When Autumn Leaves: A Novel (11 page)

“Uh, yes.”

“Go and get it and set it up in Jack’s room. I’ll be there in a flash.” Stella hung up and quickly dressed, and then threw everything she would need in an old leather valise and headed out the door.

Stella let herself into Dottie’s house without knocking. From upstairs she heard the sound of Jack’s coughing. It was deep and thick, a cough you would expect from an old man. No wonder Dottie was so concerned. Stella took the steps two at a time, her bag scraping against the faded wallpaper. She got to Jack’s room, softly stepping through the door. “Hello?” Stella whispered, knocking lightly at the door.

“That was quick. Thanks so much for coming, Stella,” Dottie said.

At that, Jack began another fit of coughing. He politely covered his mouth, but she could tell that he was having difficulty catching his breath.

“You hear that? He sounds awful. I don’t think he’s ever been this sick.”

“Oh, I’ve heard worse, believe me. It’s nothing we can’t fix, right, Jack?” Jack shrugged and dropped back down on the bed. “Okay, first things first.” Stella opened her bag and took out a small bottle and several candles. “This is eucalyptus oil, Dottie. I need you to put about a quarter of this bottle into the water of the humidifier. After you’ve done that, I’m going to need you to light these candles. They have eucalyptus in them as well, which should help to break up the congestion.”

Dottie got up and took the things from Stella’s hands. Stella sat on the bed. “Jack, honey, can you sit up a minute? I promise nothing I’m going to do will hurt, all right?”

Jack sat up and Stella laid her hands on his small, bare chest. These were the moments that Stella had been born for. Whenever she dealt with someone ill, she felt a sense of purpose and connection to the universe, a feeling that she was fulfilling a kind of promise. It made her feel big and small all at once. Usually when she laid hands on someone sick, she knew immediately what the problem was. Her palms warmed and guided her to the place on the body that had broken down. The energy vibrated a silent hum that filled her bones and emptied her head of every thought so she could read the other person better.

But when she touched Jack, she felt nothing. Stella closed her eyes and concentrated harder, but nothing came: no images, no pictures, no guide. She simply could not connect. Could she have forgotten? Could she be out of practice? Stella doubted it. She had a feeling she knew exactly what was going on, though she didn’t want to admit it.

Shaken by her inability, Stella made herself focus. She could not ease Jack’s condition through energy alone, but luckily, she knew what to do homeopathically. As Dottie lit the candles, Stella asked if she could use her kitchen.

She tried to stay focused on Jack as she tromped back down the steps and through the hall plastered with pictures in simple black frames. She was thrown off, and pissed off. A gift, something she had taken for granted all her life, something that came as naturally to her as breathing, had suddenly disappeared. It seemed odd to her that she had not noticed it before. Even when she wasn’t tapping into the energy, it was always there, in the corners, bleeding through her everyday life, touching her at odd moments. She supposed she had been too wrapped up after Equinox, too busy changing.

In an old iron pan, Stella fried onions and garlic. The smell jolted her back to the task at hand. She would deal with the other problem later, but for now, Jack had to be a priority. She spread the cooked ingredients into the middle of a poultice wrap she had sewn from an old flannel shirt. Then she added mustard powder and mustard seed and a few more pinches of various other herbs for good measure, and quickly went back upstairs. The boy’s room, now dim with candle-light, smelled of the eucalyptus.

“Okay, Jack, I’m going to put this on your chest. It smells something awful, but it should help you break up some of that stuff in your lungs. First though, I want you to drink this whole glass of water. The more fluid we can get into your body, the faster the sickness will run its course.”

Jack was reluctant to drink. Stella could see by the heavy pulling of his lids that he was tired and probably wanted nothing more than to sleep. But he drank the water, stopping once to cough. “Dottie, you gave him some Tylenol earlier, right?”

“Yes, is that okay?”

“Sure it is. He has a fever, and the Tylenol should bring that down. But we should take his temperature now so we can keep track of it. Don’t worry, Dottie, he’s going to be fine. Okay, Jack, arms up.” Stella placed a couple of clean flannels on his chest and then put the poultice on, tying the flannel straps around his back. She laid him down again, but this time on his side, propping pillows up against his back. “I know it’s not very comfortable, Jack, but you’re going to have to sleep this way tonight. Lying flat on your back will only make the coughing worse.” Jack mumbled something, and Stella realized he was already asleep.

Dottie hovered anxiously over the bed, her hands flapping as though she was restraining herself from touching her grandson. “Thank you so much, Stella,” she stage-whispered.

“You get so worried, you know? You feel so helpless when they get sick and you just wish more than anything that you could trade places.” Stella nodded. She didn’t know, but she could imagine. “I think we’ll be okay now,” Dottie said. “I’ll take Jack into Dr. Balboa’s office first thing tomorrow. Why don’t you go home now and get some rest.”

“Oh no, I think I’ll stay if that’s all right with you. I can just camp out on the floor if you have a sleeping bag.”

“Stella, I can’t ask that of you. It’s too much. And you have work tomorrow.”

“No, I think I’m gonna play hooky. Besides, I’ll have to take the poultice off, maybe make a new one with different ingredients in it. Really, I don’t mind at all. I love Jack, and I want to make sure he’s okay. It’s no trouble; I would tell you if it was.”

“Okay, but I’m going to get the cot out and you can sleep on that. Sleeping bag . . . Christ!”

Stella tended to Jack all through the night, checking his temperature, making another poultice, giving him water. She may have drifted off for a few brief moments, but her dreaming was dark and rapid, the feeling of falling jolting her back awake. When daylight came, she gathered up her supplies, made the bed, and said a quiet goodbye to Dottie, who promised to phone when they returned from the pediatrician’s office.

Even though Stella felt good that she’d been able to help Jack, she was nervous and upset that she hadn’t been able to use her gift. She had to admit, since she had drunk from the bottle, she had been totally self-absorbed, rude, and out of tune. Not herself. It had all been a mistake. She had paid too high a price to become this new person. Stella pored through Pearl’s book, looking for some way to reverse the spell, but she was not surprised when she found none.

It was true she liked her newfound sense of determination, her indifference about what others thought of her, and the ability now to see things for how they truly were. Stella’s truth was that she was a healer, mountain or no mountain. Of course, the irony of it was that the very same incident that allowed Stella to have this personal revelation of her purpose in life caused her to lose her ability to see it through. The lightning burned it out of her, cooked the gift right through.

Stella stared out the window, swaying without noticing, back and forth like the trees outside in the breeze. She was out of her depth, way out. She knew there was only one person in town who could possibly help her. But somehow, the thought of telling Autumn Avening what she had done made her stomach tighten. She had the distinct feeling Autumn would not approve of her methods. But there was nothing for it. She had to go.

Demeter’s Grove was cool and quiet the afternoon of March 23. Stella used to hate Autumn’s shop, with its walls of books and chintz couches, its displays of antiques, body products, clothing, and crafts. For Stella, it touched on something too close and raw, made her feel unsafe. But today she felt different. Clearly, she was in the right place. But she suddenly felt drunk, or high, or something. She held onto a chair to steady herself.

“Hello, Stella,” Autumn said softly, coming out from her kitchen. There were other customers in the shop, but it wasn’t overly busy.

Stella looked up at Autumn, wanting to say something, but her senses were muddled. She felt like she might faint.

“Come into the kitchen, dear. I have something for you to drink.” Stella followed her without meaning to. She felt her body pulled along by Autumn’s voice. “There are certain ‘precautions’ I take in my home, Stella, and these precautions are now making you feel as unbalanced as you do. Though truthfully, after what you’ve been through, you should be much worse off, so that’s interesting in and of itself. If you drink this tea you should feel better in a moment or two.”

Stella sat at the kitchen table, too dazed to ask how Autumn had known she’d be dropping by, and drank as she was told. Sure enough, she began to come around. She felt her body trying to light the fire inside her, but it was like a car that wouldn’t turn over. She thought she was angry at Autumn, but she didn’t feel angry.

“What have you done, Stella?” Autumn asked softly. She looked at Stella kindly, but she kept her distance. Stella was glad of it. “Tell me the truth. I felt something on the Equinox. I had no idea you knew how to . . . ” Autumn cut herself off and shook her head. “Just level with me, and if there’s a problem we’ll work it out.”

Stella read the concern on her face. The real truth of it was, she wanted to talk, and she felt like Autumn might be the only person in town, heck, in the whole world, who could come close to understanding. So Stella told her about everything, about the mountain, about herself and about the storm and the lightning that had burned up her gift. Autumn’s look of concern was replaced with a look of surprise.

“So you corralled the storm? In a circle? Created a potion which is basically the equivalent of drinking liquid fire . . . ?” Stella nodded. “And you learned the basics from your grandmother’s journal, but you pretty much made it up as you went?” When Stella nodded again, Autumn leaned back in her chair. She failed to hide the amazement on her face. Stella began to get the feeling she’d had no idea how dangerous her little experiment had been.

“Stella,” Autumn began, and then she paused. “I am so very impressed with what you have accomplished. Truly. Your grandmother would have been so proud of you, I’m sure of that. But the balance of things in the universe is much more fragile than you might imagine. A person may be able to physically drive a car, but controlling it is a different thing altogether.”

Stella didn’t feel like she was being scolded; quite the opposite. She felt a connection to Autumn, and Autumn must have, too, because she leaned in closer, as if what she was about to say was a secret. “I’m not surprised your gift is gone, Stella. I’m sorry. But it’s about that balance. You take something from the universe without asking, and more often than not, the universe will take something in its place.”

“So . . . I’m like this forever?” Stella felt her eyes begin to well.

“Maybe, maybe not. But making peace with your choice, and accepting the consequence, will go a long way.”

“A long way towards what? What am I supposed to do?” Stella clenched her fists on her lap in a mix of helplessness and fury. “I’m dangerous. I scare myself. I feel like I could do something, bad.”

“I cannot undo this for you.”

“But you could try, right? I mean, maybe together we could figure it out.”

For a moment, Autumn looked as though she were about to concede to something, but then her face returned to its sympathetic grimace and she shook her head. “Somewhere, deep inside, you know the answer. You might not know it now. But you have a sense of it, the idea of it. There’s a trail your magic left, and now you have to follow it back round again. I can almost guarantee that if I get involved, you won’t get the result you want. So go home and have a good think about all of this.”

“Anything else you can tell me?” Stella said, hearing her own sarcasm.

“Pray,” Autumn responded flatly.