Grady hoped Elena realized what a crucial question that was. She asked for trust herself, every time she intruded upon the people of a new culture. She had asked Leigh for trust. The side of Elena’s face flared a soft red-gold as the leaves caught, and her dark eyes held a grave serenity.
Grady lifted her feet and stretched out stiffly on the bed. Her side twinged, and the firm coolness of the pillow cushioned her aching head. Elena struck another match and lit a tapered candle on the table, then turned off the small lamp, throwing the room into near darkness. She breathed deeply of the thin smoke swirling from the dish. Then she came around to the side of the bed and clasped her hands.
“Would you please move over a bit? I need to touch you to do this.” The corner of Elena’s mouth lifted. “Don’t worry. This isn’t sexual. I would probably only crack us both up anyway if I tried to make a pass.”
Grady shifted cautiously, feeling her shields rise as tangibly as the lifting of steel. Elena lay down next to her, close against her side. Grady lifted her arm automatically so Elena could rest her head on her shoulder. The bed was narrow enough that there was really nowhere else for her to go.
“What now?” Grady asked politely.
“Let’s just rest for a while. We need to wait until you start feeling less like an ironing board.”
Grady waited. It was late afternoon, but the fierce sunlight couldn’t penetrate the shadows of the quiet room. The flickering light from the candle glinted against the healing icons on the wall above it. Elena’s head was a pleasant weight on her shoulder, her arm draped lightly across Grady’s waist.
Grady breathed in the mild scent of the smoldering leaves. “Is that salvia?”
“No. Not salvia, not cannabis.” Elena’s voice was a low murmur against her chest. “It’s a blend my grandmother found when she traveled to Mexico. It isn’t a euphoric and it doesn’t inspire visions, it just clears the mind.” She paused. “Grady, I would never try to trick you with a drug. You know that, right?”
Grady heard faint distress in her tone. “Yes, I do know that. Don’t worry, Elena, I’m easy.” And she found she was getting there; she was relaxing into the bed.
“I’m starting to think you were right about protecting your students. What if one of them had been with us today?” Elena fingered the sheet beneath them. “I never intended to pull you into all the hatred and fear around Llorona, Grady. I’m so sorry you were hurt.”
“Not your fault.” Grady stared at the dark ceiling. “This is my work, Elena, exploring legends like this. You’ve been honest with me about the risks.”
She didn’t know if it was the smoke or the girl, but her mind was definitely clearing. Grady was intensely aware of the soft swells of Elena’s breasts against her side, her breath on her throat. What puzzled her was that her response was not immediate arousal. Intrigued her, actually, because this comely curandera had begun to appear in Grady’s more private fantasies as mysteriously as Maria appeared by the river. But she lay quietly beside Elena, and it was enough.
“There are things I have to know now, Grady.” Elena’s tone was kind, but there was still a vulnerable note there. “Not for Llorona, not for the work we must do together. Just for me. Are you ready?”
“Yes. I hope so.”
“Do you understand why you can hear Maria’s cry?”
“I believe I do.” Grady closed her eyes. “The only women who can hear Maria are women who have lost a child. Is that right?”
“Yes.” Elena was quiet for a moment. “But there’s more. The only women who can hear Maria are mothers who have murdered their child.”
Grady kept her eyes closed, savoring the darkness. She wondered how many people truly appreciated the beneficence of sleep. Deep sleep wiped the memory clean and silenced echoes. She had talked to Elena from the lost reaches of sleep once, calling Leigh’s name. “I let him walk on the outside,” she said. “And I let go of his hand.”
Perhaps an hour passed. Grady didn’t keep track of the time, but the candle on the table guttered down to an inch. She didn’t doze, and neither did Elena, who hummed softly, stroking Grady’s arm with the lightest brush of her fingers. Finally, Grady began.
“Max was two years old when I met him.” She smiled in the darkness. “He had the biggest ears of any kid I’d ever seen, and he loved dancing to Creedence songs. Max got a kick out of jazz, too, which Leigh loved. He liked me right away, but then Max liked everybody. He was a very sunny kid. He was crazy about dogs. He tried to hug every dog he saw. Leigh wanted to get him a puppy for his fourth birthday, but I talked her out of it. It wasn’t because of the mess or trouble, Elena. I would have loved to have a puppy in the house. I just thought Max should grow for another year before taking on a pet.”
Elena murmured something, a listening sound.
“So instead of a puppy, Leigh and I took Max camping in the mountains for his fourth birthday. We went hiking that morning. The trail was pretty narrow, lots of gravel. Leigh was on my right. Max was on my left, on the outside of the trail. I was holding his hand. His nose was running, so I let go of his hand to reach for my bandana. A squirrel ran past us and Max ran after it. I grabbed for him but I missed. He slid in the gravel and fell over the side. It was only about ten feet. But he landed badly, and he died two days later.”
Elena drew in a long, slow breath and released it.
“Leigh and I lasted almost a year after that, which was probably a miracle. Leigh didn’t blame me for Max’s death, she really didn’t. Except for the days when she did. She couldn’t help it, and neither could I. I don’t blame myself, either.”
“Except for the nights when you do,” Elena whispered.
“Except for those nights.” Grady shivered, and once she started, she couldn’t stop. Elena pulled the spread over them both and tucked it against her side, then rested her head on Grady’s shoulder again. By the time Grady’s shaking eased, the candle had winked out.
“So that’s what La Llorona and I have in common?” Grady was comforted by the darkness, and by Elena’s warmth against her. “We both killed our—”
“You and Llorona both feel terrible guilt for deaths you could not prevent,” Elena said. “You both blame yourselves for your lost children, when no just and humane person would ever blame either of you. Hush, Grady. This isn’t about Maria right now.”
“What is it about?”
“Me. You and me. I had to hear the truth about the woman I’m falling in love with. Just lie still. Let me hold you.”
Grady’s chin brushed Elena’s hair. Her curls smelled like fresh rain on parched desert earth, and that’s how Elena’s tears felt as they fell on her chest. She began to whisper a low prayer in Spanish, a musical, chanting sound.
Grady’s own tears scalded her at first, behind the red darkness of her closed eyes. Then they brimmed and coasted silently down her face. Her breathing didn’t change and her body didn’t tense; she lay perfectly still beneath Elena’s stroking hand. It was how Grady had always wept, at least as an adult—reluctantly, and only when depleted by emotional exhaustion. She had never cried with anyone but Leigh over Max. She had never cried over Leigh at all, until now.
Sleep was starting to claim her by the time Elena finished her prayer. Elena’s palm circled Grady’s heart, a more intimate genuflection. “Deseo que podría curar tu dolor, hermana,” she whispered. “I wish I could heal your pain.”
Grady nodded her thanks. A faint memory was trying to tug her away from the seductive pull that wanted to draw her under—something about Elena falling in love with her. Either the pull was suddenly too strong, or the thought was entirely too intense. Grady ran like the weary coward she was and spiraled down into dreamless sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
My lips move silently tonight, mi Diosa, so as not to disturb this grieving woman’s hard-won rest. She lies still beside me, her body soft and relaxed at last, her strong shoulder cushioning my cheek. My heart breaks, knowing the full enormity
of her pain.
I pray now for the spirit of a little boy I never met, who resides with You in the stars. He has big ears and he loves to dance. Please bestow all Your blessings on young Max, and help him find a way to send his love to Grady, and his forgiveness.
I know it is true that an immortal spirit can carry rage and a thirst for vengeance far beyond the darkness of the grave. Maria’s soul is still steeped in such hatred, centuries after her death. But it is also true, then, that love and compassion survive. If the fury of a bloodthirsty witch can still ravage lives today, then surely the love of a small boy can ease the ache in Grady’s noble heart.
Our two River Walkers, Diosa. Both torture themselves for the deaths of their children. Their guilt is their only bond, the only commonality between two spirits who could not be more different, the light and the dark. A self-imposed and punishing guilt that neither of them deserve. Please, help them both find peace.
I know I should also pray to You to ease the pain in Hector Acuña’s heart. As with Maria, his hatred is born of suffering. He loved the brother La Llorona stole from him, and that is what drove him to try to harm us today. But Hector Acuña injured my friend, this woman who already bears too much sorrow. I find it easier to plead for Your intervention in Manny Herrera’s troubled life. I remember him as a little boy with ice cream smeared on his chin, asking about everything in our shop. Manny is still young, and can still turn back toward the light.
And lastly, Dear Mother, were You listening when Your Elenita finally, for the very first time in her life, told a woman she was falling in love with her? Did You catch the woman’s reaction? She FELL ASLEEP. Ha ha ha, I now see why Your sense of humor is so useful.
I will not close my eyes tonight. This time with Grady is too precious to squander in sleep. Like You, I will keep watch over her until the sun rises. Even if there is never anything more between us, I thank You, mi Diosa, for these few hours holding her in my arms.
Please smile down on Your weary daughters, and direct our steps along Your path. With love from Your Elena.
Chapter Fourteen
Grady surfaced slowly, as if drifting up through warm, languid waters, and awoke alone in Elena’s healing room. She blinked several times at the ceiling, a little awed by a sense of comfort and peace that rarely blessed her mornings. She sat up gingerly, and the twinge in her head reminded her of yesterday’s more bruising highlights, but neither her body nor her heart felt nearly as battered as she might have expected. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and touched her chest. There was a light dampness on her shirt, and she remembered the tears Elena had shed the night before.
Inez’s querulous voice sounded from upstairs, and Elena’s soothing tone responded from the shop. Tantalizing aromas were wafting through the beaded curtain, and Grady groped for her boots, her mouth watering. She was not ordinarily a breakfast person. Her stomach was often half sour from a sleepless night of churning through old memories, and all she usually wanted was a bracing flood of strong coffee. But she hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch, and whatever Elena was cooking woke her appetite with a vengeance.
She stepped through the strings of beads and down the two steps into the shop, tucking in her shirt and trying to claw her hair into some semblance of neatness. She saw Elena standing by the oak table in the corner, which was laden with steaming platters and plates. Elena was adjusting a vase filled with fresh flowers at the center of the table. Grady watched her move it two inches to the left, then back again. Elena stepped back, as if to judge her centerpiece, then moved it two inches to the right.
“Good mrng.” Grady’s voice was a little hoarse with sleep, and she smiled shyly and cleared her throat. “I mean, good morning.”
Elena turned quickly and clasped her hands behind her, color touching her cheeks. “Ah, buenos días, Grady. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, as a matter of fact.” Grady walked to the table, brushing her hands together greedily. “Are you feeding the neighborhood?”
“Uh, no, just the house. I hope you’re hungry.”
“Well, it would be bad manners to turn down a breakfast my hostess must have been slaving over since dawn, right?” Grady held Elena’s chair for her, then circled the table and sat in the other. “Like Mrs. Herrera says, I’m very polite.”
Elena giggled, and Grady realized she was nervous. “I hope you like chorizo.”
“I’ll force myself, somehow, given my good manners.” Grady lifted the platter of fragrant sausage and helped herself. “Any chance your mother might join us?”
“Not a chance in the world.” Elena spooned an abundant helping of steaming scrambled eggs with green chile onto Grady’s plate, then filled her own. “Don’t worry. Mamá got first choice of every dish. She’s happy up there.”
Grady would have engaged in some kind of pleasant small talk, but she felt no real need for it. They loaded their plates, and Elena poured them huge glasses of chilled orange juice. Grady remembered to thank her soundly before she dug in, because she didn’t think she’d be able to talk once all the chewing started.
But once Elena relaxed, they managed to inhale vast quantities of food and converse at the same time, and the ease of their talk surprised Grady. She had told this maddening curandera about the most painful year of her life last night, but she felt no solemn veil between them now. They didn’t talk about any of the secrets revealed, or dead witches or blue trucks, because they found many other interesting topics to explore. Grady didn’t know if it was the protein or the solid night’s sleep—or the shedding of overdue tears, or Elena’s healing prayer—but she felt ten years younger this morning.
“…and I thought I’d bring us a real desert Christmas tree.” Elena swallowed mightily and continued, waving her fork. “So I found this great little yucca tree out on the mesa, and I hauled it back here and stuck it in a big pot and decorated it. And it was great! And then that night, when the heater was on and the shop was warm and so was the yucca tree, we heard this low, awful buzzing start up.”
“Uh-oh.” Grady grinned, anticipating what was coming, and bit into her toast.
“Right. The hornets were awake! The hornets that were passing this nice peaceful winter tucked into yucca pods, until this stupid girl came along and dragged them inside and woke them up. I ran down here and they were flying all over the place. I was jumping around and flailing my shawl—” Elena did a great demonstration, and Grady sputtered laughter into her orange juice. “I got most of them out, but we kept hearing little isolated buzzing sounds in here for weeks afterward. Mamá threatened to burn down the shop to chase them off for good.”
“Hey, that would have worked.” Grady sat back in her chair, sated and happy. “Elena, I will never eat again. This was wonderful. Thank you.”
“You are most welcome.” Elena stretched, running her fingers through her tumbling hair. “Every bite of this breakfast is going immediately to my hips, and I do not care. I will be proud to carry an extra pound as a tribute to our time together this morning.”
“I wish it didn’t have to end.” Grady checked her watch. “But my seminar is meeting pretty soon, and I need to head up there.” She had a thought. “Any chance you might want to come along?”
“To the campus?” Elena brightened.
“Yeah. You might be able to help me convince my three intrepid students that writing this paper is getting too dangerous.”
“And I could see your classroom?”
“Well, I don’t really have one room, but I could show you where I work. My office. You’ve showed me yours, I can show you mine. I mean…”
Elena laughed. “Grady, you don’t do sexual humor any better than I do. But yes, thank you. I would love to see where you work.”
They gathered the plates and glasses and stacked them in the deep sink at the back of the side room. Grady was touched with a pleasing sense of domesticity as she helped Elena wash them. Their wet hands touched occasionally, sending a warm tingle throu
gh her arm. They were heading toward the shop’s door when Inez called from upstairs.
“Go ahead, leave me all alone up here! I’ll try to have my heart attack nice and quiet so my death throes won’t disturb you when you come back, if you ever do.”
“Have a wonderful heart attack, Mamá.” Elena turned off the lights, and the shop was filled with the striated morning light coming through the slatted windows. “It’s my day off, and I’m going to school. Say good-bye to Grady, please.”
“Good-bye to the gringa who ate up all our food.”
“Take care, Inez,” Grady called, fishing her keys out of her pocket.
Elena shook her head and twirled her own set of keys. “Your truck is nose-down in a ditch, remember? Elena drives.”
“Ah, that’s right,” Grady sighed. “Can we take your horse?”
“We might get there faster if we did. Wait till you see my little car.”
*
Elena’s ancient Ford rattled all the way to the campus, but it got them to Breland Hall. Grady unlocked the door to her office and waved Elena through.
“Whoa.” Elena lifted her hands and stopped abruptly, bringing Grady up short. She turned in a slow circle, taking in the artifacts on the walls and the tall shelves full of books. “Grady, this is a wonderful office. I want to spend all day in here.”
“I like it too, but it’s a little cramped for a meeting of five.” Grady went to her desk and scrawled a few lines on a legal pad.
“Will you tell me where all of these things came from someday?” Elena’s hand hovered respectfully over a small twig of petrified wood on Grady’s desk. “Like this stick?”
Grady smiled as she tore the sheet off the pad. In the richness of the art in her office, no one else had ever noticed the simplest of her souvenirs, and her longtime favorite. “That was a gift from my first field assignment. It’s a prayer stick. An old holy man from a Cayuse tribe whispered a prayer for me into it, some kind of wish. I still don’t know what he asked for, but he was a funny, kind man. It was something good. He told me to keep it close, and I always have.”
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