Gives Light(Gives Light Series) (14 page)

The FBI agent chose to ignore her--pretty rudely, I thought; I guessed she didn't have a legal reason to be here but didn't want to admit to it.

"I'm Meredith," said the woman with the basket.  She picked up her harvest and started halfway up the steps, the basket against her hip, her free hand extended for a handshake.

The FBI agent looked as though she'd rather not touch any part of Meredith, if she could help it, but finally complied, dropping Meredith's hand almost as soon as she'd grasped it.  "Myra Hayes."

"If you're waiting for Catherine, I'd be happy to wait with you," Meredith said.

Ms. Hayes looked uncomfortable, but I think she knew there was no way she could order Meredith off of the property.

Meredith and Ms. Hayes sat on the porch chairs, Meredith making friendly conversation, Ms. Hayes reciprocating stiltedly.  I went inside and got drinks for the both of them, a chilled elderberry juice Granny had made the night before.  Meredith thanked me heartily and took two big gulps; Ms. Hayes left hers untouched.  About an hour passed before Ms. Hayes surrendered, swinging her handbag over her shoulder, and stormed off.

Meredith sipped at the dregs of her juice.  I got up from the porch steps to fetch her another drink, but she stopped me with a meaningful look over the top of her glass.

"They're trying to go through you because you're young," Meredith said.  "But you're not obliged to tell them anything.  They don't have any control over you as long as you live on the reservation.  Remember that, Skylar."

She gave me a handful of cherries before she left.  I couldn't help thinking, wondering, if Dad had known that, too, if he had skipped town without warning so the authorities would have no choice but to leave me at Nettlebush.  I liked that thought a lot better than the possibility that Dad had just grown tired of me one day.  Why had he skipped town?  Who was he trying to avoid?  How deeply in trouble was he that he thought I needed to be protected?

After lunch, I set out for the badlands.

The promontory was Rafael's new favorite hideout as of late.  I didn't have to guess why:  It held special meaning for him, one of his few remaining connections to his mother.  It was later than I'd intended when I made my way across the unsteady terrain.  I had meant to find Rafael around one o'clock, maybe two, but now it was four-thirty.

"What took you?" Rafael said, irritated.

I grimaced.

"Oh.  That bad, huh?"

I didn't want to think about it too much.  I sat on the edge of the promontory, offered Rafael a quick smile, and took a look around the badlands.

Sitting on the promontory, in some ways, felt like sitting on top of the world.  Probably to be expected when we were so impossibly high above the rest of the landscape.  I noticed something else, too, that I hadn't before:  As the sun trailed slowly west, the clouds hanging low in the sky crept closer to the canyons and the cliffs.  The air all around us was misty and cool.  I wondered if Heaven was like that, the clouds all around you, your best friend at your side.

Rafael ranted on and on about a beetle infestation killing one of the pinyon pines, how he had had to find and crush the eggs to keep it from spreading to the other trees.  He ranted some more about a power metal band I thought was utter crap, and then he said: "At least I don't listen to Kenny G.," which I knew was a personal dig at me, but I didn't fall for it because Rafael wouldn't know good music if it tattooed itself all over his right arm.  For the most part, my thoughts wandered.  I'd started feeling antsy again, and curious; I wondered where my dad was, I wondered whether he was safe...  I was starting to think Dad might come back for me after all.  My heart soared.  But it was a confused, conflicted feeling, because even if he came back for me, I didn't know that he'd be any safer for it.  Not with the FBI on his tail.

Rafael was staring at me.  I hadn't realized he'd stopped talking.

"They're still not telling you anything?"

I smiled apologetically and shook my head.

Rafael made a disgusted sound.  "What are they keeping from you?  It's not like you're a little kid."

The bloated sun touched the western horizon with a sudden spark of gold.  The clouds crowding the promontory were misty and white.  I thought about how I'd never really enjoyed a sunset before coming to the Nettlebush Reserve.  I thought about how much had changed in a couple of short months.  Even my diet was completely different. 

"C'mon," Rafael said gruffly, standing.  "Don't want your granny kicking down my uncle's door."

I stood up while he started down the cliffside.  The beauty of the setting sun was so all-encompassing, it distracted me; my eyes were on the west, not at all on the unstable terrain we had to navigate.  I wondered what it was like to be the sun, to give life to billions and billions of lives...

I felt rocks crumbling beneath my feet.  I lost my stance, the promontory sliding out from underneath me.

I had time for maybe a split second's thought--probably akin to
Oh, wow, I'm going to die
--before I pitched forward.

Turns out I didn't die.  Rafael must have heard the landslide; or maybe he'd turned around to say something to me while I was distracted.  He grappled my arms with vicegrip hands, righting me instantly.  For a moment, a look of unadulterated horror took up residence on his face--but only a moment. 

"You okay?"

Dizzy, I nodded, fingers digging into his arms.  My heart was beating like crazy.  I suddenly didn't like the badlands very much anymore.

Rafael's grasp on my arms eased.  "You sure?"

I thought I nodded; but the way he went on looking at me, piercing and intense, I couldn't be positive.  The evening wind picked up Rafael's hair and tossed it over his shoulder.  My heart stitched intolerably fast patterns in my chest, burning its way through its cage.  I realized I was still gripping his arms.  I thought to let go.  My fingers trailed down his arms, his skin warm, down the blue chain tattoo.

Rafael caught my hand before I could withdraw it.

I hadn't thought it was possible for my heart to beat any faster.  Now it was frantic, surreal, rising through my throat.  I wanted desperately to look away from him, but I couldn't, his gaze magnetic.  There was an undertone in his eyes, tense, like he wanted to say something, immensely, but didn't know how--or what.

This was another of those rare occasions when I wished that I could speak.  I would have found a stupid joke to crack--anything to break the silent spell.  I tried a smile, but felt it faltering before it took root.

A red-tailed hawk screeched overhead.  Rafael jumped.  He looked at me like it was my fault.  A smile, a real one, flickered onto my face.  Soon we were both laughing, Rafael's laugh like music.

"Dumbass," Rafael said.

He swung his arm around me and we walked that way, side-by-side, through the badlands and back to the reserve.  His arm around my shoulders, heavy and comforting; his hip against mine, solid and real.

14

Crossroads

By the beginning of August, I'd reached a crossroads.  Either I was going to get a very late start on my summer reading, or I was going to ask Granny about school on the reservation.

I'd reconciled myself with the reality that Dad probably wouldn't be home within the next month, and as far as I knew, the schoolbus didn't travel to Nettlebush.  One early morning, while Granny was brewing her favorite roasted acorn tea, I tried to broach the topic with her.

She turned out to be really bad at lip reading and thought I was saying "cold" instead of "school."

"How can you possibly be cold when you wear that jacket all the time!  Give it to me, it's overdue for a wash."

I wasn't very happy to hand over the jacket, but ultimately I complied.  Granny took my jacket, rolled it up, and tossed it in the corner.  I started looking around the kitchen for something to write with.  I had a couple of old notebooks upstairs, I thought.

I found both a pen and a pad of mint green post-it notes in a drawer by the icebox.

"What are you doing over there?  Don't you disrupt my tea!"

School!!!
I wrote down.  I ripped the sticky note off of the pad and presented it to Granny bombastically. 

Granny took the note from me.  She squinted at it.  She waved dismissively.  "I've already registered you for school right here in Nettlebush," she said.  "What do you think I am, an idiot?"

I shook my head very solemnly.

Granny went on peering at me over the top of her teacup, as though she couldn't trust my word.  Her eyes traveled from my mop of unruly hair--with a disapproving grimace--to the plains flute hanging from my neck.

"I want you home by one o'clock," she said.  "No gallivanting with the Gives Light boy today.  There's someone I'd like you to meet."

I wrote another her another post-it note: 
Yes, Granny. 
I punctuated it with a smiley face.

She looked at me sternly.  "I thought I told you never to call me Granny."

I crossed off the smiley face and replaced it with an exaggerated frown.

Granny clucked at me.  "Go!" she said, tapping my arm with her bony knuckles.

I kissed her cheek, tucked the pen and pad into my pocket, and set off for Annie's house.

It had been a while since I'd felt the arid air on my bare arms.  I slowed down, apprehensive.  I knew that if anything about me was likely to catch someone else's eye, it was my crazy, curly hair, not the thick scars on my throat.  But people around Nettlebush, for the most part, were already accustomed to my crazy, curly hair.  I've always been the kind of guy who doesn't like attention.  As far as covering my neck, I didn't own any neckties, and it was way too hot outside for a turtleneck.  I'm not kidding.  It gets so hot in Arizona, people have died just trying to take care of their gardens.  You can bet they weren't wearing turtlenecks.

Annie was boiling spinach and corn by the time I stepped in through the front door.

"Oh, good," she said placidly, "you can help Lila make candy, she's always so messy about it."

I really liked that about Annie:  She didn't go out of her way to make you feel ostracized.  She was a great actor when she put her mind to it, because she never once looked at my neck, in a way that felt natural instead of avoidant.  I mussed up her hair--she took a swing at me with a wooden spoon--and found Lila in the alcove, cross-legged, pouring globs of maple syrup into a big pot.  She looked up at me with a sweet smile belying her inner brattiness.  I loved that kid.

Aubrey stopped by with a bag of fresh blueberries for Annie.  He wasn't as good of an actor as his girlfriend; he stared at my neck until he turned green.  I stuck a post-it note on his forehead.

Lila and I were whisking a sticky mess of boiled syrup and butter when Annie let out a contented sigh--a soft little "Hmmmm"--and said, "We should go for a swim in the lake.  Not when the men are on it, of course."

"Yes, yes, I agree," Aubrey said eagerly.  I got the feeling he would have agreed to anything Annie said.

"I wouldn't be caught dead with either of you," Lila said.

"That's fine," Annie said, "we don't need you."

I scribbled on the post-it pad, more for Aubrey's benefit than anything else: 
Granny wants me home by midday to meet someone.  You two should definitely swim together.
 

Annie didn't miss the implication; she swatted at me a second time.
 
I gave her beady Gremlin eyes.

"Oh?" said Aubrey.  "Could it be the shaman?  Maybe she wants you to take up a vision quest."

I tried to let my bemusement speak for me. 

"You know.  A vision quest.  What you do is...ahhh, I'm no good with words..."

"You fast," Annie chimed in.  Aubrey shot her a look of gratitude.  She winked at him.  "Then you go out into the wilderness and meditate until an important vision comes to you."  She flashed me a smile.  "Self-explanatory, isn't it?"

Oh.  I signed,
Why would she want me to do that?

"Everyone does it sooner or later.  Really, it's nothing to worry about.  You had better help Lila break up that candy before she eats it all."

I said goodbye around noon and went back to Granny's house for lunch.  We ate on the porch, Granny telling me a story about how she'd killed a deer when she was thirteen.  I tried to look politely interested instead of nauseated.

About an hour later, Meredith came by.

"We've met before," Meredith said, smiling.

I smiled back, secretly looking between Meredith and Granny for any visual cues.  Meredith didn't look very much like a shaman to me.  Not that I knew what a shaman looked like.

I moved off of the porch chair and onto the steps so Meredith could take my seat.  Meredith said, "Your grandma tells me you like to play the plains flute."

I picked up the flute dangling from my neck and grinned.

Meredith laughed.  "You'd think I would've noticed that.  Would you like to play a couple of pieces for the upcoming ghost dance?"

I felt my face drain stark white.  Hastily, I shook my head.  I didn't know what a ghost dance was, but I was pretty certain I didn't know enough songs to play music for one.  More than that, I didn't want the extra attention.  Just the thought of it made me feel a little sick.