Thank you, my sister.
“For what?”
You are generous to feed me. I like you very much. You smell nice, like a fresh bath and the flowers Devon always keeps on her night tables.
Jameson sat on the kitchen floor next to Moon, not surprised that she had spoken, only that it took her that long to do it.
Your eyes are warm and kind, but in their depths is immense sadness. I can see the sorrow. It clings to you like a murky shadow. Sometimes, like when you were cooking the hamburgers or inspecting Devon’s car, the sadness goes away, but mostly it’s there.
“I guess I am sad,” Jameson admitted.
I would be fierce for you. I am not supposed to be ferocious. I am not to show my teeth or to growl. Devon said it is bad manners. I am a wild animal and that is sometimes my nature.
“Yes, you are more wild than tame. You are a high content hybrid although you don't look like it. I understand it is difficult for you to suppress your feral temperament and I apologize for domesticating your species. Do you understand why?”
So humans can learn.
“That’s right.”
Jameson grinned at how daintily Moon ate. “You do have very nice manners,” Jameson joked.
Thank you.
Moon followed Jameson through the swinging door and left the kitchen to explore the store. Jameson watched as she discovered the aisle with wonderful smelling herbs, candles and incense, medicine pouches, crystals and books.
“I make those candles and dry and pack the herbs myself.”
Jameson grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight from behind the counter. “Why don’t you go upstairs and rest? I will be back before you know it.”
Moon obeyed. She trotted up the stairs and hopped onto the couch. Jameson looked up at her.
“Thank you for bringing her back.”
I promised I would, it just took longer than I hoped. She is difficult to train. She clouds her mind with dirty water.
“I will help her,” Jameson said.
Thank you, Raven Song.
Chapter Five
Jameson went out the back door and tried to ignore the owl. She followed the path between the store and the greenhouse into the woods. The wind died down and as had the flurries. She trained her flashlight ahead and traversed the well-worn path.
She hiked the trail countless times with Berry armed with her camera and ready to shoot. The two would wait until a rabbit or a raccoon or maybe a coyote would appear, so Jameson could snap the photos she would paint later. As a rule, Berry chased off her subjects by barking or leaping out from her hiding spot to scare Jameson.
Jameson smiled at the memory but the sudden pain swept the grin from her face. The tears she held back earlier now flowed like a sudden summer shower. She caught her breath as if punched in the stomach. The thought of Berry made Jameson drop to her knees. A small sob escaped her and she doubled over on the ground. She saw her mother’s face. It was a stranger’s face, stern, and surreal with her head resting upon a ridiculous satin pillow.
It was unusual timing but her grief bounded into the boxing ring. After five years of suppression, Jameson was in for a fight. Uppercut: Berry getting shot and the snow growing red beneath her. Left hook: Finding her mother dead in her bed, looking mystical in the candle’s glow. Right cross: Her mother’s casket as it lowered into the earth and the sound of Jameson tossing in the three ears of corn. Bang bang bang. Three bangs like the sound of the three shots that killed Berry.
Jameson clutched her heart. She was down for the count. “Why? Why now, why now?” she sobbed.
The answer came to her in a Doc Jo Jo wisdomism.
If you refuse to change, the world will change you anyway. Clean house and assess your belongings, keep what you need and toss out the rest. Regret and guilt are wasteful, clutter. Refresh yourself. It is time for renewal.
Jameson heard this, not with her ears, but with her being. “I guess that was a long time coming,” Jameson whispered. She knew her sorrow sprung from the hope.
Jameson composed herself and continued her quest through the woods to find Moon’s owner. She touched the locket around her neck. It was a matter of time until they would meet again.
Jameson spied something on the trail ahead and picked it up. She smiled, knowing she was going in the right direction.
Her raven landed on an erratic branch. It bent and bowed under the bird’s weight.
There is no hurry. She has much to experience yet.
“You watched the entire episode?”
Facilitated and observed.
“Tell me what you’ve seen.”
Close your eyes and I will show you.
Chapter Six
Oddly, she was calm in the face of danger. Devon’s life did not flash before her as she heard it did in times of peril, instead it was her future she considered now. Would she live to see her next birthday? It would be her first birthday as a single woman in ten years. He wasted all of her twenties with their sham of a marriage. Devon had been optimistic about her future of freedom. Now that freedom was tenuous at best.
She waved her monogrammed hankie. One of the dozen Trevor gave her last Christmas. Perhaps the bear would retreat if she waved a white flag of surrender. Maybe the creature would even let her live by virtue she was a Danforth.
Your name or social station bears you no entitlement here.
Had the animal spoken or was she still feeling the effects of her last drink? She must be smashed because she was hyper-aware what the bear said.
I am Mudjewkeewis, spirit keeper of the west.
Its voice came from the wind, yet the air around them was still. He studied her as if she was new fruit on an old tree. Devon tried to scoot away. She became aware one of her feet was missing its shoe as her frozen toes grazed the bear’s shin. The fur was damp and not as soft as she imagined.
“Sorry!” she said, aware of how silly her apology was.
Mudjewkeewis fell upon her, his breath hot on her face.
Devon screamed, and pulled herself into a fetal position, bracing herself for the shock of his bite, the cleave of its claw. It did not seek her flesh. The bear cradled her as if she were an infant. She was aware of the animal’s body heat and his rapid heartbeat as she fainted. In all of her worries and wonders of her own death, Devon Danforth never dreamed she would die at the hands of a bear in the middle of the eerie woods.
When she regained her senses, she was still victim of the bear’s grip. She slumped in its arms, sharing an odd bond with her captor. She buried her head against its matted chest and sobbed.
The bear rocked Devon, breathing its sultry breath upon her face to stave off the cold. Her fear began to dissipate as Devon realized she was dreaming. She stopped crying and sought its clever eyes. She went along with her dream.
“Have you seen my dog? Her name is Long Snows Moon. I have searched as much as possible but my ankle is sprained. Maybe it’s broken. Do you know where she is? Did she survive the fall?”
As the bear rocked her, Devon became relaxed enough to close her eyes.
I know many things, my sister. I offer you wisdom of the west.
Devon slurred, “I hope she’s okay. She fell over the bridge. It was a hellacious fall. It had to be a hundred feet. Moon, where are you?”
The creature you call Moon has led you here.
“She has led me here?” Devon murmured. “What do you mean? Why?”
The answers you seek are not contained within a bottle. They are here within this land.
“How do you know about my drinking? Where is my flask? Did you take my flask of bourbon, Dream Bear?”
We have much in common but your taste for dirty water is not among them. Rest now, for soon your sleep will end and you must reap what you have sown.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Think back to how you came be here in these woods and you will understand.
* * * *
Devon was reborn, baptized by the dirty
water with a raging hangover as her penance. She awakened to raucous pounding in her head. The mid-morning sun raked across her face and pried open mascara-glued lids. She sensed Moon standing over her and her disdain. Devon hid her unholy face beneath a pillow.
“I’m not taking you out. Walk yourself,” she mumbled.
Long Snows Moon barked twice and dug at the covers until Devon peered out with bloodshot eyes. “I mean it, I’m not talking you. You have a dog door, use it.”
Moon barked in her face.
Devon narrowed her bleary eyes. “Moon, you are mean.”
Moon barked again and bounced off the bed.
Devon grimaced when she saw last night’s vomit on her blouse. She was reluctant to glance at her bedside vanity mirror, but her masochistic side prevailed. Her baby blues were black and blue. Her make-up slid across her face as if molten lava and she slept in her puke stained clothes from last night’s party.
Moon found her leash and flung it at Devon. She caught it and stuffed it under her pillow. Moon’s bark sounded like a scream.
“You know I don’t feel well,” Devon groaned. “Please go out by yourself, but first will you get me a soda please?”
Devon was grateful when Moon obeyed. She used the knotted piece of rope tied to the handle to open the small bedside fridge. She took a soda can from the fridge and flung it at Devon.
Devon caught it. “Thank you.” She sat up, shielding her eyes. Judging from the glare through the French doors, it had to be around eleven.
“Why did you let me sleep so late?”
Moon barked once and closed the refrigerator door with her rear end. She bounced back onto the bed, burrowed beneath the pillow, and dug out her leash. She shook it back and forth, whizzing it by Devon’s face.
Devon snatched the leash. “Enough. You know I am not fun when I have a hangover. I need something to perk up this soda, a little hair of the dog, if you know what I mean.”
Moon barked twice and trotted to the balcony doors. Devon scowled as Moon pawed open one of the doors and left Devon to her own devices.
“You could get me a nip from downstairs. Just a tiny bottle, what can it hurt?” Devon called after her.
Moon ignored her, hopped up onto Devon’s favorite chaise, and observed a black bird as it sunned itself on the adjacent chair. Devon chuckled when the bird strutted and squawked as if speaking to Moon. Moon barked at the bird as if answering. It seemed Moon spoke fluent bird.
Devon slid out of bed. Her bathroom was as wide as a vault. She trudged up to one of the twin sinks to brush her teeth. Devon stripped and studied her body in the mirror. She was lean and toned and although twenty-nine, her face showed signs of drinking. Although, her affluent lifestyle was conducive for massages, expensive hairstylists and Botox, the effects of boozing became obvious around her eyes.
“I look like a zombie.”
She grimaced and picked a twig from her hair. “What the hell did I do?” Her nails looked like she’d dug a grave with her bare hands.
Moon appeared her with leash in mouth.
“What happened to me last night?” Devon used a nailbrush to scour her filthy hands. “I don’t remember anything about the evening. What did I do?”
You drank dirty water and sang to the moon.
“Dirty water? Who said that? Is someone here?” She peered into her bedroom. It was empty. Moon was back on the balcony with the bird.
“Dirty water,” Devon snorted. “Who calls it that? That’s absurd.”
Moon stared back at her through the French doors with a smile.
“Okay, I need to scratch Grey Goose off my list,” Devon muttered.
She put on her running clothes and whistled for Moon. Together, they descended the stairs. Devon stopped midway.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Moon raced back up the stairs and returned with her leash.
Devon snatched it from her and smirked. “You’re not so smart after all.”
Chapter Seven
Moon dragged her away from the estate. They jogged the three miles to Pine View Parkway, the four-lane highway they would cross to their favorite path in the woods.
When they reached the trail, Devon unlatched Moon’s leash.
“One, two, three, go!” Devon called out their usual game.
They sprinted side by side for a while. Devon felt Moon’s fur on her thigh and the heat of her breath as they raced. Devon took the lead for a second before Moon tore away leaving Devon with a mouthful of dust.
She laughed and wiped the dirt off her face. As if, she could outrun a wolf hybrid.
Moon waited in the clearing, looking as smug as a dog could. Devon fell into a sweaty heap. She inhaled the wintry air. Moon charged her and pretended to bite.
Devon wrestled with her pet until Moon chased a squirrel. She reclined on the grass and stared at the sky. A memory from the party tickled her brain. It was a dark something. A something she drank into her subconscious, until she was unconscious. Yes, it was that bad. Devon’s usual m.o. was to ignore a problem until it went away, but this one was nagging at her.
Devon draped her arm over her eyes and groaned as the memory came raging back. She was peripherally aware of the raven atop a nearby tree.
* * * *
The party was a success, but anything Claire Sommers-Danforth did was absolute perfection. It was Devon’s mother, Analise’s, fiftieth birthday and of course, Claire had seen to every detail. Champagne flowed from several fountains, as well as served throughout the rooms. The buffet started at the front door with delicious canapés and caviar and ended up in the main dining area with beef Wellington. She grimaced at the carving station display with all the usual barnyard favorites. Devon avoided looking at the meat feeling the revulsion rattle her as she watched the caterer slice into a quivering hunk of meat.
“Hell of a blood bath,” she whispered in her mother’s ear. “I think there are a mother duck and her babies left in the pond,” Devon teased.
Her mother looked radiant. Her honey-blond hair swept up and she wore a simple cashmere skirt with a black sweater to match.
“Oh no, we got them, too!” she pointed to the serving line. “Duck a la orange?”
“Disgusting.” Devon hugged her mother. “Happy birthday. Where’s Dad?”
“Thank you, honey. He’s over there with Burke. They flew in for the night. They’re leaving in the morning. I suggest you say your hellos and your goodbyes at the same time.”
“Don’t we always?”
“Where’s Moon?” Analise asked.
“She’s waiting for me in the car.”
“Aren’t you staying? Come on, honey, there are plenty of things you can eat, lots of seafood, some nice salad, and fruit.”
“Right now I think I’ll have a drink.”
Analise scowled.
“I’ll have an olive or two in it. Olives are nutritious, good fats, easy to digest.”
Claire appeared behind her and gave Devon a squeeze. “There you are.”
Devon hugged Claire as she was made of thorns. “Everything is magnificent. You have outdone yourself as usual.”
“Your mother is worth it. Doesn’t she look fabulous for fifty?” Claire asked.
“Yes she does. You both do,” Devon said.
“You beat me to it last month,” Analise reminded Claire.
Claire draped her arm around Analise’s neck. “And together we’re one hundred years young. Ooh, there’s Misty Howell, I have to go mingle.” She kissed them both and sailed away.
“Where’s Trevor tonight? Up to his usual tricks?” Analise asked.
“Very clever, Mom, but remember, you picked him for me.”
“Don’t remind me,” Analise rolled her eyes.
“Don’t remind me,” Devon sassed, studying her mother. “Are you all right? You sound as if you’re still sick.”
“I haven’t been able to shake this cold,” Analise admitted. “I would have preferred to relax
by a nice fire tonight with a few friends, but you know how Claire is.”
“Oh, I know how Claire is, Mom,” Devon stated, ashamed of her derision but unable to stop it.
“She means well, sweetheart,” Analise chided.
“Does she?” Devon asked with a raised brow. She headed for the bar before her mother responded.
She scanned the crowd for Trevor as she ducked, and dodged kisses, hugs and hellos all the way to the patio. Devon ordered a martini and a cup of water and perched on a chair overlooking the expansive yard. The night air was brisk and still. The party raved behind her.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked.
She didn’t bother to look up. “You know it is.” She whistled and a few moments later Moon appeared from the shadows. She hopped onto the adjacent chair. Devon held out the glass of water for her to drink. Moon drank while holding Trevor in place with her eyes.
“I need to talk to you,” he demanded.
“So talk,” she replied, putting down the water and scratching Moon’s head.
Devon refused to look at him, but Moon held him with her gaze. When Trevor placed his hand on Devon’s shoulder, Moon growled and Trevor retracted his hand.
“Call off your dog.”
“She hasn’t done anything, yet. Say what you have to say and leave us alone or I’ll ask her drag you out of here by the front of your pants.”
“You know what I have to say,” he said.
“Say it.”
“I want a divorce.”
“Gee, what will the neighbors think?” Devon asked.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“I’ll give you a divorce on one condition.”
“What is it?”
“Get me another martini.” She held out her empty glass.
Trevor retrieved her drink and stormed away. Devon remained on the patio chair in her antisocial pose for half a dozen martinis, until the need to relieve her bladder.
Devon caught herself on the back of the chair and took a few deep breaths to hold back the nausea. She would rather not heave up Grey Goose and green olives in her parents’ back yard.
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