by Loriel Ryon
She steadied her hands and opened her eyes. She took a breath in, pursed her lips, and blew the cool air over Wela’s body, starting at her head and moving down to her waist. The warmth inside her lungs changed to a cool healing breath as it moved from her lips and over Wela’s body. She took another breath and started at Wela’s waist, blowing the healing air down to her feet. Goose bumps rose on Wela’s wrinkled brown arms. Yolanda repeated this over and over again until she grew light-headed. She sat back on her heels.
When she looked at Wela again, her hair was curlier and a bit whiter.
Wela lifted her arms and Sonja helped her sit up. Yolanda slipped the chanclas on Wela’s feet. Groaning and unsteady, Wela slowly rose as her legs shook underneath her.
“You can heal.” Sonja’s eyes shone with pride.
Yolanda’s heart swelled. She had done it. It was an incredible feeling, knowing that she had made Wela better. A huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Wela steadied herself, placed her arms on Yolanda’s shoulders, and looked her in the eyes.
“You did it,” Wela said, her chin quivering. “You have it now.”
“I’m so happy I made you better!” Yolanda threw her arms around Wela excitedly. “Now everything will be okay.”
“Oh, mija! You healed me—you did, but only for a little while. I still need to get to the pecan tree.”
Yolanda pulled back. “But why? You look so much better.”
“I feel better. But this isn’t a cure.” Wela looked Yolanda in the eyes. “If your mamá taught me anything, it was that you can’t heal everything. Some processes naturally take over.”
Yolanda’s eyes widened as she thought of Hasik. “Hasik. Will he be okay?”
“I think so, mija.” Wela patted her on the back. “You got to him pretty quickly.” Wela cleared her throat. “Mijas, give me a moment. I’d like a moment to clear my head.”
The girls made sure Wela was safe, sitting on a rock, and walked a ways up the path.
“What will happen to us if Dad doesn’t make it home?” Sonja asked, running her fingers through stalks of wheat-colored grass. It began to turn green. “That social worker will be there when we get back.”
Yolanda sat down on a rock and stretched her legs in front of her. “Wela will still be here.”
Sonja scoffed. “You don’t believe that, do you? You can’t possibly think the pecan tree is going to save her life. You are smarter than that.”
Yolanda recoiled. “Of course it’s going to save her life. Why else would we be doing this?”
“Yolanda, she’s dying.”
“But the pecan tree. She said everything will be set right when we get to the pecan tree.” Sonja’s words swam in her head. Sonja was wrong. She had to be. Wela had said no mentiras. She said everything would be set right.
Sonja shook her head. “You heard what she said. Some processes can’t be healed. It won’t make any difference.”
It wasn’t true. The pecan tree would save her. It had to.
* * *
When they looked back at Wela, she was asleep. Yolanda ran over and gently shook her awake. Wela stirred and, with Yolanda’s help, stood on shaky legs. Sonja picked up the metal box and sidled up to Wela’s other side, and they began climbing up the trail.
Yolanda glanced at Wela’s curls. She was fine. She looked so much better now. She tried to push Sonja’s words from her mind.
“Something is bothering me,” Yolanda said. “If Welo was so obsessed with figuring out the trait, why didn’t he ever study Mamá?”
Wela laughed. “Because if he had, I would have killed him. And when your Mamá’s skill came when she was twelve, I made her promise me she wouldn’t become his lab rat. You and your mamá are similar in that way. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t want to.” Wela brushed Yolanda’s cheek. “You remind me so much of her—beautiful … smart … fiery.”
Yolanda felt warm thinking about being like Mamá, such a strong woman who sacrificed her life for her daughters. She was happy she shared the family skill with her, even if it was also scary.
Sonja looked toward the pecan tree. It stood tall, a bare black spindly tree up on a hill. The hot afternoon sun was beginning to dip lower and lower in the sky. Dark black clouds moved quickly toward them, and the wind was picking up.
“We’ve got to move a lot faster,” Sonja said, swatting a bee from her forehead.
Forty-six
SONJA dropped the last of their water on Wela’s parched lips. “Wela, are you okay?” Sonja asked.
Her eyelids fluttered. “I’m so tired, mijas.”
Yolanda held Wela up, her weight bearing down on her. She was exhausted and her curls were gone. Her hair was straight and gray again. Yolanda looked up the trail. The pecan tree swayed in the wind, its branches contorting against the darkening sky. “We don’t have much farther to go. Do you think you can make it?’
“I’m so tired.” Wela’s pale fingers clutched the handle of the metal box, and her knees buckled.
Yolanda crouched next to Wela, closed her eyes, and breathed the cool healing breath over her body. Please, please, please work, she thought. When she opened her eyes, Wela didn’t look any better. Her hair remained gray and straight, her eyes sunken and dark.
It hadn’t worked this time.
A lump formed in Yolanda’s throat. Wela’s words, some processes naturally take over the body, rang in Yolanda’s mind even though she tried to push them out.
Wela looked only slightly better after a few minutes of rest. The girls helped her stand, but her legs trembled underneath her. Sonja and Yolanda exchanged a worried glance. They each took an arm and helped Wela start the climb.
The conversation with Sonja was bothering Yolanda.
“What’s the pecan tree supposed to do when we get there? How will it heal you?” Yolanda felt her voice shake. In her mind she knew it wasn’t possible to beat death, but she was so sure when Wela said everything would be set right, it meant she would be healed. That everything would go back to the way it was. That everything would be okay.
She had to know now.
“Mija.” Wela lowered her eyes. “It is not what you think.” Wela turned to her.
Yolanda’s stomach dropped and she let go of Wela’s arm. She felt herself say, “So, what is it then?” But in her mind she was screaming, Don’t say it!
It couldn’t be true.
Wela took both of Yolanda’s hands and looked in her eyes. “The point of life is … eventually we will die. That is what makes this life so beautiful. The fact that it is finite. The fact that we do not exist forever. That is what makes life a gift.”
Tears filled Yolanda’s eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Not again. Not to Wela. “But if I could save you, we would have more time together. You could be here for when Sonja and I do great things with our lives. You raised us. Don’t you want to see what happens to us?”
“Oh, mija,” Wela said, bringing Yolanda in a close embrace. “Of course I would love to see you grow up. I know you both will do amazing things. But we don’t get to pick when we go. And believe me, no matter how old or young you are, it will always feel much too soon.”
Yolanda clung to Wela and played with her hair. It used to be so curly and white, so full of life. “I don’t want to lose you.” Wela had taught her so much. She had been her mamá, her abuela, and at times her dad, too. What would happen to their lives without her? The familiar tightness hooked in her chest, and she pulled away. “But if we didn’t have to die, then we wouldn’t feel such pain. Imagine your life if you had never lost Violeta or Mamá. Wouldn’t life have been so much better?”
Wela’s tired eyes grew sad and dark. “I would have loved to spend more time with them. Any more time would have been a great gift. Losing them was extremely painful, but we don’t get to pick what happens in this life. We just … don’t.”
“We wouldn’t know happiness either,” Sonja offered, her eyes shining with tears. “I
f we never experienced sadness and loss, life wouldn’t be as colorful.”
“Exactly,” Wela said.
The new understanding of the journey rocked Yolanda, making her dizzy.
This was a death journey.
“So, this entire trip—through the desert—is not to save your life? You lied to me!” Yolanda let go of Wela and ran her palms through her wild hair. “I thought the pecan tree was going to heal you—make you better!” Hot, angry tears poured down her cheeks, and her chest felt like it was going to explode. How would they possibly go on without her? “How could you? No mentiras! Remember?”
Wela’s cracked lips turned into a solemn frown, and she held her arms out for Yolanda. But Yolanda turned and ran. There was a rumble of thunder in the distance as she ran down the mountain, rocks sliding underneath her feet. The wind whipped her hair. She ran so fast, she almost lost her footing.
“Yo!” Sonja called. “Come back! We can’t lose you.”
Forty-seven
YOLANDA couldn’t lose Wela. Not like Welo. Not again. This was not going to happen to her.
Yolanda bolted down the mountain, her heart pounding, tears blurring her vision.
She couldn’t take Wela to the pecan tree. For what? To let her die? It was too much to bear.
She was moving so fast, her body lurched over her feet. She tried to slow herself, but it was too late.
She hit the ground with a thud and plunged down the mountainside, toppling head over feet. Dust and dirt scattered around her as she desperately grasped for anything to slow her descent.
A sharp rock tore through her thigh as she slid farther and farther down the mountain.
Crack!
Her left foot twisted underneath her, sending a shock of pain through her body.
When she finally reached the bottom, she slowed, flopped onto her back, and looked up at the dark sky, breathing heavily. Her heart pounded in her throat.
Pinching her eyes shut, she lay there and moaned, waiting for the pain in her ankle to pass. When she finally got the courage to move her foot, a white-hot pain shot through her body, stealing her breath.
A low rumble of thunder echoed in the distance, and Yolanda opened her eyes. Dark clouds billowed overhead, and the wind picked up, blowing cool air over her.
She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at her leg. She had a bleeding gash in her thigh, and her ankle was already starting to swell.
She tried to move her foot again.
The pain seared through her, stealing her breath again and forcing her to lie back.
How could Wela do this to her? If it wasn’t to save her life, then what was this journey for? Why would Wela make her come all this way if there was no hope to save her? Had she been lying to her this entire time? First Welo and now Wela? She couldn’t face losing her, too.
Her heart ached as much as her leg.
Then she heard a distant jingling.
Rosalind Franklin popped through the brush. She ran to Yolanda and licked her face.
“Hey, girl.” Yolanda pet her ears. Then the tears came. “I’m so happy to see you.” And she was. Her dog had a way of making her feel better when she felt her worst. Rosalind Franklin wagged her stubby tail, wiggling her entire body. She sniffed Yolanda’s ankle and licked it once before placing her paws on Yolanda’s chest and laying her head down. Yolanda hugged her tight.
After a few minutes, Ghita and Hasik arrived. Hasik was hobbling and slouched over a walking stick, while Ghita held him up on the other side. His lips had returned to their normal color, and he looked much better. He smiled as soon as he saw her, and Yolanda’s stomach did a flip-flop.
“Hasik!” A wave of relief washed over her, giving her a break from the pain. “What are you doing here?” She was relieved to see them both, but mostly Hasik. The only person who seemed to understand her.
Ghita helped Hasik hobble his way up to Yolanda.
“Look,” he said, stretching his foot out. “I’m doing much better. We saw the butterflies leave. They flew right over us. We thought you might need help. I’m just really slow.” Hasik looked down at Yolanda lying on the ground. “Are you okay?”
“What happened?” Ghita glanced at Yolanda’s swollen ankle and then averted her eyes. She was always a bit squeamish.
“I’m not going.” Yolanda shook her head and crossed her arms. “I’m not taking Wela to the tree.”
Hasik sat on the ground next to her and threw his walking stick down.
Her eyes locked with his.
“I can’t save her,” Yolanda said, her voice catching. The tears brimmed in her eyes, and she turned away.
“You didn’t really think you could?” Hasik said softly. He rubbed her shoulder. “Not really.”
Yolanda nodded furiously. “But I did. She told me the tree would save her life.” Yolanda’s shoulders fell back as she thought it over again. “Not exactly in those words, but something like that. She said everything would be set right when we got to the tree.” She pressed her lips together and swallowed the lump in her throat. She really had believed it, even though somewhere inside her she knew it wasn’t possible. She wanted so badly for it to be true. “She let me believe the tree would save her life.”
Hasik wrapped his large arms around her in a warm, tight hug and whispered in her ear, “You will regret it.” He pulled away and looked her straight in the eyes. “If you miss this, you will regret it.”
As Yolanda looked back into Hasik’s kind brown eyes, something inside her shifted. She thought about the story he’d told her about Nani and being too afraid to help his mother. She thought about her own regret in avoiding the truth about Welo and all the time she’d missed with him, trying so desperately to avoid the inevitable. Hasik was right. She couldn’t do that to Wela. She couldn’t do that to herself, either. If Sonja took Wela to the tree by herself, Yolanda would regret it for the rest of her life. Just as she did with Welo.
Those last moments she missed.
Everything … she missed.
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
Ghita.
“I’m sorry.” Ghita squeezed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“But she’s going to die,” Yolanda said, the tears dripping down her nose.
“But you can help her. You can help her get where she needs to go.” Ghita stooped down and grabbed her hand. “The way she wants to go.”
Yolanda let Ghita hold her hand. It was comforting to have Ghita there.
“When my Nani died, I was so scared. But my mother told me death is a part of life and it was our duty to help her. And so I did. And even though it hurt so bad, the worst hurt I’ve ever felt, I don’t regret any of it. I don’t regret being there for her final moments. I don’t regret helping my mother bathe her. I don’t regret helping wrap her up in white cloth and putting her on the pyre. I thought I was going to faint, I was so scared, but I don’t wish it was different. It just was. In fact, now, looking back, I feel honored to have been part of it.”
Yolanda looked at Ghita. Even if they were no longer going to be best friends, it was time to let things go between them. It was time to apologize.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Yolanda said, gripping Ghita’s hands between hers. Her voice shook. “I’m sorry I made it all about me.”
Ghita’s chin quivered, and she squeezed Yolanda’s hands back. “I’m sorry too. For all of it.”
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Yolanda looked to Hasik. “I’m going to need your help. Hold my foot straight.”
Hasik’s eyes widened. “Won’t it hurt to move it?”
Yolanda nodded. “Yep, but I think it’s only sprained. I think I can fix it.”
Hasik hobbled down by her foot and crouched down. “Okay, here I go.”
Yolanda sucked in a deep breath and held it. When he straightened her foot, the pain in her ankle shot up her leg.
She sucked in a breath, lay back to catch her breath, and then sat up.
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“Watch,” she said, grasping her thigh between her hands. She took a deep breath in and out, blowing the air over the gash in her thigh first. The trickle of blood began to disappear into the wound. Fresh pink tissue began to knit the wound closed. Then she bent her knee, bringing her foot in close. She pursed her lips and breathed the cool healing air over her ankle. The coolness spread under her palms, and the pain began to disappear.
Hasik glanced from his ankle to her leg. And back again.
“Hey—did you—?”
“Cool, huh?” she said. “Like Violeta—and just like Mamá.” She took another deep breath and blew the cool air over her ankle again. The swelling began to disappear. After a few minutes, she wiggled her foot. There was still a distant ache, but it was better.
Ghita and Hasik helped her climb to her feet. She scrunched up her face in anticipation as she shifted her weight onto her left leg.
Her ankle held.
She gazed down the trail, across the riverbed, and over the tall, tall grass to where the house was supposed to be. To where she really wanted to go.
Home.
But this time would be different. This time she would have to do exactly what she didn’t want to.
She turned away from her friends and looked up the rocky trail toward the pecan tree. Its looming bare-boned black skeleton stood tall. The dark clouds were gaining ground quickly. Lightning struck across the sky in a white flash, and a large crack of thunder followed.
Hasik handed her his walking stick, and she started up the mountain.
Her ankle ached, but it held as she used the walking stick to help her shift her weight and climb the trail. Gusts of wind whipped her hair, and another crack of thunder rumbled in the distance.
She couldn’t leave Sonja to do this alone.
The cool drops stung her cheeks, mixing her tears with the rain. With each step up the trail, she wanted to turn and run, but she forced herself to keep going up. One step at time. One foot in front of the other. You can do this, she thought. As her feet began to slide on the rocks, she abandoned the walking stick and got down on all fours. She clawed her way up the trail, reaching the spot where she had left them.