Coyote Ugly

by Pati Nagle

  A tiny trickle of water seeped down the rocks and gathered in a little pool there. Madre waited, watching to see what Esteban would do.

  He stood panting for a while until he’d caught his breath. Then he raised his tequío and stabbed it down at the rocks.

  “Bitch!”

  Madre borrowed a little sound from the river and whispered, “Bastard.”

  Esteban froze. He frowned and his black eyebrows pulled together in the middle of his forehead. He peered at the rocks, then at the muddy sides of the ditch.

  Madre drew together all the shape that she could gather, which wasn’t very much without her water. All she had was the tiny puddle at the foot of the rocks and the trickle that fed into it. She made herself a shape with it, but she wasn’t very tall. No taller than a little girl’s doll. She stood in the middle of the puddle and shouted up at Esteban.

  “Down here, bastard,” she called, and her shout was a whisper, but he heard.

  Esteban stared and stared, then he jumped into the ditch for a closer look. The mud made little slurping sounds with each step as he walked up to where she stood.

  Madre stared up at him, concentrating on keeping her little doll’s body together. She was a muddy little shadow, but he could see her. She could tell by the shock on his face.

  “Madre de dios!” he muttered.

  “Close,” she said.

  “What the hell are you?”

  “I’ve been wondering that about you,” she said in her tiny voice. “You’re supposed to be my steward, but you’re doing a pretty sorry job.”

  Esteban’s brows drew down in a scowl. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. This is your last warning, Esteban. You better show some respect for your duty and the people of El Pueblo. You’re their servant, not the other way around.”

  Esteban snarled. “I’ll show you respect!”

  He hefted his tequío and stabbed it at Madre. It went through her shadow-shape and into the wall of rocks behind her. The rocks trembled, then shifted, then gave. They tumbled forward, the weight of the river behind them.

  Esteban tried to jump, but the mud had him in its grip and the rocks rolled over him, pressing him back. The water swept in after, gurgling around the rocks and around his flailing arms until he disappeared beneath the muddy, cool flow.

  The water in the ditch ran fast at first, then as the ditch filled, it ran lazily, sleepily through the open gates down into the fields. Madre stretched, rejoicing to feel the life-giving water again flowing uninhibited through her veins.

  The people of El Pueblo watched the acequia madre fill again and they were happy. They saw the Mayordomo’s tequío drifting along in the mother ditch and they were curious, but not so curious they went looking for Esteban. They figured he got mad that he’d been caught, and left town after letting the water go.

  Manuel Benitez fished the tequío out of the ditch. Carlos Lovato joked that it was a sign from heaven, that he was fated to be the next Mayordomo. The people of El Pueblo knew he was joking, but they thought it was a good idea anyway and they elected Manuel to replace “that rat Esteban,” as they all took to calling him.

  Madre was happy with their choice. She knew Manuel would be fair, and she sighed with contentment as she went back to drowsing in the late summer sun.

  Rescue Work

  Adele hurried to open the door, hoping it was the newest member of the circle, so they could begin their work. On the honeysuckle-draped porch stood the wide-eyed, dark-haired young woman she was expecting, holding a cellophane-covered plate.

  “Clara! I’m so glad you could make it.”

  Clara smiled, looking little nervous. “I brought some pickle sandwiches.”

  “That’s just lovely, dear. Come on in.”

  Adele led her guest to the living room, where the others were already chatting away over glasses of sweet tea. They all greeted Clara, who put her plate on the coffee table and unwrapped the cellophane, revealing a heap of little square, crustless sandwiches. Thelma, the eldest in the group, took two right off.

  “They’re a bit dry,” she said.

  Adele could feel the younger woman’s hurt. She touched Clara’s shoulder.

  “Come on in the kitchen while I fix you a glass of tea.”

  Clara followed her away, smoothing her floral print dress. The poor child was still self-conscious.

  “Am I late?” Clara said, dark eyes anxious.

  Adele filled a glass with ice. “Not a bit. Thelma’s in a mood today. Don’t you pay her any heed. You want mint?”

  “Yes, please.”

  Adele put a sprig of mint cut fresh from the garden into the glass, and poured tea over it. Clara took a sip and sighed.

  “Thank you.” She looked up at Adele shyly. “I hope Henry shows up today.”

  Adele’s heart gave a squeeze, because she was hoping so, too. She didn’t want Clara to know how much.

  “Well, we’ll have to see.”

  They went back to the living room, Adele bringing the tea pitcher with her. The air conditioner was running full blast, and only just enough to take the edge off. Adele sat in her favorite chair by the window, an old-fashioned wing chair, powder blue. Henry had bought it for her years ago.

  Thelma leaned forward from the leather recliner to take another sandwich. Donna Sue took one, too, a hand on her big belly, and smiled up at Clara.

  “These are my favorite, Clara! I’m so glad you brought them.”

  Clara smiled back. “Thank you. My, you’re getting big already. When are you due?”

  “September,” Thelma said. “As if anyone could forget.”

  Adele gave Thelma a sharp glance, then poured more tea into her glass. Clara sat beside Donna Sue on the sofa.

  They were all here now, and Adele wanted to start, but she knew they needed to settle down first. She sipped her tea and nibbled a sandwich, listening to them chat, watching Thelma eat a handful of the kettle corn that Emmaline had brought, then another pickle sandwich, then more kettle corn. Why the old girl didn’t weigh two hundred pounds, Adele couldn’t say.

  Emmaline had fallen quiet, like she tended to do, so Adele turned toward her. “How’s your Tony?”

  Emmaline smiled and peered at her over her glasses. “Ornery as ever. Still can’t keep a fishing buddy.”

  “Don’t you like to go fishing?”

  “Not with him. Anyway, he don’t want a woman in the boat. He sure does miss Henry.”

  Adele gave a small smile and sipped her tea.

  “We all miss Henry,” Donna Sue said softly.

  “I wish I’d had a chance to meet him,” said Clara.

  Adele felt a familiar tightening in her gut. She set her glass on the table.

  “Shall we begin?”

  Thelma grabbed another sandwich and gobbled it. The others shifted, put down their tea, and got ready to work. Emmaline sat up very straight and held out her hands right and left. The circle took hands, and Emmaline led the prayer. It was her task to ground the circle, and she took it seriously, and that helped the others get focused. Time was when Henry had been the ground, but things had changed.

  “Dear Lord, thank you for all the blessings you have given us. We are here today to do your work, and ask you to watch over us. In Jesus name, Amen.”

  The others murmured “Amen.”

  Adele closed her eyes, and the circle leapt awake in her mind. They all looked so different there—just glowing masses of light—but she still knew who each one was. Beyond them she sensed the second circle, with Mariah, her contact, leading them. Mariah appeared to her as a globe of pinkish-white light.

  Greetings, Adele.

  Hello, Mariah. What is our task today?

  We have a young boy who is lost. He cannot hear us, so we have brought him to you.

  “A young boy, lost,” Adele said.

  Mariah told her the boy’s situation, and she passed it along to her circle.

  “He was in an accident. A drunk driver crashed an S
UV into his family’s car. His parents were in the front, and he was in the back. The SUV hit the left side of the car and pushed it into a light pole.”

  Clara gave a small gasp. “Poor people!”

  A shape was coming into focus for Adele: the boy, no more than twelve. He looked around as if trying to understand his surroundings. She could see him almost normally, though a glow of soul-light surrounded him. His wandering gaze came to rest on Emmaline.

  Who are you?

  “Emmaline, tell him who you are.”

  “I’m a teacher. I teach seventh grade.”

  Oh. I start seventh grade this fall. Maybe you’ll be my teacher.

  “He says maybe you’ll be his teacher,” Adele said.

  “Maybe. Is there someone looking for you?”

  No. I’m looking for my mom and dad.

  The boy turned, glancing around the room. For a moment Adele was hopeful he’d catch sight of his escort, but instead he focused on Donna Sue. He stared at her a long while, looking at her pregnant belly. His gaze shifted to Clara, beside her.

  Do you know my mom?

  Adele repeated the question for her. Clara’s light flickered with dismay.

  “What do I do?”

  “Just talk to him,” Emmaline said.

  Clara turned to face the center of the room and blinked twice. “Um, I don’t know if I know your mother. What’s her name?”

  “Jennifer,” Adele repeated after the boy.

  “Jennifer. OK. And . . . and what’s your name?”

  “Good,” whispered Donna Sue.

  My name is Willie.

  “Willie,” Adele said.

  “Hello, Willie. I’m Clara.”

  What are you people doing here? Where is this? Where are my parents?

  “He’s asking about his parents.”

  “Oh!” Clara said. “I think they’re looking for you. Do you see them? Is that them over there?”

  A tendril of Clara’s light swept out in a gesture. Though Adele knew she couldn’t see the other side, she must have had a sense of it, because now Adele could feel two more souls in the direction Clara had indicated.

  Where? The boy looked around, then turned back to Clara.

  So close.

  “Almost,” Adele said. “Try again.”

  “Um, I thought I saw a man,” Clara said. “Maybe it was your father. What does he look like?”

  He’s tall, and he’s got brown hair, and he wears glasses. The boy looked around again. I don’t see him. Where is he?

  “Clara, point that way again.”

  Clara pointed. The boy turned to stare in the direction of the two souls. Adele felt them reaching toward him, but they weren’t strong enough to break through his confusion.

  “He can’t see them. We’ll have to remind him.”

  Clara’s light wavered. “How do I do that?”

  “Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Thelma. “Young man—“

  “Willie,” murmured Emmaline.

  “Willie. When was the last time you saw your parents?”

  The boy turned slowly to face Thelma. Waves of dismay ran through his soul-light.

  I don’t remember.

  Adele passed it along. Thelma gave a snort.

  “Yes you do, you just don’t want to think about it. I don’t blame you a bit, but you’ve got to be brave and face up to it. Now, did you have breakfast with your parents this morning?”

  Y-yes, the boy said slowly. Adele nodded.

  “What did you do after that?”

  We were going to go to the store.

  “But you didn’t get there, did you?” Thelma said after Adele passed his message. “What happened?”

  I ... I want my mommy.

  “Keep going, Thelma,” Adele whispered as she watched the boy sway from foot to foot.

  “You all got in the car, didn’t you? You and your folks got in the car to go to the store, only something happened.”

  Mom! Dad!

  The boy’s swaying grew more pronounced. The two souls sent tendrils of light toward him, but he did not acknowledge them.

  Adele, please have your circle send him pink light. We will do the same.

  Thank you, Mariah.

  Adele raised her hands to show the circle she had instructions for them. “Pink light,” she said, directing her palms toward the boy.

  The circle all raised their hands—Adele felt it more than saw it—and began sending light to Willie. Adele focused on this task until she sensed Mariah seeking her attention.

  Someone is sending orange rather than pink.

  “Everyone please make sure you are sending pink, not orange.”

  “I was visualizing salmon,” Clara said. “Is that not right?”

  “Try bubble gum,” said Donna Sue.

  “Oh! All right.”

  Adele felt a shift in the light coming from the circle, almost a click as it rose to a greater level of harmony. Willie stopped swaying.

  That’s better, Mariah told her.

  “Good,” Adele said. “Keep sending. Thelma, if you’ll guide him.”

  “Willie, your mommy and daddy are looking for you. They’re right over there. Can you see them?”

  I don’t ...

  Adele raised her head, sensing he was close to seeing. She kept sending light to him, and sent some to the two waiting souls also. The boy turned toward them.

  Daddy?

  With a rush of energy, the two souls reached out and enfolded Willie with light. Adele’s perception of him faded to a simple, glowing mass of soul-light. She sighed as the three of them departed.

  Well done, Adele. Please thank your circle for us.

  “That did it. Mariah says thank you to all of you.”

  They all exclaimed and stopped sending pink. Adele kept her eyes closed for a moment. A little flutter of hope rose in her stomach.

  Thank you, Mariah. Do you have more for us?

  Yes, but take a rest first.

  Adele was disappointed, but she knew better than to say anything. Mariah was in charge of her side.

  She opened her eyes and looked around at the circle. Just a group of ordinary women, drinking tea and eating pickle sandwiches on a hot summer afternoon. She was so proud of them.

  Clara noticed her. “So he’ll be all right now?”

  “Yes. He went off with his parents, quick as a whip.”

  “Oh, I’m so glad!” Clara looked around the circle. “I’m so honored to be doing this with all y’all.”

  Emmaline smiled at her indulgently. “It’s good work.”

  “And you’re an important part of it, hon,” said Donna Sue, picking up the pitcher of tea and pouring for everyone. “He went right to you. You make people comfortable.”

  “Well, thank you. It just breaks my heart to think of a little boy like that all scared and alone.”

  Scared and alone. Adele’s throat tightened. She stood and took the empty pitcher from Donna Sue, going back to the kitchen to fill it up again. Emmaline followed her.

  “Henry going to come today?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’s been quite a while since . . . .”

  Adele felt heat rising to her face. She added fresh ice to the pitcher, then pulled the tea jug out of the fridge and poured tea over the ice, listening to it crackle.

  “There’s always a lot to do,” Adele said when she could trust her voice. “Too many lost souls for us to ever take care of them all.”

  “We aren’t the only lighthouse.”

  “No, but there still aren’t enough.”

  “Mm-hm. Not enough seers like you.”

  “I’m only part of it. Y’all are just as important.”

  Adele took the tea back to the living room and topped up everyone’s glasses, then sat in her wing chair and indulged in a pickle sandwich. The sweet tang of the bread and butter pickle, the smooth salty butter and cheese, and the soft bread made her think of summers gone by. Summer evenings on the screen p
orch with Henry, watching the fireflies come out and just talking about anything and everything.

  Emmaline poured more kettle corn into the bowl. The sandwiches were disappearing fast. Between Donna Sue and Thelma, the heap had been reduced to a scattering.

  Adele took a swallow of tea and closed her eyes, just listening. She could feel the other circle and knew they were talking too, though she couldn’t ever hear them except with Mariah’s help. They seemed to be excited about something.

  Are you ready, Adele?

  Just a minute and we will be.

  She looked at her circle. “Time to get back to work.”

  Everyone took a sandwich. There was just one left so Adele claimed it, crunching pickle while the others settled down. They took hands again to center the circle, then Adele told Mariah that they were ready.

  Good. This one is a woman, a coast guard officer. She was lost in a storm, trying to rescue a teenager from a wrecked fishing boat.

  A twinge of grief; Adele ignored it. All the stories were sad. No one ever needed help from a lighthouse after dying peacefully.

  She told the circle about the coast guard officer, then closed her eyes to watch. The woman was young, and she went straight to Donna Sue. Turned out she’d been planning to have a baby, take leave from her job. Donna Sue gently steered her toward moving on, and with a little help from the second circle, they got her to see her grandma who was waiting for her.

  Then there was a harder case, a soldier who was still bent on killing some enemy that didn’t matter any more. He had a big, loud gun that he’d conjured up for himself, and he kept shooting it off at imaginary adversaries. That didn’t bother anyone besides Adele, but it made it hard for her to concentrate, and she wondered how it affected the second circle. Folks on that side were more sensitive to powerful emotions.

  The soldier just wasn’t going to listen; didn’t want to acknowledge what his soul knew somewhere deep inside. All the anger and focus on fighting didn’t help. He wasn’t ready to pay any notice to his friends who were waiting for him, much less a bunch of women.

  “Just like Tony,” murmured Emmaline.

  Adele continued to describe to the circle what he was doing. Mariah’s group kept him from leaving, but they couldn’t get his attention either. Better chance of Adele’s circle doing that, since he was so focused on earthly energies.