by Lizzy Ford
The thought that had been bothering me, how to tell the otherworldly visitors they could return, swirled around my mind once more.
It didn’t help that Carey had disappeared after that horrible day and I had no way of contacting him. I was clueless as to who or where the Council was. The property had been recorded in my name, a day before the previous Caretaker died, but even the attorney who handled the paperwork didn’t have any contacts beyond the Caretaker, whose real name had been Martha Thomas. In the fifty pages of wills and deeds left to me, there was no other personal information about the Caretaker or anyone else who might be able to help me. The property, and any structures on it, had been left in a trust in my name.
It made life both simpler and more complicated. I knew where I needed to be, even if I doubted myself in the process. We had a place to live and soon, the money to support ourselves, but I definitely wasn’t patient about needing to find out what happened to the Five Peoples.
Pulling myself out of deep thought, I looked from the sky to the door. Duct tape in hand, I went to the door and opened it then layered tape over the bolt, so no one else could lock it by accident. I then hammered a new, neon pink sign beneath the bolt warning everyone not to lock it. When I was satisfied with the work, I stepped onto the shaded porch and gazed at the end of the driveway.
In the few days since we’d been here, no visitors had shown up. I waited up every night for them, just in case. How long until one of them came through, and why was I praying it was Teyan?
Was being here all about a guy I barely knew, who may not even remember me after ten years at battle?
Or … was this about me, too? About figuring out where I belonged in the world and becoming someone who didn’t fear the future? I never dreamt I’d be monitoring a portal between worlds or a hostess at a bed and breakfast. I never dreamt my mother and I would be able to live in a house like this, either.
“I found this in the shed!” my mom’s cheerful voice reached me on the porch.
Leaning into the doorway, I saw her hefting a familiar, beat up sign as she walked from the back of the hacienda towards the front.
Old West Bed and Breakfast
“It’s perfect!” she added.
Her smile was huge and had been since I returned. Sometimes, all I noticed about her face were the worry lines around her eyes and creasing her forehead caused by my absence. I couldn’t imagine the hell I put her through, but I did hope to make it up to her.
I stepped aside so she could take the sign out front and was about to follow her when her words clicked.
“There’s a shed?” I asked, puzzled. I didn’t recall seeing one the day we arrived, when I’d walked everywhere to check out the property.
“Yeah. Ancient. Looks like it was here before they built the house,” my mom huffed and then set the sign down against the front porch.
Curious, I walked through the house and out onto the back veranda, set up with two fire pits and a huge grill.
The old shed that once stood behind the farmhouse had returned in all its faded, sagging glory.
“Where did you come from?” I murmured and left the veranda for the shed. Tugging the sluggish door open, I grimaced when I saw it was exactly as I left it, with the addition of ten years of cobwebs.
My gaze settled on the bags of seed I’d relocated to one side, so I could get to them easier. I hauled one bag out and set it on the ground before turning to observe the area where my garden once grew. The sprawling hacienda took up much more room than the farmhouse. My old garden area was buried beneath the guest wing.
After a moment of thought, I opened the sack and scooped out a handful of seeds and returned to the house. The square courtyard at the center of the hacienda was woefully plain, and I wondered if this was why: so I could plant a garden there. I knelt in the center of the hard dirt-clay and dug my fingers into it to create a line. Without caring what seeds went where, I dumped them all into a row about three feet long before covering them.
I never did understand the magic of this place, and no one had volunteered much information during my six weeks here slaving away for the former Caretaker. I found myself wishing I’d known to ask what the rules are or paid more attention to the different peoples I met instead of generally avoiding everyone. Even Teyan had had to approach me, and I liked him enough that I wanted to talk to him but didn’t know how.
But whenever I began to regret not learning more, or playing a bigger role with the aliens, my first time here, I recalled how much I despised the Caretaker and how little she seemed to believe me capable of doing anything other than manual labor.
“I bet that old bat is rolling over in her grave knowing I’m in charge of this place,” I grumbled under my breath. My victory was short lived, for her revenge from the grave became apparent whenever I thought about how I was supposed to be a Caretaker when I didn’t know anything about the job.
With a sigh, I sat back on my heels, barely daring to hope my garden would grow again after all this time. The scent of dinner wafted towards me through the open double doors leading into the wing with the kitchen. Mom was making more of her mother’s prized Italian recipes. I’d gained twelve pounds in the time I’d been back.
“The sign is halfway up. I’ll fix it in the morning,” she announced, returning from the foyer. Her dark eyes sparkled. “Ready for dinner?”
“Sure.” I stood. With a glance towards the front door, I then trailed her into the kitchen.
“You never did say what possessed you to want to run a B-n-B,” she said as I entered the kitchen. She was setting bowls of pasta and sauce on the small table in the breakfast nook. “Was this where you were on probation, before whatever it is that happened?”
I felt her eyes on me and nodded. As much as I loved her, I hadn’t been able to tell her what happened, mostly because I didn’t know how to explain it. The day when I had to find a way was likely never to come, if the visitors didn’t return. For now, I kept my silence about what occurred six months ago.
I studied her as I had many times the past few months. Fine lines had turned to wrinkles in the time I’d been gone, and she had lost a lot of weight. The change in her startled me every time I looked at her, more so when I began to consider how much I’d missed – and how the world had moved on – when I was stuck in the past.
I absently rubbed my inner forearm, where the scars from the man who hurt me were a reminder of how my life had changed quickly not once, but twice. I still spooked in dark rooms and awoke sometimes with night terrors where he was the one who killed me instead of the other way around. I dreamt often of sitting in the Komandi igloo, talking to Teyan, and woke up wondering what would have happened if I hadn’t locked the door. Would we be friends? More than friends?
I wasn’t ready for this. For a time jump to the future. The emotions that remained raw within me would’ve been healed by now, had I never locked the door. I managed to quell my meltdowns and outer angst for my mom’s sake, but inside, I was a quaking, terrified mess confronting a reality I didn’t feel remotely connected to.
“You like it?” my mom asked, glancing up at me.
Blinking out of my thoughts, I nodded and began to eat. My mom had inherited the inability to cook small amounts of food from her mother, but I didn’t mind. Whatever we didn’t eat went into the fridge as leftovers for tomorrow or, when the visitors returned, as dinner for them.
If they returned.
After dinner, Mom and I sat on the front porch in rocking chairs. Her sigh of contentment soothed the emotional turmoil within me. I was happy she was here, but I hadn’t had the benefit of ten years to get over what happened to me when I was seventeen or my experience here with the Caretaker, who I had begun to resent even more every time I thought about how much she should have told me. Was I her apprentice or was I an accident?
I knew how she would have answered the question.
In the quiet moments when I was unable to escape my mind, I was hurting, and
I couldn’t figure out what would fix me or if it was even possible. The court-appointed therapist seemed to think I had to stop waiting to be the person I used to be and use the experiences to grow into someone stronger.
It sounded easy but was difficult when I didn’t know who I was supposed to become and struggled to relate to when I was. I felt lost. All the time.
“Does being here make the past ten years hurt less?” I asked my mom quietly as we gazed out over the desert. Dusk swallowed the sunlight and cast long shadows everywhere. The sun set early in the winter, around five thirty. The bed and breakfast sign was leaning but managed to stay up where she’d placed it in the front yard.
“It’s not a fair question, Gi,” my mom chided. “The past ten years were hell and the past six months heaven. I went through a lot, but I’d gladly do it again, if it meant you were alive.”
I didn’t know how to tell her I didn’t feel the same, and that I didn’t know how to move on. I kept quiet.
“You can always talk to me,” she said, able to sense my sorrow and frustration with her mother’s intuition. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I’ll always listen.”
“Thanks.”
She studied me then looked out towards the driveway. “How do we get people to come out here?” she asked. “Do we need ads or something? I can’t see your uncles or any other New Yorker coming this far from civilization.”
I laughed at the mystery that initially baffled me about the isolated bed and breakfast, surprising us both. It was nice to hear I wasn’t the only one who found this place strange. Clearing my throat, I debated what to tell her. “We’ll figure it out after we settle in.”
“I suppose. Maybe they’ll come for the scenery. I’ve definitely felt more relaxed here than I ever have,” she said. “You’ll never know how grateful I am that you won’t have a hard life like mine, Gi. I love our family, and I love you, but a life where your sole purpose is to slave away to put food on the table?” She shook her head. “It’s not living. I’m glad you have a chance to do what you want, even if I’m not exactly sure what that is.”
I gazed at her as she spoke, secretly pleased to know I was doing something good for my mom after she gave up the best years of her life to raise me. However, I wasn’t yet ready to quell her puzzlement when I was doubting myself already. If no one ever showed up, it would be easier to shrug this off than to retract anything I said about portals to other worlds. We had a home, and my mom was happy for the first time in my life. This was what I focused on. As she would say, her smile was a blessing.
“My brother is giving me a really fair price for my share of the restaurant,” she continued. “Without a mortgage, we won’t have any problem making ends meet for quite some time.”
“Good,” I murmured. Whenever she said something about her brother, I inadvertently thought of Teyan and the odd system of loyalties and alliances of the Tili. I didn’t need alliance tokens to want to give my mom a better life, but the idea of this similar level of loyalty between allied strangers, strong enough for him to follow me through the portal, fascinated me. It also enhanced my concern. I owed him to find out how he was, if nothing else.
“I see why you like it here,” my mom said. “There’s something very peaceful about the desert.”
“Yeah, there is.” I rested my head back on the rocking chair, eyes on the spot where the driveway met the road. It was chilly out, but I didn’t care. Despite my happiness at being with my mom, I was restless, anxious, scared. I needed to know if Teyan was alive and safe. He would have done the same for me.
I hoped another ten years didn’t pass while I waited for some news of him.
With the door unlocked and the bed and breakfast ready, the visitors had to come back sometime, right?
I glanced at my mom to make sure she wasn’t paying attention to me then pulled the memory rock from my pocket and rested it in the palm of my hand. The image of Teyan sprang up, and I started to smile.
Why did I always feel like our fates were connected, whenever I thought about him? Was it even possible for strangers from two separate worlds to be destined to meet?
Chapter Fourteen
I awoke after an uneasy night of sleep to the smell of breakfast and made a mental note to remind my mom I was no longer a kid, and she didn’t have to cook for me. I could help out, which is how it was supposed to be between two adults, even if I didn’t really feel like an adult yet.
In ten years, I hadn’t aged a day, and it showed in my face. Every time I looked in the mirror, I had the weird sense of being somewhere I wasn’t supposed to, or maybe, of not fitting into where I was. Shaking my head at my reflection, I couldn’t help but smile when I looked around my huge room. This place was a dream. I even had my own bathroom and a working fireplace. After a life of near poverty, I felt rich living here.
The mornings were chilly, and I tugged on a sweatshirt and slippers before leaving our wing of the house. Half-asleep still, I didn’t register the courtyard until my mom’s excited voice jarred me out of my sleepy state.
“You didn’t tell me we had a garden!” she exclaimed.
I rubbed my eyes and paused near the courtyard, taking in the random plants and trees that had sprung up overnight.
A thrill tore through me. First the house, then the shed and now the garden.
The property hadn’t lost its magic. All I needed now was for an alien to show up at my front door.
“It’s kind of an unusual garden,” my mom said.
I smiled, genuinely pleased to see the green growth. Zucchini, strawberries and peppers hunched at the bases of the trunks of four trees, two of which were cherry trees by the pink petals and the other two of which already bore lemons.
“And they grew so fast. I don’t think that’s normal,” she observed.
I hesitated, uncertain how to tell her this place was magic. “Breakfast smells good,” I said instead.
“I picked some of the vegetables for our frittata,” she said with a smile. “You look tired, Gi. Did you sleep okay?”
“Fine,” I lied.
“Come on. Some food will help.”
With one last look at the garden, I went with her into the kitchen.
We had a nice breakfast and then began our morning chores. A house this big, in a place this dusty, required constant attention. I dusted the guest wings and made sure everything was spotless before retreating from the house to the world’s ugliest shed for more gardening supplies.
By mid-morning, I was hunched over in the courtyard, carefully creating more rows of plants. Mom joined me shortly after, and together, we spent most of the day planting and watering seeds. Lunch and dinner consisted of leftovers, but we were too occupied to stop and cook. The act of gardening was as calming as it was entrancing, and I started to relax for the first time in months.
“Definitely not normal,” my mom said when the sky grew too dark to continue. The soft lights at the edges of the courtyard created more of a romantic setting than one useful for planting seeds. She sat heavily on the edge of the Saltillo and flexed her hands, eyes on the vegetables we planted this morning that had already grown to knee high. “How is this possible?” she mused aloud, not for the first time.
We hadn’t talked about it, but in the decade I was gone, she had developed pretty bad arthritis. I saw her absently massaging her hands often.
“Are your hands okay?” I asked.
“Yeah. Think I’m done for the day. Want to sit on the front porch?” She rose.
“Nah. It’s cold out today,” I replied. “I have ten years worth of television to catch up on.”
“I’ll make us some tea.”
She went to the kitchen, and I grabbed a sweatshirt before heading to the family room to watch movies. No sooner had we sat down than there was a knock at the door.
I froze, uncertain I’d heard it.
It came again, and I launched out of my seat and sprinted through the house to the front door. My h
and was trembling when I reached for the doorknob, and I took a moment to breathe before opening it.
I nearly screamed out of a flurry of complicated emotions when I saw the soaked, scowling Woli warrior woman with circles under her eyes standing on the porch. Not wanting to alarm her by squealing, I stepped aside and let her in.
She stopped in the foyer and gazed around at the space.
“Um, this way,” I said, barely managing to contain myself. I had so many questions to ask, but she looked pretty rough in holy clothing. She was limping and well armed. “Mom, can you heat up some leftovers?” I called over my shoulder. I didn’t wait for a response.
I led the visitor down the guest wing and to the first room.
“If you’re hungry, we’ll have food in the kitchen,” I told her.
The Woli warrior grunted in response and tossed a satchel on the bed.
I hesitated to leave. “We haven’t seen anyone in a long time,” I said awkwardly. “Do you all know this place exists?”
“It was said all the portals were closed.” She glanced at me. “I found my way here by accident.”
“When you go back, you can tell the others we’re here,” I said eagerly.
She gave a brisk nod.
I started to leave and paused at the door. “Are all the five … uh, peoples … clans, whatever, are they all still on their, um, worlds?”
The Woli warrior eyed me skeptically. “Where else would they be?”
“All five worlds still exist?”
“Are you not well, Caretaker?”
“I am. But I’m new, so I’m trying to figure this out.”
“All five worlds exist,” she confirmed.
Thank god! I didn’t realize how heavy the weight of dread was until I heard her words. I left her and closed the door behind me, pausing in the hallway to lean against a cool adobe wall.
I was shaking. The knot that had been in my stomach for six months had diminished, but I still felt a little nauseated by the amount of stress I’d been repressing. I didn’t know if Teyan was alive, but at least I hadn’t destroyed anyone’s planet, as Carey claimed was possible. It was yet another reason I was upset at him for ditching me without bothering to let me know if I’d ruined the universe.