by Loriel Ryon
But they were gone.
Forty-eight
YOLANDA’S heart sank. What if she lost them? What if it was already too late? She stumbled up the path, balancing on the boulders, her feet slipping in the mud. The pecan tree stood menacing, its dark limbs twisting and shaking in the wind.
Then she spotted them. Wela leaned on Sonja as they hobbled slowly up the trail. They were so close.
“Sonja!” she called. But the wind carried her voice away.
Yolanda broke into a half run, but her weakened ankle wobbled and she fell, her knee slamming into the ground. She got up and kept running, the blood dripping in a warm stream down her leg.
Just a little farther and she would reach them. They were only a few hundred feet away. Yolanda glanced to her left at the steep drop off the side of the mountain.
Then her hair stood on end, tickling the back of her neck. A shiver ran up her spine.
Crack! BOOM!
The sky brightened white as lightning struck the pecan tree. The thunder that followed shook her chest and rang in her ears. She froze, unable to think.
Then she threw herself on the ground.
When she looked up, the pecan tree splintered down the middle with a loud crack.
“No!” Yolanda screamed. “Wela! Sonja!”
When they turned, a look of relief swept over Sonja’s sunburned cheeks. They waited for her to catch up as the rain pelted them. Sonja was breathing hard, holding Wela up by herself. Wela’s soaked hair hung down her back as she gripped the box.
“I knew you would come back.” The rain ran in the deep creases of Wela’s face as she squeezed Yolanda’s arm.
“If this is not going to save your life,” Yolanda said, “then why are we going to this tree?” She knew in her heart something would be set right. While Wela had a lot of secrets, she always meant it when she said no mentiras.
“I have a theory.” Wela patted the wet metal box against her thigh. “Or maybe it’s a hope. But as Mami used to say, it’s a strange land.”
“I’m so glad you came back, Yo.” Sonja gave her a tired smile.
Yolanda supported Wela’s weight. The rain began to fall harder, stinging her with freezing drops. The lump in her throat grew. These were going to be her last moments with Wela. She had to make them count.
Crack! BOOM!
As they picked their way up to the face of the last ridge, thunder rumbled all around them. They climbed together, a sister under each of Wela’s arms, and helped her reach the base of the ridge.
With every step, the tightness in Yolanda’s chest squeezed so hard, she could hardly breathe. She was getting closer and closer to saying goodbye.
Yolanda let go of Wela and climbed the slippery face of the mountain, her hands clawing and slipping in the orange mud. When she reached the top, Wela handed her the metal box. She took it and then pulled Wela up and over as Sonja pushed, her feet skidding on the rocks, causing the boulders to tumble down the mountainside into the ravine below.
Yolanda held out a hand to help Sonja over the edge. Her hand was wet and slippery, and as Sonja gripped it she tried to pull herself up, but she was weak. She scrambled to find a foothold, slipping in the mud.
“You take her,” Sonja said, breathless, her lips pale. “Take Wela. I’m too tired.”
“No.” Yolanda gripped Sonja’s hands even harder. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
The wind whipped at Sonja’s red braids, and Yolanda mustered her last bit of strength. With all her might she pulled hard, and Sonja came over the ridge.
As they both fell into an exhausted heap next to Wela, the wind and the rain stopped, leaving an eerie calm behind. Everything was quiet.
Yolanda propped herself up and looked around. Fifty feet away was the base of the tree. Splintered bark twisted up from the ground, the scent of scorched wood burning in her nostrils. Crumbling gravestones marked the area around the tree.
Wela’s eyes were closed, but her fingers were wrapped tightly around the metal box. “Wela,” Yolanda said.
Wela’s eyes popped open.
Sonja climbed to her feet, unsteady.
“Come on,” Yolanda said, reaching for her sister.
A vacant look crossed Sonja’s face.
The boulders Sonja was standing on began to rumble. A large crack formed between the sisters, and Sonja’s eyes widened as the boulders tumbled down the ridge.
“No!” Yolanda screamed, and ran for the edge. She spotted Sonja lying across a pair of large boulders, her freckled cheek bloodied. “I’m stuck.” Sonja moaned. Her left arm was wedged between the two boulders.
“Try to move it.” Yolanda skidded down the muddy face of the mountain.
Sonja screamed. “I can’t!”
With the break in the rain, the bees had returned and were orbiting Sonja.
Yolanda tried to avoid them, but they were multiplying. “You have to move the bees.”
Sonja moaned, her eyelids fluttering.
Yolanda wiggled herself between the two boulders, bracing herself, hoping they wouldn’t give with all the rain and slam down the mountain.
The bees seemed angry as they swarmed Sonja’s lolling head. Yolanda grabbed Sonja’s free arm and pulled hard, moving her body slightly from the boulder. She reached down and tried to pull Sonja’s other arm from the crevice.
Sonja screamed.
It was stuck tight.
Then Yolanda felt a sting on her hand.
And then another on her cheek.
And another.
Come on, Sonja. Come on.
Finally Sonja’s arm broke free, and Yolanda dragged her over to the slippery face of the ridge, feeling the painful stings all over her hands and face. Sonja clawed her way up the ledge, Yolanda pushing her from behind. The stings kept coming, and Yolanda’s vision began to blur. Sonja’s hand appeared, and she pulled Yolanda over the ledge.
When Yolanda reached the top, she fell back and quickly blew cool air over her arm and hand. She blew air from her lower lip over her face, and as the rain began to fall again, her eyes closed.
“Goodbye, Wela,” she whispered.
Forty-nine
“YOLANDA … Yolanda.”
Yolanda groaned and rolled over. Someone was shaking her awake. When she opened her eyes, the gray sky spun all around. “What happened?”
“I’m so sorry!” Sonja winced as she moved her arm. “The bees! They stung you. I’m so sorry.”
Yolanda felt the swollen pink lumps covering her arms and face. “How am I not … dead?” Yolanda sat up. She didn’t have her medicine with her. She scratched at an itchy lump on her cheek.
“I think you healed yourself.” A pair of bees flew around Sonja’s messy braids.
“How’s your arm?”
“Sore.” Sonja examined her arm, bloodied and scraped. “But not broken.”
“Good.” Yolanda climbed to her feet, swaying from dizziness. She glanced at Wela, propped next to a boulder, her eyes closed, her head slumped to the side. Her chest was barely rising with each breath.
This was it.
“We have to go.”
Sonja and Yolanda picked up Wela, who stirred softly. Yolanda ducked under her arm and lifted her up. They stumbled the last fifty feet to the pecan tree and sat Wela at the base of it. Her head lolled to the side. She was barely conscious.
The tree was much bigger up close than Yolanda had imagined it would be. The lightning had struck the tree right in the center, splitting it down the middle of its massive trunk. Shards of splintered bark radiated from the center.
Dread filled the pit of her stomach. This was the moment she had hoped would never have to happen.
But it was time.
Raindrops dripping from the branches sizzled and steamed as they pelted the singed bark. The area around the tree was littered with gravestones of different sizes, square and rounded, each one adorned with a different Rodríguez name. Yolanda walked around the tree and looked at them.
The tightness in her throat made it hard to swallow. She gulped as she imagined a gravestone like the others with Wela’s name on it.
Sonja choked on her tears, her face breaking into a grimace. “She can’t go, Yo. Not yet.” Sonja buried her face in her hands. “I’m not ready.” She looked up at Yolanda, her eyes watery and red. Her bottom lip trembled.
“I’m not ready, either.” Yolanda’s voice quivered. But she had to be strong for Sonja. Like Sonja had been for her. “Wela needs to go the way she wants, with us by her side.”
Tears streamed down Sonja’s freckled, sunburned cheeks as she shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t bear to lose her.”
“Neither can I,” Yolanda said. The ache in her chest hurt so bad she couldn’t breathe.
Fifty
YOLANDA walked between the graves and read a name out loud.
“Santiago Rodríguez.”
“Creador de fuego,” Wela replied sleepily.
“Fuego,” Sonja said. “Something to do with fire.”
“He was a fire maker. My tío.”
“Valentina Rodríguez-Domínguez.” Yolanda walked by another grave.
“Telepatía,” Wela replied.
“Telepathy?” Yolanda asked.
Wela nodded. “A tía—Mami’s sister. You couldn’t get away with anything with her.” Wela laughed weakly. “She always knew when you were lying.”
“Carmen Rodríguez.”
“Mami,” Wela said softly. “Clarividente. Clairvoyant.”
“Valeria Rodríguez-López.”
“Ah, mi bisabuela. My great-grandmother. Las abejas y las plantas. She worked with bees and plants—like Sonja.” Wela smiled and held out a hand. Sonja grasped it and squeezed it. She sniffed hard.
Yolanda bent down and stuck a finger in the grooves of one of the gravestones. Alejandra Rodríguez-O’Connell. Curandera.
Mamá. Healer.
A heaviness filled her chest. I hope I make you proud, Mamá.
“Did you find Violeta’s?” Wela craned her neck. “It should be right next to Mami’s.”
Yolanda looked next to Mami’s gravestone. There were two. One smaller and unmarked and a larger one. Violeta Rodríguez. Curandera.
“Here it is.” She knelt in front of it.
Yolanda and Sonja got down on their knees and dug, with their hands, a deep hole at the base of Violeta’s gravestone.
“Mija, hand me a rock.” Wela held out her hand. Sonja handed her a heavy rock, and Wela hit the lock of the box over and over again, the metal clinking, until it finally broke open.
The box was filled with dusty gray ashes.
Wela carefully dumped the contents of the box into the hole and covered it up with dirt. “Forgive me, Violeta, for all the wrong I ever caused you.”
“I don’t want to do this,” Yolanda said, her heart twisting with dread. “Not yet.”
Sonja shook her head. “Me either.”
Yolanda looked at her sister. “We’ll get through it together.” She reached for Sonja’s hand. Sonja bit her lip, squeezed Yolanda’s hand, and nodded.
They helped Wela lie down next to her sister’s grave.
“Take these.” Wela slipped the chanclas off her feet and handed them to Yolanda. “And take them back. You can give them to that dog of yours.” Wela smiled.
Yolanda clutched Wela’s shoes and sat next to her. The girls covered Wela with the serape, tucking it underneath her chin. Wela reached out with both hands.
One for each girl.
Wela’s eyelids fluttered.
Yolanda picked a leaf out of Wela’s hair. She looked so different without her butterflies, as though a part of her was missing. Tears brimmed in Yolanda’s eyes, her heart heavy. This was it.
The air chilled, misty and cool.
“Aye, mijas, this is my goodbye to you. I have enjoyed this life so much.” Wela turned to Sonja.
“Sonja, you need to have confidence. No one is truer than you. You can handle those bees. You can handle anything.” Wela closed her eyes. She gave Sonja a single nod. “You are enough.” Yolanda could see Sonja’s lip trembling, and it made her want to look away, but she didn’t.
Sonja was in as much pain as she was.
“Yolanda, like Raúl,” Wela said, “you may struggle with your skill, mija. I always knew it would come, but you will only realize your potential when you learn to let things go. Sé libre, mi niña curiosa. Be free, my curious girl.”
Wela continued. “Love each other. One of the greatest gifts in this life is having a sister. Believe me. Take care of each other. Now it is my turn to be with my sister.”
Yolanda grabbed her sister’s hand and held it tight. Sonja gave her a grateful smile. As painful as this was, at least they weren’t alone. They were doing it together.
Yolanda had one last question. “Why the tree, Wela? Why here?”
“You’ll see.” Wela smiled. Then she let go of their hands and tucked her arms underneath the serape. Her chest moved up and down a few more times before it finally stopped. Sonja and Yolanda stood together, heads bent as the raindrops fell all around them.
A curling mist crept in and settled underneath the pecan tree, shielding their view of Wela. When it passed through, she was gone, leaving only the serape in her place.
Yolanda’s heart split in half as she grabbed Sonja and hugged her tight. She was the only other person in the world who understood exactly how Yolanda was feeling in that moment, and she was so grateful they were together.
Their tears hit the ground with force. The rain mixed with their tears, starting with a puddle between their feet, running down the rocky hill and into the earth. Yolanda’s heart was heavy, but she knew she had done the right thing. This was what Wela wanted, to be with her sister again. Sonja’s entire body heaved, and Yolanda held her tight.
When Yolanda looked back, the rain and mud had buried the serape, leaving only a small corner visible.
Yolanda rested her head on Sonja’s shoulder, and they wept together.
Fifty-one
THE RAIN slowed and then stopped as the bright sun warmed Yolanda’s shoulders. Raindrops sparkled on the burnt black branches of the pecan tree.
“Hold on a second.” Yolanda wiped her tears and went to her backpack, dug inside, and pulled out the compass.
“Mamá’s compass!” Sonja cried, grabbing it from Yolanda. “I was looking for this.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I took it.” Yolanda hung her head. “I think I broke it. It keeps spinning. …”
“No, it works. It’s pointing north.” Sonja turned and faced north—toward home. The cloudy mist was moving fast, curling away and dissolving in the heat.
“The house!” Sonja jumped up. “It’s back!”
The tall grass had shrunk back to a few inches, and they could see the white wraparound porch way out in the distance. Rays of sunlight shone through the clouds, radiating on the valley of the mountains.
Yolanda smiled and then turned back to the pecan tree. “What’s that?” She stepped closer.
The split trunk and its dead branches were covered in orange blossoms, which were vibrating and humming.
“I didn’t know pecan trees had orange flowers,” Yolanda said.
From the center of the split trunk, a thin green sapling had emerged. On a fragile branch was a single white flower. Sonja stepped closer. “They don’t,” she said. “They’re white.”
Yolanda moved toward the tree and realized the orange flowers weren’t flowers at all. “Those aren’t flowers. Those are—”
“Butterflies,” Sonja said.
At that moment the butterflies all left the tree at once. Thousands of them pumped their wings and flew all around them. Yolanda held out her arms and laughed through her tears.
Wela.
One landed on her index finger. It flapped its wings a few times before flying off into the whirl. Slowly, the butterflies trickled away, toward home, until there were none left at
all.
Yolanda looked back toward the house and shielded her eyes from the bright sun.
“Well, it’s time to go.”
As they hiked down the trail, Yolanda was sad, but she was also relieved.
It was over.
Sonja’s bees flew around her disheveled braids. Now she didn’t have to worry about being around Sonja and her bees anymore.
Yolanda reached out for Sonja’s hand. Sonja let Yolanda grab it for a moment before turning back down the hill.
“Wow.” Sonja pointed. “Look at that.”
The river was rushing and flowing again, filled to the brim with cool, clear water. Hasik, Ghita, and Rosalind Franklin shouldn’t be far.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Sonja asked as they picked their way carefully down the muddy trail.
“It doesn’t matter where we end up,” Yolanda said, gazing back at the pecan tree. “As long as we’re together.”
Fifty-two
WHEN they reached the others, Sonja immediately ran to Ghita. Ghita patted her back over and over again and let her cry in her arms. “It’s going to be okay. It’s okay.”
Hasik was holding Rosalind Franklin, who wiggled frantically.
“Hey, girl.” Yolanda took her out of Hasik’s arms as Rosalind Franklin sniffed and licked all over her salt-crusted cheeks. She handed her one of Wela’s chanclas and set her on the ground. Rosalind Franklin pranced happily away with the shoe in her teeth, then turned back, dropped the chancla in the dirt, and cocked her head at Yolanda.
“She’s gone, girl.”
Rosalind Franklin lowered her head, picked up the shoe, and continued down the trail, her steps a bit heavier.
Sonja and Ghita walked hand in hand down the trail, and Sonja leaned her head on Ghita’s shoulder. Yolanda was glad to see Sonja and Ghita back together. Maybe now they could put everything behind them and all be friends.
When they made it to the river, it flowed fast and full. The water roared down the riverbed.
“It’s too fast to cross,” Sonja said.