato chips in hand. As he climbed into the truck, Finn snatched the bag.
“You weren’t going to eat those, were you?” Finn asked, yanking the bag open and releasing the pungent aroma into the cab.
“No, Mr. Finn. They’re all yours.”
“Yes. They are, aren’t they?”
At the next gas station, Basset came back to the truck with two bags of chips. He handed one to Finn, who stifled a smile. He’s obedient but brave. I’ll give him that. Basset stood with the other bag in his hand, looking at Finn.
Finn rolled his eyes. “I suppose I’ll let you keep one.”
They drove through the night, stopping only when necessary to refuel or answer the call of nature. Finn took the first stint, driving for four hours before relinquishing the driver’s seat back to Basset. It was just past three in the morning, after several hours of the best sleep Finn had in years, when he settled in for the last leg, his destination firmly in mind. “Rest up, Basset. I need you on your toes when we arrive.”
Dawn announced itself with a whisper. Low-hanging clouds, gray and foreboding, flew southward in a hurry.
“Wake up. We’re here.”
“Where’s here, Mr. Finn?”
“Back where it all began…and now where it will end.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
/> Butter Flutter Flies
“Where is it?” Sadie pulled the clothes from her drawers, looking for her appreciation stone.
She’d seen a flash of its light and felt peculiar twinges during the dance lesson with her mother. It’s gone. It can’t be gone! “Oh, come on. Don’t take it away from me.”
She also felt a twinge of guilt.
Sadie knew she wasn’t exactly nice during the lesson, but she couldn’t help it. Her mother got under her skin. Sometimes every word was like a banshee’s piercing wail. How could anyone bear that?
Fifteen minutes later, exhausted and defeated, she gave up on her search and lay down for a minute.
❄❄❄❄❄❄❄
Make it go away! The thunder’s so loud. How can it be this loud inside the house?
Sadie was in that familiar place, caught in the shadow nightmare, as incessant thunder rolled overhead.
She crouched on the floor in the kitchen. The booms were the loudest she’d ever heard. She crawled under the table and covered her ears. It was no use. The refrigerator knocks were muffled but not the thunder.
Crack! Ow. It’s inside my head. How’s that possible?
Rrrip. Sadie discovered the source of the noise. The roof unhinged as if it were a zipper tearing apart. Red eyes stared from above. They were large, like those of a giant.
“Make it stop, Sadie!”
The side of the house blew away. Sadie peered out, stunned by Mom’s presence. What’s she doing in the rain? And barefoot? Mom stood immobile in the mud. Her clothes were soaked.
“Help us, Sadie!” Mom cried.
The twins materialized, cowering in a huddle with Mom.
“Why aren’t you helping us, Sadie?” they screamed.
Red eyes blazed at her from above with rumbles of laughter. She was more terrified for Mom and the twins than she was for herself.
“Why won’t you make it stop?” they pleaded.
Sadie’s eyes opened. There was finally peace although the thunder in her head still reverberated. I’ve never heard it inside my mind before. Why were Mom and the twins there? What did they have to do with anything?
Her breathing slowly returned to normal.
I can’t think about this now. Whatever that was, Sam will help me forget.
For more than two weeks, Mystashan had been quiet—no calls or nudges and no recent visits—but it lived in Sadie’s thoughts every day. It felt good to have Sam to keep her company. He seemed so charming. Spending time with him helped her gain distance from the misery of school and home, providing a much-needed distraction from her longing for Mystashan.
Sadie walked over the little footbridge to where Sam stood. It was their favorite spot this week. They met there as often as they could.
The bridge overlooked one of the creeks that wove through the neighborhood. They sat on a bench watching the water rush through the rocks. Sometimes, when the water was low enough, they used those same rocks to navigate to more private places. With welcome chivalry, he offered his hand to help her cross.
They set up a picnic under the comforting shade of the laurel oaks.
“Hey, Annie. Take a look at this,” Sam said, pointing.
“What is it?”
He grinned. “See for yourself.”
Sadie looked over the railing, and there, on one of the smaller trees, were about two dozen butterflies. They flitted with graceful abandon, wearing combinations of sapphire, hot pink, and deep purple among others—colors so alive she wondered whether her recent trip through the Saponi Straime had something to do with it. Because of their dazzling movements, she was unable to count all the shades, tints, and hues. She glanced at Sam, who also seemed caught up in this moment of awe.
“Oh, wow! That’s so cool. I love butterflies.”
“Who doesn’t love butterflies?” He nudged her with his elbow and winked.
Her face reddened, but she looked at Sam and smiled. “I could stay here and watch them flutter all day and never get bored. Especially if I was with you.” She blushed again. She hadn’t meant to say that. She didn’t want to scare him away. It had kind of slipped out. They were only friends after all.
Sam held the back of Sadie’s hand in his palm. With both their palms facing up, they reached out together toward the butterflies. She watched his face and couldn’t turn away. She felt the warmth of his skin.
He smiled. “Watch.”
A single butterfly flew up to greet them. It settled on Sadie’s palm. The butterflies in her stomach fluttered in harmony with the gentle tingling on her skin. The tiny breeze from the flapping tickled, but Sam held her hand steady. It was as if the tiny being knew it was safe with them and would only fly away when all three were ready to let go.
After their once-in-a-lifetime moment, the butterfly lifted off just a little, hovering before it took off in earnest.
“Thank you for showing them to me, Sam. That was…I don’t even have the words.”
“Of course, Annie. I want to show you lots of things. Are you ready for the dance? I’m excited about going with you.”
“It’s gonna be a lot of fun,” Sadie agreed as casually as she could. Until you meet all my “friends” and find out I’m not exactly who I say I am.
They walked back to the street corner where they always met and said their good-byes.
“See you later, Annie.” Sam bowed and lifted Sadie’s hand to his lips.
“Until next time, Sam.” Sadie smiled, no longer caring about the heat in her cheeks. Then she headed home.
Tomorrow would mark the beginning of the third week since her ejection from Mystashan. She’d been over and over her last visit in her mind. What did I do wrong? She couldn’t figure it out. As far as she was concerned, Thelo either didn’t hear her or didn’t care.
Her stubborn streak didn’t allow her to approach Banyan about this abandonment. She wanted more than anything to go back. Knowing that Mystashan existed—that so many of her guesses about the mysteries of her dreams and the universe were true—gave her a sense of hope.
It also didn’t hurt to have someone else to talk to. Someone who was as kind, curious, and yes, yummy, as Sam. But he couldn’t be around all the time, and in truth, she grew bored sitting in her room alone.
She thought about this afternoon with the butterflies. How warm and caring Sam’s touch had been. Calm seeped in and took the place of her tension and anxiety. What’s up next on the Sadie agenda? she wondered.
She checked out her book collection. It was the one resource she always turned to that never let her down, no matter what trials plagued her life. She hadn’t picked up a single volume since her return from the Saponi Straime, which was highly unusual.
She approached the wall of books, running her fingers over the well-worn spines, thinking maybe she would choose by color, when she spied a book she didn’t recognize.
This is strange. What’s the title? Dark Secrets. Hmmm…intriguing. She flipped to the first page. “Written by Mr. Felix.”
The book dropped to the floor, the binding side up, as Sadie took a few steps back.
Wait. What? She moved cautiously back to where the dark-blue spine waited. Am I reading this correctly? Yep. That’s what it’s called. She rubbed her eyes. Ohhh…not Mr. Felix—Matt Helix. Get a grip, Sadie. Get a grip.
She picked up the book and brought it with her to her window seat, which was, hands down, the best reading place of all time. She flipped through the pages to get a sense of its essence, when her finger stopped with random determination on page sixty-three. Weird. Sixty-three. That’s how old Grandma Rose was when…
At the top of the page were some handwritten words. Examining them, she saw they were in Gramma Rose’s own hand: “Only Rose knows.” She read over the simple phrase a few times. The ink faded soon after.
Sadie frowned. “Why does this keep happening? What are you trying to tell me? And how am I supposed to figure it out if every time I see traces of you, they disappear?”
/> She realized she was getting upset. She stood up and paced the length of her room, back and forth. What is it with all the mystery, everybody? You take me here. You send me there. You put a book in my own personal bookshelf, yet you tell me nothing, and you do it with words. Who the heck does that?
On her third lap, she spotted the music box. Thinking of Gramma Rose brought tears to her eyes, but they didn’t fall. She remembered how Gramma’s house always smelled like butter cookies and chocolate. Thinking about her baking, she walked back over to the window and picked up the book again. She ran her fingers over the space Gramma’s words had occupied. Sadie closed it and placed it back on the shelf. “I’ll figure it out, Gramma. I will. Don’t give up on me, okay?”
Leaning against the wall, she took a huge breath and let it out slowly. Her thoughts were calm now. Pleased with herself for not losing it, she reflected on what just had happened. She smiled. In the past, Sadie might have thrown something across the room. This time she dealt with her frustration much differently.
Sadie felt a tug on her light-purple hoodie. She reached into one of the pockets and smiled. It was another clear stone. They didn’t forget about me, she thought.
Turning it over, she read, PATIENCE.
“Really? Me?”
Sadie, it is time to come back. Please bring the music box.
“Okay, Thelo. I’m coming. And don’t worry—I’m not even upset with you anymore.”
I do not worry.
As with everything in Mystashan, the colors were deeper, richer. Everything gave off a brighter light than Sadie remembered seeing in her whole life, except for maybe the butterflies. The colors also reminded her of how paints blended together in layers, the way they created vivid hues, brightening even what she knew to be shadows. The nearest she could come to comparing that part of it would be how her black light in her bedroom made different colors—only the colors here existed without the darkness. There were shining dots with a luster that she imagined to be tiny star shepherds whispering encouraging tunes to all the plants around.
There were fragrances here she’d never dreamed of before. They were the best parts of vanilla, cinnamon, roses, and a touch of something completely unknown. They all mixed together in a new way, without a name. It smelled delicious here, indescribable.