Wild Men of Alaska Collection

by Tiffinie Helmer

  When Gemma opened the door, Tern entered in a rush of snow flurries, wearing pajamas with cute little puffins on them. She shrugged out of the parka and toed off her snow boots.

  “I never pictured you for flannel,” Gemma said, pointing at Tern’s comfortable choice of sleepwear.

  “What did you think I slept in?”

  “Never really thought about it until now. But satin and lace, I guess, based on your fashion sense.”

  “Nobody sleeps in satin and lace. Besides, Gage is still gone. And I get cold at night without him.” Tern followed Gemma into the kitchen, taking a seat, and a fortifying sip of the coffee Gemma poured for her. “Now start from the top and don’t leave anything out.”

  Gemma started speaking, and Tern never took her eyes off her. Tears welled and threatened to spill by the time Gemma had finished.

  “Give me a minute.” Tern sniffed and wiped at her eyes.

  Gemma grabbed a box of tissues and a half empty bag of M&M’s. By the looks of Tern, who was normally a rock, they were going to need more than coffee. Maybe she should get out the cooking wine?

  “Lucky was, is—oh God, I don’t know the correct tense to use.” Tern hopped to her feet, went to the kitchen sink, and splashed water on her face. She gazed out the window where the snow was silently, almost reverently, falling in feathered puffs. “I loved him. Still do. He was a world famous mountain climber. He’d conquered Everest. And Denali twice—the second time during the winter. Nothing scared him.” She took a heavy breath, shuddering as it left her body.

  “Where you two ever....”

  “Yeah, this was before Gage and I met.” A bittersweet smile appeared. “Man, he’d been fun.”

  Gemma squashed the jealousy that suddenly rose within her. If Lucky had been with Tern, why was he wanting to be with her? Tern was so exotic, confident, and accomplished with that extra something that was hard to put your finger on.

  “I never loved him the way that I love Gage,” Tern continued. “Lucky was fun, daring, a gambler in all aspects of the word. Unfortunately, he lost that last gamble.”

  “How?”

  Tern was suddenly all business as she retook her seat. “Last summer. Things were bad, and he was killed.” That seemed to be all that she could reveal about the horrors she’d been though. “Gemma, we need to figure out how to help him. We already know the how and the why. Now let’s figure out what we must do to help Lucky break the bonds of death.”

  “Whoa. Wait.” Gemma’s hand flew up to stop Tern. “What do you mean help him? I thought I had to stay awake, and not let my ‘Dreamweaver’ seduce me. What about my soul?”

  Tern pursed her lips in thought. “It’s Lucky. He can’t be after your soul. He isn’t like that. There’s got to be something else.”

  “How do you know what he’s like now? He’s dead and wanting to get inside me.” Silence filled the air between them, and Gemma flushed realizing what she’d just said. “Won’t he take over my spirit and inhabit my body?”

  “I don’t think that is what this is about. Lucky is a special soul. It isn’t in him to be conniving like that.” Tern suddenly looked around. “I need to talk to him. Can he talk to me?”

  “I don’t know. You’re the expert.”

  “No, I’m not. But I know someone who is.” Tern nailed her with a look that shouted volumes.

  Oh, no. “Not my mother again.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “You should have come to me before now,” Siri scolded, adjusting her colorful skirts. Today she was garbed in a medieval-style embroidered heliotrope-colored dress with a flaxen-lace kirtle. Where had she bought that? Her red hair was piled on top of her head with long curls intertwining with her purple feathered earrings.

  Gemma felt drab in her simple slacks and black sweater. But then she’d always felt drab next to her mother. As a child she’d gone out of her way not to draw attention to herself, which hadn’t been hard as Siri had garnered most of it.

  “Siri, what can you tell us about Dreamweavers?” Tern steered the conversation to what they had come for. After depositing their coats, boots, hats, and mittens they were sitting around Siri and Rosie’s living room, which was draped in scarves from India with colorful cushions that weren’t much higher than the floor. A low hand-carved ironwood table squatted in front of them.

  Aunt Rosie lowered a tray of tea and poured them each a cup. She was dressed much the way Gemma was in no-nonsense jeans and a sweater. Tern was as colorful as Siri, but classy and fashionable making a statement with her choice of clothing rather than being one.

  “We need to see what the cards tell us.” Siri settled a look on Gemma.

  “I don’t want my cards read,” Gemma quickly interjected. She’d had enough of having her cards read. Growing up, whenever she was upset or had a problem, Siri always consulted the cards.

  “Not yours. His.” Siri’s surprising crystal gaze locked on Tern’s. “Did you bring them?”

  “Yes.” Tern opened the big leather bag and laid a charcoal-colored Polartec jacket, a scratched and dented compass, and a picture on the table.

  Gemma slowly reached for the picture. “Is this him?” she whispered.

  “Yes, when he was in Africa,” Tern said. “Right after he climbed Kilimanjaro.”

  Lucky and another man stood together with grins that were big enough to bring one to Gemma’s lips in response. They looked like they had just conquered the world with their hair tossed in the wind, and the skin on their faces red and chapped by the elements.

  She knew his face though this was the first she’d laid eyes on an image of Lucky. But she’d drawn her hands over his cheekbones, his strong jaw, kissed that smiling mouth. His soft, warm bedroom eyes were so happy. So alive. An ache spread, enveloping her heart.

  “Who’s the other guy?” she asked, trying her best not to trace Lucky’s image with her finger. That would give away too much in front of her mother.

  “Hansen. He was a climbing buddy of Lucky’s. He was killed not long after that picture was taken.”

  “How?”

  “Climbing accident. Lucky had a hard time dealing with his death. I don’t know if he ever came to grips with it.”

  “Let’s get started,” Siri said. “The mood is shifting in the room. Rosie, would you please light some frankincense to help clear and calm the air?”

  Rosie moved to the old drawer-stacked desk in the corner. It was full of little cubbies that were filled with all kinds of incense, aromatherapy oils, herbs and dried flowers, and little things her mother collected. Rosie pulled out the incense and lit it, resting the stick on a piece of pottery made just for that purpose. A twist of smoke curled upward.

  Scents of balsamic and sharp pine with hints of lemon filled the air. Gemma found it strong and offensive, but breathed deep hoping the aroma would calm her.

  Siri picked up the deck of Tarot cards and handed them to Gemma to shuffle. She did not want to do this, but one look from Tern had Gemma taking the cards and shuffling them. She gave them back to Siri who spread them out onto the table.

  “Pick.” Siri pointed to the perfect fan of colorful cards.

  “Why do I have to do this?” Gemma asked.

  “You know why,” Siri said. “You’re closest to the Dreamweaver.”

  “Wouldn’t that be Tern?” They’d been lovers and friends. Gemma hadn’t even met the physical Lucky.

  Tern prodded Gemma. “He sought you out, and I’m not the one having astr—”

  “Okay, fine,” Gemma said quickly. She swallowed, gathered her courage, and picked the first card, right from the middle.

  The Six of Wands.

  “Balance and harmony is the Sixes.” Siri indicated Lucky’s picture. “An illustrious career as an adventurer, but he needs to let go of the past in order to achieve spiritual victory. He has been adored by many, but needs to beware of staying too long.”

  “Staying too long? What does that mean?” Gemma asked.

  Sir
i flicked a glance at Gemma from under her lashes. “I don’t know, but I’d wager the longer he stays on this plane, the more chances he’s taking of being stuck there and unable to move on. Pick another card, and we shall find out more.”

  “Fine.” She picked the next card, trying to tap down the trepidation she’d felt since last night.

  The Hanging Man.

  Both Tern and Rosie gasped, even Gemma knew this card was a biggie.

  Siri drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. “This card represents his conflict. He dangles between the mundane world and the spiritual one. He is caught between them, and time is running out. Something must happen soon or the time for action will be lost.” Siri sat back in her chair. “Sacrifices he has made in the physical world give him freedom and power in the spiritual world. He’s been blessed and sees things with new eyes.”

  “Seriously?” Are you freaking kidding me? Goose bumps shivered over Gemma’s skin.

  “You know how this works,” Siri said. “You are guided to draw the cards. I merely explain what they mean. There is no cloak and mirrors here, Gemini.”

  Gemma strengthened her resolve, and studied the cards, picking from the left this time.

  “The Two of Swords.” Siri paused taking the card from Gemma and lay it down for everyone to see.

  There was a striking image of a woman blindfolded with her arms crossed and holding a sword in each hand.

  “There are two sides fighting. He is faced with a decision, and if he waits too long it will be made for him,” Siri said. “Or he is fighting with himself because of something he didn’t finish while on earth.” She looked to Tern. “Could this be why he is hanging onto the physical plane?”

  “No, I don’t believe so. Lucky was always one to jump in with both feet, come what may. As far as I know, there isn’t much he regretted. He lived a good life. Not always the best decision maker, but he didn’t shirk the consequences either. He lost his life too soon. So maybe that is why he can’t or won’t move on?”

  Rosie had been sitting quietly sipping her tea until now. “Don’t they always say, ‘Heaven is where your heart is’? Maybe his heart is with her.”

  “Rosie, that isn’t helping.” Siri jerked her head toward Gemma.

  Like she wasn’t going to pick up on that.

  “A fair reading, Siri,” Rosie said. “Just because you’re scared for Gemma, doesn’t make it right.”

  “Mom?”

  “I’m doing my best to stay neutral.” Siri’s mouth tightened. “But I don’t like this. Another card.”

  Gemma pulled the Hermit from the pile.

  “He’s restless and walks from dusk until...damn.”

  “Holy shit, this is getting freaky,” Tern said.

  No kidding. Gemma had never seen a reading so...in tune.

  Siri fidgeted, picking at the embroidery threads on her skirt. “He peers at whatever takes his fancy, seeing things that he’s missed out on during his lifetime. His answers will not be found in the physical world. He will only get them inside his own spirit. There are powerful choices to be made, requiring much change and commitment. He must stay in the spirit world.” This last bit sounded different than the rest Siri had revealed. She suddenly grabbed Gemma’s hand, her nails sinking in. “Gemini, you must promise me. You can not let go of the physical plane. No matter how enticing he is. You must stay grounded here.”

  “Don’t worry,” Gemma reassured Siri, not liking the crazed look that had returned to her mother’s eyes. This was the mother Gemma feared. The one who’d stripped naked and danced at her high school graduation. “I wouldn’t even know how to do that.”

  “Never learn.”

  Gemma shared a look with Tern, expecting to see her just as confused. But Tern was serious as the grave. Maybe not the best analogy she could have thought up. They needed to get this over with.

  She picked another card.

  Seven of Cups.

  “This is his present,” Siri said, seeming to have shaken off her ‘spell’. She was back to business, taking the card from Gemma and placing it in line with the others. “He’s been given a strange and wonderful gift, but beware, there is hidden danger. Don’t get lost in daydreams.”

  “Danger?” Gemma swallowed.

  “The Seven of Cups also represents temptation, addiction, jealousy and emotion.” Siri looked directly at her. “To lie with him, Gemini, will create consequences that will be life lasting. Don’t get lost in your cups. The snake is on the card for a reason.”

  Why did she have to mention snakes? She hated snakes.

  “Siri, don’t put your own prejudices into the reading,” Rosie said. “Tell her what that really means.”

  Siri’s sorrow-filled eyes fell on Gemma. “I don’t want you hurt. He could steal you away into a place we can’t reach you. Dreamweavers are tempting seducers, and it’s easy to get caught up in their passion.” This sounded less instructional and more like she spoke of personal experience.

  “That is not going to happen. There is power in belief, right Mom? Haven’t you always told me that?”

  “Yes, and you don’t believe, do you Gemini?” Siri smiled as though expecting the same answer Gemma had always given.

  “This is a crap shoot, Mom.” But she was beginning to consider that there might be something to all this, and it scared the holy hell out of her.

  The next two cards reinforced what was said before. The Ace of Wands and the Chariot spoke of decisions to be made, with not a lot of time allowed in which to make them, stressing the need to embrace the chaos and focus emotions.

  Then Gemma pulled the Tower.

  The only sound in the room was the clicking of the second hand of the clock hanging on the wall. Rosie sat back in her chair while Tern covered her lips.

  “What does this mean?” Gemma asked.

  “He is a creative and disruptive force. The Tower is grounded in the earth but reaches into the Heavens.” Siri pointed back to the picture of Lucky. “Hasn’t he always reached for Heaven, driven in life to climb all those impossible peaks? But he will land on the jagged rocks of reality and be shattered by a truth he didn’t recognize.”

  “Wait,” Gemma said. “I don’t get it.”

  Siri went to explain again but stopped and turned to Rosie. “Tell her in words she’ll understand.”

  Sure, dumb down the New Age speak for the non—somewhat—believer.

  “In Star Trek, when the space-time continuum is disrupted, reality as we know it changes,” Rosie said. “When you called earlier, you said Tern had planned to introduce you to this man and that he’d seen your future had he not died.” Rosie waited for Tern’s nod before continuing, “He died, therefore, both of your futures have been changed.”

  Well, what do you know, Gemma understood that perfectly. And it made her suddenly sad. She wanted this over with and pulled another card.

  Nine of Cups.

  “This is a wish card. He wishes to be satisfied on all levels. But an overabundance of physical pleasure can lead to intoxication and illness. Balance transferred to a spiritual level enters peace and harmony. This man has had many relationships, Gemini, and has played free with the life he’d been given.”

  “Last card,” Tern said, as though the weight of the reading weighed heavy on her.

  Gemma went for one card and then felt the need for another. She closed her eyes, and slowly pulled the last card from the many.

  “The Fool,” Rosie and Tern whispered together.

  “Interesting,” Siri said. “The Fool is busy playing sightseer, imagining the possibilities. But if he isn’t careful, he won’t see the edge of the cliff he’s about to tumble over.”

  “There is another side to that, Siri,” Rosie said. “Give her the rest.”

  Siri narrowed her eyes at Rosie. “I was getting to it.” She huffed and adjusted her skirts before speaking again. “There also must be a leap of faith or ultimate gamble that is required for a new beginning.” She sat ba
ck as though the reading had taken a toll.

  “We need to think on this,” Tern said.

  “I can’t think anymore.” Gemma rubbed at the headache that had become a constant throb behind her eyes. “I’m so tired.” So extremely tired.

  “What you need is a good night’s sleep,” Siri said. “I believe I can help you with that.” She pulled a sandwich bag out of her pocket with a half a dozen small white pills and handed it to Gemma. “Don’t panic. They’re just sleep aids. But they will put you in a sleep so deep your unconscious mind will also rest. He will not be able to reach you.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “Wow, that’s some heavy shit,” Hansen said, relaxing on his favorite rock.

  “Freaky, if you ask me,” Lucky answered, worrying the back of his neck. He’d just returned and reported everything he’d heard about “his” Tarot reading to Hansen, hoping the man could help him figure out his next step.

  “She pulled all those cards on you. There wasn’t anything that you did to help the situation?”

  “That damn storm left me with only enough strength to eavesdrop. Besides, I know nothing about the Tarot. Chakras are more my speed.”

  “How does Gemma’s mother know all this? Know so much about you?”

  “I think the woman’s been ‘touched’.”

  Hansen got a calculating look in his eye. “Maybe I ought to dream weave a little myself and find out.”

  “Dude, she’s like over fifty.”

  “Yeah, so? Age is just a number. Besides, from how you’ve described her, she sounds kinda hot.”

  “I think she’s in a relationship.”

  “What’s a little dream loving? Doesn’t hurt nobody.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Lucky muttered, dropping to sit on the grass that never seemed to need watering. He lay on his back and gazed up at the puffy clouds. It never rained. He missed a good hard rain. Damn, but he itched to get out of here. Turns out there was something to the saying, “Too much of a good thing.”