A long line of people formed. Maya watched her cousin Lance walk up to the buffet. He was two years younger than her. His blond hair stuck out in all directions, as if he had just rolled out of bed.
Maya headed to the buffet, followed by Chantal and her friends.
She lined up behind him. "Hey, Lance."
"Oh. Hey, Maya," he replied. “I’m glad you and Roy could make it. Maybe we could play Ghosts in the Graveyard like we used to.”
“That would be fun,” Maya said.
Chantal turned her back to them and began talking to Paris, attempting to avoid her brother.
As Lance grabbed a plate, he tripped on the edge of the tablecloth that was touching the floor and slammed his back against the table, causing the tray of eggs to topple off the edge and onto his head, just as the plate in his hand shattered on the wooden floor. Yellow and white globs of egg oozed down his face and onto his shirt. He pushed the tray off his head and wiped them out of his eyes.
Giggles burst from the Brat Pack.
Chantal stood motionless, acting as if she didn't even know him, her face flushed.
Maya grabbed a napkin and helped Lance wipe off.
"Thanks," Lance said, taking the napkin and wiping at his hair. When his head was clean, he looked at his sister. "Chantal, can I go climbing with you tomorrow?"
She was fuming at the sound of her name rolling off his tongue and answered through gritted teeth. "No, we don't have enough climbing gear for everyone."
"That's what you always say!" His bottom lip stuck out.
She leaned in and tried to whisper. “The last time I took you, you almost fell off the top of the canyon before your harness was on.”
At that moment, the cook stomped out of the kitchen, walked up to Lance, and shook her spatula at him. "You waste more food than anyone I know!" she scolded in a German accent. Two staff members rushed from the kitchen to take care of the mess. Just then, the cook noticed the chunk of egg in the corner of her mouth. She touched her finger to it and pushed it between her plump lips. Her eyebrows lifted with approval. "Mm, good!"
"Hey, bud," a deep voice said. Warren and Roy had come to help. Warren extended an arm toward Lance.
"Hi, Roy," Chantal greeted. "Ouch!" she shrieked after Paris kicked her. Paris smiled and jerked her head toward Roy while looking at Chantal.
"Oh! This is my friend, Paris," Chantal said, remembering her promise to introduce her.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Paris said in a too-sweet voice. She reached to shake his hand.
"Yeah, hi," Roy replied, without really noticing her. He was too involved in making sure Lance was ok.
Paris took her hand back but stepped closer until she was in his line of vision. "I know it can be hard staying somewhere new." She took his hand in hers and Roy looked deep into her eyes, like there had just been a spark between them. "If you ever need a break, I'd be more than happy to show you around town."
Something flickered in Warren’s eyes at the sight of them. Maya didn’t know what to make of it.
Paris and Roy smiled at each other while Maya sulked.
"Um..." Roy was caught off guard. "Yeah, you never know. I might need to get away."
"Great. I'll give you my Snapchat."
They took their phones out and exchanged information.
“There is no cell reception here,” Maya said, trying to put a wrench into the gears.
“That’s only on this property,” Paris said. “As soon as you make it to the road it works.”
Maya fumed as it felt like the seed of a new relationship was blossoming right before her eyes. It reared an ugly head. She headed back to their table.
"Hey, Maya," Roy said. She spun around. "Grandma wants you to pay her a visit this morning."
"Oh," she said, "I was going to check out the horses." She stole a look at Warren who was stone-faced, folding his arms while watching Paris in action.
"Well, last night when I walked her to the northeast turret, she was adamant about you coming to see her first thing after breakfast. Last night we talked about how great your art and puzzles are. She wants you to paint something for her. She told me to send you to her room."
"But why would she ask me to paint for her? She won't–" Maya stopped mid-sentence.
"Be able to see it?" Chantal supplied, cutting into the conversation. An eerie smile spread over her face. "You have a lot to learn about Grandma."
7. The Blindfolded Painting Session
Maya headed to the northeast side of the building with the puzzle box. There, at the end of the hallway, she found an old wooden door. Above it was an engraved quotation: Men fear death as children fear to go into the dark - Francis Bacon. Maya pushed open the heavy door to find a staircase spiraling around the edges of the circular stone room leading to the top of the turret. It was dark, other than three small square windows at the top that let in a small amount of light. With each step she heard a creak as the dry, splintering wood strained under her weight. Halfway up, she found that one of the stairs had collapsed. She looked down into the cheerless void while stepping over the gap and grasped the handrail. At the top of the stairs, she found another door and knocked.
She waited for a response, but there wasn’t one.
She knocked louder.
Still nothing.
She touched the knob and the door swung freely on squeaking hinges. The room was dark with a small square window shedding the only light.
"Grandma?" Maya called, her voice echoing.
Maya stepped into the room. Sheets covered every piece of furniture and some odd-shaped structures. A bed with a mound of blankets on it indicated that this was, in fact, a bedroom.
"Grandma?" Her eyes darted from side to side, searching for any sign of the living.
There was a crash.
Maya whirled around to see that the door had slammed shut behind her. She shrieked and then realized wind from the open window had blown it. She put her hand over her racing heart and turned around to see movement under the blankets.
"Who is there?" her grandmother called.
"It's me, Grandma... Maya." She clasped her hands together, her shoulders tense.
"Oh, I must have overslept. I'm glad you came, my child." Her wiry wisps of hair were wilder than ever, like little tornadoes sprouting from her head.
"May I turn on the light? I can't see." She looked at the stone wall next to the door for a light switch.
"I'm sorry.” Oriel swung her legs over the side of the bed. “There's no power in the turret. I don't need light to see, as you do."
She turned to face her grandmother, “Roy mentioned you wanted me to paint you something. I need light..."
"I've heard your paintings have won awards." She didn’t turn her face towards Maya as she spoke. Instead, it was her ear.
"Oh,” she said, surprised that she had been a topic of conversation. “Yes. Some have."
"There is something more I want you to see. By see, I mean enlighten. We are going to paint together—in darkness." She rose from her bed and walked to one of the sheet-covered, odd-shaped objects. She tugged off the linen and revealed two easels back to back in the shadows with paint pallets. Oriel handed her one. "I've arranged the paints according to the colors of the rainbow."
Maya felt it was a peculiar way to spend time with her grandmother. She looked at the deep-set creases around her eyes as Oriel stood in front of her. It was difficult to detect her feelings without eye contact and facial expressions. She never seemed to turn and face anyone when she spoke, as she didn’t always know where people were standing in relation to herself. Maya looked at the pallet. I wonder if she is playing with a full deck. She is old.
"What was that you said?" Grandma asked, straightening her shoulders. Her chin tilted upward as if she thought Maya was much taller than she was.
"Nothing. I didn't say a word." She shook her head, trying to read her grandmother, but she was blank and wooden.
"For a moment I t
hought you believed I wasn’t playing with a full deck."
Maya knitted her eyebrows together, getting an eerie feeling. "No…” gulp, “not at all." How did she know?
"Good.” She nodded. “Let's get started."
"Well, I'm a little afraid of the dark. I use a night light now, you know," Maya said, shifting her feet.
"You act more crippled than I," she said with a chuckle. "The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear. A fear of the dark is merely a fear of the unknown. I'd like to ask you to do this one thing."
"What?"
"Put childhood fears aside and open your mind to new horizons. Fear puts restrictions on the choices you make. It imprisons you from achieving your own hopes and dreams. There are things about you, Maya. Things I want you to come to terms with." Grandma raised her hand to her forehead in thought.
Maya rubbed the back of her neck. "Ok, I'll try."
Oriel smiled. "That's a good girl."
“I brought the box you sent me," she said, trying to change the subject.
"I knew you would."
"Dad said it's a puzzle box, but I can't find any pieces that move. It seems pretty solid."
"The mystery of the box will unfold in time, my child. You can't rush it. For now, concentrate on the task at hand. I'm going to blindfold you." She grabbed a bandanna from her nightstand and proceeded to tie it over Maya's eyes. Taking Maya's wrist, she led her to the easel and placed a paintbrush in her left hand.
"How did you know I was a lefty?" Again there was that eerie feeling in her stomach.
"Because you are extremely creative… and you wear a Fitbit on your right hand."
"Clever," Maya said, taking in a breath. "You might find it interesting that I usually paint with my eyes closed anyway.”
She heard her grandmother’s feet as she walked to the other side where her easel was set up. “Not unusual at all.”
“What do you want me to paint, Grandma?" Maya held up the paintbrush to the canvas.
"The first thing that comes to mind, but keep it to yourself. I'll paint on the reverse easel."
Maya thought about Fearless Legend and began painting. She imagined him galloping across the desert sands, his long white mane wind-tossed and his muscular legs bulging. The sand made clouds of dust rise at his hooves.
With each sweep of her brush, it was as if Maya could visualize exactly where it stroked the canvas.
Time slipped away, minute by minute in the silent room.
A clock struck ten times and it startled her. Right as she finished, Grandma was untying the blindfold from behind her.
"It's marvelous!" Grandma said, holding her hand over the picture.
"What?" She shook her head. "You talk about my painting like you can see–"
Grandma went to her bedside and lit a candle. "Take a look for yourself," she said, bringing the light over.
Maya laid eyes on her work for the first time and was disquieted to see that it was the best work she had ever done. “How?” Her heart raced and there was that eerie feeling again, only more pronounced.
"You've unlocked your potential," Oriel said with a smile.
Maya covered her mouth, taking a step back.
"Now I want you to come and look at what I've done on the reverse easel." She walked around the other side.
Maya reluctantly followed, stunned by what she found.
"How did I do?" Grandma said, her smile exuberant with pride.
An exact replica of the horse had been painted by her grandma, as if it were a mirror image.
Silently, Maya backed away. "You're not blind!" Maya spouted. "You've been playing a trick!"
"No, my child! I really am blind." Grandma Oriel opened her eyes to reveal two large, white balls without pupils.
Maya gasped.
They were hideous. She backed into a structure behind her and a sheet that had been concealing it fell to the floor, uncovering another easel standing in the square beam of light shed from the window. It had a sketch of Marshall's band—an exact replica of the one she had free-handed at home, only larger. It fell off the stand and the painting of the eagle flying over snow-capped mountains lay behind it.
Maya shrieked and fled from the room down the rickety stairs. Her heart pounded with each thunderous step. Halfway down she suddenly sunk through a hole; her chest thumped onto the splintering stair in front of her. She heaved as her breath was forced from her lungs. Her legs kicked in mid-air. She had forgotten about the gap. She maneuvered one leg onto the stair and hoisted herself out.
"Maya, are you alright?" Grandma called from the doorway.
Maya didn't answer. She scrambled down the staircase, through the wooden door, and into the hall leading to the front desk, only to find it vacant. She twirled around looking for her aunt, but there was a plaque on the desk that said “out to lunch”.
She continued to room 111 and flung the door open.
Chantal, reading a book on the bed, looked up, startled. "What's wrong?"
"Grandma!" was all Maya could get out as she bent over gasping for air.
An all-knowing look swept over Chantal's face, followed by a grimace. "She took you by surprise, didn't she? Now you know what I've been living with my entire life."
"What?" Maya asked, her chest heaving.
She closed the book and placed it carefully on her bed. "Come with me. Ahote can explain."
8. Creation Legend
"I’ve known since I was a small child that there was a connection between us. I could hear the songs Grandma played from the Grand Ballroom from anywhere in the hotel." Chantal sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around the leg that she held to her chest, the other leg extended.
"So, the sound carries." Maya shrugged. "Where are you going with this?"
"Just listen. The Grand Ballroom is soundproof. I discovered that as long as my eyes were closed I could hear anything she played. By the time I was three, I learned to play too. Mom thought I was a prodigy. She doesn't understand it's a Shaman gift passed down to me. It skips a generation.”
Maya didn’t believe it, but it was obvious Chantal was convinced. Like her mom had always told her, believe in science, not the old ways that are only superstitious. "What do you mean by ‘passed down’? And what is this Shaman nonsense?"
"You already know, Maya. It's in our blood. Our tribe, the Hopi. When you dream... you connect." She grabbed Maya's arm and looked her in the eye.
Maya thought back to the dreams she knew she had, only to forget them before she woke. She furrowed her brow. "Impossible.”
Chantal became stiffened. Any hint of smile was gone. "We carry Mother Earth within us. She's not just the planet surrounding us, she's an inner being. We're connected."
She shook her head. "Sounds ridiculous." She walked over to pick up the puzzle box and started fiddling with the sides, trying to push them left or right, but nothing moved.
Secrets of the Anasazi Page 6
