by Laura Emmons
“Okay.” I sat back to make myself comfortable. He pulled a package of his famous bran muffins out and we had muffins and coffee for breakfast while we listened to the stillness of the surrounding forest on a winter morning. Suddenly, I heard a noise somewhere between a screech and a caw.
Evan had already reached for his binoculars. “Oh yeah, there they are, over the trees at ten o’clock. Can you see them?”
I looked through my own specs in the direction he pointed and gasped. “They’re huge. What are they?”
“They’re American Bald Eagles. Can you see the white heads and brown bodies?”
“Omigosh, they’re gorgeous. What are they doing?”
“They’re checking each other out.”
I held my breath in fascination. The two huge birds of prey circled each other twice. They flew wingtip to wingtip in a wide arc. One of the eagles broke formation and swooped under his dance partner, flying upside-down and backwards, so he could watch her as he was flying. Then he turned upright and reached out a claw in her direction. After a moment, she clasped it with her own. The eagles began to circle around and around. Their extended wings were held aloft to form a double-V pattern that spun like a beautiful kite. As they circled, they continued to lose altitude. Right before hitting the ground, they unclasped their claws and flew off in opposite directions. Swooping back onto the thermals, they started the dance again.
“Wow.”
“Wait, they’re gonna do it again. Hey, are you cold?”
“…a bit,” I admitted.
“Come here.” He sat up and opened his legs. I snuggled in between them, pressing my back into his chest. He unzipped his coat, so it covered me also and I leaned my head back so it rested on his collarbone. We watched the eagles execute their mating dance, over and over again, mostly in silence, for the better part of an hour.
“They’re so beautiful.”
He nodded into my hair. “They mate for life.”
“What happens if they forget to unlock their claws?”
“They hit the ground at full-speed and go splat. They’ll probably knock themselves unconscious for a few minutes, and when they wake up, they’ll fly away.”
“Poor birds...”
“Yeah…” Finally he said, so softly and with so much pain in his voice, I barely heard him, “Would he ever show you something like this?”
Ah, so he’d found out about my date with Steve. Damn small towns. Honesty was my only option. I cared too much about Evan to give him any less. “I highly doubt it. We have practically nothing in common.” It was true.
“So why did you go out with him?”
I stayed where I was; my face averted so both of us had a bit of decency, but I spoke slowly so none of my words would be misconstrued. “I went out with him…because you…told me…to date…someone else…and he…was the only guy…who asked me out.”
“Why did it have to be him?”
“Did you miss the part where he was the only guy who’s asked me out since I’ve been here? Besides, he’s asked me out every week.”
“He’s asked you to go out every week since Christmas and you didn’t tell me?”
“Would it have pissed you off if you knew about it?”
“Yes!”
“That’s why I never told you. I only said yes after you told me to go out on a date.”
He was quiet a moment. Then he said, “Did you enjoy it?”
I sighed. “Yes.”
He sucked his breath in so fast it seemed like he’d been punched in the gut. “Are you going to go out with him again?”
“I won’t if you don’t want me to…”
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. The cold air rushed in when he raised his arm over his head and cut like a knife in my side. The pair of eagles still teased each other…still flew wingtip to wingtip, or upside-down and backwards so they wouldn’t have to look away from each other.
“How much do you like him?”
“He wasn’t crude, he was decent. I had a good time, but he’ll never be my best friend, Evan. I’ll never have another best friend.”
His arm came back down around me and held me tighter than ever. He didn’t say anything for a long time. We just watched the eagles.
Finally, I said softly, “Tell me what to do, Evan.”
“The problem with McCoy is…well, he’s dated a lot of girls.”
“You’re saying he’s a player.” I could’ve guessed as much.
“Yes.”
“I don’t intend to get played.”
He started to breathe evenly again. “Okay, then, but be careful, and tell me immediately if he tries anything with you. I mean, for the love of Llew, you couldn’t have picked a more flamboyant choice than Steve. The whole clan has completely forgotten about us.”
“That was my thought, exactly. Steven McCoy is drama. Now the focus of attention is off you. That’s what you wanted, right?”
“It’s not what I’d hoped to achieve. I wanted the focus of attention off you.”
“Oh,” I said dismissively, “are you planning on asking anyone out?” My breath stilled. Would it hurt me as much to see him on a date with someone else? It would hurt at least this much.
“I didn’t want to date anyone before I met you. Why would I want to now?”
I breathed again. The eagles had stopped dancing. They’d flown off together into the trees so they could have privacy. They’d chosen each other. Now they were mated for life. I envied the eagles their simplicity. “We’ll still be partners in Psychology, and there’s Chorale,” I offered, hopefully.
“Well yeah, we’re still friends, so we have a standing date of our own every Tuesday.”
Right, I thought, so I can melt right through the floorboards every time you sing, because I want you so badly. “He wants me to sit with him at lunch break.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Okay,” it was settled. I relaxed and looked out over the remarkable vista which was still fabulous, even in the dead of winter. “You know, you make a comfortable armchair.” I settled deeper against his thighs.
He sighed into my hair. He bent his head until his forehead rested on my shoulder. “You know,” he said, pointing to where the eagles had hidden in the trees, “we’re like them.”
“No Evan,” I corrected, “we’re like the ones that go splat…because we can’t let go.”
He held me for a long time after that.
Chapter Twenty
Family Tree
The bell rang. The time had come for me to meet Steve for lunch. Evan sat next to me in Psychology. He didn’t get up right away. He grimaced. “I still don’t like that you’re dating him. I have a bad feeling about it.”
“I’ll be fine.” I didn’t say the first words which came to mind, I can take care of myself, because they sounded cliché and Evan wouldn’t believe me anyway, but they were true.
“Tell me what happens tomorrow,” he ordered.
I agreed.
Then he said, “Better yet, come to dinner after chorale tomorrow night. There’s something I want to show you.”
“Okay.”
***
When I got to the cafeteria and scanned the room, I instantly spotted Steve. He sat in the center, at the largest table, surrounded by either friends or acolytes, I wasn’t sure which. I’d been so wrapped up in my own affairs during the first five weeks at this school, I’d never bothered to look around the room identifying the cliques and their pecking order. His stood at the very top of the order; the largest clique, and he reigned. I took a deep breath and headed over apprehensively, noting no empty seats at the table.
“Here she is,” he announced when I’d reached hailing distance.
I walked up next to him shyly, and he gave me one of those huge charismatic smiles engineered to disarm even the most stalwart foe. I held my ground and smiled back. “Hi.”
“Come here,” he held out a hand.
I took it and he effortl
essly lifted me onto his lap. I understood. I was the King’s shiny new toy, not requiring a chair of my own. Perhaps he wanted to clearly convey to everyone else in the school how I had been placed under his protection, so I would be welcomed into his inner circle. He might have done it for both those reasons. One thing I knew for sure. If he’d wanted to, he would have saved me a seat. He didn’t because he had specific reasons for having me on his lap, so I gave him the barest of nods and a smile. He gave me the most imperceptible pat on the knee, to acknowledge my understanding of his strategy and to say ‘Good girl’.
After introducing me to everyone, he involved me in every thread of the conversation. Where necessary, he explained backstory, so I always felt included. When possible, he sought my opinion, or asked me to share an anecdote of my own. He was, truly, a gracious and magnanimous king. Finally, he lifted me off his lap and asked if he could walk me to sixth period Pre-Calc. I let him. On the way, he asked if he could start picking me up and taking me home after school. I would have opted for the school bus, just to avoid being helped in and out of his vehicle, if it weren’t for curious stares of onlookers who awaited my response, so I agreed. Pleased with his world, Steve kissed my forehead lightly, and left me outside the door to my next class.
I heaved a deep sigh and entered it.
That evening, when I’d returned from working with Fiona in the store, I decided to get back into practicing my forms. One thing us city girls learn early on is the value of a good self-defense class. Through the Santa Monica Parks and Recreation Department, I’d taken three. I’d also taken Beginning Judo and four years of Tai Chi. At Samohi I’d taken two years of Yoga. I’d stopped working out after Mom got sick in November. It was time to get back into shape.
***
I didn’t share any of these concerns with Evan on the way to chorale, willing to talk about everything except Steve.
“Did he do anything to hurt you?” Evan asked in the car.
“No,” I replied.
“Has he tried to get you to sleep with him?”
“No.”
“Okay,” he let it drop.
***
After practice and another enjoyable meal with Evan’s family, he took me upstairs to his mother’s studio. There, spread out on her easels, were the four poster boards of my family tree. He dragged them over near the sitting area. On the coffee table sat a stack of composition books. A few looked much older and worn than others. I sat down on one of the love seats and glanced through them. They were all labeled in Evan’s hand. I looked up at him.
“What do your dream diaries have to do with my family tree?”
“Apparently, they have a lot to do with your family. Here, let me read one of my dreams to you.”
I sat back to listen.
He began to read, “Ewan Stewart, age 42, recently widowed, takes his boat out on Cheat Lake for a bit of nighttime fishing in early September nineteen years ago. He used to fish with his wife, but she died unexpectedly of cancer two months earlier, so he’s alone. People joke it’s cheating, and not sporting, to fish in Cheat Lake because with mountains protecting the lake from all sides, there’s no wind and no waves to scare off the fish. It’s literally like shooting fish in a barrel.
That’s not entirely true, because the tourists, with their noise and their motorboats, scare all the fish away, so Ewan likes to fish at night, when it’s silent, and the big fish come to the surface. He rows out to the center and loads bait onto his hook. He’s aware the moon is full. It’s particularly bright and lovely, so he softly whistles an off-key tune and prepares to cast off. Suddenly, something that has never occurred on Cheat Lake happens. A huge, unnatural wave, cresting at eight feet, crashes over him and capsizes his boat. The next morning it is discovered. They send in divers and recover his body later the same day.” He looked up from the journal.
“Okay,” I said pensively, still not making a connection. Evan pointed to one of the poster boards.
“There,” he said, “is Ewan Stewart, your father’s father. He died under these unusual circumstances four months after your parents eloped.”
I thought back to a conversation we’d had right after mom died. Rose had recounted my mother’s fear that Arianrhod would kill her parents in retaliation for her marriage to my father.
“What else have you got?”
“In a nutshell, here’s what I’ve found. Margaret Running Deer Stewart develops stage 4 cancer suddenly in May of the same year. Two months later she’s dead.”
“She developed inoperable and widespread cancer suddenly without any warning signs. That sounds really familiar, Evan.” I was more than unnerved, I was scared.
“There’s so much more. Your other grandparents, Kyle McGuire and Kathryn MacDougall are killed in July of the same year after being hit by a tractor trailer on a stormy night. In my dream vision, the trucker claimed his vision was obscured by a magical plant which grew like a vine over his dashboard and covered his front window so he couldn’t see. Afterward, no evidence of a plant was found in the truck.”
“It could have been a gnome working for Arianrhod.”
“That’s what I’ve come to believe as well. At the time, everyone, including the judge and jury assumed the trucker was drunk even though his blood test showed no alcohol at all in his system. He was sentenced to life in prison. He died a few years back.”
“You think Arianrhod really did kill my family.”
“I do, but in at least one case, she also had help from her spies. The morning of November the first I woke up from a dream about your father.”
I groaned. “What happened to him?” The military had never released the details behind his death.
“He was conducting a covert operation behind enemy lines on the night of a new moon, when there was no moonlight at all in the sky. Suddenly, the Queen of the Night reflected light off her own magical face from the heavenly realm and cast the rays on your father’s exact position. To the Taliban, it looked like the moon was shining on him. He was shot by an enemy sniper. He died the same night Logan picked me to be his student. I’m sorry, Mags.”
I sighed. “It was a long time ago. I’ve come to terms with it. His commanding officer told us he successfully completed his mission before he was killed in combat and we should be proud of him. The guy said Dad’s actions were heroic and saved a lot of lives. I’ve had to let it be comfort enough.” I sat back and processed this new information.
“Okay,” I continued, “So Arianrhod threatened to take out my family as revenge and she did. What now?”
“Well, there’s more to it, I’m afraid.”
“Tell me the rest.”
“Well, they say in the line of succession, the Great Healer’s sister always gives birth to two daughters. One of them will give birth to two daughters and one of those daughters will become the next Great Healer. In the line of succession of the Great Seer, the opposite is true. The brother of the Great Seer fathers two sons. One of the sons will father two sons. One of those will become the next Great Seer.”
“Okay…” I waited for the punch line.
He gave it to me. “In my dream diaries, I have countless records of stillbirths, crib death and miscarriages. I’ve never understood these dreams, which I thought of as recurring nightmares, until now. When I went back through the records, I found out all the subjects of my dreams were either in the line of succession of the Great Seer or of the Great Healer.”
“Why would Arianrhod want to kill a bunch of babies?”
“I think she was pruning the trees, so to speak. She engineered events so Healer women only bore two girls and Seer men only fathered two boys. Everyone else she terminated.”
“You’re saying Arianrhod has been pruning my family tree for as far back as anyone can remember. Why?”
“Who knows? The problem is she pruned too much.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, look at the tree. She’d been engineering these people’s lives f
or years. Then she ran into a problem. Your parents broke clan law. Out of revenge, she killed your father. She’d pruned so much of the Stewart line only Uncle Larry remained to become the next Great Seer. The whims of genetics worked against her. Larry had little magic. He was not capable of filling that role. I think it’s why she let your mother live so long. She wanted to make sure you were capable of becoming the next Great Healer. Once she saw that you were, she waited until Samhain, when her powers are strongest, and took her revenge on your mom.”
I sucked in my breath rapidly. I was so angry and hurt I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“I think there’s a reason I’ve been given these visions, Maggie.”
“You’re assuming someone was in a position to steer certain visions to you. Who could do that?”
He dropped his voice to a whisper. “I think the Creator sent them to me.”
“Why?”
“So we can stop her. What she’s doing is wrong. It’s evil. She must be stopped.”
“How…” I raised my arms in defeat. “How can we stop a goddess from doing anything?”
“I don’t know,” he said honestly; a determined expression came over his features, “but we’re going to find a way. We’re going to find a way before anyone else in your family gets pruned.”
***
“Come on, baby, tell me what’s wrong.” Steve held me on his lap again. He really enjoyed doing that. Even though his behavior irritated me, it didn’t cause my depression at lunch a few days after my family tree talk with Evan. I’d had another lousy training session with Fiona, and she started to lose patience with me. No Cherokee spirits had visited, and I had no idea what else to try. Steve bounced me up and down and gave my arms a squeeze. Boy, I was tired of being treated like a Shi Tzu. An irritated expression crossed my face before I could compose my features. He stopped bouncing. “Okay, I’m serious now.” He made me look into his face. “Tell me what’s bothering you. I might be able to help.”
