by Pati Nagle
As Madera led us along the portal I admired the courtyard through the glass. Plazuela, my brain supplied at random. Thank you, New Mexico history class.
The plazuela was paved in flagstone and had patio furniture and bushes scattered around. I smelled lilacs and heard the trickle of water. I spotted the fountain at the west side just before Madera opened a door on the right and went in. A moment later the room filled with soft light, and he came back to the door, gesturing welcome.
“This room is for you, Amanda. The bathroom is next door.”
Cozy. Bed, nightstand, dresser, all of rustic pine carved in a vaguely Spanish style. A decanter and water glass stood on the dresser. The warm light was coming from from a lamp on the nightstand. There was even a kiva fireplace.
“It’s beautiful. Thanks so much.”
I was too tired to be more eloquent. Madera said goodnight and led Len and Caeran away along the portal. I watched them turn the corner and then closed the door.
So tired. And confused about the creepy guy. Sure, I never wanted to see him again. The solution was simple: stay away from the blood donor center. No problem.
Except my gut had told me in no uncertain terms to flee. And Caeran had said he was a tracker.
I wondered how Caeran knew, but there was no use worrying about it. We were far from Albuquerque now. Might as well enjoy the weekend.
I plugged in my cell phone, then dug out my toothbrush and headed for the bathroom. As I came out of my door I thought I saw movement to my left, but by the time I looked there was nothing. Frowning, I walked all the way to the door into the living room at end of the passage.
I stood listening but all I heard was the fountain and a cricket chirping somewhere. Finally I gave up, went back and found the bathroom, brushed teeth, washed face, then returned to my room to hit the sack.
There was an old-fashioned hook latch on the door. It wouldn’t hold up to a good kick, but I latched it anyway, and felt better.
I got in bed and lay listening to the nothing. It’s really quiet in the country—you don’t realize how noisy the city is until you get away from all the traffic and airport rumble. The silence of rural areas bothers some city people, but I love it. Whether it was the peacefulness or the fact that I’d given blood, I fell asleep immediately.
I woke up thinking I was at Grandma’s, because I smelled fresh baked bread. Sat up, figured out where I was, and hopped into my clothes. The little poke on my arm was almost completely gone—I had to look hard to see it, and it was just slightly tender. I dragged a brush through my hair and went out to find the bread.
When I opened my door, I gasped. The plazuela was filled with color: lilacs, both purple and white, coppery and yellow wild roses, iris in a rainbow of colors. I walked out through the nearest door in the glass wall and stood taking it all in. Floral fragrances blended with the baking smells. I wanted to eat all of it.
Promising myself I’d spend some time out here reading, I followed my nose across the plazuela and into the portal on the far side. I heard voices from down the passage. Continuing that direction, I found an open door into the kitchen.
Four men were sitting at a table by a window that overlooked the plazuela. They were all heavy on the Caeran DNA—same hair color, same green eyes. They were talking in the fluid language I’d heard Caeran use on the phone, but when I came in they clammed up and sat staring at me.
My heart did a little joyful skip. Four Caeran clones! Maybe one of them was unattached. I gave them a hesitant smile.
Madera was standing by the stove. He looked up at me and smiled.
“Good morning, Amanda. Please come in.”
He gestured toward a Mexican tile counter where there was half a loaf of bread, butter and jam, a bowl of sliced strawberries, and a teapot under a cozy. I went straight for the bread, which was still warm. It steamed a little when I whacked off a big slice, and the butter melted into it. I took a bite and my mouth exploded in bliss.
The conversation started up again behind me, in quieter tones. Self-conscious, I stayed by the counter and poured myself a cup of tea.
Madera was watching me. I swallowed the last of my bread. “This is wonderful. Thank you.” I glanced toward the table and added in a whisper, “I didn’t know you had other guests.”
“These are my neighbors. Would you like to meet them?”
Boy, howdy—except that I felt strangely shy. I took another swallow of tea and nodded.
Madera went over to the table and I followed a step behind him. The guys there stopped talking and looked up at us.
“I would like to introduce Amanda,” Madera said. “She is my guest for a while. Amanda, these are Faranin, Lomen, Bironan, and Nathrin.”
Wow, wild names. I would never remember them all.
I smiled. “Hi.”
Three of them just gave me serious nods. The fourth one, Nathrin, actually smiled.
“I am glad to meet you. You are a friend of Lenore?”
“Um, yeah.”
“She is a good soul.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just nodded. He was nice, I decided. His face was a little longer than Caeran’s, but in the dark I couldn’t have told them apart.
As if summoned by my thoughts, Caeran walked in. He had Len’s car keys in his hand.
“Good morning, Manda. Did you sleep well?”
“Like a dead thing.”
He looked confused, then smiled and turned to his four doppelgangers. “Are you ready?”
They got up from the table and collected backpacks from a banco by the fireplace at the far end of the room. I looked at Caeran.
“Going somewhere?”
“My cousins need a ride to Albuquerque. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Five guys squished into Len’s car for that long a drive? Must be something important.
Caeran exchanged a few words of flowy-talk with Madera, then led the other four away. I watched, kind of disappointed that I hadn’t gotten to talk with them more.
I looked toward the stove. Madera was watching me as he stirred a pot.
“Thanks for the welcome,” I said. “It’s really nice of you, especially since you weren’t expecting me.”
“As you can see, I have plenty of room.”
“Well, if I can help with anything—“
“Is there any tea left? Hi, Manda,” said Len as she came in carrying a mug. She took the cozy off the teapot and lifted the lid. “I’m going to kill it. Should we make more?”
“Yes, please,” Madera said. “Amanda, would you fill this kettle?”
“Sure.”
While I was at the sink, Madera opened a pottery jar and scooped out some black leaves, putting them into a little strainer thingie. I was impressed—I’d only ever used teabags. He set the strainer aside, took the kettle from me and put it on the stove, then washed out the teapot and put the strainer into it.
I felt like I was in the way, so I cut another slice of bread and slathered it with butter, put some berries in a bowl as a gesture toward healthy eating, and went over to the table where Caeran’s cousins had been sitting. Len joined me, bringing both our mugs.
“Thanks. Caeran has a big family, eh?”
Len sipped her tea. “Yes and no.”
She didn’t elaborate, and I wasn’t going to rise to the bait and ask. “Nice of him to drive them to Albuquerque. Hope he brings your car back with a full tank.”
“He will.”
Of course he would. He was Mr. Wonderful.
I stifled a sigh and watched Madera, who was back at the stove, looking graceful as he stirred his pot. His hair was braided today. His profile made me think of the beautiful people in Maxfield Parrish paintings. I had expected Len’s mentor to be older.
He didn’t really look Spanish—not like most of the locals. He was too tall, too pale. Aristocratic, with that aquiline nose. Maybe Old World Spanish looked like that, but most New Mexican Hispanics had a lot of New World blood mixed in.
Well, he had some Caeran blood, or something close to it. Not as striking a match as the cousins, but clearly the same family.
My thoughts drifted off to my own family back in Portales. My parents were very straight, very conservative, and they’d raised me and my brother strictly. He’d been a super-jock in school and got drafted into a minor league baseball team before graduation. I’d rebelled in high school and escaped to UNM and Albuquerque as soon as possible.
Sometimes I missed home, but whenever I went back to visit I remembered why I’d left. I loved my parents—especially at a distance.
I finished my berries and decided I’d better get away from the bread, so I filled my mug with milk and headed for the plazuela. The morning was pleasantly cool. In Albuquerque things were already summer-hot.
I sat in a chair in the shade and watched a swarm of birds playing in the fountain. The smell of lilacs made me relax. Yeah, I could get used to this.
A wild thought of giving up my dorm room and spending the summer here occurred to me, but I squashed it. For one thing, I had a job. For another, it would be a serious imposition, unless I could make it up to Madera somehow. No, I should forget that.
I had the weekend, since I assumed Len and Caeran would drive me home on Sunday. I told myself I was damn lucky for that.
I heard the kettle whistle in the kitchen and was glad, because it was almost too chilly outside. I finished my milk, then headed for my room to get my book. On the way I decided to make a pit stop at the bathroom. Just as I reached the door it was opened by yet another Caeran clone.
“Oh, sorry!”
I stepped back, taking him in. His hair was a little darker than Caeran’s and his eyes were a softer green. I smiled.
“You must be another guest of Madera’s. Or a neighbor?”
“Guest,” he said in a quiet voice. His eyes were troubled and he looked tired. I didn’t remember ever seeing Caeran look tired.
“I’m Amanda Richards. I’m here with Len and Caeran.”
“Len is here?”
I nodded. “She’s in the kitchen, or she was.”
He glanced toward the kitchen and nodded absently. Didn’t offer his name.
Awkward moment of the day number one. He was between me and the bathroom, I was between him and the door to the plazuela. His gaze had fixed on something—or maybe nothing—out in the garden.
I cleared my throat. “Well, nice meeting you.”
He looked at me in faint surprise. I answered with a smile and glanced toward the bathroom. He seemed to figure it out finally and took a step backward, then turned and headed away down the portal. He went into the last door before the living room.
I had to find a better way of talking to these guys. I mean, I had now met, what, five gorgeous men? And not managed to make one of them take an interest in me.
Well, we’d see about that. I just hadn’t gotten a read on them, that was all. They were different—maybe foreign. Caeran had mentioned Europe a couple of times, come to think of it.
I smiled to myself. I liked a challenge. Len had her dream guy, why couldn’t I have one too?
= 2 =
I got my book and went back outside. My mug was now full of steaming tea. I glanced up toward the kitchen with a smile and said, “Thanks,” as if anyone could hear me. Maybe Madera could see me through the window.
He was a great host. I’d have to write him a thank you note after I went home.
I settled back into my chair in the garden, wondering idly if I should try for Madera. Or maybe the friendly one. The other three I’d met that morning were standoffish, and the guy I’d just bumped into was preoccupied.
Len came out and joined me; she’d found a book somewhere. We both sat there reading until the shade receded, then we moved into the portal where there were more chairs, and sat reading until Madera called us into the kitchen for lunch.
He’d made a wonderful soup with chicken and potatoes and green chile. More of the fresh bread on the side, and iced tea. We sat at the table by the window and Len drove the conversation, telling me things about Madera that I could ask questions about.
“Know what? Madera made all the carved furniture in the house himself.”
He shot a glance at Len. “Not all. Some pieces are from clients.”
“Healing clients?” I said. “You take payment in trade?”
“That is all that many of them can afford.”
I nodded. Rural parts of New Mexico were painfully poor. Portales had ENMU, so it had a stable source of employment, but it was also huge compared to Guadalupita.
Or so I believed. I hadn’t actually seen Guadalupita on the way in, but Len always said it was nothing but a bar and a post office and a couple of houses, and that if it weren’t for Caeran’s cousins, Madera would be lonely.
That reminded me of the mystery clone I had met. I checked the table—no fourth place setting.
“Is your other guest not coming to lunch?”
Len looked up. “Other guest?”
“Savhoran,” said Madera. He looked at me. “I gather you’ve met him.”
“Briefly. He didn’t actually tell me his name.”
“I took him some soup earlier. He is a patient as well as a guest, and spends most of his time in his room.”
“Still?” Len asked softly.
Madera nodded, and looked down at his bowl. I wanted to ask what was wrong with Savhoran, but I chickened out.
“This soup is great,” I said instead.
“Thank you.”
We talked about unimportant things for the rest of the meal. I learned a lot about Madera’s numerous talents, and about how he lived out here in the country. He grew some of his own food, and most of the rest came in trade for healing. He had an extensive herb garden—I made admiring noises and was promised a tour—an orchard, a vineyard, and chickens and goats. I wondered how much land he owned, but that was another nosy question I kept to myself. Despite his friendliness, he came across as a very private person.
After lunch I went back to reading on the portal while Madera took Len off to consult on something or other. He was her mentor; that’s what she was here for. Interesting how she was blending modern medicine with folk medicine. I wondered what her profs thought of it.
The sun shifted to the west, so I moved to the north side of the portal, near my room. There were chairs here too—there were chairs scattered all the way around the portal. Madera could have thrown a pretty big party if he’d wanted.
I kept going back to the kitchen for more iced tea until I finished off the pitcher. Finished my book late in the afternoon. Still no sign of Len. I put my feet up on a hassock and closed my eyes.
I must have dozed off, because when I heard a door closing I looked up and it was late. The sun had set, and the plazuela glowed with soft evening light. I got up and stretched, then noticed fantastic smells on the air. I couldn’t identify them other than that it was dinner and it made my mouth water.
I picked up my empty glass to take back to the kitchen, then noticed I wasn’t alone. Sav—Sav—that Sav guy was standing near the corner, looking out at the garden.
He noticed me. I smiled and gave a little wave.
“Hi.”
Wasn’t sure what else to say. Awkward to ask if he was feeling better.
Come on, Man. Try harder.
I walked over to him. “You’re one of Caeran’s cousins, right?”
He nodded.
“Have you lived in New Mexico long?”
“No.”
Right. OK, if he wasn’t going to help, I wouldn’t pester him.
I almost left right then, but I had this feeling he must be lonely. For sure he was sad. I decided to stay a little longer.
He was looking at the garden again. The birds were gone now, and the fountain’s trickle was peaceful.
“Beautiful place,” I said.
“Yes.”
He nodded, then looked straight at me for the first time.
My breath caught in my throat—just like it had when the creep at the blood center had looked at me—but this was a good feeling. He saw me.
“I am Savhoran.”
I smiled. “Amanda. Nice to meet you.”
His manner was kind of formal, but I figured it was just shyness. With almost painful politeness, he asked, “Have you been in New Mexico long?”
“Born and raised. I’m from Portales.”
He nodded. I would have bet money he had no clue where Portales was.
“It’s south and east,” I added. “Out on the plains. Windy and hot. This is much nicer—Madera’s really created an oasis here.”
Savhoran smiled, but still looked sad. I wanted to ask him what was wrong, maybe try to comfort him, but I didn’t. Too nosy on such short acquaintance, and it was obviously some health problem since he was here as a patient.
“Well, dinner smells great,” I said. “Are you headed for the kitchen?”
He hesitated. I didn’t give him a chance to say “no.”
“Come on.”
I nodded toward the plazuela, and stuck my hand out without thinking. He didn’t take it, but he did come with me.
The flagstones were warm with the heat of the day. Savhoran stopped in the middle of the plazuela, looking at the flowers and the fountain as if he’d never seen anything so beautiful. I watched him cup a spray of lilacs in his hand and smell it. The creases in his forehead relaxed.
We went to the kitchen and found Len and Madera busy with supper. The room was lit with the soft glow of oil lamps on the counters and in a chandelier. Candles were burning in a pottery wrath on the table, which was set for three.
Madera looked up from carving a roasted chicken and smiled with delight. “Good evening,” was all he said.
Len glanced at Savhoran as she finished putting rice into a serving bowl. “Hi, there, stranger!”
