I’m just working on the hopes that your love for each other will make it work. You understand? Love him and be ready for him returning.” Cherokee Joe said as he turned and followed Zebadiah out of the door.
“Let’s sit and talk a while Razzer. Your mind is in a strange place. You have your world in a tangle of confusion. Before we go further you need to understand that. You need to understand that you are still the one in control and the one that can pull this together. Only you.” Cherokee Joe said.
“I took a bullet to the head Joe. I’m insane. Tonight, I drank enough whiskey to sink a battleship. How the hell you think I’m going to sort any of this let alone make any sense of it?” Zebadiah replied.
They set themselves down on a fallen tree, overlooking the creek. Far in the distance, the lights of other homesteads were lit up. The hills opposite were spotted with the faint glow of other families having other meetings about other issues. All so far away tonight. None of them would be able to help Zebadiah with his issues anyway. Perhaps from over there, folk could see a light shining from the house. Perhaps not. Zebadiah turned around to look at his home. It was gone. He and Cherokee Joe were sat with their backs to nothing but a burned out ruin. He shuddered.
“Am I insane Joe? Is that the truth of all this?” Zebadiah asked.
“You want me to tell you it’s all normal? You had a bang on the head and if it gets better all this will go away? I can’t tell you that my friend. I spent some short time learning to talk to my ancestors. Accepting their wisdom when I had questions. But this? Nothing like this. This is real Razzer. This the most incredible power of love. Nothing I have seen could prepare me for this. Only you can answer it my friend.” Cherokee Joe said.
Zebadiah turned back to look at the ruined house. The moon had risen full and bathed the burned and charred remains in a silent silver glow. How could he have ever lived in this place all this time without knowing? His head was throbbing and he knew it wasn’t the moonshine he’d been drinking. He could feel the scar on his head was livid and sore. His leg too ached in pain and he could barely move his arm.
“Without this, I will fall apart Joe. She’s kept me healthy and healing right? Somehow she was fixing my wounds.” Zebadiah said.
“Somehow, yes. And yes, without it, you will start to feel the pain of the reality she has spared you. Sure your wounds will heal over time, but you’ll be a cripple until that head wound slowly kills you I think. If it doesn’t kill you physically it will kill you mentally. There is only one way out of this, but you know that.” Cherokee Joe replied.
“I think perhaps we should walk a while. Let you feel your body as it really is and let you learn how your mind will respond to the real world. Just a short walk Razzer. We’ll take our time.”
He stood up and Zebadiah followed now leaning heavily on his cane. They started walking down the track that led to town. Zebadiah was slow. He felt every step now and the pain pulsed through his body to gritted teeth.
They hadn’t gone too far down the track when Cherokee Joe stopped and looked back at Zebadiah. He gave a gentle smile.
“Let’s finish this moonshine Razzer.” He said, holding a mason jar up in his hand. “Then you can go on ahead on your own for a while okay?”
“Sure, I’m about ready for a drink Joe.” Zebadiah said reaching for the jar.
He took a long hard swallow of the liquid and gasped. It burned but not nearly as bad as the pain had been burning from his wounds. The liquor felt good. Damn good he thought as he took another hit before handing the jar back to Cherokee Joe. He watched as the tall Indian took a big swallow himself.
“Okay Razzer my friend. This is as far as I’m going with you. This is a journey you and only you can make. I shall be waiting for you, have no fear.” Cherokee Joe said.
“You think I’ll find the answers down there Joe? I’m not sure this body can go much further than it has already” Zebadiah replied.
“No not too much further. But yes I think the answer is waiting for you down there.” Cherokee Joe said.
“Joe? I understand what you said back at the house about you killing me. Or rather not killing me. I don’t want to put that on your conscience man.” Zebadiah said.
“No I will be standing here waiting for you Razzer. I won’t be killing you.” Cherokee Joe replied.
Zebadiah gave the big man a huge hug with his good arm and turned to face back down the road. Stepping off he looked back to see his friend watch him go. He could see in the moonlight that there were tears on the big man’s face and he braced himself and continued his journey.
With each step down the road Zebadiah could feel the pain in his body getting worse and worse. He placed the weight on his bad leg gingerly and held himself up with a tight grip on his cane. His arm ached as it tried to compensate for the weakness in his leg. It too, was damaged enough and was feeling every step. Zebadiah kept his eyes forward down the road and kept stepping forward, though he knew not to where. His trust in Joe right now was all that kept him moving. His trust in Joe and his deep love for Mary and Joshua. He had to go on. Somewhere on this journey he would find the answer.
He had been hobbling for what seemed like hours but he knew must only have been some fifteen minutes. He needed a break; a drink and a chance to let his leg and his arm ease up from the pressure. Just two minutes sat on the trackside would do he thought. He lowered himself to the ground and reached around for a cigarette in his pocket. He growled as he put the cigarette to his mouth and lit it. The pain in his leg didn’t ease and he pushed it out into the road to take off some pressure.
He felt the piercing sting in his leg in an instant. He knew it wasn’t his wound. He knew he had been bitten. The pain roared up his leg and he groaned deeply, the cigarette falling from his lips as he rolled over onto the track.
He was lying on his back groaning as he looked up into the night sky at the full clear moon shining down on him. He felt bathed in its light. The stinging pain of the bite was taking hold as he saw the dark shape rise beside his head. The mouth of the copperhead was open wide as it snapped forward and bit down deep into his neck. Zebadiah had seen the piercing eyes looking into his as it struck. No malevolence or evil. Just smooth efficiency. The warm silky skin of the snake pressed hard against the skin of his neck as it forced the fangs deeper and deeper to pump its deadly venom into his system.
Zebadiah could feel the venom injecting into his jugular, burning hot. His throat was closing and he was gasping for the cool night air. The gasps came quicker and shallower as his throat closed tighter and tighter. He was paralyzed with pain and could barely move his head but heard the gentle swish of the snake sliding back into the undergrowth. Above him the moon continued to shine down gently on the deathly event.
Zebadiah knew he didn’t have long. He had nothing but respect for snakes and understood them well. Killing a man was not something they would ever want to do if they could avoid it. The venom they produced was enough to kill their prey and a man was too big to eat. Wasting all that venom in defense would mean there was nothing left to kill dinner with. Zebadiah also knew the venom was potent and the bite to the leg had been just a warning. The bite to the neck was the killer. Fifteen minutes maybe. Time to smoke a cigarette, say a prayer or iron a shirt but not time for anything after that. The body would slowly close down and the internal organs would give up. No doctor could save him now. Even if a doctor had been stood beside him he couldn’t be saved without anti-venom anyhow. Zebadiah was dying and he knew it. He also knew he hadn’t killed himself. He hadn’t expected to die and Joe had said quite clearly he wouldn’t be doing the job either. This had to be the answer Joe was talking about. This had to be the way he could stay with Mary and Joshua for eternity. It had to be the way, didn’t it?
Chapter 11
As Zebadiah lay dying in the middle of the track, the moon still shining over him another dark shadow fell over him. This one enveloped him and blotted out the sky and he could feel the stron
g hands of Cherokee Joe hauling him up.
“Let’s get you home Razzer. Your family is waiting I reckon.” Cherokee Joe said.
Cherokee Joe lifted the dying Zebadiah up onto his back and began the slow walk to the burned out ruin. Zebadiah was fading into unconsciousness but his mind was screaming and he tried to mouth the words. “Don’t save me Joe! Please not now! Don’t try to save me.”
He knew the big Indian had a knowledge of the country like nobody he had ever met and if anyone could save him from a snake bite, even one as lethal as the one Zebadiah had suffered it would be Joe. But, this was his chance. This was his time. He tried to wriggle off the big man’s back but there was nothing left in his body to struggle with. He gave up knowing he would probably be dead before they reached the house.
Cherokee Joe lowered him off his back and sat him against the fallen tree they had sat on earlier. He took a small flask from his pocket and pushed it to Zebadiah’s lips.
“Just water and a few herbs Razzer my friend. It will just ease the pain awhile.” Cherokee Joe said.
He could feel Zebadiah trying to fight against the bottle and hushed him gently.
“No need to fight it friend. This isn’t a cure. Just going to let you go nice and easy is all. Trust Cherokee Joe. It’s all gonna be fine.”
Zebadiah relaxed and felt the pungent liquid on his tongue. The pain in his body was wretched but soon he could feel a calming glow from the herbal drink and his eyes flickered in thanks before closing.
Cherokee Joe sat beside Zebadiah holding him in his arms. Zebadiah’s head now resting on his chest. The big man was singing a song in a deep baritone. Through closed dying eyes, Zebadiah couldn’t make out any words but could hear the sweet cadence and in his head could see the colors spin and dance to the tune. He could see the house. It was fine and grand and lit by soft sunlight. The hills and forest around it glowed and swayed to the rhythm of the chant from Cherokee Joe. The sound of a whispering breeze swept through the hills and embraced him as he felt himself rise up onto his feet and look at the door. There stood Mary. In her arms she held a smiling Joshua and the pair of them were beaming with happiness as they saw him. He walked through the gate and up to the front door and swept them both into his arms. Strong arms. Arms that were no longer scarred and torn and his leg too felt like it could walk forever. Together they entered the house and inside in the sitting room were his family and friends. They cheered and clapped as he came through the door. The room was loaded with food and drinks and as they all raised a glass towards Zebadiah, his mother stepped forward and embraced him. “Welcome home Zebadiah my son. This is a real homecoming for you.”
Zebadiah settled into a chair at the table and took the proffered glass from his father. He raised it up to the room full of people.
“Here’s to you all!” He shouted happily. Then he turned to Mary who was stood beside the chair he was in. “And here’s to Mary. A love so strong it defies death. I love you darling, with all my heart.”
Zebadiah looked towards the door and moved from his chair.
“Something wrong Zeb?” Mary asked.
“Joe is outside. Waiting for me. I should say goodbye I think.” Zebadiah said.
“Joe will be joining us soon enough my darling. He belongs with his own kind now. He has done all he can for you and understands.” Mary replied, kissing Zebadiah on the forehead and guiding him back to his seat.
Chapter 12
Cherokee Joe picked up the now still body of Zebadiah. He walked down towards the creek and followed the edge to the old sycamore tree.
He had spent some time, while Zebadiah had been painfully walking down the track, to dig a hole. A hole in which he now lowered the body of Zebadiah Rasnake into. The grave he had dug lay between the two that were already there. Zebadiah now slept soundly between his mother and his young wife and baby.
Cherokee Joe stood back and rested on the shovel he had left by the grave. He took himself a drink and slowly began to fill the hole. Patiently he wandered around the edge of the creek to collect a pile of stones he would cover the newly filled grave with.
He worked through the night and the sun was trying to climb over the mountains as he laid the last rock. He stood back to admire his handiwork. It looked well he thought and the family looked comfortable together under the large, old sycamore tree. The view from there would be spectacular and would change colors as the seasons came and went. They would all find peace here.
His work here was done. Cherokee Joe made his way back along the creek and up to the burned out ruins. He rested awhile and was sure he could hear the sounds of laughter and partying from where the sitting room would have been. He smiled as he set off down the track to town.
On the way down he met the copperhead snake, curled up in the undergrowth, waiting for the sun to warm its body and allow it to bask in its rays.
Cherokee Joe reached into a pocket and pulled out a large rat. He placed it down on the track in front of the snake.
“I appreciate your efforts. My friend does too. You made his journey much easier for him and we thank you. Please accept this gift. I know you gave all you had last night and will be hungry for it.” Cherokee Joe said.
“You did well my son. I am proud of you. Walking with the dead is no easy task. Now return to your own people. You will receive a homecoming too.” A voice behind him said.
He turned to see his long-dead father smile at him as he faded into nothing.
He had a long trip home now and the day was new. Cherokee Joe made his way down to the main road and headed back to North Carolina.
THE END
Bearly Friends
Shifter Romance
Bear Baby
About the Book
A circle of friends is a thing to cherish. For Tessa Johnson a summer trip to the Blue Ridge Mountains of Northern Georgia is just the thing to take the edge off of a rough year and what has turned out to be a very tumultuous time for one of her friends. She has no idea she’s heading straight into fate and a world she’s only ever dreamed of. And her friends are coming with her.
A string of mistakes leads to some very interesting interactions with the very stoic Hale Masters. Tessa can’t keep her eyes off him, and the promise of excitement and passion that flares in his eyes makes her school-teacher heart beat. He makes her want to let her hair down but she holds back. Would such a rich man be interested in her when her two beautiful best friends are far more his type? Or is she wrong and she’s just what the Alpha male has been looking for?
Tessa finds herself conflicted and lost but with her friends around, encouragement to break her own rules is never far. Letting go is a hard thing to do but Tessa wants to give Hale all he asks for and more. An emergency at home changes her plans however and Tessa takes it as the answer she’s been seeking. But is it really the one she wanted?
Chapter 1
“Tessa! We’re leaving in twenty minutes, where are you?” My friend Kaia’s voice came blasting out of the speaker of my mobile phone and I wanted to smother her with my pillow. Well, smother the phone with my pillow at least. Cracking an eye open I peeked at the glaring green lit numbers. It was five minutes to six, what was her problem?
Then I lurched up. It was five minutes to six, I’d overslept! Telling Kaia I’d be at her place in ten minutes I scrubbed my teeth and face, almost using the toothpaste as my facewash, threw my toiletries in a bag, and grabbed the bag I’d thankfully packed the night before. It was vacation time and I’d almost missed it.
I looked down at the clothes I’d thrown on, a conservative button up top in a shade of electric green that was about as wild as my wardrobe got, black slacks, and shoes my other friend Cora called “the erection crushers”, and sighed. I’d promised the girls I’d wear some of the new clothes I’d bought but they were packed up and I didn’t have time to change. I only had five more minutes to get to Kaia’s house if we wanted to hit the road and get to the Singing Stones Resort in the Blue Ridge M
ountains we were heading to on time. I wanted to miss the morning traffic in Atlanta and only had a few minutes to spare.
Hoping I wouldn’t get caught speeding, I floored the gas pedal of my SUV and drove away from my home, hoping I’d turned everything off and locked all of the windows and doors. I was singing a version of the Mad Hatters frantic cries about not being late to myself and kind of felt like Alice after she fell down the rabbit hole. The world was surreal without coffee and breakfast, something I’d have to rectify along the way but not just now, I needed to pick up my girls.
I finally pulled up to Kaia’s house with a screech of protesting brakes as I threw my foot on the pedal. Cora and Kaia were at the curb, looking at me in disbelief and awe. I never drove like this, I was never late, and I was certainly never unpredictable. At 28 I was one of the most conservative, mature, “together” people I knew. I dressed to suit my job and to garner respect, I’d paid off most of my student loans and was now working to save up for a house, I owned my own car that I bought on my own because my credit rating was excellent, and I was always on time for work.
I rolled down a window as Cora and Kaia stood there, still gaping at me.
“Yes, I know. The world has just ended, hell has indeed frozen over, and yes, there are probably zombies roaming the earth as we speak. Get in before they find you.” My joke fell on stunned ears but the other two women, my best friends and coworkers, finally got into the car after loading their luggage. Kaia sat up front while Cora climbed into one of the back seats.
“So what happened?” Kaia asked after five minutes of silence. She was looking at me as if she was afraid I’d go off, or perhaps would spontaneously combust.
“I stayed up late reading that horror book you gave me. Then my alarm didn’t go off. So here we are, on time but I still feel like I’m supposed to be rushing. This isn’t a good start to our day.”
Professor next Door Page 23
