“Who?”
“I can’t say,” Jameson stated. “I promised I wouldn’t tell. She doesn’t want anyone to know she’s sick.”
“You better tell me who she is right now.”
“I can’t. All I will say is I met her at the Moon Lodge.”
“The Moon Lodge? You know that’s nothing more than a hen house anymore, a bunch of silly women sitting around suffering over their men and their menstruation.”
“She’s sick and she needed my help.”
“Well, you keep her secret, child, but know this, she sure as the gods didn’t keep yours.”
* * * *
The next morning found Jameson sore and bitter about the night’s events. That gave her even more reason to gather her paints, canvas, and take off with Berry. Lauren wouldn’t get up early, Jameson had seen to that with by giving her Sleep Tea instead of her usual Orange Zest. It would give her enough time to hide one of the plants in the woods.
Her deed done, Jameson maneuvered her four-wheeler over the bumpy terrain toward Elk’s Pass Bridge. It was her desire to paint the bridge from below. She found her spot and set out her waterproof blanket, her paints, and her canvas. Berry bounded after a jackrabbit. Jameson smiled, wishing she had brought her camera to capture Berry’s rapture of the game. She sat and faced the bridge, overwhelmed by an odd premonition. She heard voices wafting over the landscape, but was unable to make out what they were saying, or from what direction they came.
She selected her colors and squeezed them onto her palate. Berry began to bark and took off running. Jameson jumped up and called after her, tripping and ripping her homemade sutures. She pressed her stomach as the blood oozed through her sweater.
“Berry,” Jameson called. “Come back here!”
Three shots rang out, perfect cadence perfect aim. All three bullets hit home and Berry fell to the snowy ground.
“Nooooo!” Jameson screamed. Her legs were heavy. She trudged as though she was in quicksand. By the time she reached Berry, the snow was heavy with blood. The jackrabbit sat beside her, as if giving last rites.
Jameson fell on top of her dog and buried her face in Berry’s icy fur.
“Stop taking from me!” she screamed. “Why? What more can I learn? What am I supposed to learn from this?”
The owl sat, obscured by a large branch, in a nearby tree.
The time has come for her soul to evolve. She has crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
Chapter Eighteen
When Jameson finished the story, the fire had reduced to embers. Moon snored like a buzz saw from beneath a stack of blankets on the other side of the tent.
Jameson lay with her hands laced behind her head staring at the moon’s light as it strained through the fabric of the tent. What a perfect metaphor for the body and soul. She smiled.
Devon wiped the tears on Jameson’s face, and whispered, “You have been through so much. You are strong, Raven Song.”
Jameson kissed Devon’s hand held it against her face. “Thanks for listening. I needed to get that out. I never told anyone.”
“I appreciate you sharing it with me. As I told you earlier, my story would take about five minutes. I haven’t endured as much loss and pain.”
“Pain is subjective. I am no worse for mine than you are for yours.”
“Another fine wisdomism,” Devon nodded, snuggling with Jameson.
“Do you think the men who killed Berry were the ones who broke in and stabbed you?”
“I am sure of it,” Jameson sighed.
“How is it possible they got away with shooting your dog? That’s horrible. I mean if anyone killed Moon, I swear I would be in jail.”
“Retribution was served and I didn’t have to forsake my freedom,” Jameson explained. “In these woods the animals rule. They maintain balance here and it is their duty to settle the score.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come with me.” Jameson pulled Devon to her feet and led her outside. Moon was right behind them. Jameson called out to the darkness. Moon responded to it with an excited bark. Wolves surrounded their camp.
“Do you remember Two Stars?”
“Of course, Ocumwhowurst.”
“My mother tried to make me believe that Two Stars was a lone wolf. I always sensed otherwise. Later I found out he belonged to a sacred pack. Two Stars would bear his lineage out of the forest and into civilization to expand awareness of wolf medicine. Berry was the daughter of Two Stars, and therefore protected by the pack. The pack exacted revenge on Berry’s attackers.”
“The wolves killed the men?” Devon breathed.
Jameson nodded and whispered, “I am still haunted by their screams. I couldn't stop it. It is the natural order of things here. Not that I objected, they got what they deserved.”
Devon noticed how Jameson’s eyes looked black and distant when she spoke of revenge. “As the granddaughter of Two Stars, Moon is protected, as well,” Devon said.
“Yes, she is. Look.”
Devon watched as Moon approached one of the larger wolves. He bowed as if to greet her. Moon yowled at him.
“He won’t hurt her, will he?”
“No he won’t. His name is Rubek, he is their leader,” Jameson told her. “Isn’t he beautiful?”
“Yes, he’s incredible,” Devon breathed.
Jameson gestured toward the wolves and they turned to leave. Devon yelled at Moon when she began to follow them.
“Oh, no you don’t, get back here, Moon.”
“They have welcomed her and wish to commune with her.”
Devon watched Moon disappear with the pack.
“She will be back,” Jameson promised. “They want to know her. They are taking her to meet her grandfather. It is time for Long Snows Moon to meet Two Stars.”
“He’s still alive?”
“Very much so.” Jameson’s eyes twinkled.
Devon began to follow Moon. “I want to see Two Stars.”
Jameson took her arm and pulled her back. “It is not your time.”
Devon yanked her arm from Jameson grip. “I want to go,” she snapped. Her eyes narrowed and her voice was a snarl.
“It’s not your time,” Jameson repeated. “Stay.”
Devon obeyed.
“Now, come,” Jameson commanded. Devon followed Jameson back into the tent, casting forlorn glances at the woods.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you. I don’t know what came over me. I want to be with Two Stars.”
“I know you do,” Jameson soothed.
Devon pouted and tried to suppress her anger. She wanted to tear off her clothes and run through the woods. She felt feral in the presence of the wolves and that wildness lingered.
In the distance, the wolves howled, a resonance so primal and free. Wildness pervaded her unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She felt her vision grow sharper, her hearing heighten. She was aware of her own body, the way her muscles flexed, the scent of Jameson as she responded to Devon’s heat. She tore off Jameson’s clothes. Devon was fearless like a wolf. She was eager with her mouth and daring with her hands.
* * * *
They awakened at the same instant, alarmed by a sound outside the tent.
“Moon is that you?” Devon called. “Come here.”
Moon pushed her way in through the flap and dropped the cell phone on the pile of blankets.
Devon stared at it as if it were going to bite. “Where did you get this?”
Moon looked over her shoulder and yowled, indicating outside.
“It’s my cell phone,” she told Jameson. “The hawk took it yesterday. How did you find it, Moon?”
Moon barked at Jameson as if she was trying to relate something.
“She said the hawk delivered it,” Jameson smiled, interpreting.
“Oh, come on.” Devon rolled her eyes as she studied the phone. Her hands trembled when she saw the missed calls from her mother. She donned Jameson’s sweatshirt and tucked the phone in the
pocket. She was not ready to deal with her mother.
“Moon, did you enjoy yourself last night?” Jameson asked.
Moon barked once.
“You are filthy,” Devon noticed. “Come here, you have dirt and leaves on your tail.”
Moon barked twice and ducked from Devon’s grasp.
The phone rang.
“It must be an important call if your phone was delivered out here,” Jameson observed.
Devon thought of the hawk that stole her phone. Had he brought it back?
She answered it.
“Mom?”
It was not. It was Claire on the other end and Claire who delivered the horrible news of Analise's terminal disease. Devon hung up and began to weep.
“What can I do for you?” she whispered.
“Nothing. I have to go.”
“Okay, I’ll take you back,” Jameson soothed her without asking why. “I’ll pack everything and we’ll leave.”
“Okay,” Devon sniffed. “I feel selfish because I don’t want to leave you. I have been happier in this day that I have been in my whole life.”
“You can come back.”
“What if I can’t? What if this moment is all we are supposed to have?”
“Well, it was a damn fine moment and I’m grateful for it.”
“So am I.” She pulled Jameson in for a deep kiss. As their mouths met, Devon had a flash of her mother kissing Claire that night. She felt no revulsion or awkwardness at the image. Instead, she understood the passion they’d hidden and protected for years. She felt their love and their freedom. She pushed Jameson on her back.
“Don’t you have to go?” Jameson breathed. “What about your phone call?”
“I need another moment with you,” Devon whispered, “and I know my mother would approve me taking it.”
* * * *
Later Jameson wrapped Devon in a blanket and set her outside by the stream. She packed the tent and snuffed the embers of last night’s fire, all the while casting Devon concerned glances. As she loaded up the trailer she noticed it there, perched in a tree above the path where she had parked her four-wheeler.
The owl gazed down at her its eyes gleaming with wisdom Jameson hadn’t recognized on their previous meetings. Given the owl’s presence, she understood the nature of Devon’s call.
“Her mother is dying,” Jameson muttered to herself.
We are from the earth and to the earth, we return. All the emotional stuff binds us to our mortal bodies.
Jameson’s eyes grew wide and she stumbled backward. The owl winked at her and extended its brilliant wings.
“Doc?” Jameson asked “Mom?”
Love did find you.
The owl winked again and took off with a fuss and a flourish, dropping a feather from its tail. Jameson watched the owl, with tear filled eyes, as it soared into the sky.
My spirit is alive and well. You will cure her mother. You already know how.
Jameson gasped and gulped in the winter air. She felt the grip on her heart release. She dropped to the ground and sobbed, enveloped in the warm glow of Doc Jo Jo’s essence. Hers was a spirit like no other.
Moon appeared at Jameson’s side and nudged her, bringing her back to the matter at hand. Jameson knew from her own experience what Devon was about to face, and it was not going to be easy. She picked up the owl feather, a blessed gift, and knew it was time for her to learn more of its mystery. The time had come for her to study the potent owl medicine, to gain ancient knowledge and wisdoms. Jameson was ready to learn the high magic. Her mother just said so.
The ride back to Elk’s Pass Sundries was grim and solemn. Even Moon was gloomy, not responding to the deer they passed on the trail. Devon clutched Jameson around the waist, her cheek pressed against Jameson’s back. Jameson felt her body heaving as she sobbed, and cried, too.
They dismounted the four-wheeler and entered the store. Jameson helped Devon up the stairs. She rushed down and told Lauren the tragic news. She grabbed a duffle bag to pack a few special mementos for Devon. She wrote a quick note and put the bag in the back seat of the Range Rover. She went back upstairs to help Devon gather her things.
She found her sitting on the couch with Moon draped across her lap. Jameson joined them, dropping an arm over Devon’s shoulder.
“My mother has Lupus,” Devon revealed. “Do you know what that is?”
“Yes,” Jameson nodded.
“I have a feeling you somehow already knew, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I’m sorry. I know how hard this is.”
Devon squeezed her thigh. “I know you do.”
“Are you going to be okay to drive?”
“I guess so,” Devon sighed. “I need the time to prepare myself for when I see her. They’re in Florida.”
Jameson hugged her. “That’s quite a drive.”
Devon nodded and swiped at a fresh tear.
“Life is a circle. We will meet again.”
They shared a long embrace and stared at each other for a while taking in the details of the other’s face.
“You have changed me,” Devon whispered. “When I started this journey I didn’t know where I was going, but I guess my heart and soul knew.”
“Always follow your heart and you will always find me, from this life to the next.” They shared a final kiss. Jameson assisted her downstairs and out the kitchen door.
She helped Devon into the car and leaned against her window. “Take the wisdoms from your journey and apply them to your life. You will find strength and courage within yourself that you didn’t know you had. Believe that. Good bye, for now, Shadow Wolf.”
Jameson went to the passenger side to say good-bye to Moon. Bring her back to me, and try not to wait another ten years.
* * * *
Moon howled as Devon drove away, unable to look back one final time. Moon jumped in the rear hatch and barked at Jameson until she disappeared from view. She joined Devon up front and settled down in her seat. Occasionally, she placed her paw on Devon’s arm and stared at her with troubled eyes. It was at those times Devon realized she had been sobbing aloud.
Devon was apprehensive to see her mother. Although she was eager to hear her voice, Devon knew it was not the right time to call. She hoped she would find the emotional fortitude to be brave, and not break down when she did see her. Devon wanted to be strong for her and help ease the terror she must be feeling. The dichotomy of her emotions was confusing, not to mention that waves of guilt that assaulted her when she found herself thinking about Jameson instead of the tragic nature of her new journey.
Her recent experience changed her and made her feel brand new in the world. Her life with Trevor was lived by someone else. Memories of him were like a book she read long ago, fragmented and difficult to recall. Even her father was an acquaintance she would hardly recognize on the street. Since her mother and Claire left their homes, she had no reason to return to the place she called home. She wanted nothing from her house except the painting by Raven Song. Trevor could have it all.
She drove until the sun began to set behind them and found a motel off the highway. She smiled as she passed a sign that read Bear Lake. She thought of Mudjewkeewis and his soft words whispered in the wind. He was right. It was time for her to come out of hibernation. The great sleep had ended and she was not groggy in the least. She felt saturated in courage and strength. She knew her own heart and was now comfortable knowing who she was.
They checked in, again in a room in the back. Devon settled Moon on the bed.
“I’m going to get our stuff from the car, I’ll be right back,” she told Moon.
Moon barked once and snuggled down on the pillows.
Devon retrieved her things, intrigued to find the duffle bag. She peeked inside and knew Jameson placed it there. She brought it back upstairs and put it on the bed, as tickled as a child on Christmas morning.
She read the note. I wish you strength in this difficult part of your walk. Remember,
family should be honored, in whatever its form. Forgiveness is a powerful virtue. Walk the wheel and you will see. I sent along a special tea for your mother. It is the Periwinkle Persimmon. It will help with her fatigue. It is for her and her alone. I have also packed some things for you and Moon. I hope they comfort you. Until we meet again. J.
Devon folded the note, tucked it between the pages of her totem book, and placed it on the night table. She knew she would read it twenty more times before the night was through.
She pulled out the Navajo blanket and wrapped it around her. The scent of last night’s passion was faint but evident. Devon breathed it in and used the blanket to brush away her unexpected tears.
Jameson packed an enormous piece of beef jerky for Moon. Devon gave it to her and watched, amused, as she made a grand fuss of trying to rip it apart.
The next item she extracted was a bag of Sleep, the herbal tea Jameson gave her to ease her pain and allow her battered body its much-needed rest. She found the pouch of Periwinkle Persimmon for her mother and smiled at how thoughtful Jameson was. The last thing was the lavender t-shirt she’d loaned Devon the day before. Wrapped inside the t-shirt was a lovely hand-carved flute. It was embossed with the same intricacies as the walking stick. Love and honor were apparent in the details. Seven buffalo whittled from mouthpiece to end. Devon put it to her lips delighted by the purity of the tone. She played for a while, lost in the reverie of the mystical melody that channeled through her. She closed her eyes and saw herself on a vast plane, seated on a flat rock as a herd of buffalo grazed nearby. She played for them as they watched her with drowsy eyes, knowing her song was for them, thanking them for their selfless contribution to mother earth.
As she played, Devon began to understand the meaning of self-sacrifice. Although she sacrificed much in the past, including her own happiness, it now bore a deeper, more significant meaning. To give you must give of your whole self. You must be wholesome in your desire to nourish and sustain. Devon understood this now. She also understood what the buffalo meant when she spoke of the North being the darkest part of the day, the time between midnight and dawn. It was the time between life and death. Her mother now faced the darkest part of day. Devon now knew buffalo magic. She would now be learning the practice of healing. Her mother always delighted in Devon’s musical gift, something Devon didn’t often share. Music possessed soothing charms. Devon would play for her mother soon.
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