Open Arms

by Marysol James

  “OK, so. I’ll stay here tonight, on the sofa.”

  “Really? You’d do that?”

  “Damn right I will. You get some sleep, and tomorrow I’ll call Kimana.”

  “But she said she saw no need to come back.”

  “I know. I know she did. But I’m going to insist.”

  A wave of exhaustion crashed over her. “OK.”

  He saw the tiredness in her face. “Sleep, Tammy,” he said gently. “I’m here. It’s OK now.”

  “Thanks, Phil.” She tried to smile at him. “I’ll get you some blankets and a pillow, OK?”

  “That’ll be fine.”

  Tammy went in to the bedroom and found the extra bedclothes on the top shelf. She brought them out to Phil. “You’ll be OK out here?”

  He was already sitting on the large sofa, relaxed in his jeans and t-shirt. “Sure thing, hon. Don’t you worry about me.”

  “OK, I’ll help you make up the sofa…”

  He shook his head. “No need. You go on and get some rest. I’ll take care of things out here.”

  “You sure?”

  “One hundred percent. Goodnight, Tammy.”

  “Goodnight. And thanks again.”

  “That’s alright. You sleep well, now. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Tammy went to her bedroom and got ready to go to sleep. Before climbing in to bed, she looked out the window, expecting to see the damn beast crouched there, staring at her window. But there was nothing there; just moonlight and darkness that stretched farther than the eye could see, all the way up the mountains, all the way across the prairies.

  Tammy shivered. She got in to bed and pulled the comforter up over her head. She closed her eyes and waited for sleep. It took a long time to come.

  **

  Kimana sat in Tammy’s cabin, drinking decaf coffee and gazing out of the window, watching the sunset. It was just so amazingly beautiful here, up at Open Skies. Maybe one day, when she had some disposable income, she’d be able to spend a weekend in one of these cabins, riding horses and eating steak. But that day wouldn’t be any time soon.

  She returned her attention to Tammy and Phil. They were sitting bolt upright on the sofa, the tension clearly etched in to their faces. They looked tired.

  Tammy finished talking and Phil took over now, explaining about his frantic drive over here and what he saw on the porch. Kimana listened, nodding occasionally.

  When Phil stopped speaking, Kimana sat and thought for a minute. Tammy and Phil were looking at her expectantly, and she wasn’t quite sure what they may want from her.

  “OK,” Kimana said gently. “I understand this is a shock, and a bit frightening. What do you want me to help you with?”

  Phil and Tammy exchanged glances; they looked embarrassed, Kimana was interested to note.

  “Well,” Tammy began. “Well, before we called you, we were talking this morning over coffee and we thought that maybe… ummm… maybe you could tell us some more about what you said the other day. About – about the wolf looking for a connection up here. Watching someone.”

  Kimana’s black eyes were calm and still. “You think that person is you?”

  “I do now.”

  “OK.”

  “So, if this is what’s going on, Kimana, what does it mean?” Phil asked.

  “And how can it even be happening?” Tammy added. “It’s just so unbelievable that a wild thing will act this way. Isn’t it?”

  “Well, it depends who you talk to,” Kimana said. “Most people would agree that it’s crazy and not natural. But the Shoshoni – we think differently about wolves.”

  “Who are the Shoshoni?” Tammy asked, baffled. Are they some kind of freakazoid cult that worships wolves under a full moon?

  Kimana smiled. “The Shoshoni are a Native American tribe – my tribe.”

  “Oh!” Tammy said, flustered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that.”

  Kimana waved her hand. “It’s OK. We’re concentrated in Wyoming and Utah, mostly, but we have some communities in Oregon and Idaho. Colorado, too, but farther north. Myself, I’m from Wyoming originally, and I moved to Colorado about ten years ago. As for not having heard of us: I don’t imagine you’d have run in to too many Shoshoni in New York City.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Anyway. The Shoshoni have many stories about Wolf. He’s possibly the most important animal in our legend and lore. He’s deeply respected, very admired.”

  “Why is that?” Phil said.

  “Wolf is one of the creator gods,” Kimana said. “In our mythology, we believe that there was a time when there was no death.”

  “For wolves?” Phil said.

  “No, no. For all animals, and also for people. Shoshoni believe that there was once a time when no living creature died – and we believe that it was because of Wolf. He was able to shoot an arrow under a sick or injured animal or person, and that would cause them to avoid death. And if he shot the arrow under a dead body, the animal or person would rise from the dead. There was no sadness, no tears, no loss.”

  “Huh,” Tammy said. “So what happened?”

  “Well, Coyote happened,” Kimana said. “He’s the Trickster in Native American legend, and he challenged Wolf’s ability to defy death: for many years, he taunted him and teased him and said that Wolf shouldn’t cheat death. But when Coyote’s own son was bitten by Rattlesnake and Coyote came to Wolf, begging for him to shoot an arrow under his son to save him, Wolf refused.”

  “That seems cruel,” Tammy protested. “Letting Coyote’s son die to teach Coyote a lesson. It’s kind of punishing the wrong person, isn’t it? Or – punishing the wrong animal, I guess I should say.”

  “It was a lesson. A painful lesson. Wolf let Coyote’s son die, to teach Coyote to be careful what he asked for. For years, Coyote had said that Wolf had no right to cheat death and all the pain and sorrow that comes with it – that nobody should cheat any of that. That death is a part of life. Wolf simply asked Coyote to live by his own words… and that meant his son had to die by his words.”

  They were all quiet.

  “OK, so,” Tammy said. “What does this have to do with the wolf here?”

  “I’m not sure,” Kimana said slowly. “Wolf comes to us when we are living in fear about something. Often, he comes when we are trying to hide from a truth.” She gave Tammy a piercing look. “Are you living in fear? Hiding from something?”

  Tammy sat, stunned. My God. How can she possibly know this?

  “You are, I see,” Kimana said. “Do you want to tell me?”

  Tammy looked at this odd woman, sitting in a beam of sunlight and sipping sweet coffee. Her kindness and openness were almost visible on her calm face, in her steady gaze. She found herself wanting to tell Kimana everything.

  “I do,” Tammy said. “I really do.”

  “Oh, hon,” Phil started. “Are you sure you want to...”

  “I’m sure, Phil. It’s OK.”

  And Tammy told Kimana everything: she started with the party at the bar, and entering the alley, and waking up in the hospital. She told her about her panic attack when Rob talked about someone he knew who had been attacked and how she had remembered a man in a green hat. And finally, she told her about being desperate to retrieve a memory – that few minutes in the alley that were buried somewhere deep in her mind. The face of the man who had hurt her, maybe; the face of an animal, someone almost less than human.

  When she was done, Kimana smiled at her. Its brilliance was beautiful and Tammy was taken aback.

  “You’re – you’re happy about what I told you?”

  “Oh, Tammy. Not happy that you’ve been so badly hurt and frightened, no. But I am happy that we have the answer to your question.”

  “We do?” Tammy looked at Phil, but he seemed as puzzled as
she was.

  “We do.” Kimana set down her coffee cup.

  “Ummm. OK. I’m sorry, but it’s totally escaping me.”

  “Well, let’s think about this. Wolf comes when someone is hiding. I mean, you even used the expression yourself when you talked about what happened last night. You said that ‘the wolf was right outside my door’. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  “When we say the wolf is at the door, we mean that something we are avoiding or denying is sitting there. Waiting patiently for someone to lower their defences and open the door and let them in by accident. Originally, it meant keeping poverty away, but in recent years, its meaning has expanded to include any misfortune or bad thing. Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  “So. What you need to do is face your wolf.”

  Tammy was silent. “You – you mean my memory? My memory of the man in the alley?”

  “Yes.”

  “But how can I? I don’t remember him.”

  “And you won’t, not until you face Wolf.”

  “You mean this wolf? The physical one wandering around Open Skies? The one with all the damn teeth and sharp claws and snapping jaws of death?”

  “Exactly.”

  “So, you want me to face this wolf, and you’re saying that after I do, I’ll be able to face the man in the alley?”

  “It’s all the same beast, Tammy,” Kimana said softly. “It’s all the same fear: monsters in the night, creatures with dead eyes, animals with sharp claws. The man who hurt you, the Wolf that stalks you… you need to face them both down. Then, and only then, will they let you go. Then you’ll be free.”

  Tammy stared at her, her thoughts and emotions racing.

  My God. She’s right.

  **

  Kimana and Phil were gone. Phil had wanted to stay, but Tammy insisted that he go, and Kimana backed her up.

  “You’re a good man,” Kimana told Phil. “One of the best men I know. You want to help and I understand that. But you can’t do this for her, Phil. Some things are simply done alone. This is one of them.”

  So now here she sat, waiting. Waiting for the wolf to come to her door, so she could open it up and face him down.

  She just hoped she came out of it in one piece. Literally.

  Chapter Seven

  Tammy jumped when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the clock: it was almost eight o’clock at night. She’d been sitting and waiting for Wolf to appear for almost an hour now. So far, no sign.

  She picked up her phone and looked at the number: an unknown caller, New York area code. She hesitated, then thought that maybe one of her former co-workers might be checking in with her. She pushed ‘accept’.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello. Is that Tamara Jenkins?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Norm Jaruzelski, from the NYPD. Do you remember me, Ms. Jenkins?”

  Tammy froze. Two days after she had regained consciousness, Officer Jaruzelski had come to the hospital to take her statement, such as it was, since she had no memory of specifics. He was a tough cop, she could tell, experienced and world-weary from seeing bruised faces and damaged bodies almost every day that he showed up for work. He’d been gruff with her but not unkind. Julie had liked him a lot, she remembered.

  “Yes, I remember you.”

  “I’m calling to let you know that there has been another incident in the same alley where you were attacked. It looks very much like what happened to you, so we’re thinking that this guy chooses the alley for some reason.” He paused. “Has anything else come to you, anything that may help us catch him?”

  Tammy sat down, her legs shaky. Another woman has been hurt! My God, if I could just remember something, anything, maybe I could have stopped this from happening to her too. She closed her eyes.

  “Ms. Jenkins? Are you OK?”

  “Yes. Yes, I think so.”

  “So, has anything else come back to you? Besides the green knit hat you told my colleague about a few weeks ago, I mean.”

  “No. I’m so sorry. I wish I could remember more – I wish I could help –” Her voice broke and she felt tears coming.

  “You’re doing great. Really. It’s OK.”

  “But, if I’d remembered something sooner, maybe this other woman wouldn’t have been hurt…”

  Jaruzelski’s voice was harsh. “Do not do that, Tammy. This is not your fault. It’s nobody’s fault but his. Do you hear me?”

  She was silent, trying to hold on to what Rob told her, what Phil told her, about not blaming herself for falling prey to a predator.

  “Tammy?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was very small.

  “Are you alone right now? Where’s Ms. Everett?”

  “She’s in Arizona overnight.”

  “Is anyone else there?”

  “No.”

  “Can you call someone?”

  She thought of Rob, and she actually ached for him to be there with her.

  “Tammy? Can someone get to you quickly and stay with you?”

  She made up her mind. “Yes. I can call someone.”

  “Do it. Trust me on this, OK?”

  “OK.”

  “I’m sorry to upset you. It’s just that the media has picked up on the story this time, and I didn’t want you finding out on the morning news.”

  Something in his voice pierced through her daze. “What? Why would an attack in an alley be on the news? Doesn’t that happen a hundred times a week in New York?”

  “Well, yes.” He paused. “But the thing is, this time it wasn’t just a bad beating, like the one you suffered.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The woman was raped, Tammy. And she died from her injuries. This time, it was murder.”

  **

  Tammy sat, looking in to the darkness outside. He was close; she could feel it. He was coming now.

  She was badly shaken by Officer Jaruzelski’s phone call and all she wanted to do was call Rob and have him come to her. She needed his arms around her. She would call him – but she had something to do first.

  The moon was hidden behind thick clouds, and the air felt like rain. Tammy sensed the storm coming over the mountains at her. She knew it would be upon her soon.

  A sudden gust of wind blew the clouds aside and the moon shone through, bright and clear and white. It was beautiful, to be sure, but cold and indifferent. Far away and detached from what she was feeling and thinking.

  As the moon rose higher, it lit up the small clearing in front of Tammy’s cabin, and there he was. Sitting on his powerful haunches, his silver eyes glinting and trained on the front door.

  When he saw her through the window, he stood up and walked closer. Closer still. He was on the porch now, out of sight of the window. Sitting outside her door.

  Tammy stood up and crossed the room, her thoughts racing. This is crazy. This is bat-shit insane. Am I really going to listen to some woman I met exactly twice in my life, and open the door to a wild animal, based on some Native story? I am, aren’t I? I am certifiable. This thing is going to eat my damn face off.

  She was at the door now and she heard him breathing, patiently lurking. Waiting. So she did what he wanted her to do, what she needed to do. She opened the door wide. And she stared Wolf down.

  **

  Rob drove back to Open Skies, racing in the darkness, back to Tammy.

  He skidded to a stop in front of her cabin, saw her open the door wide to him. Even from twenty feet away, he saw her body shaking. Rob hurried up to the porch, through the door, and extended his arms to her. She almost fell and he held her up by the elbows.

  “Come on, sweetheart.” The endearment came out of his mouth without any conscious thought. “Sit down over here.”

  He led her over to the sofa, and she sank down
on it. Rob sat next to her, holding her hands, searching her face.

  Unsurprisingly, she was a wreck. All the color had drained from her face and she was staring at him in wide-eyed horror. It was like all the progress she’d made over the past six weeks had just been wiped out. She looked exactly like that smashed, broken woman from that first day, when he got her to eat some sandwiches.

  “She died, Rob. She died… he raped her and he killed her.”

  “I know, Tammy. I know.”

  “It could have been me – why wasn’t it me? Why was it her, and not me? Why?”

  “I don’t have the answer to that.”

  “I just – I can’t do this. It’s all my fault.”

  “What’s your fault?”

  “That she died.”

  His face lined with confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “If I could just remember what he looked like… the police would have a description, they could catch him. Why can’t I remember?” She shook her head. “I stared the wolf down, just like Kimana told me to, and it didn’t work, I still can’t remember! But she said I would remember – she said it was the only way!”

  “OK, whoa. Slow down and then back up. What about the wolf?”

  She told him about the wolf on her porch the night before and calling Phil. She told him what Kimana said about facing her fears, and how that was the only way to face what happened to her in the alley.

  “And it didn’t work, Rob… I don’t remember anything.”

  “Tammy, sweetheart. This is not your fault.”

  She shook her head.

  “Look at me. Tammy, look at me.” He gripped her hands tighter, forced her to look up. “This is not your fault, it’s not on you. You were a victim, you were hurt. There is only one person to blame here, and it’s that asshole who waited in an alley for you and for this other woman and who decided to do what he did. He chose to do this – you didn’t invite him or ask him or set yourself up or do anything wrong. Not being able to remember is not your fault.” He shook her a bit now, determined that she understand this. “Tammy! Do you hear what I’m saying to you?”