Melange

by Kristy Tate

Her lips twitched. “You suck at apologies.”

  He gave his dad’s truck a quick glance before he wrapped his arms around Lizbet. She felt so good against him. She fit perfectly, like the last puzzle piece. “Want to go for a walk? Or have you had enough walking today?”

  “It was a long walk.” She pulled away from him and considered this. “I still want to show you that circle of stones I found.”

  He draped his arm over her shoulder. Together they headed for the path that led through the woods. The Arabian nickered and flicked his tail as they walked past.

  A chill passed over Declan as a thought struck him. “Is the mouse still in your pocket?”

  “No.”

  “Where did you put him?”

  She waved her left hand at some nebulous far-off point. “Does it matter?”

  “As long as it’s not near my mom.”

  “It’s not.”

  “Do you really have a problem with exterminators?”

  She blew out a breath and her shoulders tensed. “The Bible says not to kill.”

  “Ever?” He slid a glance at her face. “That’s not exactly true, you know. The Israelites were pretty much killing machines and those priests were sacrificing goats and sheep fairly regularly.”

  When she didn’t reply, he added in a soft voice, “I’m sorry if I sounded irreverent.”

  She twisted her lips as she thought of an answer. Finally, she said, “I know you don’t believe in the Bible.”

  “I probably should have used a different analogy.”

  “No...it was a good comparison. I guess.”

  “But?”

  “I don’t believe in killing animals just because.”

  “And I don’t believe in cohabiting with them.”

  She turned and jabbed him in the chest with her pointer finger. “That’s so not true. What about Rufus?”

  “Rufus doesn’t want to live with mice either.”

  “Have you ever asked him?”

  He laughed softly, but sobered when she frowned. “You’re serious.”

  She blew out a sigh.

  “I’m really tired of disappointing you.”

  She folded her arms. “You’re not disappointing me.”

  “I’m not?” He waved at her folded arms and stiff body language. “Because everything about you says you’re angry with me and I’m not really sure why.”

  She laid her hand on his chest. It felt warm and he wondered if she could feel his heart beating. His pulse accelerated.

  “I don’t want to be angry with you,” she said.

  “Then stop.”

  “Okay, but you just can’t kill animals because they’re inconvenient or in your way.”

  “I haven’t killed anything today.”

  “Oh, not today...well, so glad you’re restraining yourself.” She pushed her hands through her curls. “I guess I want to go back to the house.”

  “Lizbet...” They studied each other. “I’m not a mass murderer.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “You’re a good person. It’s just...we’re so different.”

  He thought about pointing out that she was the different one, not him. She’d been the one living alone on an island with no one but her mom, some books, and the animals to keep her company... Suddenly, everything clicked. “Oh geez, I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  He gathered her in his arms. He thought maybe she’d resist, but she didn’t pull away. She still fit. “I think I get it now. Growing up, the animals were your only friends.”

  “That’s true,” she murmured against his shirt.

  “Let’s not fight.” His lips found hers. She fit and she tasted good. Like her mom’s blackberry wine.

  “I didn’t know we were,” she said after a long time.

  “We weren’t. But let’s stop thinking about all the ways we don’t belong and focus on how right we are together.” He kissed her again. “Like this... This is how we fit together.”

  THAT NIGHT, LIZBET dreamt of an Indian camp high on the top of a hill. An eagle with tawny feathers flew before her, guiding her through the copse of birches and meadows full of ferns. Boulders, tall and craggy, rose from the underbrush like soldiers lining the path. An earthy smoke hung in the air, its scent teasing her with a memory of another place and time.

  The teepee’s angular poles pointed at the sky in different directions. Music floated through the trees: drums, flute, a lone man half-singing, half-chanting. Lizbet’s pace quickened, although she didn’t know why. Briars and prickly sticker bushes pulled on her skirt and sweater, as if trying to prevent her return.

  How could she return to a place she’d never been before? This she would have remembered. But there was so much hanging just out of her recollection. At the edge of her fingertips—a thousand memories that may or may not have belonged to her.

  A woman dressed in a long brown dress with a rope-tied apron stepped in front of Lizbet, blocking her view of the men, women, and children dancing around a fire. The flames cast embers into the twilight sky. The sparks glowed as they arched above the dancers.

  “Welcome, child,” the woman said in a language that wasn’t English but Lizbet immediately recognized. “We have been waiting this long time.”

  Lizbet wanted to reply, but she realized that although she could perfectly understand this woman with the long gray braids and keen green eyes, she didn’t know how to form the words in reply. She resorted to English. “Where am I?”

  “You are home.”

  The smoke made her dizzy. She knew, but she did not know, this woman. “Who are you?”

  “I am Alo, but you will call me Mawmaw.” She beckoned for Lizbet to follow. “Come.”

  Lizbet cast a long glance at the dancers, wondering how they would respond if she joined them.

  “We have been waiting this long time,” the woman said again, hurrying Lizbet along the trail.

  “Where are we going?”

  Away from the fire, the smoke cleared and Lizbet breathed easier.

  “To the circle of stones,” the woman replied without looking back.

  “I’ve been looking for that,” Lizbet said, forgetting about the dancers. “I found it once before, but since then, every time I returned I wasn’t able to find it. I thought I’d be able to see it on an internet map site because it’s so large, and I know it’s somewhere on my grandmother’s property, so I have a fairly good idea where to look.” Lizbet swallowed, aware that she’d been babbling. The old woman hadn’t once looked at her since they’d started down the path through the woods.

  The trees closed in on them, blocking out the daylight. Or had night fallen? An owl swooped out of a cedar tree, his wings sending reverberations through the air.

  “Are we almost there?” Lizbet asked. “I need to get back soon.” Although for what, she didn’t know. Her mom and grandmother would worry. Or would they? After all, this was a dream and she was asleep.

  Until she wasn’t.

  Lizbet bolted upright. She took note of the moon hanging low on the horizon. Not yet morning. Tennyson softly snored on his corner of the bed. Lizbet lay back against the pillows, her heart slowing.

  Could her mother have been Native American? Lizbet had green eyes, but so had that woman who had clearly been a Native American. Lizbet tried to recall the local Indian tribes and reservations. She had seen the exit signs along the freeway, but she’d never really given them much thought. She ran her fingers over her arms, trying to warm them as a chill shook through her.

  The woman said she’d been waiting, but for what? And why? How was she connected to Lizbet? With questions weighing down her mind and chasing away sleep, Lizbet slipped out of the covers and padded over to her desk. She watched the fat, round moon hover in the sky while she waited for the computer to boot on.

  She typed in “local Indian reservations” and was confronted with dozens. Resting her chin on her hands, she considered the screen. Then an idea struck her. She typed in “
Pacific Northwest Native Americans with green eyes.”

  THE NEXT MORNING, AFTER her chores, Lizbet headed into the woods, once again in search of the circle of stones. She wandered through the copse of birches, the fern-filled meadow, and past the tall and craggy boulders, but she couldn’t find the Indian village or the circle of stones. She paused when she heard the roar of an engine.

  A motorcycle zoomed toward her. Grinning, a man in dark leathers pulled up beside her. He pulled off his helmet. Matias.

  “Hey there,” he said. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

  She told him about her dream.

  “And you actually thought you’d find it? Don’t you know dreams take place in La La Land?”

  “Not always.” She kicked at a rock near her foot, feeling foolish.

  “Well, whatever it is you’re looking for, we can find it a whole lot faster on my bike. Hop on.”

  “Aren’t you going somewhere?”

  “Yeah. To an Indian village and a stone circle.”

  “It’s a circle of stones, not a stone circle.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “One is like a small Stonehenge. The other sounds like a petrified donut.”

  “Petrified donuts? I know how to find those. There are plenty at mi abuela’s.”

  Lizbet hung back. The bike was big and noisy and she’d have to hold on to Matias to keep from falling off.

  His grin widened. “Are you scared?”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  “It’s fun. I can even teach you how to drive.”

  “Really? Will I need a license?” She’d wanted to get one, but if she waited six months until she was eighteen she wouldn’t have to take, and pay for, the driver’s ed course.

  “Not if you stick to the woods and trails. A cop won’t chase you down in here.”

  Lizbet returned his smile. “So would you teach me how to drive this?”

  “Probably not this one. It’s a temperamental beast, but I have a smaller, tamer one that my dad taught me on. In fact, I’d give it to you, if you like.”

  She blinked. “Really?” A bike would be so much better for getting around on than Trotter, although she’d never tell the horse that.

  “Sure. My ma is constantly nagging at my dad to clean out the garage. It would need some work. New tires, an oil change, maybe a new battery, but I bet we could get it up and running.” He gave her a slow smile. “It would be fun. But climb on, see if you like it first.” He placed his helmet on her head. It was warm, heavy, and smelled of his shampoo and sweat. Taking the straps, he tightened them under her chin, then waggled the helmet side to side to make sure it was secure. “Don’t want you losing your head,” he said before he threw a leg over the seat and straddled the bike.

  She settled behind him, her thighs touching his, her hands on his waist.

  He gave her a smile over his shoulder. “Where to?”

  “Up the hill. The circle of stones is at the top.” She didn’t tell him that she’d tried unsuccessfully to find it before with Declan. Sometimes she wondered if it had also only existed in a dream.

  Matias gunned the engine, startling Lizbet with the burst of speed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on as the bike hurtled up the hill, spewing dirt and twigs behind them. They bounced over rocks and through potholes while Lizbet peeked over Matias’s shoulder. Birds fluttered past. Chipmunks chattered from the trees. Rabbits skittered through the ferns. A squirrel stood on the side of the path, calling out a warning. Lizbet ignored them all and held on.

  The trees grew increasingly sparse as they approached the top. Large stones circled the clearing. One large altar-like stone with a slab of granite stood in the center.

  She glanced overhead, hoping and expecting to see birds or squirrels, or anyone or anything, but the air was heavy with silence.

  A thought or distant memory came back to her. Draw not nigh hither: put off thy shoes from thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.

  Ask questions from your heart and you will be answered from the heart. – Omaha

  CHAPTER 6

  “Leo suggested you accompany me to the Igasho Winery,” Declan’s mom told him when she rang the next morning.

  “Why?” Declan scratched his head, thinking of all the things he’d rather be doing. Even though he couldn’t see her and her tone had been level, Declan knew she was frustrated with him.

  “Someday this business will be yours.”

  “What if I don’t want it?” Right now, all he wanted was a shower and a bowl of Captain Crunchies.

  “Then you’ll have to hire someone to run it for you, but you’ll still have to keep your eye on it. You don’t want anyone cheating you.”

  He almost asked why not, but decided to let it go. It was too early to goad his mom. Still, she was undeniably more interested in the Forsythe business dealings, shareholdings, and investments than he was. He peeked at the alarm clock beside his bed. “What time are you going? I promised Mr. Neal I’d be in by ten.”

  “Why are you still working there? I told you, we’re rich now. You don’t need to keep watering and fertilizing the plants.”

  Declan swallowed. He liked earning his own money. Money that came from his mom always had strings attached and he didn’t want to get tangled up in them. “What time are you going?” he asked again.

  “Well, I wanted to go first thing this morning,” Gloria huffed. “But if you have to be at the nursery...”

  “Can we go in the afternoon?”

  “I guess. I’m staging a house on Wishful Lane. I suppose I can do it before rather than after.”

  “We’re rich now,” he mimicked her. “You don’t need to keep watering and fertilizing homebuyers.”

  His mom’s voice turned hard. “I’m not fertilizing anyone. I made a commitment to the Schneider’s and I’m going to honor it.” She paused before adding in a small, almost sad voice, “I won’t be selling real estate forever.”

  Declan swung his feet over the side of the bed. “Mom, you don’t have to give up your job. If you like it—”

  She cut him off. “We’re talking about you, not me. What time do you get off work?”

  He told her.

  “I’ll pick you up at your dad’s house. Don’t wear your work clothes. You need to act the part.”

  Of what?

  “WHAT IS THIS PLACE?” Matias rubbed his temples and blinked slowly.

  “Are you okay?” Lizbet asked, putting her hand on his arm and wondering if he felt the same as she did.

  He shook his head and sat down on a nearby boulder. “Sorry. I...” He pulled off his shoes and socks and flexed his toes.

  “Why are you doing that?” Lizbet asked, wanting to know if he’d had the same impression.

  “Doing what?” He stared at her as if he’d forgotten she was there.

  “Why did you take off your shoes?”

  He contemplated the sock in his hand. “I’m not sure,” he said slowly.

  Lizbet sat down beside him and removed her own sandals. She placed them on the boulder then walked to the center of the stones.

  “Lizbet! Stop!” Matias stood, his face drawn and his expression worried.

  “Why?”

  “I don’t...I don’t know. Let’s go.” He looked around, searching the nearby woods. “This place is giving me the creeps.”

  “But why?”

  He shrugged. “We don’t have to know the reason for everything.”

  Lizbet returned to the boulder and sat to refasten her sandals. Matias stood guard, keeping watch on the trees as if waiting for something to jump out at them.

  “You know, I’ve been here once before, and then I’ve tried to find it again and failed.”

  “Maybe it’s magic. Maybe you have to be wearing blue to see it, or maybe it’s only visible on the third Tuesday of the third month.” He paused, then added, “I’m only half-joking.”

  “This is the sixth
month.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “We are near the solstice.”

  “I thought that was in winter.”

  “There’s a summer one, too.”

  Matias shook his head. “This is crazy talk. Let’s go. This place is sucking our brains and turning us into lunatics. Again, only half-joking.” He took her hand and pulled her to the motorcycle.

  Was he holding her hand because he liked her, or because he wanted to hurry her away? Or both? Was it wrong to hold hands with Matias and kiss Declan? How would she feel if she saw Declan holding hands with Nicole? Was it different from seeing him kiss her? Hurt flashed through her as the memory of Declan and Nicole returned.

  Declan had to bend to kiss Lizbet, but Nicole was close to his height. Nicole could plant a surprise kiss on him—something Lizbet couldn’t do without his cooperation.

  Matias dropped her hand when they reached his bike, retrieved the helmet and placed it on her head. She smoothed her curls back and her hand brushed against his as he adjusted her straps. She took two steps back, feeling uncomfortable and apprehensive about straddling the bike and holding onto Matias. She thought about making an excuse and walking, but another thought—a more pressing one—hit her.

  “In my dream, the Indian village was nearby. Let’s look for it.”

  Matias balanced the bike against his thigh while he zipped up his leather jacket. “You know I’m half Native American, right?”

  She nodded.

  “And you also know that Indian villages with teepees and people dancing and chanting around fires went the way of the dinosaurs.”

  “Who said anything about people dancing or chanting?”

  Matias flushed and grabbed the bike by the handlebars. “Get on,” he growled. “We can look, but we aren’t going to find an Indian village.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “I know.” He slung a leg over the bike and waited for her to climb on behind him.

  “You’re lucky that you know your ancestry. I don’t have a clue about mine.” She settled behind him and placed her hands on his waist.