Moonlight and Magic

by Rebecca Paisley

“Sterling, please—”

  “Dios mio, Chimera, leave me be!” Dear God, he felt so utterly alone. He wanted to be in her arms so badly, he could almost feel them around him. Her sweet tears, how he yearned for them to wet his hair. And her whispered words of comfort...how he longed to hear them.

  If only those things could be real. If only she were really and truly the woman he’d almost believed her to be. Anguish slammed into him with such force, his entire body shuddered with it. He bolted to his feet and walked away from the fire.

  She bit her lips so hard she tasted her own blood. She yearned to help him, but he was so dead set against anything she had to say that her words were merely bouncing off the stone wall that surrounded him. But if he didn’t listen to her, who could he listen to? There was no one else around but her. Sweet heaven, if only she had some help. If only she had some allies!

  Allies, she mused. Why, she had hundreds of allies! A veritable army of the wisest men the world had ever known! Their wisdom had shaped generations: surely it would somehow reach Sterling!

  But how could she make him listen? He was so angry, that if she spoke, he’d probably gag her. Still, there had to be a way to make him pay attention. Oh, if only the great men were here themselves! If they were here in person, Sterling would have no choice but to take notice of them.

  Her head snapped up. Why couldn’t they be here? Why not let them speak for themselves? Why, she could resurrect them from their graves! It was a startling idea. A totally bizarre one. But she hoped that it was the very outrageousness of it that would make it work.

  Summoning all her hope and courage, she walked to a prickly pear cactus. “Sterling, look here. It’s the great Shakespeare! He’s come to join us in the desert!”

  He looked at the plant she was pointing at and frowned. Dios mio, what chicanery was she up to now? “Chimera, I’m in no mood for any of your—”

  “Hello, Mr. Shakespeare,” Chimera told the prickly pear, and forced herself to sound cheerful. “It’s such a pleasure to see you!”

  In her deepest voice, one she hoped sounded like a man’s, she said, “Let’s not waste time on niceties, Chimera. I’ve been watching Sterling tonight, and I’ve some advice for him. Sterling, ‘Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak whispers the o’erfraught heart and bids it break.’”

  She looked at Sterling. “Did you hear what Shakespeare told you, Sterling? Release your sorrow, or your heart will break with it. Now, shall we hear what Euripides has to say? I’m sure that’s him waving to me from over there.”

  Sterling said nothing, but she saw she had his undivided attention. Indeed, he was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. She went to a yucca and prayed he wouldn’t notice how badly her body trembled. “Mr. Euripides?”

  “Chimera,” she said in her man’s voice, “I’ve been listening very carefully tonight, and I must agree with Billy.”

  “Billy?” Chimera asked.

  “William Shakespeare,” she said for the yucca who was Euripides. “I call him Billy and he calls me Rip. I agree with him. ‘They who are sad find somehow sweetness in tears.’”

  “What wisdom,” Chimera purred. “Sterling, did you hear what Euripides said about tears?”

  “Yes, I heard!” he exploded. “And you can tell Billy and Rip to take all their sissy tears and stuff—”

  “Sterling,” she gasped. “Would you say the same to William Wordsworth? Mr. Wordsworth,” she said to a manzanita bush, “never mind Sterling’s manners. Please tell us what you think of his refusal to talk about what’s hurting him.”

  “Well now, Chimera,” she said in her deep voice, “I say, in heaven above, and earth below, they best can serve true gladness, who meet most feelingly the calls of sorrow.’”

  “Chimera,” Sterling grumbled, “this is the silliest thing I’ve ever seen you do, and if you think this ridiculous playacting you’re doing is working, you’re—”

  “Hush up, Sterling. I think John Adams is calling from over there.” She ambled to a sagebrush. “Mr. Adams, Sterling is still resisting his grief. He—”

  “Yes, yes, I know,” she said gruffly. “Tell him this, Chimera: ‘Chief drives men into habits of serious reflection, sharpens the understanding and softens the heart.’” She glanced at Sterling. “Sterling—”

  “Dios...” He shoved his fingers through his hair, turned, and stalked back to the fire. There, he lay down and folded his hands beneath his head. “I’ve seen you do some weird things, Chimera, but this—”

  “Sterling,” she said softly. Staring at him, she wondered despondently what else she could say to him, do for him. She had nothing but her words and her heart.

  But weren’t they enough? Her love for him lifted her spirits again. Faith, hope, and love. They were all she had to give Sterling. The only instruments she had with which to help him.

  She looked down at three ocotillo plants. “Sterling, here are Saint Augustine, Hafiz, and Sophocles.”

  “Yes, I am Saint Augustine,” she said in her baritone voice. “And I have come to speak of faith, Sterling. ‘Faith is to believe what you do not yet see; the reward for this faith is to see what you believe.’ And so, Sterling, my dear boy, you must believe with all your heart that the night will end and the morning will come.”

  Sterling sighed. “This night seems endless.”

  “Now, Sterling,” Chimera admonished. “You know very well Saint Augustine wasn’t speaking lightly. By ‘night’ he means sorrow, and—”

  “Chimera—”

  “Hafiz,” she said to the second ocotillo plant, “what have you to share with Sterling?”

  “He must hear about hope,” she said in her deep voice.

  “‘In time of trouble avert not thy face from hope, for the soft marrow abideth in the hard bone.’”

  She turned to the last ocotillo plant. “Mr. Sophocles?”

  “As you may have guessed, Chimera,” she said for ocotillo Sophocles, “I will speak about the third and most important of these virtues. I say to you, Sterling Montoya, ‘One word frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love.’”

  “Well, there you have it, Sterling,” she said, spreading her arms wide. “These wise men have told you all the things they believe will help you. The rest is up to you. And—and me, if you’ll allow it.” She took a few steps forward.

  He watched her approach. “Stop. Don’t come any closer. I don’t want you anywhere near me.”

  Quick tears blinded her; she wiped them away. “Fine. I’ll sleep with the philosophers over there. But before I grant you the solitude you seem to be craving, I’ll have my say.”

  “Haven’t you said enough?”

  “Your Fattier Tom obviously loved you, Sterling. Antonio loves you. The children and I have loved you. I—”

  “Shut—”

  “I do love you, Sterling. And I can’t believe that Brianna’s hatred, in the space of a half an hour, could have destroyed all the things love has done for you. Some part of you remains untouched by that vicious woman’s rancor. It’s the precious gold inside you that remains, Sterling. It’s sullied with pain and hatred and despair right now. But if you would only throw yourself into the fire...if you would only give into the torment and allow it to melt away the pain, you’ll emerge pure. You’ll be pure gold.”

  She drew herself up, standing tall before him. “It’s obvious you have no faith in anything I’ve said to you tonight. Therefore, if you can’t have faith, I’ll try and keep enough for both of us. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’re taking me back to the Apaches. From there, I have no idea where you’ll go, but I’ll keep trusting you. Sterling. I will never stop trusting you.”

  Trust, he thought. If only...“Chimera, we set out at first light,” he snapped. “Go to sleep.”

  Her heart swept into her throat, but slowly she walked to him and sank to the sand. “I kneel before my accuser. I’m innocent of all you believe me to have done, but I see now that there�
��s nothing more I can do to convince you of that. I’ve tried to help you tonight...I wanted to be with and hold you when the grief came. You wouldn’t release it tonight, but it will escape. And when the tears finally come, please remember that I weep with you. When you long for arms to hold you, remember mine. Sterling, no matter where you are, listen for my whispered words of comfort, for my love will surely bring them to you.”

  She slid her warm palm against his cool cheek before she rose and walked to her own place in the sand.

  Sterling’s eyes stung as he watched her leave him. Furious at his show of emotion and the girl whose words and wisdom had forced it from him, he tried to forget them both.

  But one word kept coming back to him. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t erase it from his mind.

  Gold. Out of all the things she’d ever compared him with—a knight, icing, oysters, meat, and cheese...

  She’d said he was gold inside. Precious gold.

  Antonio’s face furrowed into lines of anger when he saw Chimera. He’d been the first warrior to spot her and Sterling as they’d arrived in the Dragoons and had rushed to meet them. He’d hoped for good news, bright smiles. But one look at Chimera told him everything was wrong. Aside from looking completely exhausted, her eyes were filled with sorrow. And Sterling’s expression was one of raw pain. Antonio knew the trip to Tucson had been miserable for both of them.

  “Antonio, how are the children?” Chimera asked. She fought to keep her eyes open. The journey to the Dragoons had been so hard, but hairier to endure had been Sterling’s silence the entire way.

  “The children are well,” Antonio answered. “Come, and we will go—”

  “Go along, Chimera,” Sterling bade her firmly, his voice void of all feeling.

  Cold fear settled over her. She’d known he would leave, and for the past few days she’d tried her very best to prepare herself for this moment. But as she looked into his beautiful eyes, she realized no amount of preparation could have made her ready for such horrible anguish. “Sterling...” She couldn’t finish. Her voice couldn’t get past the pain.

  “Antonio,” Sterling said, “Chimera and the children are safe with you. When she’s rested, will you escort them to their cabin?”

  Antonio looked into the distance as if he could find the words he needed carved into the far-off hills. “Where will you go, my brother? Why do you leave? I see pain in your eyes, and I know it is a heavy burden you carry. But if you leave it will become heavier. There will be no one to help you with it. Come to the village, and we will talk of this. Come, and—”

  “Will you take them to the cabin or not?” Sterling snapped.

  Antonio stared at his friend. “I will take them.”

  Sterling looked at Chimera and saw the glitter of her tears. The sight tore at him, but he steeled himself against it. He tried to turn away, but couldn’t. He watched the sunlight flicker through her long, raven hair and remembered how wonderfully soft those locks felt as they slid through his fingers. He looked at her mouth, soft, pink, but trembling. What sweetly whimsical things those lips had told him. Her beautiful eyes, brandy orbs that spoke as clearly as words. How many times had he watched her emotions dancing through them?

  Dios mio, how many things he had done with her, once upon a time. The memories, like cool rain, poured through him, drenching him.

  But his hot bitterness exploded like lightning within him too, piercing, burning the recollections. They’d been deceptions, all of them! he reminded himself, and vowed never to remember them again.

  “Sterling,” she called.

  “Good-bye, Chimera.” His lips formed the words, but his farewell was soundless. He knew she understood, though, when she began to sob. The sound echoed through him. He turned Gus around and stared into the distance.

  “Sterling,” he heard her whisper desperately. “The gold. The fire. The prince who could not see. Remember Rapunzel’s kisses. Remember from whose lips they come when you want them. Remember, Sterling. Remember everything.”

  Her words floated into him, swirled within him. He braced himself against the yearning they brought him. Her image in his mind, her whispers still sounding in his ears, he pressed his knees into Gus’s sides and rode down the slope, never once looking back.

  Antonio dismounted and looked at Chimera’s cabin. He knew living in it would be hard for her. “You are sure you do not want me to stay with you, Chimera?”

  She, too, was staring at the home Sterling had built for her. She looked at each log and remembered him shaping it. She saw the fence he’d constructed, the barn, the broken water trough he’d once thought to bathe in. Her caldron was in the yard. She recalled the day he’d backed into it. The chickens he’d gotten for her scurried around. One of the cows was tied to the porch rail. His kerchief, the one she’d used in the love potion, was hanging on a nail on the side of the old cabin. It was still there after all this time.

  And so was the huge pile of dead branches. He never had gotten around to clearing them away like he’d promised.

  “Chimera?” Antonio said quietly.

  “He’s here,” she murmured. “Everywhere I look, I see him. His hands touched everything here, Antonio. How can I stay here? What—Sweet heaven, what will I do without him?” Covering her face with her hands, she wept. She’d cried for so long, for so many days, she couldn’t understand how it was possible to still have tears.

  The triplets, their eyes wet also, looked to Antonio for advice. “Care for your mounts,” he told them. In the Apache language, he asked the five warriors who’d accompanied him to help the children.

  “Chimera,” he said, putting his arm around her shaking shoulders, “you must remember the seed. You planted it inside him. Your love was the sun that warmed it. Do you forget this?”

  “No.”

  “The seed grew. You must believe this and take comfort from it. It is suffering beneath a terrible storm right now, but it is a strong seedling and will not break. The winds are brutal, and they are pushing, pulling, and beating the seedling. But though the wind is wounding it, and it bleeds, the sun, your love, continues to warm it. Sterling left you, but he could not leave your love. It goes with him wherever he journeys.”

  “Chimera!” Archibald greeted her loudly as he emerged from behind the barn, a bucket of water in his hands. “Where are Snig, Snag, and Snug? Where’s Sterling? Did you get Venus back all right? Who is that man? Chimera—”

  “You have many questions,” Antonio said. “Slow down so we may answer them.”

  Archibald smiled, then frowned when he saw Chimera’s red eyes. He looked at Antonio again and saw the warrior’s deep concern. “Did—The triplets—are they all right?”

  “They’re fine and in the barn,” Chimera said. “Archibald...Sterling...He—” She broke off.

  “He did not return,” Antonio finished for her.

  Archibald dropped the bucket. Water soaked his boots. “Is—is he dead?”

  “No,” Antonio answered when Chimera could not. “He did not choose to return here. He has gone on a journey of his own.”

  Archibald trembled, but he didn’t cry. He sensed his tears would only bring Chimera more. Not knowing what else to say or do, he took Pegasus and hobbled into the barn.

  “I will stay if this is what you desire,” Antonio said to Chimera.

  “No, you have to return to Satcha, Venus, and Truenito. They need you, and I’ll be fine. I’ve got a brand-new cabin, plenty of food and water, and Everett Sprague, the man whose ranch—”

  “Yes, Sterling spoke of this Everett. It is good he died in the fire. I am glad the Apache did you a service though we did not know we did it. And you must not forget, Chimera, that Cochise has pledged his help to you if you need it. The Chiricahua Apache will be near.”

  He called his fellow warriors and mounted. “I leave now, but I will come again. Remember how loudly the heart speaks, Chimera. It is possible that Sterling is far away, and the sound of your voice will not
reach him. But the voice of your heart does not know of distance, and it travels swiftly and truly. Call him home. Do not give up, Chimera. You must continue hoping.”

  She watched as he and the other braves disappeared into the woods. She realized his parting words were almost the same ones she’d spoken to Sterling the night in the desert. Faith, hope, love...sweet heaven, it was so difficult to keep holding onto them. So hard to keep believing in their powers. And what proof did she have that Sterling had believed in them at all?

  She had none. He’d abandoned her. He hated her for something she didn’t even do.

  She crumpled to the ground with the agony of her sorrow, weeping until Archibald returned and helped her into the cabin Sterling had built for her.

  “It’s been so long.” Archibald sat down beside Chimera on the porch. “You haven’t smiled in so long.”

  “I miss him,” she whispered. She glanced at the pile of dead branches in the middle of the yard. She really should do something about them. She’d already been putting off the job for almost two months. But she just couldn’t make herself do it. Each time she thought of doing it, something stopped her. Sighing, she looked at the triplets, who were sitting on the fence. The fence Sterling had built.

  Archibald saw her tremble, and her sorrow finally released his own. He’d been trying so hard to be strong for her and the triplets, but he could hold back his tears no longer. “I miss him too!” he sobbed, and threw himself into her lap. “He was my very best friend! He tried to teach me—He wanted so much for me to ride, but I was too afraid! And now...now I won’t ever be able to do it for him! I’ll never be able to make him proud of me!”

  “Oh, Archibald, no,” she whispered, and put her arms around him. “Sterling never would have left you in charge of things while we were all gone if he hadn’t trusted you. Doesn’t that speak of his pride in you?”

  “I—I guess so,” Archibald stammered.

  Chimera rocked him slowly, reminded of something her sorrow had made her forget.

  The children needed her. They needed smiles, kisses, and hugs, never-ending attention and love. Archibald needed it so badly, his body shook with it. And the triplets...sweet heaven, the triplets. Though they continued to cry occasionally for the man they’d wanted to be their father, they were also angry at him for leaving them. Their hostility toward him was growing daily. And they’d been venting that animosity by slipping back into their old and naughty ways, doing things he’d not permitted them to do while he was with them.