The Turning Tides (Marina's Tales)

by Anderson, Derrolyn

  “Come sit,” she patted the couch next to her. “She just woke up.”

  I settled down, leaning over to see a beautiful little face peeking out from a bundle of blankets. She yawned, her toothless mouth twisting sideways, and then closing with a few smacks of her rose colored lips. She looked up at me with dark blue, unfocused eyes that seemed both wise and innocent at the same time.

  “This is your cousin Marina,” Abby told her.

  “Hi Adria,” I spoke gently.

  “Can you take her for a minute?” Abby asked, passing her over to me. I reached out and took her gingerly. Abby got up and stretched, “I’ll be right back… Just be sure to support her neck.”

  I nodded, and looked down at the helpless little person in the crook of my arm, bringing her close to me. A tiny little hand worked its way out of the swaddling and clutched my blouse, surprisingly strong. I studied her miniature fingers and nails, surprised a hand could be so small, and yet so perfect. I forgot all about my disturbing vision, and impulsively kissed the top of her downy head, inhaling the sweet scent she gave off.

  “Smells good, doesn’t she?” Abby said, plopping back down beside me. “It’s been so long since you and Cruz were little I forgot.”

  I smiled back at her, and we both watched as she turned her little face from side to side, nudging against me.

  “What’s she doing?” I asked.

  “She’s hungry,” Abby laughed. “I’d better take her.”

  I passed her back carefully and got up to go to my room, “I’d better go check on little Stumpy.”

  “Stumpy? That’s terrible!” Abby said.

  “Blame Ethan,” I laughed my way down the hall.

  I went to my room and picked up the kitten, heartened to see that he seemed to be scooting around a little better. I picked out a roomy tote and packed my favorite jeans and a nightgown, stuffing the rest of the bag with shoes. I imagined how Ethan would tease me and smiled to myself. I couldn’t wait to see him and tell him about Adria. I packed another tote with the cat’s things, slung them both over my shoulder and scooped up Stumpy to take him along with me.

  Abby looked up from nursing the baby, “Where are you taking him?”

  “I think I may have a home for him. I’ll see you later.”

  “Won’t you stay for dinner?” she asked, “Brad and Cruz are coming down to see the baby… And Dutch is making his famous lasagna.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have plans tonight. Tell the guys I said Hi.”

  I hurried out the door before she could ask me where I was going.

  Stumpy turned out to be a good little passenger, settling down on the seat beside me. The purr of the engine seemed to soothe him to sleep, and I looked over to see him curled in a little ball. When I got to Ethan’s I slipped him into the front pocket of my pullover and climbed the vine covered stairs, knocking gently.

  Ethan opened up right away with a smile that widened when he saw my bags. He went to hug me but I pulled back, protecting the little lump I harbored in my pouch.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, worried.

  I pressed my lips together, and reached into my pocket to pull out the sleepy little cat. I looked up at Ethan hopefully. “Just for a couple of days, until we can find a home for him…”

  He rolled his eyes with a sigh, “You know, that’s the oldest trick in the book.”

  I widened my eyes, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Stumpy blinked a few times and yawned.

  Ethan laughed and took him from me, holding him up with one hand to regard him. The kitten yawned again and blinked. “He is kinda cute.” He pulled me in by the arm and closed the door behind us, leaning over to kiss me. We walked over to the couch in a lip-lock, easing down into each other’s arms. Ethan leaned over to put the cat down on the floor, brushing the hair out of my face and looking into my eyes.

  “I love you Dollface.”

  We were rolling on the couch when a plaintive meow made us both look up. Stumpy was standing up on all fours for the first time, his short back legs wobbling unsteadily, his tail held straight out like a rudder behind him. We looked back at each other and laughed.

  I wiggled out from under Ethan and sat up, “I should probably get all his stuff set up.”

  He grabbed me around the waist and we fell back down again, a tangle of arms and legs and hands and lips. The phone in my purse rang and Ethan started kissing my neck, working up to my ear, “Don’t answer it,” he whispered.

  “Answer what?” I asked, turning into his face.

  The phone stopped ringing for a moment, starting in again immediately. Ethan sighed.

  “It might be important,” I said, wrenching myself from him. I sat up and groped for my purse while Ethan laid his head on my lap and looked up at me with dreamy eyes.

  God he’s cute, I thought, reluctantly pulling my phone out to see who the persistent caller was. It started ringing for a third time.

  I checked it and answered, “Aunt Evie? What is it?”

  Her voice was tense, “There’s been an accident… I need you to pack some things right away.”

  “An accident? Who? What happened?”

  Ethan sat up, his face suddenly serious.

  “It’s your father… I’m afraid he’s been hurt. He’s being air-lifted to an army base in Germany.”

  “But I just talked to him,” I protested, her words not quite registering. “Why didn’t he call me?”

  She paused, “I’ve got the jet ready to go, and I’ll send Boris to bring you to the airport– I just spoke to Abby– Where are you?”

  “I’m at Ethan’s,” I answered numbly. “How is he? Did you talk to him? What happened?”

  “Marina, we need to leave right away. I’m afraid it’s serious… It… it was a land mine.”

  “I want to talk to him,” I cried.

  She sounded reluctant to go into detail, “Apparently he hasn’t regained consciousness.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Boris can be there in an hour.”

  “No! I’ll get to the airport myself– it’ll be faster.”

  Her voice was calm, but I could hear the fear in it, “Are you sure you can drive?”

  “I’ll be right there,” I hung up.

  “I’ll take you,” Ethan said.

  I told him what Evie had said on the ride to the airport, trying to keep from crying. Ethan kept looking over at me, squeezing my hand and patting my leg. I could tell he didn’t know what to say, but just having him by my side kept me from panicking. I was glad he was driving.

  We pulled up at the security gate to find Boris there, waiting to wave us through. He looked more serious than ever when he directed Ethan to the runway. We pulled up to the jet and I could see Evie’s outline in the doorway. Paul stood at attention at the bottom of the steps.

  Ethan and I clung together tightly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of house keys attached to a little wooden surfboard. He pressed them into my hand.

  “Come home to me soon… Be careful…” his voice was gruff.

  “I love you,” I said, unable to stop a single tear from rolling down my cheek.

  We kissed one last time and I climbed out, running into Evie’s arms with a sob, unable to look back. Paul followed me up the stairs and closed the hatch, taking a seat in front. The whole thing seemed like a dream, like something that was happening to someone else.

  Evie took my bag and directed me to a seat, strapping herself in the chair alongside mine and taking my hand.

  “It’s going to be alright.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “Because it has to be,” she said, leaning back in her seat as we started to taxi down the runway.

  After we were airborne she told me everything she knew, and it was chilling news. My father had been out surveying a field with his local assistant, when the young man stepped on a land mine, killing him instantly. Spared the brunt of the explosion, Dad had been severel
y injured nevertheless, and had to endure a long drive to the nearest military air base. They had immediately transported him to a hospital in Germany where he was in an induced coma due to his head wounds.

  “The doctors there are the very best,” Evie tried to reassure me.

  I sat numbly, letting the whole thing sink in. I must have spoken to him right before it happened… Could my vision this morning have been a metaphor? The thought that it might have been a bad omen chilled me to the bone. What use were muse powers and visions if they couldn’t keep my loved ones safe?

  “Evie? How could it have happened?” I asked her with tortured eyes. “I mean, with both of us on his side…”

  She shook her head sadly, full of remorse, “I had a bad feeling about this one. I should have stopped him. I should have known–”

  “Like anyone could have!” I burst out. “It’s not your fault Evie.”

  She sighed, leaning back in her seat. She looked at me hopefully and in a small voice said, “Sometimes… often…things seem to happen without any rhyme or reason. But just when you least expect it, the very best is waiting just behind the tragedy… and in the end, you see that it was all meant to be.”

  I looked down. The normally unflappable Evie suddenly appeared utterly fallible, and the world seemed like an even more dangerous place than ever before. I closed my eyes and thought of Ethan, wrapping my hand around the keychain he’d given me. It was a symbol of our future life together, and I said a little prayer that my father would be alright, picturing him and Ethan meeting each other.

  Evie got up and brought me a blanket, tucking it around my shoulders, “You look tired. Try and get some sleep.”

  I smiled up at her, wanting to make her feel better too, “Don’t worry, he’s going to be fine, and he’ll be coming home soon. He promised.” I reclined my seat and closed my eyes, suddenly too tired to hold my head up, “Evie? Why isn’t Boris coming along? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you travel without him.”

  “Paul is more than up to the task of keeping watch over us. I need Boris to stay in San Francisco to attend to some things for me.”

  I nodded, glad that she hadn’t chosen Yuri to accompany us. I was tired, and my head was starting to hurt again. I yawned and stretched out my stiff shoulders, reclining in my seat. Like little Stumpy, I let myself be lulled to sleep by the hum of the engines. I drifted away on a cloud tinged with worry.

  ~

  Fatima’s face loomed in front of mine, intoning, “There are two men, one dark and one light… There are two women, one dark and one light.” She kept repeating the same words over and over like a chant, until they blended together into one sound with no meaning. Her face started to spin, and the noise grew to a roar as I felt myself falling...

  ~

  I started awake, looking across the aisle and into Paul’s concerned eyes.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  I nodded, watching as he got up and came back to hand me a glass of water.

  He patted my shoulder, “We land in an hour.” I watched him disappear into the cockpit.

  Evie called me over to a table in the back of the plane, and I got up to see the surface was spread with Tarot cards.

  “I thought we agreed to leave that to the professionals,” I chided her gently. Try as she might, she’d never been able to get the cards to give up any secrets about the future.

  “I’m just passing time,” she said with a toss of her head, but I knew she was shaken– rattled by the prospect of an uncertain future, and feeling responsible for being unable to prevent my father’s accident. Despite all her talk of fate, Evie thrived on being in control.

  “He’s tough,” I said, slipping into the chair opposite hers. “He’ll be okay.”

  She gathered up the cards and forced a smile, “Let’s have some tea and eat something, shall we?”

  I nodded, watching as she carefully put the beautifully illustrated deck away in its carved rosewood box.

  She sighed, looking out the window, “I suppose that how a person masters their fate is more important than what their fate actually is.”

  I had to agree.

  ~

  Chapter Four

  HOMECOMING

  ~

  It had been three grueling days, and he still wouldn’t wake up. I sat by his bedside, numb with fear. I couldn’t stop wondering if I’d done something wrong to allow this to happen. What good was this muse magic if I couldn’t use it to protect my own father?

  The doctors shuffled in and out. Every conceivable expert had run his own series of tests without any conclusive answers. Finally, they agreed that it was safe to reduce his medication, satisfied that there was no permanent brain damage. No one seemed to be able to explain why he wouldn’t regain consciousness.

  “It might help if you talk to him,” a neurologist had suggested.

  “Can he hear me?” I asked anxiously. It seemed like I’d been camped at his bedside forever, fidgeting nervously, or holding his hand and feeling utterly helpless.

  “You might be surprised,” he shrugged, “The brain is a mysterious organ.”

  So is the heart, I thought.

  The head wound had been deemed minor, but the whole right side of his body had suffered enormous damage. Both of his legs, even the one recently healed from the helicopter accident, were in plaster casts. His right arm had been pretty much shredded, and was surrounded by all kinds of wrappings and braces, tubes going in and out. I could barely bring myself to look, and sat on his left side.

  I started talking, telling Dad about Abby’s new baby, how much I liked surfing, and my experiences at school. I talked about Ethan, explaining all of the things I loved about him. I told him how much they were alike, and how I knew they were going to get along. I described Aptos, my paintings, and all the happy events I could think about from the past year.

  There was a whole lot to avoid.

  When I ran out of things to say, I started reading aloud to him. I read the daily newspapers, poetry, and anything else I could get my hands on. Evie had Dad moved to a private room, working her own brand of magic to make it as comfortable as possible. She filled the room with beautiful flowers, light and music, attending to even the smallest of details.

  Evie was on a mission, going over Dad’s charts, contacting outside specialists, and making sure that every medical protocol was followed to the letter. Always at her best when she was on task, I watched her perform with ruthless efficiency, and it gave me hope that everything would turn out alright. With Evie in your corner, how could you lose?

  I called Ethan every day, pouring out my hopes and fears across the vast ocean. He was encouraging, and hearing his voice always made me feel better.

  “I miss you,” I told him, “I can’t wait to come home… to bring my dad home.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” he reassured me. “I wish you were here right now.”

  “Evie says they might be able to move him in another week.”

  “Hurry home,” he said urgently, “Stumpy misses you.”

  I laughed, “What is he up to today?” Apparently Stumpy the cat had made a great deal of progress in the past few days, and was now able to hop around the house.

  “He can officially get up on the bed now… And he insists on sleeping in it. There’s only one problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d rather have you there.”

  “Tell him I’ll be there soon,” I sighed. “I love you.”

  ~

  Evie watched over me as well as she did my father, pulling me out of the hospital to go out and eat some “decent food” at least once a day. Paul would come to sit at Dad’s bedside when I left, promising to call us the moment anything changed. Evie tried to take me shopping, but I wouldn’t have any of it, always hurrying back as soon as possible.

  That didn’t stop Evie. She thrived on retail therapy, and ended up buying me so many clothes that it was soon clear I’d be going home with a whole
new wardrobe. She would burst into the hospital room with armloads of shopping bags, and I halfway expected my father to sit up and protest her excesses like he always did.

  On the fifth day Dad’s eyelids started to flutter, and I leaned over him to see them open. He struggled to focus, finally seeing my face.

  “Adria?” he croaked out.

  “No dad… it’s me, Marina,” I told him, but the recognition slipped out of his eyes and they slowly shut again. Evie came in to find me crying.

  “You need a break,” she said firmly.

  “I can’t leave him now,” I wailed.

  She regarded me with frustration, and left the room. A few minutes later she returned with Paul, and the two of them insisted I get out for some fresh air.

  “I’ll be right here with him,” Evie promised.

  “You need a workout,” Paul said, handing me a bag packed full of new gear, “You’re behind on your training.”

  I sighed and agreed, changing and following Paul out of the hospital to a pretty little park. It was a crisp clear autumn day, and the fiery leaves seemed even more brilliant against the bright blue sky. We took a quick jog around a path that circled a pond, and stopped at a playground where he had me do some chin-ups.

  He lifted me up to the highest bar, and when I was exhausted, he reached up to take me down and lowered me slowly, setting me down and brushing the hair out of my eyes, “Are you alright Vanderpool?”

  I nodded up at him, “I’ll be okay… it’s just that…” my voice caught in my throat when I remembered my dad thinking I was my mother. What if he couldn’t remember me? My eyes filled with tears and spilled over.

  He led me to a bench and sat us down with his arm around my shoulders, giving me a rough squeeze, “I’ve seen plenty of guys a lot worse than that who come out of it one hundred percent.” He reached up to wipe the tears from my cheek, bringing his forehead to mine and looking me square in the eyes, “Listen soldier, there’s no crying in combat… Now drop and give me twenty.”