He glanced at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon. We’d better get back. The bonfire starts around eight pm, and it’s bad form to show up empty-handed. We’ll need to go to the store and make something.”
“We can’t just pick up cookies or a crudité?”
“Nope. For First Peoples, a gift is something that contains a little bit of the giver’s soul. That means homemade.”
She slipped her arm through his elbow. “How many am I cooking for, then?”
“A couple of hundred tribal members.”
Jenny stopped short and shot him a look. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not, but no one expects one person to feed everyone. That’s why it’s a pot luck. If we make enough for say twenty to thirty people, it’ll be appreciated.”
She chewed on her lip. “The only thing I can think of that will do the trick is if I make a big batch of meatballs.”
“That’s actually perfect. You make the meatballs, and I’ll buy two dozen rolls. Done and dusted.”
“Besides eating, what else happens at this bonfire?” she asked as they came up to the car.
Talan turned from watching the prayer ties dance in the wind. “We tell stories.” He gave Jenny a soft smile. “In honor of our special guest, I think I will take the lead tonight.”
Jenny didn’t miss the flicker of surprise on Jack’s face. It disappeared as quickly as it came, but it made her wonder. Maybe the tribe’s shaman taking over as lead storyteller was unusual. Or maybe doing so in honor of an outsider even more so.
Chapter Fifteen
Jackson wasn’t kidding. Jenny looked around at the crowd that gathered at the bonfire. Old and young had come not just for the food, but because word spread like wildfire that Talan was the storyteller du jour.
“This reminds me of summer camp,” Jenny said wistfully. “My parents would send me and my brother away for four weeks as soon as school let out. “I hated it at first, but then I grew to look forward to it each year.”
Jack looked at her surprised. “Your parents sent you away for a month?”
She nodded, wiping tomato sauce from her mouth. “It’s a pretty common practice when you grow up in the city. Four weeks is nothing. I had friends whose parents sent them for the entire summer. Eight weeks. They left the Saturday after school ended and stayed at camp until the week before school began again.”
“Why?” He seemed baffled.
She shrugged. “I can’t speak for other families, but my parents did so because they both worked, and they didn’t want us cooped up in our apartment or wandering the concrete jungle. They wanted real fresh air and open spaces for my brother and I. Not just a couple of hours in Central Park.”
“I can see that, but what you said about your friends’ parents sounds to me like they wanted their cake and eat it, too.”
“Don’t judge what you don’t know. Everyone’s situation is different. I loved it, but to be honest, Charlie and I agreed we wouldn’t send the girls. Mostly because I had summers off from teaching.” She gave him a soft smile, despite the slight pit in her stomach.
He took the paper plate from her hand and put it with his on the log next to him. “You were a good mother, Jenny. I can’t believe the universe wouldn’t let you be so again.”
His words weren’t meant to sting, but somehow, they did. “It’s easy to say you’ll have other kids, but one won’t replace the other.” She shrugged. “If I’m blessed again, it will be a new adventure, and hopefully my girls will be guardian angels.”
Talan walked up behind them and slipped his hand onto Jenny’s shoulder. “Spoken very wisely, my dear.”
His hand didn’t feel like an intrusion. In fact, it was comforting in a fatherly sort of way. “Talan, about earlier,” she paused, meeting his eyes, “I didn’t mean anything by my comment, and I’m sorry if I inadvertently offended you.”
He squeezed her shoulder, accepting her apology. “Your contribution to our feast was very appreciated. Meatball sandwiches are a big hit, especially with the younger members.” He removed his hand and climbed over the flat-topped log to sit with her and Jack.
“You were right about the bonfire’s warmth.” She folded the woven blanket Talan had lent her and Jack. “I thought we’d need this for sure, but it’s actually comfortable with just my jacket.”
“You might want to spread it underneath. The logs hold moisture, and you might get chilled if it seeps into your pants.”
“Is that a polite way of warning us against getting a wet ass?” Jack winked.
“Exactly.”
Jack got up, holding a hand out to help Jenny as well. He took the blanket and refolded it length-wise before putting it on top of the hewn log.
“Do the members do this often?” Jenny gestured to the group. Everyone was enjoying the food, laughing and talking. The sense of community and belonging was infectious, and the bonfire wasn’t the only thing that warmed her in that moment.
“As long as I can remember, we’ve always had bonfires. Our tribe is big on tradition. Even those who no longer live on the reservation come back for the Tellings.”
“It’s the free food.”
Jenny threw a crumpled napkin at Jack. “Don’t be a party pooper.”
“Jack used to come with his parents when he was younger, but after they passed it was a long time before we saw him again.”
“Tellings,” Jenny enquired. “Is that translated from Manachaw?”
Talan nodded, but before he could elaborate, their attentions shifted as two adolescent boys scraped a large Adirondack chair to the center of the gathering.
The younger kids came closer, some carrying s’mores sticks with roasted marshmallows, as they took seats on squat, square cushions, waiting for Talan to begin.
“Looks like that’s my cue.” Nodding once, Talan got up from the log and made his way to the focal chair for the night.
“The kids love when the elders tell stories.” Jackson scootched in closer. He dragged his backpack with him, taking out a thin fleece throw. “I brought another. I anticipated the wet ass thing as well.”
She laughed. “Did you used to sit like they are, rapt with anticipation?”
“Depended on the stories. They’re usually folklore and legend, which are always fun, but sometimes it would be stories from Manachaw history, and they can be a little depressing.”
“The oral record is important for younger generations to know. All younger generations. What was done to the First Nations was a sin.”
“Agreed.”
“You sound like you don’t feel connected.”
Jack shrugged, uncapping a water bottle for a sip. “I do and I don’t. It’s complicated. My bloodline is connected in ways I can’t explain.”
“You said it was generations ago.”
“Yes, but like I said before, we share traits. Talan and I, and a few others.”
“Traits. You mean like your green eyes. I noticed a few people here have the same unusual bottle-green color.”
He nodded. “That’s one of them.”
Jenny was about to press the issue when a hush fell over the gathering. The bonfire flickered and burned, sending glowing cinders into the air. Talan gazed at the flames, the fire crackling in the quiet.
He began his story, his voice deep and resonant.
Our lore speaks of a time when the spirits lived in harmony with the people. Everyone prospered, and the Manachaw were happy. Years passed, and some of the people took their prosperity for granted. They grew greedy, and took more from the land than was needed. They killed for sport, and selfishness, instead of for food, and when the elder objected, they simply laughed.
The elders grew angry with the greedy group, fearful the spirits would punish them, or worse, abandon them.
They elected their most skilled medicine man to journey out and pray. To do a vision quest, and ask the spirits’ forgiveness and forbearance. The old medicine man agreed, and he left the next morning. He
traveled deep into the forest, with a single bright star to light his way. The star led him to a clearing, and there in the shadow of the tall trees was a wolf and a cougar.
These animals weren’t ordinary animals. They shimmered with silver moonlight, and their eyes were as green as the forest.
The medicine man dropped to his knees to plead for his people, but the wolf lifted one paw. The man feared for his life, but the wolf held him its bright green gaze, and the man quieted.
“Do not fear us, gifted one. I, and my brother cougar, heard of your coming. Do not fear that which has guided and blessed you thus far. We are here to help. What do you need of us?”
So the medicine man told the spirits of the Manachaw and the enemy within their circle. The wolf and the cougar listened, holding their own council until he finished.
The wolf inclined his great head, his gaze resolute. “I am the benefactor of your tribe, so I take this onto my shoulders. Men do not become evil and greedy with the strike of a lightning bolt. They grow to be, ever so slowly. I promise you my totem and my protection under one condition.”
“Anything,” the medicine man agreed.
“You must revere the wolf and the cougar. For we will imbue you and certain others of your blood with our spirits. The wolf, so your tribe may be as the pack, and work and hunt together, and the cougar who will walk as a ghost among you, striking when necessary, unseen and lethal, or stalking close behind to teach you to run together as one.”
The medicine man grew uneasy at this, for he didn’t comprehend what the wolf spirit wanted.
“Wolf spirit, I don’t understand.”
The wolf sat on his haunches, and in a wash of silver light, transformed to a warrior. Frightened, the medicine man scrambled backwards, only to feel the warm breath of the ghost cat on his neck. He turned in fear of the cougar’s sharp teeth, only to watch him, too, transform into a warrior. One dark and one light.
“The ghost cat was there to stop you from giving into your doubt and fear, as the wolf will be with you for solidarity and strength.”
Both spirits returned to their animal form, their fur glistening with silver as though kissed by snow and starlight. “Follow your star home, and bring our message with you. On the shortest day of the year, those chosen will know their new nature. A dual nature blessed by the spirits of the universe. Those that do not heed your words will perish, and their names will be stricken. Not a word spoken, and no stories told. As forgotten as dry leaves taken by the wind.”
So the medicine man bowed his head, and followed the star back to his people. He told them what the spirits foretold, and the greedy and selfish among them laughed and laughed. On the Winter Solstice what the spirits divined came to pass, and as the sun rose the next morning, those that mocked the spirits and their powers lay dead in the fresh snow.
From that day, the Manachaw have revered the wolf and his totem, and the ghost cat that watches.
Jenny listened, watching the people gathered as Talan finished the story. “What a terrific legend. I love how it’s tied to the Solstice, and how the medicine man follows a single, bright star to his destiny.” She shrugged. “Shades of the Christmas story, but not.”
“Definitely not.” Jack took the extra blanket, and spread it over the two of them. “But I can see how you made the connection.”
“It’s a story of redemption. Of hope.”
“On that we can agree.”
Snuggling in close, she shivered a bit. The temperature had dropped, plus she was pressed in tight against Jack. After everything they’d been through this past week, her vestige three-date rule seemed silly.
“You okay?” he asked. “You seem a little far away.”
“I was thinking we should get our reservation back at the motel.”
“Really.” Jack’s reply was chill, but there was a decidedly pleased curve to his lips. “What about the Band-Aid?”
“It’s gone. It fell off on its own days ago. My panties are another story. They need some serious ripping.”
He laughed at that. “With Talan on the couch in the next room? Not the sexy, romantic first time I envisioned.”
“There’s always our No-tell Motel.”
Jack let his fingers trail over her leggings beneath the blanket, stroking her inner thigh. “There is that.”
People gathered their kids, packing them off for the night. Talan stood by the waning bonfire, talking and saying goodnight.
“Looks like Talan has his own fan club.” Jenny watched the woman at Talan’s side. “She can’t keep her eyes off him.”
“Jenny, if we don’t get out of here soon, it’s not my eyes that won’t keep off you.”
“What’s that leather bag around Talan’s neck? I noticed it before, but didn’t get the chance to ask.” Jenny pulled her hand out from under the thin blanket to motion around at her throat.
“Seriously? Now?”
“We can’t just bolt, Talan drove here with us. Cheer up, they put out the desserts. That means the bonfire is wrapping up.”
“Ugh. That’s not the only this that’s up.” He groaned. “Woman, the things I want to do to you.”
“Tell me about Talan’s leather bag. Keep your mind busy.”
“My mind is busy. It’s picturing you spread and your panties in shreds. It’s picturing what you’ll do with my bag and your tongue.”
“Jack.”
“Okay, okay. The bag is Talan’s medicine pouch. It’s deerskin, not leather. I told you, he’s a shaman. A medicine man like in his story. The pouch is a sacred bag for objects used to carry out healing. Both ceremonial as well as spiritual.”
“What kind of objects?”
Jack shifted on the log, clearly uncomfortable.
“Oh, man.” She giggled. “I’m sorry.”
“You should be. It’s your fault.”
“Medicine bag…go on.”
“Right…uhm, healing herbs, animal teeth or claws, bones, horsehair, stones, tobacco, arrowheads… Anything of small size that possesses spiritual value.”
“That sounds like quite a mixed bag.” She chuckled.
“Pun or not, it’s true. A shaman’s medicine bag is as individual as they are, and contains both symbolic and ritual items. The most important of them are considered amulets. Talismans that bridge this world and the next.”
Her brows went up. “You mean like what you showed me at the falls.”
He nodded. “I told you it was complicated magic. That it took a trained shaman to open the portal.”
“Are you saying Talan uses that medicine bag to jump through time and space like he’s Doctor Who?”
“Not exactly, but close. It’s called Time Walking.” Jack glanced at the old shaman. “Add one more layer to the inexplicable.”
“Your inexplicable must be one giant-sized onion,” she answered.
“That’s not the only thing that’s giant-sized right now.”
“Jack. Focus.”
He shot her a look. “Are you and old Esther swapping notes or something? Because you seem to enjoy my discomfort.”
“I will kiss it and make it all better later, I promise.” She nipped his bottom lip and he groaned. “We were talking about the inexplicable.”
“You weren’t brought up with magic, and from meeting Amelia, it’s obvious your former world neither appreciated nor respected the reality.”
“Not unless that reality was a weekend in Vegas, and the magic was Criss Angel’s.”
“How much they miss.”
Her boot heel pushed into the dirt. “Don’t you mean how much I miss?” She tucked her hair behind her ear and looked at him. “Don’t make a sex joke. I’m serious.”
“There were no magic mushrooms in Tess’s food that night at the falls. No psychedelic drugs in your wine. What I showed you was real. Just like what happened to you at the sacred grove was real. As hard as it was for you, you accepted it, Jen. You’re not missing anything.”
“Even though
I have no memory of levitating?”
“Magic is inherent in that space, and it chose you as its channel. You didn’t have a choice. Believe me, you’re not the first to experience something like that.”
“Since Talan’s sacred grove chose me as a channel, do you think Talan would show me how to work his brand of Doctor Who?”
“I told you before, going back isn’t the answer.”
Jenny swiveled to face him better. “You said I can’t change anything, but what about Talan? If it’s a personal gain thing, Talan wouldn’t be changing anything for himself. Maybe it’s a loophole, Jack. He could effect something that causes me to find out about Charlie’s cheating. It could keep us from getting into that car.”
“It doesn’t work that way, Jen.”
She gripped his hands under the blanket. “Why not?”
“Because where there is death, there will always be death.”
“What is this? Final Destination? If death wants someone, then it can have me. We can do this.”
Jack shook his head. “No, love. We can’t.”
“How do you know?”
He kept his gaze on her and didn’t blink. “Because I tried.”
Their playful moments were over for the moment, and Jack got up to speak with Talan. She watched the two of them, angry with herself for taking a mile when an inch was offered.
“You will never change, Jennifer Marie Mitchell.” She pushed her heel out again, scoring the soft earth under the blanket.
Her supercharged intuition was like a faulty light. It flickered, even when plugged in. It was getting better with time, except when it came to her own path.
Jack probably thought her obsessed. How could she blame him for being annoyed? One minute she was all about sex, and the nasty things they’d do to each other, and the next she talked about going back to before they met, to possibly change events that would remove him from her present.
He was right to get up and walk away. If the shoe was on the other foot, she’d do the same. If she didn’t get her mind straight about the past, chances were she’d lose him and whatever future they might have together.
A Little Mistletoe and Magic: Ho Ho Howls Romance Holiday Edition Page 13
