Revived Spirits

by Julia Watts

  It was just out of her reach. Southpaw squirmed to get free, and two beady eyes stared at them, their owner slowly raising its black-and-white-striped tail. Liv’s brain processed all that information in a millisecond, including the distance to the skunk— about five feet.

  But she hesitated. She needed to secure the dog, reach for the box, and somehow manage to get the drawers closed. That would take them back to the present. Would her movements upset the skunk?

  Southpaw saved her from having to find out by giving a loud “Woof!” followed by a low growl in his throat. Liv reacted fast this time, sliding the fingers of her left hand around his collar and reaching for the box with her right.

  Only when she held the box safely in her grasp did she look in the direction Southpaw now faced, to the right of the skunk. Standing in partial shadow, not ten feet away, was a full-grown man with copper-colored skin. Bare-chested, he wore a deerskin loincloth and carried a small bow with two arrows. His obsidian-black hair was pulled back from his face into a ponytail and held by a rawhide strip.

  He was clearly astonished by their presence—his mouth gaped open and his forehead wrinkled into a frown. Afraid to break eye contact, Liv returned the Brave’s stare. Would a smile or wave be a sign of weakness? Could he reach them before she closed the box?

  Southpaw strained against Liv’s hold on his collar, ready to attack. His movement broke the standoff. Liv ducked to adjust her grip, and an arrow whizzed past her ear.

  She saw his hand tremble as it gripped the second arrow. He was as nervous as she was! Even so, she couldn’t be lucky enough for him to miss twice. Liv forced herself to swallow her fear and push the drawers closed.

  Through the blur, she watched the skunk, displeased at losing his first target, shift his aim toward the Brave and register his opinion.

  Chapter Three

  “If I were speaking to you, which I’m not, I’d start by saying that any moron would have taped the drawers shut after the first time the golden retriever outsmarted him!”

  Liv was back in Anthony’s bedroom, on a tirade. Southpaw had fled downstairs, and a terrarium-like smell lingered in the room.

  “Next, I’d say that if the retriever did it three times, your average moron would have gotten the box out of the house and let his friend take it.” She offered the box to Cal, who accepted it without protest, avoiding eye contact.

  Anthony turned back to his laptop. “Yeah, well, at least I have a friend.”

  It was true. She could count her acquaintances by the dozen, but it wasn’t easy to operate near the force of nature that was Liv without getting tossed around a little. It wasn’t like laid-back Anthony to shoot off a retort, and the silence between them grew, while Cal shifted in his seat.

  Finally, Liv spoke. “That’s cold.”

  Anthony rubbed his hand over his face. “I know. I’m sorry, Sis. I’m sorry I put you in real danger. I’m glad you’re okay.” He walked over to her and gave her a hug, then brushed forest debris from her shoulders. “Brush off your own backside—it’s covered with dirt, too.”

  Anthony’s trademark grin reappeared. “Since you seem to be speaking to me again, you can fill us in on how you came by that dirt, and if we need to do anything about it.”

  “If you mean did I change history—no, I don’t think so.” Liv chuckled in spite of herself. “Unless you count one very surprised skunk and the really unhappy Brave who got sprayed instead of Southpaw and me. We may have accidentally added to the Native American folklore, but other than that, no harm done.”

  The three of them let out a collective sigh of relief. It could have been much worse. When Cal had discovered the box containing the ancient South American gold medallion in an old house last year, they had begun what seemed at first like harmless adventures.

  But the golden disk from the mysterious Colombian treasure of the Quimbaya had tempted them. It hadn’t taken long to graduate from sightseeing in the past to trying to prevent disasters, and they soon learned that even the best actions can bring unintended consequences. There was no way to sleuth out every detail of how the world was changed now because of them. They weren’t even sure they wanted to know.

  The silence was comfortable now. They’d long since talked things out and said everything there was to say on the subject.

  It was Liv who broke it. “Okay, guys, time to get organized. We can start with some group ideas—where to go, what to do. Hold on—I’ll get my iPhone.” She moved toward the door, stopping to pull a twig from her hair and drop it into Anthony’s trashcan.

  Anthony squirmed. “No offense, but Cal and I were making our own plans.” He raised the cover of his laptop. “Check this out: Sir John Soane’s Museum. Old Sir John was an architect who collected cool stuff. It says on Wikipedia that he bought the sarcophagus of Seti I for his house!” He clicked on a diagram of the museum. “We ran across it while we were surfing the Web for places to go. An Egyptian tomb in your basement—wow.” He sighed.

  Liv left them to it. She might as well throw her running clothes into the washer. She could come back in a few minutes, and no doubt Anthony would have led Cal through several more Web sites, maybe even coming up with a few that would interest her. As she headed down the hall, she heard him exclaim, “Look at that ship. It’s loaded!”

  After a quick spin of the dial to Warm-Cold/Permanent Press, Liv bounded up the basement steps, two at a time. She ascended the main stairs and approached her brother’s room. Their backs were turned to her, and Liv heard Cal ask, “Not even a closet or a drawer?”

  Anthony replied, “No, Southpaw would just sniff it out and scratch and whine. That would give the housesitter a reason to snoop.” Liv hesitated at the threshold.

  Cal continued, “Not my house. My mom says they’re going to pull everything out of my room to paint while I’m gone. She’s even talking about painting my furniture, so there’s not one safe place to hide anything in my room. I’m so tame and lame I usually have nothing to hide, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  Liv stepped into the room and reclaimed her seat on the beanbag. Anthony looked from his friend to his sister, then to the old wooden box. “That settles it, then. We take it with us.”

  Cal asked, “Um, isn’t that maybe a little impulsive? I’m thinking there are several ways for things to go wrong if we leave the box here, but more like thousands of ways if we take it with us.”

  Anthony shook his head. “If something happened here, what could we do about it? It’s worth the risk to keep the box with us—keep it from getting into the wrong hands. If either of you has a better plan, now’s the time to share. I’m all ears.” He closed his laptop and turned to face them.

  Cal sighed. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this, but it beats worrying every minute if our hiding place was good enough. What do you think, Liv?”

  Liv reached out and ran her finger over the top of the box, tracing the mother-of-pearl inlay in the dark wood. “I think our trip just got a lot more complicated.”

  Chapter Four

  The Wescott family van cruised along the interstate, headed for the tri-county airport. They had picked up Cal at his house only five minutes before, and already Liv was wishing she could toss him out at the next red light.

  “I just think maybe it shouldn’t be in my suitcase—that’s all I’m saying,” he whispered, his fake smile looking worse than none at all. “What if it doesn’t go right through security? This stuff drives me crazy, and I don’t ad-lib well under pressure.”

  Anthony grinned and clapped Cal on the shoulder as if his friend had said something witty. Sitting in the rear seats of the van, they could talk without being overheard by the grownups in front, but they could be seen, and Cal looked on the verge of losing it.

  Liv sat in the middle row with Anna. She grabbed the baby’s sandal and began playing with the toes in it. “This little piggy went to market—it’s going to be okay, Cal.”

  “Yeah? Should I say it’s a gift if th
ey ask me about it?”

  “This little piggy stayed home—they won’t ask you, Cal.”

  “Are you sure the rubber band around it will hold? Maybe we should have taped the whole thing shut.”

  “This little piggy had roast beef, and this little piggy had none—the rubber band looks like we have nothing to hide. Taping just the drawers shut was enough.”

  “What if our luggage gets lost? Then what?”

  “And this little piggy cried, ‘Wee, wee, wee, all the way home!’” She replaced the first foot. Anna stuck out the second one. “That’s what we’ll do, I guess. Cry. Now, look happy—my parents are watching in the rearview mirror!”

  Ten weeks to get through without choking Cal. It was going to be a long summer.

  The artificial winter in Hartsfield-Jackson International Airport blasted from vents above their heads, belying the June Atlanta heat. Liv, Anthony and Cal had been instructed to walk up the jetway and wait for Mr. and Mrs. Wescott while they reclaimed Anna’s stroller from gateside baggage check.

  The connecting flight from Adelaide Village had been uneventful. The box had breezed through security, swaddled in Cal’s socks and underwear, right in the center of his suitcase. So far, so good.

  Even Anna had posed no problems. Just a bit fussy from air pressure changes while the plane gained altitude, she’d taken a drink from her sippy cup, smiled, and gone right to sleep on her dad’s shoulder. With Anna refreshed, the rest of the journey was sure to be interesting.

  Now that Liv was used to the idea of going, she found herself looking forward to the trip. Mr. Harper had been surprised but agreeable when Liv suggested debates by email, and had complimented her on a creative solution to the team’s scheduling problems.

  Her father had made arrangements for her to practice piano at the home of Mr. Havard, a barrister he would be working with in London. “Two grand pianos in their living room—can you imagine?” her mother had said.

  Soccer was going to have to take care of itself, but Liv could jog in Kensington and Hyde Parks to stay in shape while Mrs. Wescott walked with Anna in the stroller. And Mr. Havard had another suggestion.

  “He says,” her dad had related with a twinkle in his eye, “that if you’re any good, there are always people playing soccer in the parks, and someone would probably let you join in their game. I told him you weren’t good, you were outstanding.”

  It was true, and she had the trophies and ribbons to prove it. But knowing her dad, he would have been just as proud of her if she were a complete klutz, as long as she tried. She never felt pressured to excel to please her parents. No, she was driven because she was Liv.

  But right now she could enjoy herself. Things were under control, just the way she liked them, and the pace of the huge airport made her pulse quicken.

  The group reunited and proceeded along the wide corridor, following the signs to the international concourse. Mrs. Wescott led the way with the empty stroller, and Mr. Wescott followed close behind with Anna on his shoulders. Liv, Anthony and Cal walked single file, three abreast—whatever the human traffic tide allowed.

  Liv was absorbed by the passing parade moving in all directions, dressed for destinations of work or play. Business types spoke in serious tones on cell phones, passing and dodging as they talked. An elderly couple chatted with the driver of their motorized cart, while a little girl in braids with motion-activated light-up shoes hopped from terrazzo square to square with both feet.

  And the stores—dozens of them. Most made sense to Liv: luggage, books to read on the plane, DVD rentals, souvenirs. But perfume? Who would open a whole store just for perfume in an airport? If she were running a store here, she’d sell stuff that everybody needed, or at least wanted.

  Down the escalator they went,passing by the waiting train and choosing instead to tunnel their way through the underground region on the moving sidewalk. They stood single file on the huge conveyor belt.

  Anthony looked up and down the expanse of rubber. “This must be what it’s like for a jar on an assembly line.” He circled his arms in front of himself. “You travel down the belt, a big funnel opens up, and before you know it you’re full of mayonnaise, or cocktail onions or pickled anchovies.” He staggered under the imaginary weight. “A pair of giant tongs comes down and twists a lid on you.” He jerked his head sideways. “A hand reaches out and sticks a label on you.” He slapped his stomach. “Then they pack you in a box.”

  He hopped off the break in the moving sidewalk and made his way toward the middle area where the floor was just a floor. Liv and Cal followed, and the three of them powerwalked. They chugged their arms like locomotive engines, then slowed down to let Anna and her parents beat them, cheering for her while her dad held her aloft.

  Emerging from the up escalator, the group made their way toward their assigned gate, stopping only once when they realized they’d lost Anthony. Liv spun around.

  “There he is, in front of the glass exhibit. I’ll go back for him and meet you at the gate.” She sprinted back.

  “Didn’t know you were a Chihuly fan.” Liv put her arm through Anthony’s, admiring the luminous pieces in the display case. Anthony was rooted to the floor. His eyes fluttered closed, and he inhaled and exhaled a long, luxurious breath.

  “I think I’m in love—Shh. . .”

  He pointed upward, where a syrupy female voice flowed from unseen speakers, admonishing travelers to “. . .please ruh-fra-ain from smoking.”

  “She’s probably forty years old and a chain-smoker, Anthony. Let’s go.”

  “Ugh, thanks for the image. Give me a second to poke out my mental eye.” He stuck his finger in the center of his forehead and let his sister lead him toward the gate.

  Liv smiled at her brother, the only romantic in a family of overachievers. “Hey, she breaks your heart, you let me know. I’ll beat her up.”

  They arrived at the seating area of their departure gate to find almost no one sitting down. A young woman, her mass of auburn curls lacquered into perfect submission and her navy uniform stiffly starched, leaned toward a microphone and spoke in cordial tones: “Now that our first-class passengers, as well as platinum, gold, and silver, persons needing assistance, and those traveling with small children have boarded, we invite passengers seated in zone three to come forward.”

  Liv wondered how anyone could be left in the airport after all that, but a substantial crowd remained, and the “pardon me”s began. The cluster split like an asymmetrical amoeba. Zone Three surged forward, narrowed and elongated into a single-file line. The larger part of the amoeba remained behind, swirling and churning as passengers checked their tickets and determined where they should be in the mass.

  As the starched young woman called more and more zones until the gate area was almost deserted, the elder Wescotts hung back. They answered the call for Zone Nine with quiet nonchalance. “They’ve shifted to Get Anna Settled mode,” Liv explained in hushed tones to Cal as she picked up her backpack and tucked it under her arm. “If we start helping her wind down now, she may sleep her way across most of the ocean. Don’t talk to her much or play with her, okay? And don’t act excited.”

  “I can’t help it—I am excited. I’ve never been so far away from home, to someplace so different.” Cal’s voice was low-volume but animated. Liv laughed and shook her head.

  “Am I still not calm enough?” he asked.

  “It’s not that, Cal. I was just thinking—you’ve been captured by a pirate, saved lives, traveled to worlds that aren’t supposed to exist. I’d call that far away and different. It’s cool you can be thrilled about a trip that just crosses an ocean. Good for you. Now, walk behind Anthony, copy him, and you’ll be fine.”

  The plane was nearly full when they boarded. The auburn-haired lady had glided from microphone to ticket scanner in the terminal and now stood in the cabin, directing traffic as passengers stepped inside. “First class to the left, please, coach to the right.”

  “Riff-raff
to the right—that’s us, team,” Mr. Wescott joked. It was fine with Liv. Who wanted to march past plush leather seats and yards of legroom before folding yourself up into a pretzel? They moved forward, claimed their seats and settled in.

  Chapter Five

  It was time for Liv to give up the window seat. She’d begun the flight at the aisle, with Anthony in the middle and Cal by the window. The plan was to shift every hour until lights out, sleep where they landed, then renegotiate at wake-up time.

  So back to the aisle for now, the perfect time for a restroom break. She left Anthony and Cal resettling and advanced to the set of water closets at the front of the coach section. Both occupied. Liv stood, wondering if she’d be in the way when the doors opened.

  The three bulkhead seats at the right window were all empty, so she lifted the armrests out of the way and stretched across, feet up and pointing toward the aisle. Somber navy drapes prevented peeking into first class.

  Remembering that Cal’s mom had advised the three young people to stand up every thirty minutes during the flight so they wouldn’t get deep vein thrombosis, she felt a wave of sympathy for Cal. No wonder the kid could be neurotic sometimes. But... what if his mom was right? Liv lifted her feet and flexed her ankles, one at a time, then grasped an ankle and held it at shoulder height with bent knee. By the time she had done both legs, she had an audience.

  The person looking at her had passed through the first class curtains and was about to enter the restroom, just in front of her. Their eyes met and Liv looked away, embarrassed to be caught doing something so goofy. She leaned forward and pulled a travel magazine from the holder on the side of the bulkhead, pretending to be interested in the table of contents and conscious of the fact that the man had seemed even more eager than she to turn away.