by Denise Daisy
They howl along with the wind,
Their tears combine with the falling rain,
Their moans give depth to the claps of thunder.
They are singing; Please set us free. Please set us free.”
The fog swirled and blew closer, nearly suffocating her in its thickness. It was then she realized the fog was not a fog at all, but a chorus of pale and ghostly women with strikingly beautiful faces. Their long white hair billowed in every direction, swirling like a vapor, along with their flowing silver dresses. The women spun around her, their many mystical faces closing in on her, smothering her.
Bronwyn tried to wake, certain she must be dreaming. She desired to step from the fog and run back to the inn, hoping to wake in her bed, but the mist was so blinding, so confusing, that she was at a loss as to which way to go. She feared a step in the wrong direction would drop her into the river.
The vapor closed in as one of the ghostly women stretched out her thin white arm and touched Bronwyn’s lips with her finger.
“Silence your lips and put an end to your remorseful cries.
Listen to Brijade’ whisper,
Your deliverance is near.
Your deliverance is here.
I am Jourgrace‘, listen to me my dear and begin to remember….
Remember…
Hear my words and remember.”
There was a familiarity in the woman’s features, and for a moment Bronwyn thought she saw herself in her eyes. Desiring to touch the woman’s face, Bronwyn reached out her hand just as a solitary tear fell down her ghostly cheek. The woman smiled and then swirled away from Bronwyn’s reach. A deep sorrow invaded her heart--the heaviness of it buckled her knees and sent her into the wet grass. Her heart ached deeply for something - but what?
She lay by the water’s edge, waiting to wake from the puzzling dream, all the while trying to make sense of it. What did the song mean, and to whom did the mournful voices belong? Why were they in need of deliverance, and what was it they wished her to remember?
The mystical women began fading from her view, dissipating into the air, taking the fog, the song, and her strength along with them. She lay in the wet grass, unable to move, her body weakened from the encounter. Again, she dreamed of Travis, surrounded by falling water, and in the vision she could see his face, much clearer now. Noise and confusion surrounded him yet he never removed his eyes from her. She wanted to go to him, be near him, but as she reached out, she began to fall, plummeting into darkness, emptiness, loneliness. Then strong hands took hold of her, shaking her. She woke, surprised to be lying near the river, and with Travis kneeling beside her. She looked around. No fog, no singing women. Had she been sleepwalking?
She sat up quickly, shaken, and somewhat embarrassed to be lying outside in the grass. Her silk robe, wet with dew, clung to her body.
“What time is it?” She asked, ignoring his gaze and noticing the sun had not risen.
“Four in the morning.”
She didn’t want to explain anything. She knew he would offer no insight into her strange experience anyway. He would only remain silent, keeping to himself all the answers to the secrets that haunted her.
“I’ve always wanted to sleep under the stars,” she lied, attempting to stay as secretive as him. “They were beautiful tonight, so I decided to sleep outdoors.”
She felt silly for her lame excuse and could tell by his expression that he did not believe her.
“You didn’t bring a pillow or blanket?” he asked.
“No. I didn’t want to get anything dirty.”
“Only yourself.” He smiled as he wiped a dirty, tear-stained smudge from underneath her eye. Her heart raced at the feel of his hand and she wished he wouldn’t entice her. Didn’t he know what his touch did to her?
He offered his hand. “I’d feel much better if you slept indoors. You really shouldn’t wander off alone.” his warning sounded more like a command.
“Why?” She baited him.
“Because, it’s not safe for you to be out here alone.”
“And why is that?”
He stared at her for a moment and her spirits lifted, thinking now might be the time he would finally allude to the cloaked man, the song of the woman, or any of the unexplained events that had taken place since her arrival. As terrifying as the answers may be, she wanted to know what was going on.
“The bears feed at night,” was all he said.
She stared back, exasperated at his answer. “Bears?”
He nodded. “They come from the woods and raid the trash. You could be mauled.”
She chewed her lower lip in frustration. Why must he continue to give evasive answers, especially when he knew she was aware of something? Why couldn’t he just tell her the truth? In the garden last night, he told her he was protecting her. Maybe not telling her what was going on in this elusive town was his way of keeping her safe. Maybe it was one of those, I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you situations--and, if that was the case, then maybe it was best for her to play along and act as if she didn’t care. But, she did care, and her curiosity caused her to wonder why Travis was fully dressed and where was he going at four in the morning? She could hang back and follow him, but she had a sneaking suspicion he would know she was tracking him. She decided to play along; but she wasn’t giving up.
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to remember that.”
She cinched the sash on her robe and headed back to the inn. She’d finish her sleep in the comfort of the grand feather bed, and come sunrise, she’d do some sleuthing and uncover the secrets of Moonshine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
DAY FOUR
Bronwyn’s nocturnal wanderings robbed her of proper rest, so when Lillian and Bethany woke and went downstairs for breakfast, she thought she’d take advantage of the big empty bed and sleep in. After fifteen minutes of staring at the rotating ceiling fan, she realized her mind was much too preoccupied to rest. Today she would walk into town and do some extensive research, and hopefully uncover what was going on in Moonshine. Who were the cloaked men hiding in the woods, why were they following her, and why did she need protecting? What secrets was he keeping?
She took a quick shower and then joined the troupe for breakfast. Everyone gathered at the table except for Travis. Mavis was at the stove, flipping whole-wheat pancakes and slicing fresh fruit. She was humming again, as she did almost every morning.
Marcus poured a generous amount of syrup over his pancakes. “What is on everyone’s agenda for today?” He started to fill his mouth. “Bronwyn, I assume you will be writing?”
“Actually, I am heading into town right after breakfast. I have an idea and I’m hoping to do a little research.”
“She’s hoping to do a lot of research,” Bethany said tauntingly.
“Some serious research,” Lillian added, trying not to laugh.
Bronwyn gave them both an evil eye. The research she planned on doing had nothing to do with what they were inferring. She could care less about salvaging the lame script, but she would play along and use it as a cover while she did her investigation.
“We have a nice library in town,” Carla Jo offered. “They have internet there!”
“What are you writin’ about?” Molly asked while maple syrup dripped off her chin.
Mavis brought another stack of hotcakes to the table. “Now Molly, you’re never supposed to ask a writer to tell their story until it is written. It is top secret until then. But I am sure it’s something we’ll all enjoy reading when it’s finished.” She gave Bronwyn a gentle pat and then hobbled back over to the stove.
Bronwyn’s stomach turned inside of her, making her suddenly feel full. Pushing her plate away from her, she announced she was off to town. Bethany and Lillian jumped to their feet informing her that they were coming along. She frowned at first, not sure that she wanted them along, but thought it might be a good front for her detective work. Besides if she uncovered something, they would be witnesses to it,
and that would prove to the troupe that she wasn’t losing it, even though she knew they all suspected that she was.
The walk into town did not seem as long and fearful as it had a few days before. They enjoyed the beauty of the mountains and the peaceful existence it offered, though Bronwyn could not stop thinking about the cloaked man since her fall from the tree. She knew what she had seen, yet felt she should not speak of it to anyone. She also knew that she had never hit ground when she fell. She was still conscious when she felt the strong arms of a man catch her and touch her in the back of her neck, causing her to drift into unconsciousness. She did not fear the cloaked man, or men, as much now, knowing they had every opportunity to carry her off, yet didn’t. Whoever he was laid her gently on the ground for her friends to find. Still, there was Travis’s statement that he was protecting her and his warning of the dangers of being alone. She was certain he was not really referring to bears.
The girls strolled down the middle the road, and still not a single vehicle traveled the winding two-lane highway into Moonshine. This unnerved her as well, and added to the mystery of the place.
As they entered town, she was surprised at the bustle of activity so early in the morning. Many of the local residents lined the main street, constructing booths of various kinds. In the grand courtyard, workers were building a large wooden platform. Several firefighters were stringing up lights and hanging decorations from their ladders. Trays of warm, freshly baked pastries and hot donuts flew out of the bakery, free of charge for the workers. The coffee shop served mugs of steaming hot coffee and tea. Lively mountain ballads piped through the town’s sound system, filling the street with folksy music.
A large banner flapping in the morning breeze explained the activity. The banner reminded Bronwyn of the occasion Gil had brought to her attention the first day. The day of the fateful storm that nearly took her life.
Midsummer Night’s Cream--This Saturday, August 16th
The residents merrily continued their duties. Everyone offered a smile, a friendly wave of the hand, a tipped hat, and a myriad of hellos. Each resident insisted that the girls and the troupe attend their cherished event. Each invitation added the challenge that the girls would indeed enjoy the best ice cream they had ever put into their mouths, yet, in spite of everyone’s hospitality, the uneasiness washed over her once again. Moonshine affected her in strange ways. There were times she felt happy and comfortable, however, those moments were fleeting and all too soon gave way to the unsettling anxiety that would overshadow her without warning, like the terror she felt at the waterfalls. Then, there was the matter of her bizarre dreams--last night’s being the most unusual. It also frightened her that she had been sleep walking, something she hadn’t done since childhood. It was these things that made her desperately wish the bus were repaired, allowing her to ride away and separate herself from this place.
Bethany and Lillian seemed unaffected, as always. They did not experience any strange sensations or phenomena. She wondered if she should try confiding to Bethany one more time about her anxious feelings, or about the strange goings-on. In times past she had trusted her every secret to Bethany, save the recent pregnancy and miscarriage, yet for some unknown reason, she felt estranged from her friend. As much as she hated to admit it, there was a growing rift between them. She contemplated that once they left this bizarre town, she might leave the troupe and take a long, much needed vacation away from everyone. Maybe time away would help her put things in perspective.
It was the elegant woman with the auburn hair that unnerved Bronwyn the most. Stopping her work on a booth covered entirely with decorations of butterflies, the woman approached the girls and grabbed Bronwyn’s hand.
“I’m so glad you have finally come to us.” She whispered while squeezing Bronwyn’s hand. “We have waited for so long. You’ve renewed our hope.”
She held Bronwyn’s hand so securely that the ring she was wearing left a deep imprint in her neighboring finger. The woman dropped Bronwyn’s hand and returned to her booth, her puzzling words still echoing in Bronwyn’s ears, causing more uneasiness.
“Did you hear what she said to me?”
“No. What?” Lillian asked.
“She said she was glad I had finally come. That they’ve been waiting for me a long time. What did she mean by that?”
“Probably meant she’s glad they finally have some visitors around here,” Bethany said casually. “She probably gets bored of seeing the same people day after day.”
Another level-headed, logical explanation. Bronwyn felt angry with herself for even mentioning it. Still, even though Bethany’s explanation seemed rational, Bronwyn knew the woman meant more.
Bethany interrupted her tumbling thoughts. “Hey, you just passed the library.”
“I’m not doing my research in the library. Bronwyn said, pointing across the street to the local hair salon. “I’m doing it in the gossip center of every town.”
Bethany’s face broke in to a large grin. “Good idea!”
“You’d trust them with your hair?” Lillian asked.
“Not my hair, my feet. I could really use a relaxing pedicure.”
Bethany examined the ends of her hair. “I could use a little trim.”
“Oh I don’t know,” Lillian warned. “It’s such a small, secluded town, I’m not certain they would be up to date on the latest styles.”
“I’m not having it cut,” Bethany reiterated. “Just a slight trim.”
They entered the salon. Any stereotyping of a small town beauty shop suddenly dissipated. The décor was much different than they expected. The ambiance was that of a jungle. Tall shoots of bamboo and various palms grew from large basins scattered about the floor. Water trickled down the smooth black marbled walls, emptying into rectangular pools that housed many colorful, fresh-water fish. Overstuffed chairs, upholstered in zebra and cheetah print fabrics, offered rest for the waiting clients. The ceiling was made entirely of bamboo and palm leaves, resembling a thatched roof. Recessed lighting gave a twilight feel. A small cabana, housing a reception desk made of bamboo, blocked a beaded curtain, veiling the entrance into the parlor.
The girls introduced themselves to the receptionist, who immediately escorted them into the servicing area where the rain forest theme continued. Three floor-length mirrors hung on the walls, with styling chairs set beside each one. There were no cumbersome hair stations in sight, just rolling carts equipped with the necessary tools to perform whatever service was requested. Each area had mosquito netting draped over it. Heavy, old-fashioned ceiling fans turned slowly, offering a comfortable breeze and ventilation from the smells that accompany a salon.
Bethany was ushered to a styling chair, draped, and left waiting for her stylist. The receptionist continued to escort Bronwyn and Lillian into another room, seating them at what looked like a man-made waterfall. On top of the smooth, large boulders were soft cushions. Water fell from underneath their seats into stone basins filled with smooth pebbles of various sizes. Soft, relaxing music played in the background, interrupted by an occasional trumpet of an elephant, a caw of a bird, or the roar of a lion.
Two smiling manicurists entered the room, positioning themselves at the feet of Bronwyn and Lillian.
“Hello!” The overly bleached blond woman said to Bronwyn. “My name is Ashley.”
Ashley appeared to be Bronwyn’s age. She was pretty and tanned. Her hair was white from over-bleaching. Her companion manicurist, Sherrie, appeared to be the same age as Ashley. Her hair, a very unnatural shade of red, grew in curls that fell well beyond her waistline. Her pale skin was dotted with freckles, continuing on her lips. Her blue-gray eyes, that seemed to house a freckle or two as well, were dancing in excitement, and Bronwyn could see that the two women were thrilled at the opportunity awaiting them. Lillian was right; the people here acted giddy, treating them as if they were celebrities.
“Are you enjoying your stay at Sandalwood Inn?” Ashley asked as she went to work
on Bronwyn’s feet.
She nodded. “Yes. The inn is very comfortable, and the gardens are breathtaking.”
“Isn’t Mavis the best?” Sherrie chimed in. “She just adores that inn. It’s her way of helping people. All Travis’s patients stay there.”
“Patients?” Bronwyn repeated the word.
“Uh huh,” Ashley casually glanced up at Bronwyn while she trimmed her cuticles.
“Didn’t he tell you? He’s a doctor.”
Bronwyn and Lillian exchanged surprised glances. Her plan was playing out. Not five minutes into the conversation, and already the girls revealed new information on Travis. She was sure to uncover her coveted information.
“He is?” Lillian was intrigued.
“Actually, he is a healer.” Sherrie corrected Ashley‘s statement. “People come from all over the world for his treatments. He has a very high success rate. Most of the patients that come to him have been sent home by their doctors to die. Travis treats them, and soon they return home, cured. He hasn‘t lost a patient yet.”
Bronwyn’s mind was spinning once again. “Are you joking?”
Sherrie shook her head. “Why would we tease about that? You’ve seen the healing gardens where he grows all the herbs and plants to make his oils and medications. That’s what the big sheds out back behind the garage are for. They house all this special equipment to distill the oils from the plants. I can’t explain the process; all I know is that it really seems to work, better than regular medicine anyway.”
Bronwyn was dumfounded. Still, it all made perfect sense. Each garden was designed in a special way, each growing strange varieties of plants, offering comfort and vitality just by inhaling their aromas. Bronwyn thought of the night in the cabin when Travis efficiently dressed her wound. He had had used a strange, yet soothing mixture of balms and oils with unique scents; unique to her, anyway, but apparently not to these manicurists.
“He is very generous, too,” Ashley said. “He gives so much of his money away. He has opened clinics all over the world, most of them in very poor countries.”
