by Taylor Dean
Sadie slows down, the windshield wipers on the highest setting possible. “How about Applebee’s?” The rain is something fierce today. “If we don’t drown first.”
“That sounds good,” Samantha says from the backseat. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it rain this hard.”
I’m sitting shotgun, enjoying my day out with my sisters. The fresh smell of rain permeates the car and inundates my senses. It makes the day feel perfect and memorable, like I’ll always associate the smell of rain with happiness.
After lunch, we’ll be hitting the stores. My sisters promised to help me pick new school clothes for the coming year. At thirteen years old, it’s great to have older sisters for fashion advice. Now that Saige is married and about to have a baby, I don’t get to see her as much as usual. And Samantha just became engaged and is rather distracted by her upcoming wedding plans. At least I still have Sadie.
Samantha’s phone rings and she answers it immediately.
“No,” Saige chastises her. “No cell phones. We promised each other.”
“Oh, all right,” Samantha reluctantly agrees. Then into her phone, she says, “Hey, Matt, I gotta go. It’s my time with my sisters today and they’ll string me up by my toes and leave me to die if my attention is not on them . . .”
Saige grabs her phone and clicks it off while Samantha yells, “I love you!”
Saige scoffs. “Save me from lovey-dovey couples.”
“You’re just jealous because you’re an old, boring married person now.” Then to all of us, Samantha says, “I called Saige the other night and she was already asleep. At eight o’ clock. Who goes to bed at eight?”
“Pregnant ladies who have to get up at six in the morning, that’s who!” Saige announces.
Sadie and I chuckle at their exchange. Sammi and Saige turn into their teenage selves whenever they’re around each other.
As the rain intensifies, Samantha says, “This rain is making me nervous.”
The atmosphere in the car changes within seconds.
Sadie shakes her head and pulls over. “Hey guys, I can barely see with it coming down so hard.” The rain pounds on the roof of the car, echoing through the interior, making conversation difficult.
We wait in silence for several minutes until the rain calms down.
“Whew. That was intense,” Sadie says, joining the flow of traffic once again. Expertly, she avoids the pockets of standing water on the roadway.
“Let’s just get to the restaurant and wait for this to blow over.” Saige shifts in her seat. “It’s no use. I can’t ever get comfortable.”
“Is that why you’re always fidgeting?” Sammi teases.
“Seriously, I felt like I was sitting next to a bored five year old during the movie.” Sadie changes lanes and speeds up.
“Just wait until you guys have babies. Then you’ll understa . . .” Saige’s words come to an abrupt halt and I know what’s coming next. I hate when they have to tiptoe around me. “Sorry, Savannah.”
“It’s okay.” I do love that they care about my feelings.
Suddenly a loud thump startles all of us and Saige screams.
My heart races and my hands shake as shock races through my body at the sudden assault. The sound alone makes me jump in my seat, but the sight leaves me momentarily speechless.
A bright red bird—a cardinal—has hit our windshield, losing his life in the process. Its limp body hangs unnaturally, its wing tangled in one windshield wiper.
Gaining my equilibrium, I don’t hesitate.
“Stop the car! Stop the car! Stop the car! Stop the car! Stop the car! Stop the car! Stop the car! STOP THE CAR!” I yell at the top of my lungs, over and over, louder and louder, until Sadie, also a little shaken up, finally obeys.
“Stop it, Savannah. It’s just a bird,” Sadie yells.
It’s then we hear the sound. A horrible rumble and loud whoosh. The ground seems to shake from under our feet. Up ahead cars skid and swerve, metal hits metal, crunching and bending.
My eyes widen as the scene in front of us resembles something right out of a disaster film. The mountainside lining one side of the roadway comes alive, turning into one heaving, writhing mass of slime. As if it has a life of its own, the blob slides down the mountainside in hot pursuit of a new home. The hot lava like mass wanders down the hillside with surprising speed and force, engulfing everything in its path like a hungry predator. The cars in its line of sight, to include their occupants, are buried with horrifying precision within seconds.
Chaos ensues. People scream and yell and moan. Some inexplicably run toward the edges of the angry blob as if they can somehow stop its progress. Some run away as if the mudslide has a mind of its own and is after them personally.
Much, much later we learn that nine people lost their lives that day, the day the mountainside decided to shed a layer of earth.
Had we not stopped, my sisters and I—and an unborn child—would have been among the deceased.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
November
JULIAN IS SILENT and immovable, his eyes fixed on mine. The tears are still flowing, but I’m in control now. “Did you know there are many legends surrounding cardinals? Traditionally they represent good luck. The Cherokee Indians believed if you saw a cardinal flying down to the earth, you should watch out for bad luck.”
He nods, letting my story ruminate. Finally, he says, “The red bird saved your life.” His concentrated stare unnerves me.
“Yes, it did.”
“It was a miracle in your life,” he states perceptively.
“Yes. For several minutes, we were in shock. We could barely move as we stared at the gruesome sight in front of us. We all knew it would’ve been us if we hadn’t stopped at that exact moment.”
“Were any of you hurt?”
“The shock made Saige go into premature labor. Her baby was born that evening.”
“And everything was okay?”
“Yes. She gave birth to a healthy baby boy.”
“And the rest of you?”
“We were all fine. Shaken up, but fine.”
Puzzled, he says, “Why did you yell stop?”
“That’s the million dollar question.”
“How did you know?”
“I was told to.”
“Told to?”
“Yes.”
“You mean, you heard a voice?”
“No, not in that moment. I was told on an earlier occasion. The path of my life completely changed on that day.”
“Go on,” he says.
So I do, while wondering how he’ll respond. The next story explains why I can no longer pursue our relationship.
No matter how much I love him.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Eleven Years Old
“C’MON, SAVANNAH, LET’S go,” Piper hollers.
“I’m coming.” I slip on sandals and place my long black hair in a ponytail in preparation for our unexpected foray. It’s a scorching hot summer day outside, the kind of day that smells like summer. Smoky barbeque wafts through the air, along with the metallic mist of sprinklers and the pleasing scent of blooming flowers. The hot pavement causes tires to emit a not unpleasant burnt rubber odor into the mix. To me, it’s the smell of people going somewhere and getting away. And that’s what summer is all about.
Getting away.
I’ve always felt consumed with the desire to go somewhere. I just don’t know where. Nothing ever satisfies my wanderlust. As for today, a walk down the street will have to do.
Piper’s mom hands us each two dollars. “It’s hotter than blazes out there. You two go get yourselves an Icee. Go no further than the corner Stop n’ Shop, Piper, understood? And be home in time for dinner in one hour.”
“Thanks, Mom,” Piper says as she stuffs the money into the pocket of her jean shorts.
I follow suit. “Thanks, Mrs. Barton.”
Having a sleepover at Piper’s house is going to be a blast. Her
mother is rather doting.
The sounds of summer hit my senses as we leave the low hum of air conditioning. They’re my favorite sounds in the whole world. Neighborhood children squeal in the distance accompanied by the splashing of water as they frolic in a nearby swimming pool. Cicadas vibrate away with their constant pitch, making it nearly impossible to tell where they’re hiding. The click, click, click of a RainBird sounds somehow comforting as it gives life to grass. The tinkle of a car radio ringing out tunes can also be heard as someone down the street washes their car, leaving a soapy, rainbow-tinted path of water and foam rushing down the gutter.
I stretch my arms lazily as the sun soaks into my skin. In the frosty days of winter, I long for this feeling.
“Hi Miss Pearl,” Piper shouts as she waves at her next door neighbor.
Miss Pearl is a delicately beautiful Chinese woman, her glossy hair impeccably pulled back into a twist, held together by a lovely pearl comb. Each pearl appears to glow, even in the light of day. I wonder if she wears it because it represents her name. Not a single hair is out of place. She’s probably the same age as my mom, but she sure looks good for her age.
Her paradisiacal yard rivals for best on the block. It offers the illusion of privacy with a short rustic fence around the perimeter of the property. A trickling waterfall adds serenity as it drizzles into a koi pond filled with brightly colored fish. Flashes of orange can be detected even from where I stand on the sizzling sidewalk. Several Juniper trees dot the landscape, trained in bonsai form. A rock trail meanders, mimicking a dry river bed. Flagstone steps, surrounded by lush moss, allow one to wander the garden.
The sight makes me stop and stare. If the dictionary offered images, Miss Pearl’s yard would be pictured under tranquility. She doesn’t need to go far to get away from it all. All she has to do is step out her front door and let herself be transported.
“Hello, Piper,” Miss Pearl says in an ultra soft voice. While she’s clearly working in her Asian-inspired garden, she appears as fresh as her yard, not a single bead of sweat visible on her bronzed skin. Her slight frame and graceful movements make the word feminine enter my mind. Miss Pearl is a living, breathing definition of a lady.
“Would you and Savannah like to help me feed my fish?” Miss Pearl queries.
She’s wearing a high collared red blouse with a mandarin collar and black frog closures, and dark jeans. A mix of old and new.
“Yeah, we’d love to,” Piper answers with enthusiasm, opening the gate. Once I’m through, Piper slams the gate and Miss Pearl flinches.
I follow, while wondering how Miss Pearl knows my name. She has never seen me here before. This is the first time I’ve ever been to Piper’s home. She must’ve overheard us talking.
“I see you out here feeding ‘em all the time. How often do you hafta do it?” Piper asks, smacking her gum loudly.
“It depends on the temperature outside. On warm days like today, their metabolism is high and I can feed them 2 to 4 times a day. When it gets colder they only eat once a day. When they see me, they sometimes gather at the surface and ‘beg’ for more food, but once a day plus the algae in the pond is enough for them when it gets chilly.”
“Gross. They eat algae?”
“Yes, little one.”
“I’m not little, I’m twelve. And Savannah’s almost twelve.”
Miss Pearl’s eyes rest on me. After a slight nod, Miss Pearl smiles. I smile back, liking her immediately.
Miss Pearl kneels down next to the pond, the dainty silver bracelets adorning her wrist tinkling melodically as she moves. “Watch, they recognize me.” The fish gather as if they’re drawn to Miss Pearl. She holds out her hand and several eat directly from her palm.
“Wow. That’s so cool,” Piper bellows. “How did you get them to do that?”
“Much practice. And trust.”
Miss Pearl hands us each a handful of fish food. “I feed them only what they can eat in five minutes. If there is any left after that, I’ve fed them too much.”
I gently sprinkle the food over the water. Piper throws her handful in and makes the fish scatter.
“Careful, you must not scare them,” Miss Pearl scolds.
Piper scowls. “Oops, sorry. Can I do it again?”
Miss Pearl gives Piper another handful and she tosses it in as carelessly as the first handful.
My mom says Piper has no manners and now I see what she means. She’s always been a good friend to me though.
“Do they have babies?” Piper asks loudly, while leaning over the pond to get a better view.
“Shhhhh,” Miss Pearl says with a finger over her lips. “The koi are very sensitive. Yes, they have babies. The female lays eggs and the male fertilizes them. It’s called spawning.”
“Koi? I thought these were just big goldfish.” Piper’s voice remains high-pitched and I wonder if Miss Pearl will ask us to leave.
“They look similar, yes. Goldfish were developed in China through selective breeding. Koi were developed in Japan. Goldfish are much, much smaller than koi. They are both from different species of carp. They interbreed sometimes, but this is not good. Their offspring are sterile.”
“What’s sterile mean?” Piper asks.
I remember learning about sterility in health class. “It’s very sad. It means they can’t have babies,” I answer quietly, staring at the water.
“Oh, so they’re useless.” Piper splashes the water with her hand, sending ripples over the water, and causing the fish to once again scatter.
Miss Pearl’s delicate hand touches Piper’s hand. “No, little one, a living thing is never useless.”
Even though her words are directed at Piper, Miss Pearl’s eyes are on me.
Piper shrugs. “Whatever. I’m never getting married and I’m never gonna have kids. Too much work.”
A look of distaste washes over Miss Pearl’s face as she turns away from Piper. She stands to her full petite height, the action seeming elegant, and I find myself face to face with Miss Pearl. She isn’t much taller than me.
“What about you, Savannah? Do you want to marry one day?”
“Yes.” I lower my eyes, wanting to say more, but not finding the words. In new situations, words always escape me. For some reason, my brain has a short circuit. I want to tell her that I’ve grown up in a big family and I love it. I want her to know that I plan to have lots of babies when I marry someday. But I don’t say anything.
She’s studying me intently and it makes me nervous. Her lips move with silent words as if she’s speaking only to herself. Miss Pearl reaches up and traces her fingertips over my cheeks, along my jaw line and chin. I notice she holds a gold coin in her palm. It registers in my mind and is forgotten just as quickly.
For some reason, I can’t move and allow her to study me in this strange manner. I don’t feel threatened, I feel intrigued.
With her feather touch, her fingers travel over my nose, then up to my forehead, and over my eyebrows. She takes my hand in hers, her touch as gentle as the breeze. “There are three things I must tell you, Savannah.”
Everything around me loses focus except my direct line of sight on Miss Pearl. It’s as if I’ve entered a tunnel and Miss Pearl is the only thing in view. I try to back out and find I’m powerless to do so.
“You must always remember. Promise me.”
I barely manage a nod of my head.
“The first is this: You will receive tragic news very soon. You mustn’t let if define you. A life filled with love will still be yours.”
Although Miss Pearl is speaking out loud, it’s as though her words are softly whispered in my ears. Yet, they thunder in my mind and heart as if they’ve been shouted from the rooftops.
“The second is vital and must remain written on your heart. When the red bird gives his life for you, you must stop your journey immediately or all will be lost. Repeat it.”
Some hidden force propels me forward and the words spill forth without my permission
. “When the red bird gives his life for me, I must stop my journey immediately or all will be lost.”
“Yes, very good. Now the last thing I must tell you will set the course for your life. If not followed your path may lead to unhappiness. Do you understand, little one?”
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling as though I’m in a trance.
“The desires of your heart will be fulfilled. You will marry one day, Savannah. But, above all, you must choose wisely. The Chinese say: Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses. Listen to me and remember. Your true love is Paul. You must find your Paul, you must search far and wide for him, yet you must be astute. The Chinese also say: Love is an eye that doesn’t see anything. Your Paul will love you, Savannah, and he will see no wrong. He will see a jewel of great worth.”
Miss Pearl’s deep brown eyes appear silken black as she stares into my blue eyes for several moments. I’m sure I see a light flicker in those eyes and, mesmerized, I can’t tear my eyes away, as if the light is inviting me to follow. I stand as if a statue, feeling as though I can’t breathe, can’t speak, can’t act.
“Paul, Savannah. Do not forget.” Miss Pearl’s voice again echoes in my ears, yet speaks deafeningly to my heart.
“Well, me and Savannah hafta go now. Thanks, Miss Pearl. That was fun,” Piper interrupts, oblivious to what’s going on around her.
“Paul,” I whisper, committing the name to memory. It isn’t a hard name to remember, it’s the message behind the name I vow to never forget.
I politely thank Miss Pearl, not really sure what I’m thanking her for, but I know something has just happened.
Something big. Something monumental. Something I will never, ever forget.
When Miss Pearl releases my hand, I come to my senses and the trance-like paralysis leaves me.
Piper walks toward the gate, ignoring the stone steps and plodding over the deep green moss, leaving careless imprints.
Knowing Piper’s actions displease Miss Pearl, I carefully step on the stones that lead to the gate. I cast one final glance at Miss Pearl and find the charming lady watching me with kind eyes.
