Long Snows Moon (23 page)

“Devon, will you go to my room and get the
owl? I want you to see it,” Analise asked. “I know it’s silly but I
sometimes sleep with it at night. Remember your collection of
stuffed animals? I can’t count how many dogs and wolves you had
piled on your bed.”

Devon forced a smile and avoided her mother’s
eyes. She jumped up, eager to leave them and exhale the truth.
“Sure Mom, I’ll get it for you.”

She found the owl on the bedside table. Odd,
she hadn’t noticed it before. She read the tag labeled Jo Jo the
Wise Owl. Empathy for her mother’s disease tugged at her until she
surrendered like quicksand, melting onto the downy bed. She
clutched the stuffed owl and pulled her knees to her chest. Now
permeated with owl energy, Devon could see.

Devon realized that Analise predicted
Jameson’s curing tea in her dream-trance at Wal-mart. Well, the
imaginary girl/woman had.

A cure will come, a cure will come and this
sickness will be done.

The most intriguing part was that there would
not even be a Devon without Claire.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Devon searched the
house until she found Claire in her room examining the painting of
the Shawnodese.

“You’re not a dog or a wolf,” Claire
murmured. “You are, in fact, coyote.”

“Hello, Mother.”

Claire jumped. “Oh you scared me Devon. No,
your mother is not here. She’s downstairs on the lanai having her
tea.”

“Actually, she is right here in front of me,”
Devon replied. Her tight smile felt like a snarl. A growl rose in
her throat but Devon swallowed it down.

Claire chuckled and gave an awkward snort.
She turned back to the painting and gnawed on her lower lip, as if
hoping Devon would disappear.

“Aren’t you sick of the lies?”

“Infirm and ailing from them,” Claire
whispered.

“Then heal yourself and admit the truth.”

“Trevor was adopted. He’s not related to you
at all. That should be a comfort.”

“Yes, it’s fabulous you love birds didn’t
push me into an incestuous relationship. Bravo Claire!”

“He doesn’t know he was adopted, I beg you to
keep this secret for me. He’s innocent in all this.”

“You have a lot of secrets, don’t you,
Mother?” Devon replied. She spit out the word mother as if it was
bitter in her mouth. “Am I another minor detail in your ridiculous
plan?

Claire appraised her with eyes that said they
had never met. “Secrets, yes, I have a few. And you are no minor
detail.”

“I see it clearly now. My mother wanted kids,
you didn’t. She couldn’t conceive and you could. So Burke Danforth
is my father and you are my mother?”

“No, Analise is your mother.” Claire puffed
out her chest and attempted to sidle past Devon.

Devon grabbed Claire’s arm hard enough to
make her yelp. Devon found a measure of guilt in the pleasure she
felt. She got in Claire’s face, amused by the shock in her eyes and
her sudden lack of composure. Devon pressed her against the
doorjamb.

“Yes, Analise is my mother. Now admit I am
your biological daughter.”

Claire wrestled Devon to get out the
door.

“You have betrayed those you feared would
destroy you. All along, you were your worst enemy. Growth escalates
as you seek answers in the south. At the end of the dark night is a
beautiful dawn. Purge your heart with honesty before you drown in
your emotions. Be free, be buoyant. Float, Mother Duck.”

Devon felt Claire shiver. A moan escaped
her.

“What did you say?” she whispered to
Devon.

It was something Devon never thought she’d
live to see. Claire buried her face in her hands and shuddered with
great, wailing sobs. Years of suppressed emotions rushed in a
torrent. Devon guided Claire to the bed and sat next to her,
rocking her, soothing her naturally. She felt her anger wash away
as the waves subsided.

“Analise was devastated when she couldn’t
conceive,” Claire whispered. “All she ever wanted was a child. She
became tragically depressed. She hardly ate and wouldn’t leave the
house. She mourned for the child she could never have. Burke was
sterile and she hated him anyway. An opportunity arose for me to
adopt and I took it, hoping it would satisfy her, but it didn’t.
She wanted her own child, she wanted a girl.” She looked up at
Devon and tried to smile. “She wanted you.”

“Why didn’t she adopt?”

“She wanted to have a child with me. She
wanted it to be mine.”

“I guess I can see that,” Devon agreed. She
looked down at Claire’s hand realizing how similar it was to her
own. She did resemble Claire more than she ever noticed. They
shared the same flawless complexion, the same sky-blue eyes, and
raven hair. Analise was blonde, her father was a redhead. Devon
looked nothing like them.

“Who is my father?”

Claire shook her head. “Analise wanted to
choose the donor and it wasn’t difficult for her to decide. We
often vacationed in Utah. Analise bought the cabin as a getaway for
us. That is where we conceived you. Please don’t tell your mother.
It would break her heart to know you knew.”

“I think it’s about time the truth was
spoken. I want to know who my father is. I deserve to know the
details of my own life. Who am I?”

Analise had been standing in the doorway,
listening. It must have been a while because she held a folder in
her hands.

“His name is Jason Wolfe. He was a beautiful
Native American man we befriended,” Analise explained.

“Why couldn’t you conceive me?” Devon asked
Analise.

Analise shook her head and stared at the
folder she held. “Everything is in this folder. I kept this for you
in case you ever found out and wanted to know. Every detail is
here, from my medical prognosis to your birth father’s lineage.
There are photos of him.”

“He was our ski instructor, such an amazing
athlete, as well as a History professor at the University. Jason
was the only person in the world who knew about Analise and me. It
was a freedom we shared and basked in his acceptance, and the
knowledge that he would never betray our secret. He never
disrespected our union.”

“Yes, a true gentleman in every sense of the
word,” Analise agreed. She handed Devon the folder. “He was a
member and leader of a secret society.”

Devon hesitated before opening the folder. It
was all happening too fast. Her mother wasn’t her mother. Claire
was her mother. Her father wasn’t her father. Trevor was adopted.
Her head was swimming and she felt as if she was falling down a
dark hole. What secret society? Why so many secrets?

“Do you mind if I do this alone?” she
murmured.

Analise and Claire left the room.

She drew a deep sigh, letting the new
information absorb. Things were clicking into place. Jason
Wolfe.

Devon opened the folder and studied the photo
with an unsteady hand. It was a snapshot of Claire and Analise
flanking a handsome man. The group was in ski garb, their faces
kissed by the wintry wind. His eyes looked at her, twinkling with
their secret. Had Claire been pregnant there?

Devon felt familiarity in his amber eyes. His
gaze was soulful and faraway, almost wild, a stark contrast to his
gleaming smile. He wore his black hair at his shoulders. She
touched her hair. Devon was shocked to see how much she also
resembled this stranger. He wasn’t a stranger because she had seen
him before. She knew him.

She fell back on her bed and stared at the
photo. She placed it on her heart and focused on a trivial crack in
the ceiling, tracing it with her eyes. It had no origin or end.
Devon readjusted her vision and she was able to see.

* * * *

Claire had always been a stunning woman with
striking features set on fire by her immutable persona. Analise was
adorable and demure with a sweet and ready smile. In Devon’s
vision, Claire and Analise were about twenty-five. It was
remarkable to see them through a woman’s eye.

It was a December night. They had dozens of
candles positioned around the wide room. The sofa bed open, flames
crackled in the fireplace. Snow rapped at the windows, Etta James
sang in the background. Analise and Claire, naked in repose, warmed
by the crackling fire. They began to kiss in a most loving and
romantic way. Analise writhed on top of Claire whispering words of
love. Devon wanted to close her eyes to block out the vision,
however her eyes were already closed and the image played out
whether she deigned to witness it or not. Analise brought a sheet
over them, never disengaging from their kiss.

Jason Wolfe appeared from the shadows and
took his place on the bed. Devon was grateful when the vision
receded. Devon heard Analise whisper.

“I love you, Claire, I love you, Claire. This
is our baby.”

* * * *

Devon felt their love and knew she was born
from a sacred union. She studied the photos of her ‘mothers’ with
Jason Wolfe, again stunned by the intensity of his amber eyes. She
looked over Analise’s medical records and was taken aback to
discover she had overcome ovarian cancer. Analise had also included
a copy of Jason Wolfe’s birth certificate, as well as a copy of his
family lineage. A word popped out from the page detailing his
relatives. Devon said it aloud, realizing it was not difficult to
pronounce, although she liked Two Stars better.

When she found the legs to stand, Devon went
to her mother’s room. She found her dozing.

“Do you know what you’ve done?” Devon
whispered.

Her mother’s eyes fluttered open.
“Devon.”

“Do you know what you’ve done? What you have
created?”

Analise tried to smile. “Not create,
perpetuate.”

Devon scowled and stormed out. She rushed to
her room, packed a bag, and gathered Moon. It was time to face her
birthright.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was a perfect
time of day for reminiscing. Lauren Martine reclined on the front
porch of Elk’s Pass Sundries in one of Doc’s twin rockers, watching
the sun go down. The bitter wind caressed her face with a cold
hand. She imagined it was Doc’s hand reaching through from another
realm reminding Lauren she was still vital somehow, still
alive.

Lauren smiled, white teeth shining, a tear
slid into the crook of her smile.

“Smiling and crying,” she muttered, blotting
the tear with the blanket she had draped over her shoulders.

She watched the vultures circle in the
distance, black specks beyond Elk’s Pass Bridge. She knew where
Jameson was and what held her there.

She knew it not from Jameson’s own mouth but
from the divine knowledge filtering into her mind. Lauren was a
seer. A gift she had in common with Doc and Jameson.

Some things Lauren was sometimes too close to
see, like the death of her friend. She knew what Jameson was doing
and there was no stopping her. Lauren hadn’t been able to stop her
from secretly cultivating the plant even after being sliced open
for it, even after Berry was killed because of it. When Jameson had
a mind to do something, she bent her head down and plowed right
through.

Jameson was pure of heart and of intent as
Doc Jo Jo had been. However, Doc had been more methodical and
focused in her task. Jameson was reckless.

A sudden gust of wind brought the blanket up
over her face. Lauren shivered and pulled the blanket down not at
all surprised she was no longer alone. A barn owl perched on the
rocker next to her.

Hello, old friend.

Lauren smiled. “Yes, and getting older by the
year,” she said rubbing her knotted knuckles. “It’s painful to open
my hands in this weather. The shortness of breath, chest pains, oh
hell, I could go on and on.”

Ah, the burdens of mortality.

“Yes,” Lauren said and smiled, “harsh burdens
they are. I don’t recognize my own reflection. I’m always
astonished to see an old woman looking back at me.”

Only the body is old.

“It must be heaven to move around with those
lovely wings, going from realm to realm without a care in the
world, no pain, no regret.”

I do have a single regret.

“Let me guess, your work?”

The owl stared at her unblinking. Though the
wind gusted the rocker on which the owl perched did not move at
all.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Lauren huffed.
“I can’t stop that child of yours when she gets her mind on
something. You know that better than anyone does. I warned her
about the trouble those damned plant of yours would cause and still
she seeks the missing ingredient. If you are going to regret
anything regret the day you hatched up that infernal weed in the
first place. “

My Mercy Weed helped many, including myself.
That is not my regret, my sister.

“What then?” Lauren asked, rubbing her left
arm. “What could you possibly regret?”

I regret that I have come to bring you
truth. I regret your end is near. I regret you must cross over
alone. I regret the animals will find your flesh a hearty meal and
my Jameson will be the one to discover what is left of you.

Lauren stared at the owl in shock, and just
an owl it was because Doc Jo Jo would never be so blithe in
delivering such news. She clutched her chest with a quivering hand
finding it hard to breathe.

“And to think I was happy to see you,” Lauren
gasped.

The owl stared with pitiless eyes.

“When, now?” Lauren rasped in a voice filled
with dread as she gazed at the vultures in the distance wondering
if they were the creatures that would seek her flesh. She began to
sob. “I am scared, Doc, so scared.”

Do not fear, my sister, I will see you
through to the other side.

The owl flew away.

Lauren clutched her wrap tighter, suffering a
chill that went much deeper than her flesh. She watched the sun dip
behind a high peak. It cast the front porch of Elk’s Pass Sundries
in a blanket of reddish hues. Only the occasional car traveled over
Elk’s Pass Bridge, the majority of tourists were recounting their
trials of skiing over a whiskey by a fire. The local folks were
sitting down to dinner, cussing and fussing over who gets the
drumstick and who gets the breast, harmless cozy banter. Lauren
Martine was far from cozy. She found nothing pleasant about being
up close and personal with the inevitableness of death.