A distant howl chilled her. It sounded like Moon. She rolled off Jameson. “If this is real then all of it is real.”
Jameson sat up. “This is spiritual ground. Some say it is a gateway between the worlds.”
“So the animals were real.” Devon touched her lips swollen from their kisses. “I'm sorry for being so bold.”
Jameson laughed. “You should see my fantasies.”
Devon felt shy under Jameson's longing gaze. She felt the caked blood on her face and stared at her swollen ankle. “In my fantasies I look a hell of a lot better than this.”
“I believe this belongs to you.” Jameson offered her the Gucci loafer.
Devon took the shoe and grimaced. “I don’t think it fits anymore.”
Jameson placed her hand upon the ankle. “It’s not broken, but it is badly sprained. I can wrap it for you and dress the wound on your head.”
“How did you know Moon’s name?”
“I know her, I witnessed her birth.”
Jameson pulled Devon to her feet.
“Of course you did. Sorry, but I don’t think I can walk.”
“I see that.” Jameson handed her the flashlight and scooped her up. “I’ll carry you.”
“You can’t carry me. That’s absurd.”
Jameson carted Devon through the trail. “You’re light as a feather. Relax. My place is closer than you think. Hang on, though, and hold the light ahead, please.”
“I feel ridiculous.”
“You sure are worrier, Devon.”
Devon liked the way she said her name.
“Seriously, though, I really feel like an idiot.”
“Why, because I’m carrying you?”
“No, because I left my other shoe back there.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jameson emerged from the woods, glistening with sweat despite the frigid wind.
She felt as though she was coming home for the first time, carrying her bride over the threshold. She giggled and put Devon on her feet.
“What’s so funny?” Devon asked.
“I feel like a child again.”
“Me too.”
She turned around and there it was, as grand as an oak and just as tall, Elks Pass Sundries, the tepee shaped store.
“It's just as I remembered. Do you and your mother still live here?”
“Well, my mom died almost ten years ago, but I still live here.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too,” Jameson admitted.
“You stay out here all alone?”
“Yes.”
“Scary,” Devon frowned, looking back at the dark woods.
Jameson shrugged. “I guess I’m used to it. Come on, let’s get inside, I hear someone calling for you.” She scooped her up and headed to the kitchen door.
“You got my car,” Devon exclaimed as they passed the greenhouse. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Jameson grinned.
“Hey, there’s the greenhouse where you kept the wolf puppies,” Devon squealed, channeling her inner child. “God, this is some weird coincidence, huh? I am almost certain my mom got Moon here. Am I right?”
“About Moon yes, about coincidence, no.”
“Come on, it’s all a huge coincidence,” Devon argued as they reached the back door.
“I don’t believe in coincidence. I believe in destiny.”
She put Devon on her feet again and held her around the waist to keep her steady. Their eyes locked and Devon felt as though time slipped and she was a child again.
She reached out, touched Jameson’s hair, and whispered, “I have never forgotten you.”
“I have often wondered about Shadow Wolf.”
Devon smiled wanly. “That was the high point of my vacation that year. Of my life, actually. Do you remember we almost kissed?”
“Of course, I remember. Sometimes good memories are hard to come by.”
“Do you always have something wistful to say?”
“Wisdomisms, that’s what my mom and I used to call them.”
Devon fluffed her hair and smoothed her rumpled shirt.
“I better get Moon before she tears down your door. I can’t wait to check into a nice hotel, take a hot shower, order room service, and raid the mini bar.”
“You can stay the night here if you want,” Jameson offered. “It’s not five star, but at least you won’t have to drive with your swollen ankle. I have an amazing ointment for your head and a wonderful herbal tea that will ease away your pain.”
“That’s very tempting.”
“I also happen to have some wine in the fridge. It’ll be fun. We can have a slumber party and catch up on the last fifteen or so years.”
“Oh, my god,” Devon breathed as she touched the heart-shaped locket around Jameson’s’ neck.
“I have never taken it off.”
“I just put mine back on,” Devon smiled. “I wore it for years but my aunt made me take it off for my sweet sixteen party.”
Jameson helped Devon into the kitchen. “It kept us connected.”
Jameson saw the owl on the greenhouse roof, watching. She scowled at it as she closed the door behind them. As Devon and Moon shared a playful reunion she watched the owl through the kitchen window. She sighed with relief when it finally took off and vanished into the night.
* * * *
Jameson led them upstairs to her loft. Devon curled up on the couch with Moon beside her.
“This is cozy. I love the recessed lighting on the ceiling.”
Jameson lit a few candles. “My dad built this place. He loved unusual architecture. Well I guess that’s obvious.” She struggled with opening a bottle of wine. “I’ve never been good at this.”
“May I?” Devon asked, taking the bottle and wine opener from her.
“I saw my mother open one with a butter knife once,” Jameson smiled.
“I’ve opened one against a wall with nothing but a towel,” Devon said. “I guess necessity is the mother of invention, right?” She removed the cork without a crumble and handed the bottle back. “That was a good wisdomism, huh?”
“Yes very good. I wish I’d written all of my mother’s sayings down.” She perched on the coffee table with an ice pack on Devon’s ankle. “She used to say things like, ‘fly high and you can see more clearly’.”
Devon took a generous sip of her wine. “I seem to have heard that today,” Devon muttered. “You don’t have to hold that all night. It’s numb. Come sit next to me. There is a big black bird out there stealing your mother’s lines.”
“She is highly quotable. How does your head feel?”
“Whatever was in that tea of yours really worked and the heat from your hands brought the swelling in my ankle down immediately. What did you do on me, energy healing? Reiki?”
“Yes, something like that.”
“Jameson you are magical and I am awestruck by your talents. Thank you again for rescuing us.”
“My pleasure.” Jameson smiled. “I’m glad you’re going to stay. Look at Moon. She is out for the night. You both need to rest. I want to be sure you are both in good condition before you get on the road again, and no more drinking and driving.”
She topped off Devon’s glass.
“That’s one way to get me to stay.”
“It’s settled then.”
“Is that your bedroom?” Devon referred to the room behind the divider.
“That was my mother’s room. It is my art studio now. This has always been my bedroom. I set it up as a living room because it is more functional this way. The couch pulls out into a bed. You can sleep here. It’s really comfy.”
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“I have a cot I’ll set up for myself in the other room.”
Devon narrowed her eyes. “You can’t be this nice.”
Jameson shrugged off the compliment and sipped her wine.
“So Berry, the puppy I met when we were fourteen, was Mo
on’s mother? Isn’t that some strange shit? I know you don’t believe in coincidence, but, come on, it’s weird.”
“It’s not strange. Our lives go in a circle, joining end-to-end and continuing. Sometimes you are able to see the joins but sometimes where the circle meets is vague.”
“Is that the kind of thing your mother used to say?” Devon asked.
Jameson laughed. “Yes, actually it is.”
“So since she passed you’ve live out here all alone?”
“Most of the time.”
“And sometimes she stays with you?” Devon asked, reaching over Moon and picking up a framed photograph from the end table.
Jameson said. “Our visits are rare. People grow apart and realize they were never together, at all.” She took the photo from Devon and put it face down.
“That’s for damn sure,” Devon agreed. “I know that firsthand. It breaks my heart to think of you out here all by yourself.”
“Why?” Jameson asked.
“I don’t know why,” Devon said. “My own loneliness, maybe projection.”
“I’m used to being alone.”
“Me, too,” Devon admitted, avoiding Jameson’s eyes.
“This wine is good.” She slid down onto the couch. “It’s nice out here. Peaceful. Listen to that, wow. Listen to the wilderness out there.”
“Yes, it lulls me to sleep every night.”
“I love the way the moon winks in through that high window over there. I love it here,” Devon whispered.
“You do?”
“I love it.”
Jameson stroked Devon’s hair and watched her face in the candle’s glow. They talked about mundane things.
Devon finished her wine and rested her head on Jameson’s lap, her legs draped over Moon’s dozing body. She gazed up at Jameson and stroked her braids.
“I can’t believe it’s you,” she breathed. “And I can’t believe you are wearing your hair in braids.”
Jameson laughed, only when I exercise. She touched Devon’s face, tracing the outline of her lips with her forefinger.
“What does this mean?” Devon asked. She felt a warm glow wash over her. She stared into Jameson’s glistening eyes. “What does this mean?” she repeated, taking Jameson’s hand and kissing it.
“When two souls are meant to unite physical form is irrelevant. It is society that imposes limitations.” Jameson breathed. “The moon and the trees and the animals don’t care. They observe with delight the blessed union of souls.”
“That was beautiful,” Devon muttered as she met Jameson’s kiss.
When they pulled away Devon stared up at Jameson’s wild eyes and whispered, “Tell me what you thought about the day we met and tell me about your mother.”
Otherwise known as the greatest day of my life?” Jameson said. “I can show you, close your eyes and let me take you on a relaxation meditation. Imagine the day we met, the climate, the time of day. See me, the greenhouse and the wolf puppies. Relax and breathe.”
Devon obeyed. She took three deeps breaths and let Jameson guide her.
“Smell the flowers blooming in the greenhouse, see the puppies, see me.”
* * * *
When the girl named Shadow Wolf was gone Jameson went back to check on the puppies. She put the escapee back inside and closed the door. Doc Jo Jo would scold her if the puppies escaped and tunneled their way into ‘no man’s land’. Behind the greenhouse, in a perfect and tidy fifty-foot-by-fifty-foot square, was her mother’s herb garden. A place no one but Doc Jo Jo entered. It was a place where her mother experimented with her hybrid plants. She had a recent and long awaited victory when one of her experiments began to cultivate. To ensure their safety, Doc erected a six-foot privacy fence composed of wood elaborately woven through with chicken wire to enclose the area. On the gate was a heavy padlock and Doc Jo Jo wore the only key on the chain around her neck. The garden was Doc Jo Jo’s pride. She would spend hours weeding and fussing over her plants while Jameson tended the store. She would dry the plants and use their roots and leaves for ointments, creams and various teas. She sold them in the shop along with her own blend of tobacco.
Her customers knew her well, and trusted her. Her regulars found her to be eccentric in light of the tepee shaped store but inspired by her deep connection to Mother Earth. She often did lecture circuits on her hybrid plant research and the Native American mythology. The local tribes knew her for what she was, a medicine woman. They still came to her for healing of the spirit as well as the body. To Jameson she was Doc Jo Jo, Mom, or Crazy Plant Woman. She was a teacher and a joyous companion. She was tireless in her patience and infinite in her knowledge. Nevertheless, she was a perfectionist who was obsessed with her life’s work, a hybrid herb that was still in its elementary stages of development. The plant liked direct sunlight and lots of water. Regrettably, many of the animals that inhabited the nearby woods found the plant irresistible. Doc Jo Jo, consumed with keeping the critters out and her new plant safe, summoned him for protection.
Jameson knew he was still out there, watching her. She sensed him in the woods beyond the garden, camouflaged in the tangle of trees. She sought his yellow eyes. She had given him a simple signal that said all was fine and not to worry about his young. She gave him another signal now and he came to her.
Her gaze did not falter as Two Stars approached her. He loped along the edge of the garden and stopped at the green house door. She knew she must never show him fear. He was a wolf after all, not a loving pet like Ducks, but a wild and untamable creature. He liked Jameson and often nuzzled her and allowed her to stroke his matted head. He smelled to high heaven, he had some burrs on his legs, and it appeared one was bleeding. Jameson took a piece of the meat her mother kept in the greenhouse refrigerator and offered it to him hoping he would come in, hoping he would stay. She wanted to get some ointment on the cut and to snip off the biting burrs.
Two Stars fixated on the meat and moved toward her, his head bent low, but by no means acquiescent. He limped, and as he got closer, Jameson saw that his hind leg was torn. A flap of skin hung like a pink tongue and was matted with dirt. He stopped and greeted his young as they pounced at him and nipped at his feet. He moved past them for the meat. Jameson placed it on the ground before her. Two Stars snatched it and limped from the greenhouse back into the woods.
“You’re going to get him killed, child,” her mother said, appearing in the doorway.
“Why do you say that?” Jameson asked.
“If you feed him from your hand you make him see people as bearing food. He could get shot if he approaches someone.”
“He avoids people, you know that,” Jameson told her.
“The other wolves won’t tolerate him if they know he doesn’t hunt for his own food. They will think of him as weak. Perhaps he is a lone wolf and has no pack to protect him.”
“The other wolves won’t let him in their pack? That’s not nice,” Jameson, pouted. “Why?”
“Perhaps he won’t succumb to the hierarchy or is too impatient to wait his turn to become the alpha wolf.”
“I think it’s because he loves Ducks and the other wolves don’t like that.”
“You believe prejudice and judgment exists in the animal world as in our own?”
“Yes, I do,” Jameson, declared. “And I think Two Stars is the king of all the wolf packs, that’s why he’s not in just one.”
Doc Jo Jo nodded, moved by her daughter’s insight. “Do you see what you just learned from Two Stars? Perhaps that was his purpose, to teach you about hierarchy and humility. Meanwhile, toss the meat into the woods next time as I do. Trust me it’s safer for all concerned. Besides, you fed him our dinner,” her mother laughed. “The wolf is fed but we’ll go to bed hungry tonight.”
“That hunk of meat wasn’t our dinner. You got it for Ducks and Two Stars,” Jameson giggled. “You said we’re having spaghetti tonight at the Italian restaurant in town.”
“Did I say that? I ca
n’t remember,” her mother teased.
“You said it, you know you did,” Jameson said hugging her.
“How are the pups doing?” Doc Jo Jo asked, stroking her daughter’s untidy braids.
“These pups really favor Ducks, especially Berry. They don't look as wolfy as the last litter. Thank you for letting me keep her.”
“I’m glad she makes you happy. She will be a longtime companion, train her well and with a stern hand.”
“I will,” Jameson promised.
“Did you make a new friend today?”
“Yes, Devon. She doesn't realize she has two mothers.”
Her mother smiled. “Talk about a stern hand, huh?”
“The dark haired mom is aggressive and wants to control Devon because she is afraid of what she might become,” Jameson nodded. “The other mom is natural and easy. She looks familiar to me. I think she has been to the store before. Well, they sometimes argue over the girl on how to raise her. It confuses Devon and makes her mad.”
“Devon seemed taken by Ducks,” Doc Jo Jo noted.
“She loved the puppies. She has no fear of wolves.”
“I’ll bet she’d be afraid of Two Stars.”
“Nope, she met him and wasn't afraid. He liked her, too.”
Jameson knew he watched them from the woods. “I wish Two Stars could come live with us. I worry about where he sleeps and if he’s scared in the dark.”
“He sleeps with his ear against the breast of his mother earth,” Doc Jo Jo philosophized. “The dark holds no fear for him as it might hold for you.”
“But his leg is torn and bleeding.”
“I’ll dress it tomorrow. It is getting late. Let’s get inside and get washed up for dinner.”
“I gave Devon my arrowhead.”
“You did? I thought you said you’d never give up your first carving.”
“I know, but I was compelled to give it to her.”
“Compelled?” Doc Jo Jo grinned.
“Yes, she needs it for courage and balance and for drunkenness.”
“Drunkenness? She couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen.”
“Later on,” Jameson replied. “When she’s grown.”
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