Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (11 page)

Coal looked up, further concerned by the crack in her voice uttering a whispered, single-syllable word. He reached out a hand and gently squeezed hers as she attempted to hold back tears while trying to resemble the strength she normally carried into every area of her life. She met his eyes, feeling broken yet determined. They stared at each other for several heartbeats before she broke the connection. Oaklee pulled her hand away as she turned her head toward The Rows to gather her emotions.

A breeze fluttered loose strands around her face, and she glanced back toward her friend. The odd expression flashed across his face once more, and she lifted her brows quizzically at him while endeavoring to understand his fear.

He cleared his voice nervously and began in a shy whisper, “Her homespun white dress spreads out upon the grass where she lay, golden leaves adorning her hair fanning over the wilds beneath the trees. Even in her sorrow, she looks magical, framed in a sea of gold, her emerald eyes blending in with the grass and ferns. She is nature, her very presence atmospheric.”

“Coal Hansen,” she said, moved by his poetry, but stopped with a sudden bashful feeling.

Oaklee was unsure of what to say and prayed that he did not misunderstand her reaction. His words were beautiful, but she did not want his attentions, desiring only the comfort of his friendship. She refrained from using his title of courtesy and hoped the familiarity spoke more plainly and to the point.

Embarrassed by the silly feelings his words conjured, she rolled her eyes and giggled, “You are such a knave.”

“Anything for the lady,” he winked, and a charming smile lit his face. “You are a damsel in distress, and I am your knight in shining armor. I wish only to rescue you, my fair princess.”

“Then be my friend,” she replied in a more somber tone.

He whispered soberly, “I could be more,” and then gave her a pleading look, “if you would allow me.”

“My Lord, I just lost my father.”

She rolled over and away from him, and tucked her hand beneath her head. Closing her eyes, she willed her emotions to stay calm. He could be so impetuous at times. And although she knew his affection began before her father died, Oaklee no longer trusted his motives. She was unsure if his sudden obsessive impatience was born of romantic aspirations, or from the knowledge of the power her family now possessed. It was a knowledge that should have remained hidden from others within this community.

“Forgive me, Willow. Please do not be upset with me,” Coal sighed. She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. He whispered, “I am a stupid, insensitive fool,” and then tossed the blade of grass, looking up to the dome ceiling in thought.

With a deep breath, Oaklee rolled onto her back once again and nodded her understanding and forgiveness. He held out his hand to her in apology which she shook gently, choosing to extend grace for his behavior. They were all deranged from grief. She removed her hand as soon as possible to ensure the man next to her did not act on any romantic notions.

Every time their hands touched, she lived in fright that he would kiss hers, sealing his pledge and life to her. This was a ceremonial kiss that belonged to the dreams of girlhood, a desire within the heart of each young woman, but not to her. Even before her father’s death, the idea of Coal as her husband chafed and made her feel jumpy. It was as if marriage was another way he could save her, but from what?

Coal fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief while lowering to his back next to her in the grass and leaves. He attempted to bridge the disconnect they felt, a move Oaklee understood as his head rested on the grass beside hers, a position the community would frown upon now that they had come of age. Upon her sixteenth birthday, he would be required to address her as My Lady, an edict from The Code to remind him that she was a marriageable woman of Nobility, and therefore, must be treated with the utmost respect.

Coal held out the handkerchief. “Here, Willow.”

She whispered back, “Thank you. Please call me Oaklee from now on.”

Her hair blew across her face as the bio-wind kicked up, breezing through the meadow, and he reached over and tucked an errant strand behind her ear tenderly. Oaklee stopped breathing, confused as she enjoyed and feared his touch. Then anger surfaced, and she felt her body stiffen as he toyed with her affection while she suffered from a grief that shattered her heart into infinitely small pieces.

Leaves rustled and mournfully blew away from the tree that had birthed them, leaving behind the sanctuary of their existence to another unknown. This melancholy awareness stirred her heart as their fingertips touched, and she nibbled on her bottom lip with distress. With quick movements, she retracted her hand after accepting the handkerchief, softly blotting her eyes and cheeks.

Coal turned his head and provided an understanding smile full of warmth, acknowledging the request to be called by her nickname. Willow was her mother’s name for the precious daughter she longed for, and Oak was her father’s addition.

A strong voice spoke through her thoughts, and she lost herself to the memory of her father’s deep rumble, affectionately calling her Oaklee. “My daughter, strong and resourceful, like a mighty oak. Do not hide your soulful roots which must dig deep and travel far,” he would encourage with a kiss upon her forehead. A tear escaped, and she quickly wiped it away to avoid unwanted comfort from Coal.

She grieved the loss of her mother after Laurel was born, shocked when childbed fever claimed her life. However, the resilience of childhood fortified Oaklee’s ability to move forward. Frailty had not taken root in her spirit, unlike now. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and her skin had the pallor of one who is heartsick. She felt unattractive this moment, which intensified the insecurity she felt after Coal’s poetic description of her lying beneath the willow oak tree.

Oaklee came to a stand with Coal’s extended hand, immediately releasing his hold, and brushed the leaves from her homespun linen dress and unkempt hair. With a smile of tender amusement, Coal plucked a leaf from her mussed tresses, flicking it into the air. She watched the leaf find its resting place upon the ground where she once lay and walked around it respectfully as they began toward The Rows.

Each step strangled her resolve as she moved toward the vegetables rising in a beautiful bouquet of mourning.
Oaklee glimpsed the slumped back of her brother near the edge line for The Rows and sighed, fortifying her defenses. In just a few days, Leaf Watson changed from a vibrant young man with a known future to an aged soul whose life was suddenly paused, a still frame of misery. The dark circles under his eyes revealed the bruises this new life had given him at four o’clock afternoon time three days prior.
Leaf turned around, and watched as they approached. He searched behind Oaklee, and then fixed his gaze on her with a drawn expression.

“Where is Laurel?” he asked, stifling a yawn. He rubbed his eyes and then focused on her again.

“I left her to the joy of childhood, My Lord.”

“Please fetch her. She needs to be here when we spread father’s ashes.” Leaf turned back to The Rows without courteously awaiting her response. She stood with mounting irritation, unsure if she should obey or pound him with her fists. Although they had a touching moment early this morning, they were far too exhausted and drained to hold back on old feelings. Leaf twisted, giving her a firm look as if sensing her thoughts. “Willow, this is important. She deserves these memories, same as us, even if you wish to protect her from the pain.”

“As you say,” Oaklee replied with a mock bow. Leaf turned his back on her, and she clenched her fists and lifted her chin with the patronizing tones he used in front of Coal. “Oh, and brother,” she continued, waiting for him to turn around again. He did so reluctantly, and she noted the weariness controlling each motion. “My name is Oaklee.”

She rubbed the golden leaf for confirmation. The leaf understood, falling near the parent tree so it could always be near and eventually become part of the tree once again.

“
Oaklee
, go fetch Laurel,” Leaf said with an exasperated sigh. “The Elements will be here soon for the ceremony.”

Oaklee spun on her heel, stung by her brother’s mocking tone. Coal turned to follow her, a move she saw in the corner of her eye, but Leaf placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him mid-stride.

“Let her go alone. She needs the solitude to find peace and collect her thoughts.”

Upon hearing her brother’s voice, she glanced over her shoulder, and halted her steps when Coal picked up a spade in response to his instructions. Leaf gave her a pointed look, and she whipped around as Coal began preparing the garden to compost the ashes of her father.

***

In keeping with nature’s basic “waste becomes food” design, when we die all our organic remains, and particularly our trace elements and nutrients, should ideally go back to the agricultural fields whence they came... Would it not be wonderful to give back some and have our remains nourish the ecosystems that gave us life? But I don’t think we will anytime soon overcome the cultural strictures of eating a plate of potato chips or salad that was fertilised with the remains of a loved one (or anyone for that matter); although what a celebration of their lives this would be.

—Robert Zipplies, “Eco Funerals, Pt 2: The Circle of Life.”
The Green Times
, March 30, 2012 *

When facing loss of incalculable value, it is important to embrace the change without losing sight of the process. Sorrow is a state of feeling the loss, but hope is the state of understanding there still remains a future. Life will continue, even if it is not the same as before. I have faced several losses, each one a trial and a hardship. Through my experiences, I have learned the key to coping and emerging as a new person, which is to embrace both sorrow and hope as companions along the journey.

—
Dr. Della Jayne Nichols, “The Companions: Sorrow and Hope,”
Psychology Today
,
January 2041

***

I
n the distance, Oaklee peered through the large arbor and marveled as the mid-day light kissed The Waters, enchanting the pools with silvery sparkles. The red fruit in The Orchard gleamed from the filtered sunlight, and she brought a hand to her chest in pleasure when the cherry tree moved. The apple tree on the other side of the earthen path swayed in response.

Oaklee smiled to herself and allowed the fruitful scene to pull her from gnawing despair. She was always amused when glimpsing the trees sharing secrets with one another. Their leafy whispers delighted her, and she promised her confidentiality by gently touching the trunks of both trees. They had held her secrets close to their hearts, she could do no less.

With curiosity, she looked up into the branches, and watched as the squirrels jumped around. But never mind the squirrels; she preferred to think of the trees as old friends, sharing the latest gossip in the orchard. It soothed her soul, and her imagination took flight into another world, another time where there was no older brother named Leaf. Where parents never died, leaving behind frightened children. Where she was free to move without eyes on her every step, and without well-meaning souls demanding answers of her next move.

She blew a kiss to the trees in thanksgiving for momentarily lifting her mood, and continued down the path toward The Waters, pulled by the sound of small voices and bursts of laughter.

Laurel sat in a circle with other children playing duck-duck-goose, next to the grand arbor entrance to the hot springs pool and waterfall. A sullen expression rested on her features when a small hand landed on her head, declaring her the goose. She sat stunned for a moment, and then when all the children yelled “go” and “get her,” she sprang into action, little feet scurrying on the wind of encouragement. The duck landed in Laurel’s seat before she was tagged and giggled with delight at winning the goose chase.

Without missing a beat, Laurel gently touched the head of each friend, repeating the age-old words of “duck, duck, duck,” and lifted her voice in anticipation upon proclaiming a young boy “goose.” He grinned widely like a seasoned predator about to chase his beloved prey. Oaklee knew that Laurel did not stand a chance, but internally cheered her sister on. Laurel ran as fast as she could, almost making it to the boy’s seat when he tagged her arm.

“I got you! You are dead meat, duck!” the boy said with a celebratory jump.

Some of the other children joined his laughter, and a few held back, watching Laurel for her response. Her younger sister stared at him with tears brimming. Coal’s little sister stood up, draped an arm around Laurel’s shoulder and walked her away from the circle with care like a little mother kissing away the pain of a scraped knee.

“What did I say?” the boy asked the remaining group.

“Lake, she lost her daddy three days ago. You called her ‘dead meat,’” another boy volunteered.

Lake’s eyes grew round with horror as he looked at Laurel. He kicked a small rock and tucked his hands into his pockets, slumping his shoulders and hanging his head as he walked toward her.

“Laurel?” Lake asked tentatively.

He was tall for his age, making him appear older than his six years, and Oaklee had to hide a smile with her hand. Laurel turned around, revealing tear-stained cheeks, and the boy’s face instantly deflated.

“I am sorry. I meant nothing by it,” he said, extending a hand.

Laurel graced him with a small smile of appreciation and a little voice whispering, “Thank you,” as she gently shook his outstretched offering.

Lake smiled back, and his freckles and red hair stood out against the green backdrop. He skipped back to the group of children, who looked on awkwardly, and joined the younger ones who bickered about who would be the next duck. The game commenced, and the shouts and laughter filled the air once more.

“Frog,” Oaklee called out fondly.

Laurel looked up with a big grin upon hearing her family nickname. She waved goodbye to her friend, Corona, and then scampered off.

Oaklee gave her sister a sad smile. “It is time, Frog.”

Her sister’s little face transformed into weariness as her eyes moved to The Rows.

“Willow, will father feel the plants eating him?” she hiccupped with the question as tears formed, and she began biting her nails as her eyes darted back toward the gardens.

Oaklee felt something snap inside of her, unaware there were more areas of her heart that could still break. Was it possible to hit a false bottom? The free fall feeling began once more and, for a moment, she became detached from all emotion, and then with another breath felt every prick and poke of grief. She pulled her sister into a fierce hug and kissed the top of her head.

“Oh, darling, father no longer feels anything,” Oaklee heard herself say soothingly to Laurel. “He is in heaven with mother. We are celebrating the legacy of his life by enabling his body to continually partake with our community. His spirit is gone. Do you remember the funeral pyre yesterday? And Brother Markus praying over father’s body and departed spirit, thanking Heavenly Father for his life?”

Laurel bobbed her head slowly.

In childlike form, Laurel wiped away the tears, and gave her sister a quick kiss on the cheek before skipping toward The Rows. Oaklee watched Laurel flit away in her white dress, hair bouncing. Oaklee was Laurel’s age when their mother died. This must have been how Leaf felt at the time, his feelings running deep while her feelings fluttered around like a butterfly. Oaklee needed to prepare what remained of her heart, and caressed each tree in surrender as she walked by.

While approaching The Rows, she viewed the backs of Leaf and Coal as they stood stoically over the ceremonial garden as men surveying their future. One day, their children could turn the soil to receive their ashes. The project may end in a little more than five years, but this was their home and their life. Hopefully Hanley Nichols would allow them to continue and change his plans to disband the community. She had already lost so much. She could not lose her home and way of living, too.

Laurel tucked herself beneath Leaf’s right arm, and rested her head against his side as he lovingly patted and caressed her shoulders. Oaklee paused, moved by the picture of comfort and protection, causing her thoughts to drift back to her father, wishing to be a little girl in his embrace this moment.

The crunch of leaves alerted the men of her presence, and Coal turned his head, gracing her with a concerned smile and a small bow. She ignored the formalities, and walked up next to him as her eyes absorbed her father’s grave up close for the first time. Since his death, she had stayed away from the heart-shaped garden. An ache stole her breath as she stared wide-eyed at the rich earth, and her knees buckled. A moan emerged and a sob ran through her entire body as she fell to the prepared soil. Yesterday, she watched her father’s corpse burn upon a funeral pyre in the Cremation Ceremony. Today, her family would place him in the ground, an act that seemed more final and intimate to her bruised heart.

She closed her eyes, and willed her breathing to calm and her mind to focus on the sounds of nature, a practiced move to contain her spirit. Leaves rustled nearby, and a songbird sang mournfully in a tree branch on the fringe of The Rows, while footsteps gathered from behind. She opened her eyes to the sight of Laurel running from Leaf’s embrace to Coal’s sisters, grabbing the hands of Corona and Ember. Leaf stood straighter as Ember approached, and Oaklee watched his eyes roam over Coal’s twin gently before turning his head back to the vegetables he tended and worked with daily. Had he always looked at Ember with such reverence? Jealous feelings warred within, hurt that another received his respect while she received his judgment. Oaklee focused on the others marching toward the heart of the Ceremonial Garden, and she remained on her knees unsure of which emotion caused the most pain: the anger or the sorrow.

The Elements and villagers arrived in family groups. Cloaks of mourning fluttered in the breeze, each Noble hood marked with their family emblem. She had forgotten hers at home and was surprised when Laurel, Coal, and Leaf lifted large hoods over their heads. Her gold hair shone brightly, the long tendrils moving in the bio-breeze, an out-of-place look in a sea of dark linen hoods and cloaks. Feeling self-conscious, she remained on her knees and kept her eyes fastened to the ground as new tears made trails along her face.

“Willow, where are your mourning garments?” Leaf asked.

“I left them at home, My Lord.” She lifted her eyes and glared at her older brother for shaming her before the Nobles and villagers. Leaf’s eyes narrowed in challenge, reminding her to refrain from expressive displays. “And my name is
Oaklee
.”

Coal knelt next to her in the soil, and placed his cloak over her shoulders. “My Lady, you may have mine.”

Oaklee’s widened eyes met his in astonishment. Coal had addressed her with an honorific title before she had turned sixteen. Her fingers trembled as she fastened the cloak, overwhelmed as she absorbed the intimate gesture signifying his family covering hers before the whole community. The pain in his eyes hardened a piece of her heart. Was it for her? Or the loss of her father? Was he sincere? Or was he claiming her before The Elements and her brother? She hated the confusion and distrust that swirled inside of her the last three days concerning her friend, feeling so isolated and alone.

“Thank you, My Lord. You are most kind,” Oaklee said, lowering her head in deference.

The hood draped over her head and shadowed her warming features. She would heed Leaf’s warning this one time, demanding her mind to cool and her heart rate to slow down, even though she desired to throw Coal’s garment back in his face.

With slow movements, the community joined Oaklee and Coal on their knees, circling around the heart of the ceremonial garden. Norah, the Water Element, and her daughters Mist and Rain performed the ritual mourning song, the minor notes of the hymn heavily moving through the air. The harmonies were beautiful and haunting, and Oaklee felt the breeze stop and the gurgling creek near The Rows stand still, learning the sounds of sorrow to play back to the inhabitants of New Eden Township over the next week. The song settled into her bones.

Heads remained bowed as Brother Markus began a prayer, thanking Heavenly Father for life and His eternal provision. Oaklee chanced a look around the group and found Rain watching her closely while offering a smile of sympathy. Unable to respond, she returned her gaze to the living soil and meditated on the earthly father she no longer possessed.

“His love endures forever,” the mourners chanted with dull voices in Latin. She pondered the words they had spoken in unison, thinking of her father’s affection, even though it referred to Heavenly Father’s. Brother Markus blessed the gathering, singing “amen” upon completion, and his brown woolen robes swished loudly as he stepped back into the circle.

Leaf began to rise, and the muscles in his jaw twitched as he approached the center of the heart-shaped ceremonial garden. Connor, the Fire Element and Coal’s father, met him in the middle, handing Leaf with care the ashes of their father. Removing the stopper, Leaf dipped his hands into the clay jar and pulled out a handful with care, tenderly folding the ashes into the tilled soil. An eerie silence filled the biodome as a reverent hush fell over the gathering. Oaklee’s muscles stilled as her eyes grew large, not wishing to watch, yet unable to look away while her brother continued through the garden. His rigid posture gently shook and Oaklee frowned when his mouth tightened into a tense expression of restrained emotion, becoming stiffer as he performed the duty as head of the family home.

A piece of paper fluttered out of Leaf’s pocket, and onto the soil near his shoe as he passed by where she knelt, catching her attention. Oaklee retrieved the stiff paper in quick movements, feeling the odd texture with her fingertips before slipping it into a secret pocket she had sewn into her dress. She darted her eyes around the circle to see if anyone noticed her actions and met Jeff’s gaze, their town barrister, who blinked rapidly before turning away. Coal lightly touched her arm to gain her attention, and then blond eyebrows furrowed slightly as his dark brown eyes regarded her. He tucked long blond strands behind his ears with a sad smile and blinked at her in question. She shook her head and shrugged his hand off her arm, returning her focus to Leaf.

Her brother’s image in the garden momentarily melted away all her resentments. Leaf was strong and honorable, and he held the remains with reverent care as he touched their father intimately and completely one last time. He reflected Joel Watson in all he did, shown in his mannerisms, features, and the kind ways he considered the needs of all those who came to him for assistance.