by J. K Harper
Chapter 2
The tiny guest house was adorable. Just the one bedroom off to the side of an otherwise open floor plan with a little private courtyard that protected the entry way from sight. It sat next to the much grander home of Richard and Maria Garcia and Abuela had reserved it just for Nay.
Her grandmother had rented one of the guest rooms in the Garcia house, a master suite with a private entrance at the back of the main house.
Apparently, the Garcias made a tidy living in their retirement years by renting out rooms to travelers. The Dia de los Muertos festivals were their busy season, and all six of the guest rooms that they had added on to their home over the years were full, as well as Naomi's little cottage.
They had arrived close to midnight but the Garcia's door had been open when they pulled up in the circular front drive. Maria had rushed out and wrapped Abuela in a huge hug. Then she did the same to Naomi, greeting her as if she'd known her forever, before the two older women disappeared inside chattering away in Spanish like old friends. Richard had carried in the luggage from the trunk, also greeting Naomi as if he'd known her her whole life albeit with less hugging.
Maria and Abuela had shown Naomi to her little cottage and once she was settled, they went back to the main house together.
The next morning Nay sat at the big dining table in the main house and stared vacantly at the pile of eggs and bacon on the plate in front of her. Even in the best of times, it was way too much food. She picked up a fork full of fluffy scrambled egg with onion and pepper in it and let it fall back to the plate. Then she carefully picked the jalapeno out of the next forkful before reluctantly lifting it to her mouth.
The jalapenos down here were murderous. Naomi had never been much on spicy foods, that had been Logan's thing, but these peppers were hotter than anything she'd ever encountered back in Texas.
Not that it mattered much, with or without the jalapenos, she hadn't been able to choke down much more than a few bites of food this morning. This was the farthest she'd traveled from home since Logan's death and it felt so wrong to be here without him.
She chased the burn of a missed pepper with a sip of fresh squeezed orange juice and watched Maria greet a new visitor.
"Are you excited for the celebrations?" An old man took a seat on the far side of the table and set his cane between his knees. His eyes twinkled as he addressed Nay, "Who are you waiting for? Your mother? A father?"
Naomi pushed the plate away from her, finally giving up on eating any more. She smiled at the elderly man across from her. He seemed downright giddy, like it was Christmas or something. He also wasn't making any sense.
"I'm not waiting for anyone," Nay answered him politely, "my grandmother is here for the festival, I just drove her."
The old man's eyes crinkled at the corners as his smile widened. He leaned toward her, studying her face, "No, I mean, who are you waiting for from the other side?" His smile turned from a joyful grin to a wistful smirk.
Naomi shook her head slowly, not understanding.
The man's smirk faded and was replaced with a look of sadness and concern, "You do have someone on the other side? Someone you hope would visit you?"
Naomi was lost. The man's words might have made more sense to her if he wasn't saying them as though they were waiting together at a train station or an airport talking about who they were there to meet.
She smiled apologetically but shook her head again.
The man leaned back in the heavy wood chair at the table and narrowed his eyes at her. Then the grin spread across his face again. One hand resting on the carved handle of his cane, the other suddenly alive with movement as he began an unsolicited narrative.
"Dia de los Muertos!" He gestured with a broad movement in a tone like a master of ceremonies, "The day of the dead," he whispered conspiratorially with a wink, "Veranoches is the best of places for the celebrations. Only here is where to be if you hope to visit the dead."
His hand waved through the air a few more times and then dropped lightly on top of the other that was still holding his cane. His eyes twinkled at her, "Now, who is coming to see you, pretty lady?" he asked again, as if his little theatrical presentation had actually explained anything.
Naomi felt her eyebrows scoot up high on her forehead, "Um," she stalled, "I guess then, it would be my husband?"
The man's face fell, crumpling into a mass of wrinkles and furrows that betrayed the number of years he'd seen. His eyes went misty with unshed tears as he looked sorrowfully at her. A rush of Spanish words spilled through his lips in what even Naomi recognized as a quiet prayer, "My sadnesses, so young, so young," he closed his eyes and shook his head, "you must be eager to be reunited?"
Nay was touched by the stranger's compassion for her, but she looked nervously around hoping to see a familiar face and a reason to excuse herself from this awkward conversation.
No one was in sight. Nearly every one was outside, decorating the streets and the little village square for the festival. The ones who weren't decorating were in kitchens preparing enough food to feed the town three times over.
Nay looked at the old man and gave him a helpless shrug.
She had only the vaguest of understanding about what the Day of the Dead was even about. Sugar skulls had sprung up in popularity over the past few years and American culture—especially the southwest where she lived—had embraced the holiday with a vengeance lately. Still, it wasn't something she'd grown up with and she tended to think of it as the "Mexican Halloween."
Abuela had tried to explain it to her a few times over the years, saying that it was a special celebration, a few precious days when the gods of the underworld allowed the souls of those who had ties to the living to come back to visit.
People built altars to their lost love ones and filled them with pictures and candies and things that they would have loved. Entire towns got together and held parades, bands played, there was dancing and feasts in honor of the dead.
It sounded like a wonderful way to pay tribute to those who had passed, but Naomi wasn't up for a party. She didn't want to dance or drink or eat and laugh in Logan's memory. It was all still too raw. Too unfair. She was angry and hurt and the last thing she wanted to do was go to a party.
Pretending that he would be able to join her somehow at this party only made it worse. She tried not to hold it against the old man. Or Abuelita. Or Veranoches in general.
"I'm sorry," she smiled politely at her companion as she pushed her chair away from the table, "I—I have to…" she tried to think of something but the old man was letting her off the hook easy.
He waved his hand dismissively with an understanding nod, "I lost my twin sister when we were very young," he smiled up at her as she stood to leave, "my great aunt brought me here when I was only twelve because I was grieving so hard for my sister she feared I would die of a broken heart." He smiled wanly at Naomi, "I remember when I did not believe."
He nodded his head once in a farewell gesture and pulled himself onto his feet. Naomi watched him shuffle off and then took her plate to the kitchen.
Chapter 3
"I didn't bring you here so you could sit in your room and sulk," Abuelita scolded from the doorway, "now get dressed and come outside."
Naomi had been enduring her grandmother's lectures most of the day. Abuelita was determined to make sure she joined the celebration even though Nay had begged out several times.
She reluctantly pulled herself to her feet and headed toward the small bathroom, accepting the clothes her grandmother handed to her as she passed.
The look of satisfaction on her grandmother's face as she finally left the small cottage to go back to the preparations outside was not lost on her.
It was the end of October and while plenty of places in Mexico were still warm this time of year, Veranoches was not one of them. The village was high in the mountains and the evening air got chilly. Naomi rustled through her closet for something to put over the thin cotton b
louse Abuela had picked out. She found a shawl and wrapped it around her.
Stepping out into the late afternoon air, Naomi pulled the shawl tighter around her arms as a gust of cool wind blew across her. The sun was only a few minutes away from setting and the villagers had lit what appeared to be thousands of candles and lanterns along the little street that ran through the town.
Candles flickered in windows and on doorsteps and all along the street, creating a path leading to the courtyard in center of town. Altars adorned windowsills, covered in colorful fabrics with paper flowers and sugar skulls. Little skeleton figurines representing lost loved ones took front and center in the dioramas and flame orange and red marigolds were everywhere.
"The ofrendas are magnificent, aren't they?" A woman that looked to be in her late thirties had stopped beside Naomi. The woman was pale complected with short blond hair and her English carried no hint of the local accent. But she was clearly not American either. Naomi couldn't place the accent.
"The cempasuchil lead the dead to our world," the woman was staring across the narrow street at a doorway that had been covered entirely in sunny yellow marigolds. It looked like a Rose Bowl Parade float, all covered in the bright flowers.
Naomi didn't recognize some of the words the lady was using, but she understood that she was talking about the flowers and the offers to the souls of the dead who would be weary from their journey when they arrived.
"I'm here for my son," the woman turned and smiled at Naomi, "he had a heart defect. They tried to do surgery to correct it while I was still pregnant," the woman's eyes began to mist over, "but it didn't work. He only lived a few days after he was born."
A new smile formed on her quivering lips as she took Naomi by the arm and began leading her toward the big tables that had been set up in the town center.
"Tonight the angelitos arrive," the woman's crisp accent enunciated the Spanish words expertly, "tonight I will get to see my Alex. This is only the second year since he passed and I'm looking forward to hearing him tell me about his work in the after world."
Naomi cleared her throat, unsure of how to phrase her questions, "You. I mean. Um. I'm sorry," she started over, "I don't understand. Your son passed away when he was a baby?"
The woman nodded, her smile growing less forced and more sincere.
"But you talked to him last year? About working?" If Nay thought the elderly man at the breakfast table had made little sense, this lady in her designer jeans and warm fleece sweatshirt was completely off her rocker.
The woman seemed to suddenly understand something. She stopped walking and looked hard at Naomi.
"This is your first year?" she asked pointedly.
Naomi shrugged apologetically and nodded.
The woman's smile became more of a thoughtful smirk. "My name is Ana," she held out her right hand to Naomi, "we have the Day of the Dead in Spain too, but no where is it like Veranoches," she winked.
"Who brought you to Veranoches?" Ana had her arm draped over Naomi's shoulder and was leading her toward the celebration again.
"My grandmother," Naomi answered hesitantly, "she has been coming here for 14 years. This year she begged me to drive her from Texas—she refuses to fly—and she wouldn't let up till I agreed."
"Have you lost someone close to you?" Ana stopped and eyed Naomi carefully, "Someone that you would give anything in this world to hold one more time?" Ana's voice dropped low, wavering with emotion.
Naomi gulped, fighting the tears rising in her own eyes. She pinched her lower lip hard between her teeth to hold back a sob as she nodded.
Ana nodded knowingly, "That is why you are here. Not because your grandmother needed a ride. Your grandmother knew you needed to come to the celebrations here."
"I don't understand," Naomi said when she had her emotions under control again, "what's so special about Dia de los Muertos in Veranoches?"
Ana's head tilted to one side like a curious puppy, "You are familiar with the holiday?"
Naomi rolled her shoulders in a half shrug, half nod gesture, "Yeah. I get the whole thing about how the dead are supposed to get a twenty-four hour pass to visit us and all, but everyone talks like it's real here. I mean, it's a cool tradition but people around here act like," Naomi shivered and pulled the shawl tight again with a glance at the candles and the marigolds and all the little skeleton figures surrounding her, "they act like they're coming back for real," she whispered.
Ana laughed, "Tradition holds that it is very bad luck to speak of the magic of Veranoches outside of the town, but I'm surprised your grandmother didn't tell you once you arrived? Yes, yes, the people who travel to this place for the celebrations take it very seriously. That is because Veranoches is a magical place."
"No one knows how long it has happened or what makes this place more special than all the others. I have heard there is a small village in Argentina where it also happens, but I've never been able to find it. But here," Ana gestured around them with a flourish, "the gates between the worlds swing wide on this day and our loved ones are allowed through."
Naomi's face must have betrayed her skepticism. Ana laughed self-consciously and waved her hand as if to shoo away everything she'd just said, "Who did you lose?" she asked seriously.
"My husband," Naomi answered plainly, "he was killed while he was deployed in Afghanistan sixteen months ago." The words still felt cold and foreign when she said it aloud. Like she was someone else talking about someone else. It was the only way she could say it without breaking down and crumpling in a heap on the ground.
Ana's face went still and sorrowful, "I'm so sorry," she said sincerely, "he will be here. You'll see."
Ana’s smile was softer as she patted Naomi's arm, "It begins at midnight tonight. The children come first, then the adults will arrive tomorrow. You must recognize him before he can appear to you as you knew him though. Keep an open mind and you will not be disappointed."
With those parting words, Ana left Naomi standing in front of the long row of tables that had been arranged end to end in the courtyard, covered in marigolds with large rounds of pan de muerta—a traditional sweet bread—scattered all over the tables between bowls of fruit, sugar skulls and other odds and ends.
Nay watched the woman weave through the torches until she disappeared into the crowd that had gathered in the small park.
Her mind raced to cling to reason. This was just another Day of the Dead celebration. Like any other town. The residents here just took it to an extreme.
Her heart, on the other hand, clung to Ana's words with a desperate hope.
Chapter 4
Naomi stood in the little plaza. Waiting.
The candles were still burning bright, several of them having been replaced as they melted to the ground and many new lanterns had been added. The ofrendas had been stocked with tobacco, beer, wine, tequila. Food was everywhere. Big slabs of beef and pork were cooking on outdoor grills.
The band had stopped playing. Everything around her had gone still as the bell at the old church began to toll.
Nay had skipped the celebration on the first night. After Ana had left her standing alone, she had slowly made her way back to her little guest house where she had lain awake well into the early morning hours feeling restless and insecure while the celebration raged on in the distance.
Last night she had heard the church bell ring in the beginning of Dia de los Muertos. Midnight, when the gates of the after world were opened and the dead were allowed back into the land of the living to visit those who waited for them.
It had been the first time that Nay had heard the bell chime since she'd arrived. According to the people at breakfast this morning, the bell was old and only used on special occasions. Weddings, funerals, Christmas, and the Day of the Dead.
Last night was for the children. They had until midnight tonight to stay among us and then they would return and the adults would visit.
Naomi had listened to her breakfast companions as th
ey went on and on about how wonderful the festival had been the night before. They talked about the reunions of parents and siblings with their loved ones. Chattering on not only as if it was all real, but as if it were perfectly normal.
Nay tried to smile and nod and follow along. She wondered why it had to be one day for children and another for adults. What about families that were lost all at once? So you couldn't sit down for a meal with your husband and your child at the same time?
It didn't sound wonderful, it sounded sad and unfair.
"You will want your time with each," Abuela had assured her when she'd spoken up later, "When you only get one day, you want to spend that day with only that person." Abuela had winked just slightly. The innuendo hadn't been lost on Nay, she just didn't appreciate it.
* * *
There were several people who had been in town yesterday that Naomi hadn't seen all day today, including Ana. Perhaps they had been here for the children—the angelitos—and had left early this morning?
The bell struck for the ninth time, then the tenth. No one counted the peels as they chimed. This was not New Year's Eve.
Naomi began to see people joining the crowd in the middle of the plaza. Faces she recognized from yesterday, ones she hadn't seen all day.
Heads around her began to tilt back, eyes on the sky overhead.
Naomi found herself looking upward, anxiously waiting to find out what it was that everyone was looking for.
The moon was a little past full, one upper edge having been erased from its profile, leaving a lopsided disc high overhead. The trees around the town were largely deciduous and their skeletal branches reached up as if clawing at the heavens.
The twelfth peel rang out over the hushed crowd, marking the official midnight hour.
Naomi stole a glance around her. What was supposed to happen?
Suddenly the sky exploded with sound and movement. Wings beat furiously overhead, hundreds of huge black birds had taken flight and now they filled the air and blacked out the stars. Their loud caws betrayed them as crows. Hundreds of them. Maybe thousands. So many in the sky all at once, it was hard for Naomi to believe they were real.