Between Darkness and Dawn

by Margaret Duarte

  “Here, here,” Lilly cried out. She began to clap until others joined in.

  My chest grew warm as I, too, brought my hands together. Quit fighting for airspace. Share the exploration. What wonderful concepts.

  When the clapping ended, Hal said in a voice that shook, “I’ll close this morning’s session early so each of you can reflect on what has just been revealed to you.”

  Jennifer stood. “Hal, may I share a quote that applies to what we’ve experienced today?”

  “Be my guest,” he said, relinquishing the floor with a wave of his hand.

  Jennifer turned toward Ted and considered him through narrowed eyes. “Abraham Lincoln once said, ‘To believe in the things you can see and touch is not belief at all; but to believe in the unseen is a triumph and a blessing.’”

  A scowl marred Ted’s face as the class erupted with cheers and applause. He excused himself and strode from the room.

  Hal smiled at Jennifer before directing his attention back to the group. “See you this afternoon,” he said.

  We all stood and went our separate ways.

  ~~~

  During the last session of our workshop, Jennifer and Ted surprised everyone by volunteering to take the Open Seat. Then Hal came up with another one of his evocative ideas. “We’re going to have a face-off. I’ve noticed the antagonism between these two workshop participants. In fact, if I remember correctly, Jennifer told Ted that when it was his turn, she’d get him good. Now’s her chance.”

  Everyone, except me, applauded. I hated confrontation. It made me nervous. And I knew it made Jennifer nervous, too. So, imagine my surprise when I saw the grin on her face. I’m ashamed to say I found myself leaning forward in anticipation.

  “Let the match begin,” Hal said, and as Jennifer and Ted took their seats, I swear I could hear the ring of a bell.

  Jennifer took the first swing. “Okay, Mr. Independent Thinker, it’s time you start participating in this group instead of stonewalling everything we’re trying to do. What kind of psychologist are you anyway?”

  “Psychologist?” Ted frowned. “What are you talking about? I’m an elementary school teacher.”

  He might as well have punched Jennifer, the way she went stumbling back to her corner. “Shit.”

  Ted’s face turned the shade of anger. “You’ve got something against teachers?”

  “Hell no. I teach, too. Kindergarten.”

  “Well, I hope you don’t use such foul language around your students,” Ted snapped, his face taking on a lighter hue as he gained some semblance of control.

  “As a teacher, I figured you’d be more open-minded,” Jennifer said, sidestepping his comment about foul language. “The way you expect your students to be.”

  “There’s a big difference between being open-minded and just plain gullible.” Ted thrust his jaw forward as if daring her to take a punch at it.

  She did. “Gullible, my foot. You’re scared.”

  Ted shot out of his chair, which flipped over and slid back, jolting the person behind him.

  “Thanks a lot,” said the injured man.

  Ted ignored him, apparently intent on delivering a deciding blow. “Scared of what, some figment of Marjorie’s imagination?”

  I clasped my hands together. This guy’s mercury level was reaching the boiling point, his face, his neck, his hands all the color of hot lava.

  Jennifer, in contrast, appeared placid as a saint, as though outside the reach of all the pettiness of this world. “That’s it big boy, show us your stuff.”

  Although Ted remained standing with his legs spread and hands squeezed into fists, I thought I glimpsed a look of respect in his eyes.

  “What’s got into her?” Kate whispered from the seat next to me.

  I shook my head, baffled by Jennifer’s transformation. One thing was certain; she was discovering a new part of herself, as I had hoped to do. I wondered if it was her subconscious speaking.

  If so, it had no sense of humor.

  ~~~

  “Can you believe it?” Kate said later that evening. “Jennifer and Ted are in the hot tub together.”

  “No, actually I can’t.”

  Kate smiled, probably wondering when I would take the leap. “One minute they’re in the Open Seat, kicking, screaming, and sobbing, just about ready to kill each another, and the next they’re hugging like a couple of soul-mates.”

  “Yeah, that was kind of unexpected.”

  “In the process of yelling at each other,” Kate continued with a trace of glee in her voice, “they discovered that they lived rather dull, unassuming lives, both elementary school teachers, single, and bored out of their skulls.”

  “Well, they aren’t bored anymore.”

  Seagulls squawked overhead, drawing Kate’s gaze away from the churning waves and upward. “I’d been wondering if any of these people would change in a significant way, if they would uncover some new strength, an unsuspected capacity for life. Now I know it’s possible.”

  “So where do you go from here?” I asked.

  “I’m signing up for the twenty-eight-day work-study program.”

  “You want more of this?”

  “Yeah, why not? I’ve heard the program is emotionally and physically challenging, and rarely restful.”

  She had that right, more reason to stay away.

  “Let me guess,” Kate said “You’re still set on helping your mother.”

  “You’re psychic, right?”

  She tapped her temple. “Bingo.”

  “Okay then, use your psychic powers to predict if we’re going to keep in touch, because I’m going to miss you and Jennifer.”

  Kate’s eyes grew teary. “I don’t need psychic powers for that. We’re going to keep in touch forever, even if we don’t call, write, or e-mail.”

  My eyes misted, too. “I think I know what you mean.”

  “We meet, hopefully make a positive difference in someone’s life, and then move on,” Kate said. “That’s how life is. We ultimately travel it alone.”

  My smile was shaky as I stood and peered out the window at the pool and hot tubs below. “I’ll never forget you, Kate.” When she didn’t reply, I turned and saw her wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. I gave her a hug and turned away. “See you in the morning.”

  “Not so fast,” she said. “I’m headed back, too.”

  “Aren’t you going to strip and soak in the tub?”

  “It’s Jennifer’s night. I don’t want to steal the show.”

  I laughed until my sides hurt. “Jeez, I love you.”

  “Love you back,” she said.

  Then we walked hand-in-hand over the bridge that crossed the creek leading to the Big House.

  Chapter Twenty

  I NOTICED IT THE MINUTE I pulled into camp. The Circus Campers were gone—tents, stoves, generator, and all. That meant Holly was gone, too. Oh, dear God, Holly. Where’d you go? Are you okay?

  I parked the Jeep and headed straight for Anne’s camp. She was supposed to keep an eye on Holly. She’d know if my little friend was okay.

  When I knocked on and cracked open the door of Anne’s yurt, she was sitting in lotus position in front of her altar, hands on knees, palms up, eyes closed. I sensed that I shouldn’t disturb her, yet I didn’t back away, drawn, but not mollified, by her calm, meditative state.

  “Anne.” My throat tightened. I tried again. “Anne?”

  She turned and looked at me, her gaze unfocused as though I’d roused her from a deep sleep.

  A force with the strength of restraining hands on both of my shoulders kept me from entering her yurt. “Holly’s gone.”

  Enough candles flickered on her altar to cause the park rangers concern, but this didn’t seem to bother Anne. She was wearing her white robe again. Incense and candle smoke swirled around her, and dim pools of candlelight illuminated the side of her face nearest the altar, causing her
to appear mystical.

  “Give me a few minutes, okay?” she said.

  I stepped away from the yurt, made the sign of the cross, and pressed my hands together, palm to palm, fingertip to fingertip, the way I’d been taught as a child—prayer being the best way I knew at this moment to quell the pain in my chest and the questions running through my mind. “Please God, take care of Holly. Wrap your arms around her. Hold her tight. Keep her safe.”

  “Holly’s gone,” I repeated when Anne stepped out of the yurt.

  Anne put her hand on my shoulder. “Sweetie, we need to talk.”

  I blew out my breath. “Yes.”

  “Pump up the fuel tank and light the stove,” she said, “while I fetch some water for chamomile tea.”

  I moved like a sleepwalker, but managed to do what she’d asked.

  When Anne returned with the water, she asked, “You okay?”

  I sank to my knees on her yoga mat, currently covered with dry needles and a dusting of dirt. “It feels like I’ve just lost a member of my family.”

  Anne poured water into a pot and set it on the camp stove to heat. “I was trying to help her just now.”

  A log shifted in the fire pit, and I jerked. “With witchcraft?”

  “Using the strongest magick I know.”

  The day was too bright for my dark mood, the bird chatter too cheerful. Holly’s absence created a void in my life, yet left no mark on the world around us. “Did you talk to her before she left?”

  “She was concerned about your tent and asked me to watch it for her. She also left you something.” Anne stepped back into her yurt and came out with a mason jar decorated with acorns and dried flowers. “She said to write your problems on pieces of paper and put them into this jar so God can take care of them for you.”

  She’d made me a God jar, just as promised. Damn it. I took Holly’s gift and pressed it to my chest in an attempt to relieve the gripping muscle tension beneath.

  “Let it go, girl.”

  I lifted my shoulders and then allowed them to sag, a gesture too limp to pass for a shrug. “I only knew her for such a short while.”

  Anne stoked the fire, then settled on the yoga mat next to me. She asked no questions, nor did she attempt to make me smile, allowing me my darkness.

  Finally, she said, “Holly was here to teach you.”

  My reply, another half-hearted shrug. My friend, Ben Gentle Bear Mendoza, had referred to the Southern direction of the Medicine Wheel as the way of the child. He’d explained that children grow in body and mind, yet keep the attitude of trust and innocence, and that spiritual maturity and the understanding of one’s true identity come only by adopting these child-like attitudes.

  Anne checked the temperature of the water with her pinkie. “Holly will do fine because, as you pointed out not long ago, she has spunk and stands up for what she believes in, but also because she won’t interrupt the flow of happiness into her life with thoughts of unhappiness. She accepted the gift of love that you and Adam gave her and will use it to spread love to others.”

  Holly was a soul that had entered my life as a gift. Who was I to deny her the opportunity to move on and spread all the love she had stored in her spiritual piggy bank? If only I knew for sure she’d be okay. “But—”

  Anne held a finger to her lips to silence me. “You made a big impact on her, too. I talked to her mother before they left. She quit drinking and was trying to spend more time with her kids.”

  Holly’s mother quit drinking?

  “She’d been thinking about what you said, about how her kids would never forget and how they’d stop coming to see her when they grew up if she didn’t change.”

  I wiped my eyes and cleared my throat. “I told her things I should’ve told my mother, except I didn’t have the guts.”

  “You were more worried about Truus’s feelings than you were about your own, but in Holly’s case, you saw the big picture. And it did Holly’s mother good to see it, too.”

  “Do you think we’ll ever see Holly again?”

  “I doubt it. But at least she’s safe for now. I had to call the police, Marjorie. Holly’s dear Papa, while in a state of alcohol-induced psychosis, started complaining that his kids had placed poisonous ants in his tent. He decided to take off his belt and start whipping ‘those little mother fuckers’ to teach them a lesson. Holly’s mother came to me for help. Since it was a case of domestic violence, the police called in Social Services. The kids and their mother are in good hands and will get the help they need.”

  Anne knew more about these things than I did, so I trusted her judgment. “I don’t even know Holly’s mother’s name.”

  “Felicia.”

  “That’s a beautiful name.”

  “Yes, and it turns out she’s a beautiful person as well, doing the best she can under the circumstances. If it makes you feel any better, she and the kids will be able to stay together. The people at Social Services promised to help Felicia find a full-time job, maybe with a house-cleaning service while the kids are at school. The pay is good, and the demand is high, especially in Carmel and Monterey.”

  “Anne,” I said in an attempt to forget about Holly, at least for a while. “Considering all your talents and abilities, why do you practice witchcraft?”

  Anne stilled before answering. “There was a veil separating me from God, a veil consisting of guilt, rules, regulations, and misconceptions. With witchcraft, I split that veil down the middle, opening the way back to heaven.”

  “Why witchcraft?” I repeated, watching her pour steaming water into our mugs and drop in bags of tea.

  “Why earth medicine?” she countered.

  I raised and dropped my shoulders, trying to understand.

  Anne leaned closer, and I sensed her penetrating blue gaze. “Are you afraid that magick is evil or that I might accidentally unleash something beyond my control?”

  I thought about my adoptive mother’s reaction when I’d tried to tell her about Earth Medicine and the Medicine Wheel. She’d been so spooked that she refused to listen. She’d cut me off—and therefore out of her life—rather than try to understand. I returned Anne’s gaze and smiled. “That’s exactly what I’ve been programmed to think. But I’m willing to listen.”

  “Glad to hear that.” She handed me a mug of tea. “Chamomile, to help you relax.”

  As the honey-apple flavored liquid slid down my throat, I prayed that I would have the strength to open my mind and heart to what she was about to share.

  Anne took a sip of tea, and the soft slurping sound calmed me. “Unlike some witches, I don’t try to control nature or force nature to do my will. My prayers are less directed, more open-ended.”

  I released a cleansing sigh.

  “Magick is being in harmony with nature, accepting its gifts, understanding its treasure, and being grateful.”

  That didn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounded a lot like the philosophy of the Native American, the way it concerned itself with our connection to the Earth and the forms of life with which we shared it.

  “Magick is more like a communication, a bringing of one’s own sacred power into expression. Your sculpture, for instance, is magick. Adam’s art is magick. You’ve both aligned yourselves with the powers of the universe. You’ve given form to your spirituality.”

  “What about black magic,” I asked, staring at my shoes.

  “Everything can be turned into something ugly. Even love can be turned into hate. All spiritual paths share the tenet of not hurting others. So, too, magick.”

  “If there’s nothing wrong with magick, why couldn’t I enter your yurt?” I’d read enough about witches to know she wasn’t performing lewd and blasphemous acts or worshiping the devil. But what had she been doing?

  “Do you like being disturbed when you’re in the middle of prayer?”

  “Of course, not.”

  “Does your church encourage visitors t
o walk in during the middle of its service?”

  “Nooo.”

  “Through ritual, I drew a circle around me, like a protective bubble of energy, a world between worlds. It helps to hold and concentrate my energies.”

  I felt the flash of understanding and with it came inner warmth, like the warm aftermath of drinking Anne’s chamomile tea. “You mean the way I put down stone markers to outline my Medicine Wheel, a sacred space that shouldn’t be disturbed.”

  “Exactly,” Anne said, her tone soft, careful. “A circle of knowledge and power, the doorway between the seen world of matter and the unseen world of spirit. If I understand correctly, you then cleanse and purify your Medicine Wheel through smudging.”

  “Yes, using the smoke from a burning smudge stick of sage.”

  “Witches use incense, which also comes in a stick.”

  “Is that why you’re staying in a yurt instead of a tent, to define your sacred circle?”

  Anne grinned. “You’re such a smart girl.”

  Right then and there, I changed my mind about witchcraft, or whatever unconventional belief system Anne used to express what she felt within. The words and rituals may differ from what I was accustomed to, but the underlying threads were the same. Anne’s mission was to help and heal. If witchcraft helped her accomplish that, more power to her. Maybe I wasn’t like my adoptive mother after all.

  “By the way,” Anne said. “Holly left a note in your tent.”

  I put down my half-empty mug and got to my feet. “Can kids even write at her age?”

  “I didn’t say it was legible.”

  I felt the kind of dizziness that accompanies sudden good news. “Maybe she wrote where they were going and if they’d be coming back.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up. They left in a hurry.”

  “Gotta go,” I said, heading for my tent.

  “Take your time,” Anne called after me. “I need to check on Adam.”

  I turned and walked backwards without slowing my pace. “Will I see you later?”

  “Are you kidding? I want to hear all about Esalen. Plus, I’ve got a surprise for you.”