by Curtis, Gene
With a shrug he said, “Is that all you have is questions for me—I was hoping that you would have some answers—any answers.”
LeOmi turned to leave.
“Hold on there. Sorry—I have been working on this for a long time—I guess that I can be…”
She paused by the door. “I have to think about all of this.” She looked over her shoulder at the hole in the carpet.
“Is Compton staying here in the city?”
“Stay away from him; he is not to be trusted by any means. He seems very confident and wise—in his own eyes. That always means that they are up to no good. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”
LeOmi walked out the door and turned to follow the outer wall. By the time the Sergeant had made it to the door to see how she had gotten there—there was no sign of her, almost like she had disappeared.
Sergeant Polaris took another deep draw on his cigar, he blew out the smoke and watched it disappear the same way LeOmi had just done.
Shaking his head, he stepped out of the building and began to pull the door to. Smoke was still encircling him from the cigar clinched between his teeth but, he saw a shadow—a figure of something—in the corner of the saloon main room. Yet when he quickly pushed the door open again there was nothing there.
Once again, he stepped out and pulled the heavy door until he heard the lock catch into place.
He said, “Why isn’t anything easy?”
* * *
There were days that Bekka wished that she had a real job. This was one of them. She sat underneath the ancient Olive Tree on an old gnarled root that stuck up out of the ground. This was the finest—most serene place that she had ever found. —She needed it after what she had experienced today. Her note pad was out and she was jotting things down, her head shaking back and forth which seemed to be the case whenever she made entries under the name: LeOmi Jones, candidate for enrollment.
That Detective, Sergeant Polaris almost saw her today.
There were strict guidelines to be followed especially with LeOmi, but Bekka couldn’t help bending the rules and stretching them as far as was possible. The Council was very specific—but Bekka knew that if LeOmi was just given a chance that she could prove herself. Still I can’t be sure of LeOmi. What side would she choose? But there were those who felt there was little if any hope for LeOmi.
There are some people that you just know are going to make it—no matter what it takes. She had learned this from Tim, her FTC: Field Training Counselor. He hadn’t interfered at all since she was cut loose and promoted to a true Counselor—not Counselor in Training. If he were here now he would be lecturing “…this process is very important and all the guidelines are there for a reason,”—and on and on…but if that were true—then why would they call them guidelines? I can make it work—I just hope that no one will mind that I helped out-- just a little.
Chapter 3
Your Temper Can be an Asset, If You Know How to Use It
The ritual of dinner always made LeOmi nauseous. Why Grand-Mère felt that a lady should dress for dinner was beyond what LeOmi could understand? She was given an allowance from Grand-Mère—through Hannah of course, to insure that she had proper clothing. Grand-Mère would not be the object of people’s gossiping, unless she wanted to be.
Her mother had always done the same thing, dressing for dinner. As father’s days were supposed to end at five p.m. and he was supposed to come home at that time, then we would all go into our tiny dining area and eat our dinner on fine wedding china. It was supposed to bring the family together but her father hardly ever made it home on time—if for dinner at all. LeOmi’s brother and sister were away at school all the time so generally it was just her and her mother.
Yvonne, her mother, was always angry at someone: her husband, her children or herself. Dinner was absolutely no fun at all.
Grand-Mère was no different. She was also always angry, no matter what.
If LeOmi was fifteen minutes early they just sat there and wait until promptly five p.m. No conversation—only the angry scowl, at least it always seemed like it. They would sit quietly and lady like and Hannah would serve the meal. After it was over—LeOmi would ask to be excused and she would go to her room which is where she spent the rest of the evening, reading library books, studying for school assignments, or thinking.
But the dinners were infuriating. Her goal to “be the best” was always something that she strove for whether it was at dinner, school or at the gym. She didn’t make friends easily even at the best of times and Grand-Mère didn’t make it easy or even a working possibility. After Henry was gone there was only Hannah--who tried to be all rough and tough on the outside but was really a behind the scenes ally for LeOmi, in her own way.
Tonight, as dinner was served, LeOmi said, “I have a few questions that I would like to ask you.”
Grand-Mère just sat there and continued eating her soup. Spoon down, gently ladle, spoon up, slightly sip—no noise, head erect and back straight. Again, spoon down, gently ladle…LeOmi watched. Grand-Mère said nothing. It was as if she were deaf.
Hannah came in with the rolls; Grand-Mère didn’t look at either of them. She just continued…spoon down, gently ladle…
LeOmi shook her head. “Grand-Mère, my mother is dead.”
Still, gently ladle, sip.
Hannah also stood there watching Grand-Mère and then as if she had realized what she was doing, she turned and abruptly left the room.
“Grand-Mère, do you know anything about my mother’s death?”
Grand-Mère took a roll and gently buttered it.
LeOmi lost her patience and prepared to get up from the table, but first she slammed her spoon down. Grand-Mère said, “It doesn’t feel good to be ignored does it?”
LeOmi sat back down.
“I know that your mother, --also known as my daughter, is dead. But you may not begin a discussion with those words. It would seem that I don’t even know you, and I certainly will not begin to learn more about you by discussing the death of your mother, my daughter.”
Grand-Mère’s commanding voice was enough to leave LeOmi dumbstruck and with no response at all. Grand-Mère smiled her pleasure at putting LeOmi in her place.
“Now we will discuss what has brought you to me, here in New Orleans in the first place. Let it be known that I know that all...all things happen for a reason. I had not known the reason for your presence here before this past week. Still it is not completely clear.”
“Hold on Grand-Mère, are you telling me that all this has happened because it was supposed to happen?”
“Why yes, of course.”
How can she be so calm? LeOmi felt her left leg start to twitch and then suddenly the muscles had a mind all their own, her leg started almost vibrating up and down. LeOmi grabbed the muscle above her knee; she almost gave herself a Charlie Horse she grabbed it so hard.
Grand-Mère looked down her nose at LeOmi. “Why else would your mother have left New Orleans and married your father, a man far below her means.” Grand-Mère seemed to be speaking to herself, “Going off and having a house full of sniveling children, forgetting about her Ma-Mère who had given her everything that she could desire.” At this, she got up and started to pace the room.
Hannah quietly came into the room and removed the soups, replacing them with the second course—rice, buttered and still steaming with the most wonderful herb aroma. LeOmi inhaled deeply. —Saffron?
Hannah did not look at either of them—only kept her head down and quietly left the room.
LeOmi picked up her fork and Grand-Mère stopped abruptly beside her—she uncharacteristically placed her hands on her hips and gave LeOmi the most silly and childish grimace. Grand-Mère always so ladylike and so prim and proper—now there was nothing that LeOmi could do but place her fork gently back down on the table. That is when the aroma reached Grand-Mère’s nose. Her face seemed to fall back into its normal shape. She turned and went back to her chair, all else
forgotten. She picked up her fork and began to eat.
“You hate my father don’t you?”
Grand-Mère was back to her old self now, not speaking and consuming her food in the most ladylike fashion as possible. She placed her fork down and started to address LeOmi, but she stopped as Hannah came back through the door. Hannah replenished water glasses and left a cup of coffee for Grand-Mère.
Stirring the coffee meant the end of the dinner. Now is when LeOmi usually asked to be excused. Instead she decided to change her tactics with Grand-Mère—which was probably just what Grand-Mère wanted—but …
“When I was a child, my mother was different. We would do things together—go to the beach, shop together, go on walks and then one day it was as if she was encased by a dark cloud. It was devastating to me. It wasn’t long after that she left for the first time. She came back. It was almost like she needed to be rejuvenated someplace, but then she left again. This time when she came back, it took less time for the cloud to come back. We no longer talked, no more walks, no more— ‘How was your day at school?’ It wasn’t long before that man came for her.”
Grand-Mère continued to stir her coffee. “What do you want me to say? That the same thing happened here—well that is true. Do you blame me; do you think that it is my fault that your mother left me as she left you? Well…” The rhythm of the coffee swirling in the cup seemed like a black hole. With impatience Grand-Mère resumed, “When you do things excessively wrong, you are always looking behind you to see who has almost caught you. Your mother has always had to look behind herself to see who was fast approaching. It seemed she liked the thrill of it. Don’t you agree?”
Hannah came in again to remove the dishes; this seemed to be grandmother’s cue. Grand-Mère stood up and left the room. She continued up the stairs to retire for the evening. Hannah and LeOmi watched as she went. “I hope that you are happy Little Missy. Tut, tut, tut.”
“Hannah, what is going on?”
“You will see how much wood is kindled by now a small fire. The tongue is a fire.”
“Who’s tongue, mine or hers?” LeOmi grabbed the back of the chair, and hugged it, “This is not what I want. I want to know why my mother was killed, why she left my father and me and why Grand-Mère hates her more than I do.”
“Little Missy, your Grand-Mère calls you her Petit Yvonne. That is what she calls you, can you not guess why?”
* * *
“Don’t be quick tempered. Attitude, if only you could remember. Say…I can do it. You must be loyal and dedicated. Not just physical training and endurance on the fighting field. It takes time and patience. Training is what every Magi needs.”
The voice seemed to resonate through her head.
Magi.
Fatigue always allowed for good restful sleep but tonight there was a voice that seemed to be trying to teach her something that she needed to know.
Was it Henry? Was it her father? It wasn’t her mother or her Grand-Mère or Hannah. Was it her guardian, from her dreams of long ago? Curiosity allowed the sleep to come again, and it came very quickly.
Chapter 4
Use What is Around You: Earth, Wood, Fire, Metal, and Water
It felt like LeOmi had been floating around in a dream. Just taking things as they came, but now it was like the sleeper car had stopped—with a jolt, tossing her out onto the tracks ahead. They would stop for a cow, or a mudslide, but would they stop for her?
More foggy haze, and then… in her dream she was yelling, No! Trip. Fall. Get your heel caught in the crack of the sidewalk. Anything. No matter how hard LeOmi yelled--her mother still walked down the path that led to the street. Seeing her mom break her neck would be better than this.
Mom. The scream was so loud that even the neighbors should have been coming out of their homes.
Finally, Yvonne DuBose Jones stopped. She didn’t turn.
Mom. This time the sounds were not quite so loud.
Still not turning, her mother tilted her head up, without seeing her face LeOmi knew the expression of impatience mingled with disappointment. She could almost hear, “I don’t want any of this.” But, there were no words. LeOmi held her breath. Yvonne lowered her head; the long black locks of hair fell forward, almost caressing the woman. Then as if with reformed resolution she stood tall and with a long sweep of her hand she positioned her hair with such perfection, with such elegance, with such beauty. Then she began walking again.
“I hate you!” This time the scream tore into the very air. It seemed to LeOmi that she felt the house shake and the trees move aside for the words. There was nothing left that she could do but watch as her mother walked out of her life and then everything was black.
The darkness swirled and took a shape, the shape of the wheel on the mantel and a soft voice, as if coming out of the darkness, kind-of like changing channels, kind-of like the gurgling retching of puking up your lunch.
Blackness wasn’t enough. It was like it was nothing, like someone had a huge eraser, smudging out what was in front and behind. There had to be a reason –not just nothing.
How long will it last?
The lunge from darkness to the wheel then...the tips of blue clouds. A lighter side, not like the sludge of the blackness. Not like the heavy weight of depression.
She was pulled back; something grabbing at her feet pulling her down again as if she were covered by a pool of tar, and then the soft voice began.
“All may destroy one another. Accused and Accuser. Both are the same. Come.”
Come?
“Yes, come. Come and enjoy the riches of the other life you were meant to lead.”
Lead?
“Yes lead. Be the one who makes the choices and avoids the traps. Be the one that survives, but not just survives –thrives. Thrives on the compassion, the love and the mercy. You will be weighed and balanced. Come.”
The smothering tar engulfed her again. LeOmi reached out with her hands and pulled herself through the sludge, the water of blackness, grabbing the roots of trees and grabbing the helping hands—the hands that showed compassion, love and mercy. Sobbing, she reached up and stood on her own two feet, in a desert. She was under a tree, the leaves shielding her from the blinding light of the sun—after such darkness.
At first everything seemed to be hazy—then the Mountain came into view, The Seventh Mountain. Somehow, she just knew it was The Seventh Mountain.
The mountain was massive, too massive for words. Then everything else around her focused. She seemed to zoom in on the old gnarly tree. Its roots were as large as the tree itself, olives hung down in bunches, heavily laden on the branches. The tree was planted in a huge pot, as big as a swimming pool, an oasis of its own, here in the desolation of a desert.
A person stood under it, looking towards the fuzzy outline of the mountain. Her long dark hair was simply pulled back and bound. She wore the long tunic of the Magi. She turned to face LeOmi and as she did LeOmi seemed to almost float closer and closer. The girl’s eyes, a shimmering blue, seemed to be penetrating and searching for the very heart of LeOmi. As LeOmi settled down beside her, the girl flamboyantly waved her hand out in front of her as she once again turned towards the mountain.
The fuzzy fog cleared and she said, “This is The Seventh Mountain, the school for Magi.”
The huge multi-tiered mountain stood tall. Taller and bigger than anything she had ever seen before.
“This is The Seventh Mountain. You will go to school here...you will.”
“If you do not succeed you will disappoint many people, but mostly, you will disappoint yourself.” She turned and looked deeply into LeOmi’s eyes. She smiled. Immediately the scenery changed from the spacious rock strewn desert to a dark room that almost seemed like an arena for the gladiators. A beam of light that came from nowhere drew LeOmi to the center of the room.
“This is the Council of Elders’ Chamber.” Looking up LeOmi could see that there was a sort of shelf of tall desks.
; “I’m Bekka, and I met with the Council here to speak for you. There are three categories that potential applicants for The Seventh Mountain are placed in. Number one—of course that is the good group. The ones that pass with flying colors: the thumbs–up, confirmed, high hopes and all that. There is the number three category, which as you can guess is the not so good group. No flying colors, no high hopes and afraid to say that the thumbs are down on this group. Not everyone is Magi material. Now there is the second group—the glass half full or empty—whichever the case may be. This is the group that you now occupy. Do you understand that?”
LeOmi nodded in her dream, but she understood in real life too.
“I have stood up for you. I feel that you can be a wonderful Magi, but the Council needs to be convinced. You shall be a student here for the first year. It will remain to be seen if you will be chosen to be a true Magi. School starts the first of September. Orientation starts the week before. Do your best and remember that there is more to being a Magi than physical strength and training.”
The Council Chambers faded and a boy was suddenly there in the darkness. He reached for a staff that was illuminated somehow by the sun in the darkness of a huge cave. As soon as his hand touched the staff, the cave melted away and he was in the Council of Elders chamber. He motioned with his hand for LeOmi to come and stand with them. In her dream, she walked over to his side. Several others were already there at his beaconing. Suddenly the whole chamber was filled with bright sunlight and the dream faded into darkness.
Then…it was as if she was fighting. The air was so heavy on her chest and then scratching and clawing, was it her own hands or was it someone or something else. It was as if she was far below the surface and the line had been cut. Then there was suddenly a bright light that had overtaken everything. She woke, gasping for air. She was in her little room in New Orleans, everything was familiar, but something had changed.
She lay back down, catching her breath. It was her twelfth birthday. She smiled and remembered there was a Magi in her dream.