Children of the Earth

by Anna Schumacher

  Floyd nodded. “Karen and I will check in the woods across the street. Here, take this.” He handed her a small blue penlight. “It’s dark out there.”

  “And be careful!” Karen added.

  Daphne kissed each of them on the cheek and opened the door to the truck, her sneakers imprinting the fresh snow as her aunt and uncle started in the other direction.

  The trees at the edge of the woods hovered tall and menacing. Dead leaves still clung to their branches, rustling coded warnings in the wind, and a trio of snowflakes landed in cold formation on her nose. There was still time to turn back, she thought as she stepped into the dark overhang. Nobody would judge her—she’d just spent the afternoon in jail. But she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest knowing an innocent young boy was still missing.

  The woods surrounded her, draping her in shadows. The penlight grew frigid in her ungloved hand, and dampness soaked through her canvas Chuck Taylors, nibbling at her toes.

  A sound, startling in the dark maze of trees, made her freeze in place. It was faint but definitely there: a small whimper, followed by heavy breathing.

  She froze, her pulse pounding against her neck. Those sounds could be coming from Charlie—and she didn’t know who else was out there with him. She had to be careful; it was probably best not to let on that she was there.

  Slowly, she raised her penlight and trained it around the woods, trees and shadows blending in the thin illumination of her beam. Then she saw it: something moving, a dark clump against one of the trees. Her light caught a mass of cornsilk-colored hair, and the clump broke into two figures, their breath coming in ragged ellipses.

  Daphne’s mouth dropped open.

  “Janie?!” she gasped.

  The figures broke apart.

  “What the hell?” Janie squinted into the light, her big blue eyes hardening. Daphne’s heart clenched as she glanced from her cousin to the guy who’d been kissing her—a guy who definitely wasn’t Doug.

  Where Doug was all size and neck, this new boy was elfin and delicate. Their eyes met, and a shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the frigid night. She knew those eyes, knew that too-bright-to-be-real shade of green. Janie wasn’t just kissing a stranger. She was kissing one of the Children of the Earth.

  Janie clicked on her flashlight, bathing Daphne in a sterile circle of white. Her mouth turned down when she made out her cousin’s face. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was cold.

  “Looking for the sheriff and his son.” Daphne tried to keep her tone neutral. “Um, what are you doing?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Janie said archly. “And if I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut about this. Unless, of course, you want everyone knowing about your little thing with Owen.”

  “What?” Daphne’s hands started to shake, trembling the beam of her penlight.

  Janie rolled her eyes. “I’m not dumb, you know. Even if you and everyone else think I am.”

  The boy placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I should go,” he said quietly. “It sounds like you two have some things to work out.”

  “No, Ciaran!” Janie grasped his arm. “Don’t. She can go. You stay.”

  Ciaran spoke so gently, Daphne had to strain to hear. “You care about each other—and both of you are hurting inside.”

  Daphne felt a jolt of discomfort. How did he know how she felt inside?

  Janie shook her head. “I just don’t want to deal with her right now.”

  “Janie.” Ciaran caught her eyes and held them until she started to cave. “You need this. Like in the graveyard last night. Do this for you, not me. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

  Her features softened as she looked up at him. “Okay.” The word came out in a feathery sigh.

  He took her hand and brushed her fingertips lightly before turning and walking toward Daphne, heading back the way she’d come.

  Ciaran’s eyes met Daphne’s for a moment as he stepped past her, and she felt something pass between them, a subtle current of understanding. She sensed that he could tell that she knew who and what he was, and in turn he recognized her. He nodded once, the way an athlete would nod to someone from the opposing team. The way you’d nod to an enemy.

  Daphne turned back to Janie. Her cousin leaned against the tree, her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes narrowed. The snowfall swallowed the silence between them.

  “I guess he’s right,” Daphne said finally. “I guess we do have stuff to work out.”

  “Like what?” Janie’s nose twitched. “Like you ignore me for months, and then as soon as something good finally happens, you come along and ruin it?”

  Her words sliced Daphne’s heart. “I wasn’t ignoring you,” she said quietly.

  “Oh yeah? Then how come you never came to see me? I was up in that godforsaken house dying on the inside, and you couldn’t even be bothered to stop by?”

  Daphne sucked in a sharp breath. “I wanted to come see you,” she insisted. “But you know how much the Varleys hate me. I wasn’t even sure they’d let me in.”

  As the words fell from her mouth, she realized how pathetic they sounded. It made sense, suddenly, why Janie was so mad. So what if the Varleys weren’t Daphne’s number-one fans? That was no excuse not to be there for her cousin while she was in mourning, going through the most terrible grief a person could endure. Daphne should have tried harder. She should have been a better friend.

  The truth of the matter was something she would rather keep hidden, something she could barely admit to herself. The truth was that she felt helpless in the face of Janie’s grief, terrified by her own inability to do or say the right thing, to help when it seemed like her cousin was beyond help. And so she’d ignored it, that feeling of uselessness, caught up instead in her own relationship and her own life, too deep inside her own head to be there when Janie needed her the most.

  “And you’ve been too busy playing prophet,” Janie added, her lip curling in a sneer.

  A small, hot thread of anger twisted through Daphne’s core, burning at the edges of her sympathy. “I’m not playing!” she insisted. “Do you think it’s fun blacking out? That I’m having these visions because I feel like it? Do you really think I’m doing it for the attention, Janie? You’ve known me my whole life. You know how much I hate attention.”

  Janie laughed bitterly. “Then why go around telling the whole world that God is sending you visions? What could you possibly have to gain, besides everyone making a big old fuss?”

  Daphne shoved a freezing hand in her pocket, rubbing it against the lining for warmth. “I’m not doing it for the fuss. I hate the fuss. Something’s happening, Janie. These visions are real.”

  Janie eyed her through slit lids. “And you really believe you’re a prophet?”

  Daphne felt herself shrinking under the weight of the question, a question she’d tried and failed so many times to answer for herself.

  “I don’t know,” she said finally. “When I have these visions, it feels like someone is sending me messages, trying to warn me about something huge. I try to figure them out, but I can’t. All I know is that they’re important, and they feel like they’re coming from a force that’s greater than I am—than all of us are. Some people would call that God.”

  A long, slow breath escaped Janie’s nostrils, turning to steam in the night air. “Yeah.” When she spoke, she sounded resigned. “I used to believe in all of that: God, prophets, angels, the works. I used to think Pastor Ted was a goddamn genius. But look around you, Daphne. A child is missing. My child is dead. What kind of God would allow this? Can you seriously look me in the eye and tell me you still believe when the world is so fucked up?”

  Daphne shook her head. “I don’t know what to believe,” she said.

  A dozen scenarios unspooled in her mind. She knew that Janie was right about one
thing: The world was messed up, full of cruelty and injustice. But maybe that was because God wanted it that way. Maybe all the terrible things that happened were messages warning people to change their ways. Maybe Pastor Ted was correct, and the only way out was through clean living and prayer, through getting right with God.

  If only she knew for sure.

  “Well, I’m glad we had this little chat.” Janie stomped at the ground, trying to warm her feet. “But if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take off now. There’s someone waiting for me who actually has my back. And to be honest, I’d rather spend my night kissing him than talking to you.”

  “Janie, wait.” The eerie feeling Daphne had gotten when she locked eyes with Ciaran came rushing back. Her gut screamed at her to keep Janie away from him, at least until she could talk to Owen to find out how dangerous the Children of the Earth really were.

  “What do you want now?” Janie tapped her foot silently in the snow, impatient to return to the parking lot and her new romance.

  “Will you promise me something?” Daphne wanted to take her cousin’s hand, to wrap her in a hug, to say with a gesture everything she couldn’t seem to say with words, but Janie’s eyes held her back.

  “Maybe,” Janie replied. “Depends what.”

  “Just be careful around Ciaran,” Daphne pleaded. “You don’t know who he really is.”

  “Him?” Janie’s laugh was incredulous. “I married Doug Varley, and you’re telling me the long-haired hippie with the crystal around his neck is dangerous? Jesus, Daphne, you’re even more delusional than I thought.”

  She began to walk away.

  “Wait,” Daphne started to say. “That’s not what I meant . . .”

  “I don’t really care what you meant.” Janie stormed past her, leaving angry footprints in the ankle-deep snow.

  “Janie, wait!” Daphne cried. She trained her penlight on her cousin’s receding back, but within moments Janie was just a blur between trees.

  Daphne sank back against the tree trunk. She felt further from Janie than ever, and she was no closer to finding the sheriff and Charlie either. She snuck a glance at her watch and saw that the hour she’d promised her aunt and uncle was almost up: She’d have to hurry to meet them in time. The snow fell thicker and faster, and soon the roads would be impassible, keeping her from the warm bed and shower she suddenly desperately craved.

  Heaving a long, loud sigh, Daphne pushed herself to standing and began the long, frigid walk to the church parking lot.

  19

  JANIE YAWNED AND STRETCHED, SIGHING with contentment. Chilly gray light filtered into the loft above the Vein, a sign that the snowstorm outside was still going strong the next morning. It was early in the year for that kind of weather, but who cared? She didn’t—not as long as she could stay under the faded patchwork quilt with Ciaran, snuggled into his lean, tan body and smelling the mossy aroma of his hair.

  “You awake?” His breath was warm on her neck.

  “Mmmm-hmmmm.” She turned over and found his eyes, her lips tipping into a smile.

  “Good.” He put his hand on her hip and drew her to him, making her twitch with longing. “Everyone else is downstairs already. C’mere.”

  Beyond the curve of his shoulder she saw that the loft was empty, its dozen-odd mattresses bare except for tangles of woven blankets and colorful quilts. Ciaran’s lips met hers, gentle as butterfly wings, and a soupy desire coursed through her.

  “You c’mere,” she whispered into his mouth, pulling him closer. She kept her eyes open as they fell into a rhythm, not wanting to miss a moment of him. His lids fluttered open as if feeling her gaze, and he looked down at her, smiling. She grinned back, just happy to be there with him, as happy as she’d ever been about anything in her life.

  “Wow,” Ciaran said when they were done. He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear as she drifted back to reality, to the mattress and his clear green eyes.

  “What do you mean, ‘wow’?” Janie pretended to be taken aback.

  Ciaran’s gaze drifted away from her, toward the door leading down to the Vein. When he turned back he looked almost pained. “It’s just—I really like you.”

  “I really like you, too, silly.” Janie sat up and kissed the tip of his nose. She felt loose, her cells still buzzing with pleasure. She felt like she would never be sad again. “I’d stay in this bed with you all day if I could, but it smells like pancakes in here, and I’m seriously about to die of hunger.”

  Ciaran’s shoulders relaxed, and he grinned weakly. “We should go downstairs,” he said. “Freya’s pancakes are really good.”

  “Great.” Janie dug under the covers for her clothes. “I can’t wait to meet your brothers and sisters.” A worm of nervousness wriggled under her skin. “Do you think they’ll like me?”

  It had been late when they’d come in the night before, whispering and giggling their way up the dark, narrow staircase, and the rest of the Children of the Earth were sleeping. It was rare that they got a night off from working at the Vein, Ciaran explained. Usually their days started early and went very late, and when they had the chance to get some extra shut-eye, they took it.

  Ciaran’s smile was almost wistful. “Oh, they’ll love you,” he said, getting up and heading for the stairs.

  Janie heard voices and laughter coming from below, and they emerged into a room she barely recognized as the dark, seedy bar where she and Ciaran had met. All the lights were on, and the Children of the Earth had pushed the freestanding bar tables together to make a long communal eating space, where they sat with plates of half-eaten pancakes floating in pools of maple syrup. A round-cheeked girl with a deep mahogany complexion strummed a guitar and sang softly, her voice so beautiful that Janie wanted to reach out and wrap her hand around the song.

  “Hey, everyone.” Ciaran’s words floated above the noise, drawing the chatter into silence. The girl with the guitar paused mid-note.

  In the sudden quiet, Janie felt the flush across her face deepen. She looked down the length of the table at a dozen different faces, all with the same startling green eyes. They were family, she realized—and she was an intruder.

  “This is Janie.” Ciaran’s hand was still in hers, and he gave her fingers a reassuring squeeze, sensing her sudden discomfort. “She’s coming to stay with us for a while. Janie, this is my family: Luna, Kimo, Abilene, Freya, Gray, Aura, Orion, Silas, Arrow, Cheyenne, Heather, and Owen. Don’t worry, the test isn’t until tonight.”

  He laughed, and they all joined in. Janie felt herself smile, but her eyes were still stuck at the end of the table, where Owen sat staring back at her in shock.

  So Owen was here: He was one of them. Janie wondered if Daphne knew. And if she did, and she still claimed to support Pastor Ted’s belief that the Vein was a hotbed of sin, and she still tried to stop Janie from seeing Ciaran, didn’t that make her the biggest hypocrite who ever lived?

  “Welcome, Janie.” Luna came around the side of the table, her arms spread wide. She wore a long purple dress embroidered with tribal designs, and her dreadlocks were piled high on her head. For a moment, Janie’s blood went cold. She remembered the way Doug had looked at Luna when she first blew into town, flaunting that skinny body and flinging hula hoops all over the place. She remembered hating Luna then.

  But now it felt different. As she approached, Luna seemed to give off a soft blue light that wrapped around Janie like a fuzzy coat.

  “Welcome,” Luna said again. “Welcome home.”

  The blue light tickled Janie’s cheek and snuggled into the back of her neck, and in that moment Janie realized that Ciaran, Luna, and the others weren’t like the rest of Carbon County: They didn’t secretly judge her for getting pregnant at seventeen, didn’t resent her for losing the baby or look down on her the way Daphne did. They seemed to see the person she could be, even under all the flaws.

&nbs
p; She felt Ciaran’s hand slip from hers as she accepted Luna’s embrace, letting the warm blue light fill her until it seemed to glow beneath her skin. One by one Ciaran’s family approached, literally welcoming her with open arms, telling her how glad they were to see her, how happy they hoped she’d be at the Vein.

  Owen was last. She’d seen him hanging back from the rest of the crowd, a crease of confusion wrinkling his forehead. When everyone else had drifted away, he approached.

  “Hi, Janie.” He chewed his lower lip, staring down at his shoes.

  “Hi, Owen.”

  Ciaran stepped forward. “You two know each other?”

  “Oh yeah.” Janie nodded. “We go way back.”

  “Yeah.” Owen looked at her as if searching for a memory in her face, but finally he just shrugged. He seemed sleepy or something—definitely more out of it than when he first came to Carbon County and started causing trouble all over the motocross track.

  “Great!” Ciaran put a hand on the small of her back, speaking to Owen. “Then why don’t you take Janie into the kitchen and show her where we hid the breakfast? She mentioned something about being starving.”

  Janie turned and kissed Ciaran on the cheek, then let Owen lead her through a pair of double doors and into a bright industrial kitchen with big windows revealing the raging snow squall outside.

  “So,” she asked once they were out of earshot. “What are you doing here?”

  “I belong here.” Owen handed her a plate. “This is my family.”

  “Does Daphne know?” Janie took it, helping herself from a stack of pancakes steaming on a warmer.

  “Daphne . . .” Owen trailed off, staring out the window.

  “You know—your girlfriend?” Janie prompted.