Divine Liaisons

by Poppet

  He murmurs the secret in my ear, “Stand up and tell me where are you going,” said Creator. But she stayed silent. He offered his right hand to the Girl-Without-Parents. “Where did you come from?” she asked, grasping his hand. “From the east where it is now light,” he said, stepping onto her cloud. Creator brushed his face with his hands, rubbed them together, then flung them wide open. Before them stood Sun-God. Again Creator rubbed his sweaty brow and from his hands dropped Small- Boy.”

  “All four gods sat in deep thought on the small cloud. Creator rubbed his palms, from which fell a small round, brown ball. Creator kicked it, and it expanded. Girl-Without-Parents kicked it, and it grew more. Sun-God and Small-Boy took turns giving it hard kicks, making the ball expand. Creator told Wind to go inside the ball and inflate it, sending Lightning-Maker to encircle the world.”

  “They made the first people out of formless creatures they found. Creator named the boy, Sky-Boy, to be chief of the Sky-People. A girl he named Earth-Daughter, to take charge of the earth and its crops. Creator made a very tall pinon tree. Girl-Without-Parents covered the tree framework with pinon gum, creating a large, tight ball.”

  I love his gravelly deep voice. I could listen to him telling stories all day. Staring out at the earth, the open plains, trees, with the wind brushing up against us like an old lover, I can visualize everything he's saying.

  “In four days, the flood occurred. In twelve days, the water receded, leaving the float-ball with the people they'd made, high on a hilltop. Girl-Without-Parents led the gods out from the float-ball onto the new earth. She took them on her cloud, drifting up until they met Creator.”

  “Together the two clouds descended to a valley below. There, Girl-Without-Parents gathered everyone together to listen to Creator. “I am planning to leave you,” he said. “I wish each of you to do your best toward making a perfect, happy world. You, Girl-Without-Parents, I leave you in charge over all.”

  He left a woman in charge!

  “Creator then turned to Girl-Without-Parents, they rubbed their legs with their hands and quickly cast them down. Between them arose a great pile of wood, over which Creator waved a hand, creating fire. Great billowing clouds of smoke drifted skyward. Into this cloud, Creator disappeared.”

  His voice drifts away on the wind, and I am crying.

  “What is it, sugar? Did I say something to upset you?”

  He just turns me, like I'm a child in between his legs.

  Kissing my forehead, he wraps his arms around me, rocking me, “I'm sorry. I thought you would like it. It's a story of a strong lady, Girl-without-parents was the first, and had a hand in creating our world.”

  “It's not that.”

  Wiping tears, I meet his eyes with my own, “I'm an orphan.”

  His smile is gentle, “Gan is using me. Girl without parents, this earth would be nothing without you.”

  Leaning my head on his shoulder, he keeps me safe, holding me while I cry.

  She came from nowhere. She was the first. Left in charge over the whole world. A small girl, without parents, left with that weight on her shoulders. She created with God.

  My soul is hurting.

  Chapter 13

  Squeezing his arms to reassure me, he dips his head, saying softly in his deep baritone, “You are like wind, Sarah. You are like the Gan, nothing can hold you where you don't want to stay. We're sitting on the disc of creation. Don't be sad. This place will ease your pain.”

  Kissing my eyes of their tears, he whispers, “I had no way of knowing. I'm such a heel. Saying didn'tcha mama tell you not to take ecstasy. You shoulda kicked me. You aren't alone, baby. Girl-without-parents shares your soul. And look what she did for humanity without anyone to lean on. Creator left her all alone. But look at this beauty. The earth is hers to love and cherish. The earth and everything in it is her family. You are never alone.”

  “I wish I didn't have to wait thirty years to hear that story.”

  “Who says it's a story? A fool calls it a story, a wise medicine man will tell you it's truth.”

  I'm infecting you with truth.

  “Are you a wise medicine man?”

  My sense of humor is coming back. I can't help but tease him.

  “I am. I gave you squirrel medicine to make you big and strong.” But he's laughing, and I'm laughing, tears and all.

  “You really like the Apache, huh?”

  His smile is almost indulgent. It tugs my heartstrings. “Apache means warrior. Renowned for never fatiguing. They don't get tired, and they are master strategists. They have endurance like no other race on earth. They aren't afraid to fight for what they believe in, or for what they revere and cherish. I can relate to their group Spirit.”

  “Dustin, my soul hurts here.”

  “When are you going to start calling me Dusty?”

  “I dunno. Do you want me to?”

  “Yes. Heck, any girl who can make me yell can't go around being formal with me.”

  “Okay, Dusty,” it comes out shy - strange. Like trying a new food for the first time.

  “Your soul hurts, because you want to go home. You just can't remember where home is.” He points into my chest, “It's hiding in there. The secret will come out, it's breaking out of prison. Soon you will be free baby bird.”

  “I can't believe you're such a sensitive marshmallow. You look so tough.”

  “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Oh god. This is beginning to creep me out.

  “Why did creator leave her alone?”

  “Because she's stronger than spider silk, but just as soft. Capable. She never had anyone, so she didn't need anyone. God went off to keep creating, but he left a mother to look after the earth she helped create.”

  “Do you want children?”

  “Are you offering?”

  He says it with a rogue grin, turning the tables on me again.

  “I've always wanted a family of my own. To have a childhood again with them, with my own flesh and blood. Someone who needs me, and wants me, and runs to me for every hurt and happiness. Grazed knees, broken feelings, riding a bike for the first time. I never had anyone to be happy for me, or sad for me.”

  “There's the secret.”

  “What secret?”

  “I asked you about the look in your eyes, it was hiding something. That's why you hold back. You're afraid you'll get hurt.”

  “We all do that.”

  “No, we don't all do that.”

  He's asking me to trust him. He's saying take my all, I'm giving it freely, but do the same back. God! By holding back, because I'm afraid to get hurt, it never occurred to me it would in turn hurt someone else.

  Snaking my arms to link them behind his neck, I say, “Please can I keep you? You're my balance. You're the sanity I've been missing.”

  “It's Spirit Rock, not me.”

  “It's you.”

  “Hey, I don't mind taking the credit, but this place, it's magical. Ohpitsa, it's talking to your soul. You're healing.”

  Heavy against him, smoothing my hair, he grumbles into my ear, “Next time I'll tell you about firefly village.”

  “What's so special about it?”

  “They were kind, bright-light beings. They helped Fox when he fell from the sky and landed in their village that always had a fire lit in the centre. Together they made the first music. Fox stole their fire, and gave it to the tribes.”

  Lucierne. A being of light, like a firefly. Kind and helpful to those in need, like Fox, like me.

  “They should have called Owl man, Gargoyle man.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asks.

  “Because my life has turned into ancient Apache history. All that's missing is my cloud, and Creator.”

  “Creator will come. But first you have to open your heart and let the Gan back in.”

  “Do you believe in people with wings?”

  He laughs, looking away over my head, that bottomless well of pain sparking in his
eyes for a brief second, “Yes, I do. The Greeks called him Hermes. Many Apache stories tell you how easily we once went up to the sky world. It's like the earth has been in a coma. Forgetting everything. And now that they're awake, they don't believe any of it was once possible. When all things are possible.”

  “So, do you ever just sit and watch the game, with a bucket of KFC?”

  His full lips press together in a smile, “Why?”

  “Because you aren't coming across as a jock, but you look like one.”

  “But ohpitsa, looks are deceiving.”

  “Why do you keep saying that?”

  “Sarah, maybe I'm just like you, looking for the soul I lost.”

  The pain in his eyes. What is he hiding? I believe him, heart and soul I believe that's why he comes here, waiting for the Gan to give his soul back.

  “Tempest is an interesting last name. Where's it from?” he asks.

  He's trying to change the subject, away from his sore spot.

  “I have always been impetuous. I have a terrible temper. I was assigned Tempest by a foster parent. They had to call me something, and I just arrived, with no history, from nowhere, on their doorstep. I don't know what my heritage is. Black, red or white, I haven't a clue. I don't look like anyone. Instead I look like a mixture of the best in everyone else. But like you, I've always had a strong body. I don't have to try, to excel with it.”

  “The yin to my yang.”

  It's soft, wistful, a prayer carried on the wind to the Spirits of Enchanted Rock.

  He stops the Ninja behind a mean looking Dodge Viper SRT10 parked outside my door. I really bloody hate it when the neighbors park their cars in front of my place. There's a whole road to park in, why choose to block my front door?

  Getting off the bike, I'm grateful to take the helmet off and flick my hair out. Next time I want the wind in my face.

  Removing his own, he steps up with me to the shadow cloaked front door. The moon must be coming up late tonight, because it's dark.

  “Finally,” speaks from the black void on the side of the door recess.

  Shit!

  Erra steps out, in his supersized body.

  Dustin steps in front of me, looking him in the eye, “Can I help you?”

  What? That means he's not wearing his Erik disguise.

  “I just came to return these,” he says, pushing past Dustin.

  Opening his hand, my pearls hang from a finger, offered to me.

  Dusty looks at me, and in front of my eyes I am witnessing him retreating into the safe place inside. The veil of thick shadow isn't helping me read either of them.

  Erra smiles down with dripping affection, laying it on thick, royally sticking it to me, “You forgot them at my place last night.”

  Argh! He's trying to give Dustin the impression I was willingly with him last night. Like a lover! I won't let him do this.

  “I didn't forget them, you took them off me just so you could do this!”

  Dustin is frozen next to me, rigid, radiating aggression.

  Laughing, Erra takes my hand, folding my fingers over the pearls, “Are we still on for tomorrow morning?” He's doing the intimate love-voice purr.

  Oh you are an evil bastard.

  “No. Go to hell.”

  Shoving past him, I get my key in the door, flinging it wide open to bash against the wall.

  Flicking the porch light on, Erra is staring at Dustin. Virtually eye to eye, a silent clash.

  Leaping back out, slipping my hand in Dustin's, I push, “Let's get inside. This asshole was just leaving.” Pausing to narrow my eyes at Erra, I hiss, “Aren't you? And you can tell my boss I'd rather lose my job than have to take you sightseeing.”

  He opens his hands on either side of him, a gesture of helpless surrender. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

  Stepping closer, not giving a damn that Dustin is right next to me, he lifts my free hand, kissing the back of it, “Until we meet again.”

  Now I just want to roll my eyes.

  Releasing my hand, pulling himself up to his full height, he pauses in front of Dustin, not glaring, but the intimidation is glittering in his starlight eyes. Then he turns, strolling down the steps to his Viper.

  It roars a guttural snarl when he turns it on, and I give up on encouraging Dustin inside. I can't stand here and deep-throat that bastard's ego a second longer.

  Stomping inside, I head straight to the fridge and the vodka.

  Erra's car grates away down the road, searing two cold hands down my insides.

  The front door slams, and Dustin is filling the doorway to the kitchen, “Who the fuck was that?”

  Chapter 14

  “You wouldn't believe me if I told you.”

  “I'd like you to try!”

  His eyes are intense, his mouth tight, clenching and unclenching fists on stiff arms at his sides.

  “That's Erik.”

  A deep ridge scores his brow, his beautiful caramel eyes turning so light with anger, they look almond, “You must take me for a fool.”

  Fear is snaking its slithering coils around my gut; this is it. Right here. I lose the best thing to ever happen to me.

  “I know it makes me sound crazy. I know it doesn't make sense. But that asshole is Erik. Instead of taking me home after the memorial, he took me to his house. I was dumb enough to go with him to the funeral. Talk about misplaced trust.”

  “Sarah, there is no way that man is Erik. Who was he!?”

  “He calls himself Erra.”

  The blood drains from his face, his expression painted in vivid hues of disbelief.

  “What?”

  “Erra, aka Erik, aka asshole from hell, aka crazier than Hannibal Lector.”

  He's looking at me funny, as if I was the one to just sprout wings.

  “How long have you been seeing him?”

  His hand has moved, and it's gripping the countertop to the point his tanned knuckles are white.

  “I'm not seeing him! At all. I swear!”

  His focus flicks to the kitchen window, as if someone is standing on the other side, listening. He's got paranoia all over him, it's coming off him in waves.

  “I'm not being clear...” He looks like he's struggling not to explode, reining his emotions back in. “How long have you, and Erra, been in each other's company? How long has he been hanging about?”

  Becoming a wreck of tension, I turn so I don't have to watch his face when I sound like I forgot my medication, for the last year. Pouring vodka into glasses, I busy myself getting the mixer.

  “I thought I met him three weeks ago. But he revealed he's been watching me my whole life. He knew no one ever adopted me. But then he said Ruth found me. And I've only known Ruth for ten years.”

  Turning, I hand him a glass.

  “Ruth?”

  “His mother.”

  He looks like he's going to laugh, then clamps his mouth, shutting himself up by downing his drink in one go, handing the glass back, “Refill.”

  I hand him mine, turning back to refill his glass and adopt it as my own.

  “Where does he live?”

  Those words are like he just raked the skin off my back with an iron bristled brush.

  Fear has me so tight now, I'm tense enough to crack into pieces.

  “Why?” I try and make it sound like it doesn't matter. But we both know it does.

  “Tell me.”

  It's an order. Words by a man being strangled with anguish.

  Hingeing to face him, he's livid. He's got crazy rage in his eyes.

  “Dustin, he'll hurt you. He doesn't matter! Fuck him. Seriously, he shouldn't even be allowed this much conversation.”

  “Where. Does. He. Live?”

  Gulp.

  “Remington–”

  And he bolts. Jesus, I'd hate to see him attack someone. He moves faster than a mamba.

  My knees are shaking, they don't want to hold me. I'm quaking with 'you're in shit so deep' fear. Hanging onto the
counter for support, I haul my ass around the kitchen, to the threshold, staring at my open front door while a gorgeous black Ninja carves a ripple through the night, away from me.

  Two helmets are on the step outside.

  Singeing heat dribbles down my face, leaking out of frigid wide-open eyes.

  I've lost him, if he believed a word of it.

  He's at least going to think I'm so far gone, my orbit isn't anywhere near this planet. And if he does believe me, I don't want to know what Erra will do to him.

  I love him. I don't want him hurt.

  What the hell? Sarah, if you gave a flying fuck about that boy, you'd be in your car – driving like a shooting star to Erra's house.

  Strength jams my legs, and I'm out the door, collecting helmets on the way to the car, already fishing out my phone.

  It's answered on the first ring.

  “Changed your mind already?” drawls smugly.

  Grinding through a clenched jaw, my voice is shaking, “If you hurt him, I will destroy you. Don't even think about messing with me, Erra. I will get a gun, a fucking huge rocket launcher, and I won't stop shooting until you are roadkill!”

  The depth of my rage is shocking me. I sound like I just crawled out of Marilyn Manson.

  Dropping my phone on the passenger seat, disconnecting the call, putting both helmets on the backseat, I gun my car with the desperation of a woman trying to outrun a tsunami.

  He's there, standing under the porch light, talking to – Erik? I don't even bother closing the car door, running across the lawn to them. Dustin's leering over Erik, an avenging angel in black leather and steel fists.

  As I leap to the top step, Erik turns his grey eyes on me, “Sarah. How good of you to join us. Mind explaining what the hell is going on?”

  “You sonofabitch!”

  He raises his eyebrows in a mild manner, pushing his hands into financial-nerd pockets, staring at me with masked triumph in his eyes

  Dustin looks torn, like he wants to believe me, and is ready to tear someone, anyone, apart. Limb by limb.

  I'm a smart woman. You said it yourself you fucking prick.

  “Dusty, stay here, I'll be right back.” Running back to the car, I dive through the open door, getting my phone from the passenger seat. Squirming back out, ass first, I sprint back, handing Dustin my phone.