“What happened?” Devon asked.
“I was stabbed,” Jameson replied.
“Who did that to you and why? Who could want to hurt you?”
Jameson shrugged.
“Come on, tell me,” Devon urged. “Who would do such a thing?”
“For you to understand I need to fill you in on the nature of my mother’s work.”
Jameson lit a lantern, sat on the floor of the tent, and detailed the story as Devon listened.
* * * *
When the seeds had begun to sprout and taken their fill of sun and water, Doc Jo Jo transferred them into their own pots and tucked them inside the greenhouse. She arranged them on a long table in the back. She fussed over her the seedlings, talking to them and feeding them bits of tobacco.
“They look like marijuana plants, Mom,” Jameson noted, peering over Doc Jo Jo’s shoulder.
“How would you know?” her mother asked.
Jameson shrugged, “College life.”
“Hmm, the things you learn in college,” her mother scoffed.
“I don’t smoke pot, don’t worry.”
“I know you’re too smart for that. Nevertheless, you are right about the plants, they are a cannabis hybrid. This plant has granted me my ten-year stay. I bred the cannabis with murdannia loriformis and created what I call Mercy Weed.”
“How did you do that?” Jameson asked. “That’s amazing.”
“Thank you,” Doc Jo Jo smiled. “It is a feat, is it not? If only I could sell it legally, the lives I could prolong.”
“What about cannabis therapy? I thought they legalized it medically.”
“Government grown, government regulated. I could go to jail if the wrong person found out about this. So I will teach you how to grow and care for my wonderful Mercy Weed just for the sake of posterity.”
“Why bother if we can’t help anyone else?” Jameson asked.
“Even a crazy medicine woman like me has a pinch of vanity for her life’s work. Open your notebook and let us begin. I am going to test you on the herbal teas, so I hope you’re ready. I won’t accept anything less than an A plus.”
Jameson sighed. “I should have gone back to school.”
In the weeks that followed, Jameson studied. She had little time to sleep before her mother had her drying, curing, pulverizing, and packaging. Together they cooked leaves and roots and reduced them for tinctures, ointments, and creams. Jameson wrote down everything her mother taught her. It took twenty-seven spiral notebooks to hold all the information.
When Doc Jo Jo was satisfied with Jameson's schooling, they sat and finished the conversation they’d started.
They enjoyed a cup of tea at the kitchen table. It was Jameson’s special blend, her thesis, so to speak.
Doc Jo Jo made a grand production of smelling the tea. “Marvelous!”
She inhaled. “Mom.” Jameson rolled her eyes.
“Aroma is important in herbal tea, peppermint very nice.” She sipped. “Oh, cocoa?”
“It’s peppermint chocolate tea, like a Peppermint Patty.”
“Very unusual,” Doc Jo Jo said. “Does it have any healing properties?”
“It’s my remedy for the sweet cravings during the menstrual cycle. I call it Peppermint Mood Serum.”
“Very interesting,” Doc Jo Jo praised, seeming to enjoy the tea. “Very clever, PMS, very clever, indeed.”
“Thanks,” Jameson beamed. “Here are the ingredients.” She handed her mother a sheet of notebook paper. “It also has a mild diuretic as well as a few well integrated calming herbs.”
“Well done,” Doc Jo Jo smiled as she reviewed Jameson’s recipe.
“It’s great with a splash of cream, too,” Jameson added some cream to her mother’s cup.
“You’ve made me proud. I appreciate your loyalty to my work and to this place itself. Your father and I bought this piece of land when Elk’s Pass was just a two-lane bridge. This place drew us to it by a divine force. I have always felt this location is infused with the energy from ancient tribes. Their deep-rooted spirituality and tradition are ghosts that haunt this land still today. My knowledge comes to me in dreams and visions of healers past. My courage comes from warriors who fought to keep this land. My fortitude comes from the ingenuity and sheer will to survive in a culture exiled and excommunicated from their property. I have always felt so alive and liberated here. It’s as if God’s radio is always tuned in here.”
Jameson nodded. “I feel connected here, too. I promise I will keep those ghosts from fading away. I’ll journey and dream and I’ll keep our legacy alive.”
“You’re a good daughter.” Doc Jo Jo smiled as she struggled to her feet.
Jameson jumped up to help her, but her mother waved her away. “Don’t forget Lauren is doing a crystal healing class here tonight. Would you mind locking up for me? I’m going to my room and watch a little television. Tell Lauren I’ll see her on the astral plane.”
“I will, Mom.”
Doc Jo Jo pinched her daughter’s cheek on the way out of the kitchen. “You’re a fine friend, too. I always have enjoyed your company.”
“Thanks, Doc, me too,” Jameson tried to smile but the way her mother moved lately made her heart ache.
“Good night, Jameson.”
“Night, Mom.”
Jameson sat there a while staring at her mother’s empty chair. Her words echoed and hummed in her head. I always have enjoyed your company.
Berry whined from beneath the table.
“Do you have to go out?” Jameson asked, peeking under the table. “Come on.”
Jameson snuck a cigarette from her secret hiding place in the fridge, the butter dish, and headed out back door for Berry to do her business.
Jameson sat on the back step and lit up, contemplating the depth of what her mother said. It was true. The property on which they lived was animate. Jameson always attributed her gifts of sight to the high vibration of the land. Her connections to the animals that lived around them had always been profound, and now her understanding of the plants and trees was as boundless. She felt empowered by her newfound knowledge and basked in the glow of her mother’s praise.
Good night, Jameson.
Jameson looked up at the owl perched on the roof of the greenhouse. It fixed her with its wise, knowing eyes. Jameson glared at it.
You are a good daughter.
Jameson’s annoyance gave way to fear. When she looked deeper into the owl’s eyes her fear escalated into terror.
And a fine friend.
She dropped her cigarette and sprung to her feet. She screamed for Berry to come into the house but didn’t bother to wait.
She bounded through the kitchen and up the stairs to her mother’s room, the weight of the owl’s stare heavy on her heart. Her pulse raced and her ears felt muffled. Tears streamed down her cheeks. An anguished moan escaped her before she reached the top step because Jameson knew it was too late.
She hesitated in the doorway of her mother’s bedroom, her breath ragged.
Her mother lay on her back appearing peaceful in the soft glow of a candle by her bedside.
“Doc?” Jameson whispered, entering the room. “Mom?”
Jameson went to her and reached out a trembling hand to touch her face. “Mom?” Her face was cold.
Jameson sunk to the floor and wailed in despair. “No, please, no, please no!”
She gripped her mother’s hand and patted her face. “Wake up, Mom, please, please, I can’t lose you. Wake up, wake up, please don’t go!”
* * * *
Lauren Martine entered the store greeting them in her lilting Creole accent, a tall woman ambling into her seventieth year. Her maple colored skin a road map of experience, her light gray eyes dulled by arthritic agony. Despite her pain and sudden sense of foreboding, Lauren forced herself into levity.
“I have arrived! What’s simmering in the cauldron tonight, my friends?”
She put her notebook and purse
on Doc Jo Jo’s desk. When she turned back around Berry was standing there.
Lauren Martine jumped and clutched her chest with a narrow hand. “Oh, Berry, you scared the hell out of me. What is wrong with you? You look like you have seen a ghost or something. Joann? Did I leave a ghost behind at that séance we had here last week? ‘Cause this dog look like she’s seen the devil himself. Doc! Where is everybody? Jameson?”
Berry tugged at Lauren’s skirt and ran to the stairs.
Lauren Martine didn’t need a crystal ball to know something was wrong. An alarm went off in her head and she moved as if hypnotized across the store and up the stairs. Berry waited for her at the top of the stairs. She led her to Doc Jo Jo’s bedroom door. Through the open door, she saw Jameson huddled on the floor beside her mother’s bed, weeping.
Lauren’s legs went limp and she had to catch herself on the wall. She slid down the wall and sat there stunned as silent tears streamed down her face. Berry went to Jameson and tugged at her clothes, but Jameson didn’t respond.
Berry barked at Lauren and tugged on Jameson’s shirt again. Lauren found the legs to stand and entered Doc Jo Jo’s room. She knelt beside Jameson and took her in her arms. Jameson wailed in despair as she fainted against Lauren’s chest. Lauren rocked and soothed her, casting tearful and forlorn glances at her best friend’s lifeless face.
“Come on, let’s go downstairs.” Lauren pulled Jameson to her feet. “Come on, baby, let’s go. Let’s get something to calm you down.”
Jameson was too weak to stand. Lauren held her close, and together they moved as one down the steps.
“It’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of everything. Just sit here and relax.” She put Jameson in a kitchen chair and went out front to get some of Doc Jo Jo’s calming tea.
* * * *
Later, the back door stood open and the night draped over the door like a black blanket, smothering all sounds. Jameson looked down at the cup of tea her mother enjoyed. The milk had curdled. Jameson picked up the teacup and pitched it out the door. She bolted out into the night, seeking solace in the star filled sky. She noticed the owl still settled on the greenhouse roof, comfortable with his perch. He blinked at her indifferently.
“Get the hell out of here! Do you hear me? Go away!” She found the teacup on the ground and chucked it at him. She missed him by a mile.
She dashed into the woods with Berry in pursuit, her destination the stream. She didn’t stop running until she tumbled face first into the water. She remained seated in the shallow water, hypnotized by the moon’s light dancing on the surface, her fists clenching and unclenching. Her eyes were hard and remote. Her abrupt and radical loss of faith made her feel dull.
She wanted to lie down under the water and take a deep breath. Berry barked from the edge of the stream. Jameson looked at her pet. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there or how long Berry had been barking.
Berry tried to come in to the water but Jameson gave her the signal that stopped her. Berry sat and whined on the bank.
I come to you with a message.
Jameson was not surprised to see the owl sitting in a nearby tree.
“Go away!”
I am not the bringer of death, simply its messenger.
“Deliver your message and go away.”
She has seen Wakan Tanka. Keep your faith and you will never be alone. We are all one, here as in the other realms.
Jameson she crawled out of the stream. Jameson sobbed at the owl, “No! No, no, no!”
You will not live this life alone. Love will find you and you will find it, too. First, you must walk the wheel.
* * * *
In the month’s following Doc Jo Jo’s passing, Jameson relied heavily on her mother’s Sleep Tea. A ruckus in the kitchen hauled her from her deep slumber. She heard Berry barking and what sounded like a man’s voice. She slipped into a pair of moccasins, armed herself with her walking stick, and headed down the stairs.
She kicked open the swinging door and snapped on the light. She gasped. Berry had the intruder pinned against the counter.
“Berry, hold.”
Berry growled but obeyed.
“Who the hell are you?” Jameson demanded.
He stared at Berry as if she were rabid and gnawed his filthy nails
“You have two seconds to tell me why you are in my home before your balls become a midnight snack for my dog.”
“Heard you sold weed,” the man slurred. “I wasn’t gonna hurt anyone.”
“You are the one who is going to get hurt and I do not have any pot, you jackass. Where did you get an idea like that?”
“Everyone knows,” he said.
“That’s absurd. Get out of my house you fool.”
A noise outside said he wasn’t alone. In the instant Jameson and Berry reacted to the sound, the man punted Berry out of his way. She yelped as she slid across the kitchen floor.
He snatched Jameson’s head back by her hair.
“Where is it?” he demanded, his breath putrid from cigarettes and rotten teeth. “Folks who sell pot usually have money hidden.”
“I told you, I don’t sell pot you asshole,” Jameson yelled, struggling in his grip. She recognized him as one of the local ‘Injun’ haters who lived for hunting season. Who sat in bars and bragged about their kills.
“Maybe I'll take a piece of you.’
Jameson reached around and squeezed his balls. His squealed like a startled pig and doubled over, gasping.
“You never should have come here,” Jameson seethed.
“Let go, you fuckin’ dyke,” he wheezed.
“Misogynistic asshole.” Jameson wrung his jewels like a wet rag as he slid down the counter, delirious from the pain. Berry scrambled to her feet and charged him.
On his way down, he grabbed a kitchen knife. Jameson released her grip and ducked from the blade. He flailed at her, still blinded from the pain. He was lucky with the knife. Its blade sliced open her stomach as one might test the temperature of a nice steak. Jameson stomped his balls like a vat of grapes.
* * * *
Berry was on him. She clamped down on his hand before he used the knife again. Berry was fierce. She ravaged his hand as he moaned in agony. She bit down harder, tasting the salty sweetness of his blood in her mouth. She felt savage. She shook her head as her father might have done when taking down prey. He tried to get to the door but Berry pulled him back. He fell and hit the kitchen floor with his face. He rolled over and Berry went for his throat. He found the strength to horse-kick Berry then scrambled out of the kitchen door into the snow.
* * * *
Jameson heard him call out to his accomplices by the greenhouse. “Run! Run!”
“Shit, what the fuck is that?”
“It’s a wolf, man, haul ass!”
“There’s a whole fuckin’ pack of them, oh shit!”
Berry led the pack, Rubek, Kai and the others responded to Berry's call. The wolves chased the three men to their car. The last man pulled his leg into the car as Rubek gnashed on his ankle, stripping off a tuft of skin. Jameson heard the man’s cry of agony and defeat long after the car was gone.
The wolves disappeared back into the woods, and Berry rushed home, her breathing haggard and her ribs bruised.
Jameson sat at the kitchen table holding a bloody towel against her stomach. She rushed to her master’s side, whimpering.
“I’m okay, girl, don’t you worry. You did a great job.”
Jameson used the table to pull herself up and called Lauren Martine.
“Just because I can sew pillows and things don’t mean I can sew up a human being,” Lauren wailed. “Why don’t you go to the emergency room?”
“Because, I don’t want to,” Jameson replied.
“Girl, you remind me of your mother, you know that? You’re as stubborn and hard-headed.”
“I know,” Jameson agreed. She’d cleaned the wound and applied some of Doc Jo Jo’s special balm. She took a long pu
ll from an ancient bottle of brandy and handed Lauren a curved needle.
Lauren took it, shaking her head. “This is not going to be pretty,” she warned. “Tell me again why you think those hoodlums came around here looking for marijuana? What in God’s name would make them think a nice upstanding young woman like you would have that ass-grass around here?”
“Ass-grass?” Jameson chuckled despite the situation.
“Yeah, smoking grass makes you act like an ass. Why do you think they’re coming around here?”
“Because I grow it,” Jameson admitted.
“What? Jameson Jordan, I guarantee your mother is spinning in her grave. What the hell are you doing growing that stuff? Are you broke? Do you need money? If you need money you better sure let me know.”
“Calm down and sew me up before I bleed to death, please. I do not need money and I do not grow it to sell. I grow it and breed it with another plant. It’s my mother’s holistic cure for cancer.”
“You mean her Mercy Weed? That’s no cure.”
“You know about it?” Jameson asked wincing as the needle pierced her flesh.
“Of course I know about it, I was there with her through all of her appeals to the grant committees, they wouldn’t hear any of it. They don't want a cure for cancer, too much money to be made in people dying. Doc almost found one, though.”
“What do you mean, almost?”
“A single component eluded her.”
“Maybe that component was left for me to find,” Jameson mused.
“Wrong. It’s illegal and dangerous. Look at the trouble it’s caused already. Guess what I’m going to do? I am going to stay the night with you tonight and in the morning make sure you get rid of every bit of that vile weed. You hear me? That is the way Doc wanted it. Respect your dead mother.”
“You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right, you don’t want a bunch of crazed drug addicts breaking in and cutting you, right? Let this be a lesson to you child. Heed my warning. I’ll put a protection around your house later.”
“Thanks,” Jameson winced, biting back the pain with another pull from the brandy.
“I still don’t know how they found out that you’re growing it.”
“I was giving the Mercy Weed to someone.”
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