Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series)

by Giuliana Sica

  Dear Porzia,

  I never wanted for things to end like this.

  With your sweetness and warmth, you’ve captured my heart and made it glow again. These past months with you have been as intense as the rest of my life altogether. I opened myself to you in a way I didn’t think could be possible. I can’t imagine how I lived for so long without your laughter or soft curves pressed against my body as night fell. How many early mornings have I held my breath watching you peacefully sleeping and thanked the gods.

  I know why you left and, if possible, now I love you even more for it.

  But I need to do this, and although I know you understand, I need to write, to tell you about this ache that consumes me. I didn’t think I’d ever be driving again after the accident.

  This is for me a dream come true. A desire so much bigger than my fears; I have no choice and can’t settle for anything else. I gave it so much thought I believed I was going crazy for a while, but once I recognized this need, I knew. I could never have been content or have looked at myself with respect if I’d chosen to stay behind. Even if it means to hurt and disappoint you and my father, I need to be true to myself. I am the man that I am, Porzia, and therefore, human and not perfect. I am aware of the challenge I’m facing, especially being ‘wingless’ this time. Although a speck of hope remains since I will be driving through Cloud Dwellers’ Sacred Grounds. I know I will be breaking a vow, nonetheless, and the price to pay for such a transgression is my life. I wished to be your soul mate when you told me about him, just as much as I wish to drive again next month, but I’m not him, and I am certain I want to drive.

  I need to thank you for the unconditional love with which you have graced my life and the sacrifice your heart is bearing. I won’t ask you to wait. As you gave me the freedom to choose, I free you as well. I believe the chocolate quotes were correct; I’m about to leap, hoping for the net to open. And you are free from servile bonds of hope to rise or fear to fall; Lady of yourself, though no lands, And having nothing, yet hath all.

  When life offers a last chance far beyond your hopes and dreams, it’s unacceptable not to rise to the occasion, but most important is that it’s not rational to grieve when it ends.

  With love, always,

  Gabe

  *

  He had included his Baci chocolate quote. I held the thin piece of paper reverently in my fingers.

  He didn’t want me to hold on.

  My tears stained the crumpled sheet of paper I had been holding against my heart, ruining it. He was letting me go so I would not be sharing the responsibility of his death.

  He spoke of my unconditional love. What about his? He was just as capable of offering such a precious gift. The letter I had just read the undeniable proof.

  His words streaked as my tears melted the ink and I did my best to smooth the paper, careful not to smudge it any further. I opened my journal where I kept the lavender he had given me and carefully pressed the letter between the white pages. I went to bed that night wishing I still believed in prayers.

  CHAPTER 42

  October came and went in a blur of wind and clouds. Humidity hung on, unseasonably so, through Halloween and the first week of November, when it finally gave in to rain.

  Gabe never called.

  I, on the other hand, often picked up the receiver ready to dial his number, ready to apologize for anything and everything just to hear his voice one more time, but I never went through with it. Despite his request to keep in touch, I sensed the fragile balance of the elements. One phone call from me and he might change his mind. Regret his decision forever, and die by my side, day by day.

  I kept my work connections to the minimum but still remained indispensable enough so as not to be considered entirely off the market. The news of Camille’s project spread through the grapevine—no pun intended—actually giving me an excuse to keep a low profile with everybody else. Scoop slowly jelled under Oscar’s direct supervision and feeble assistance on my part. Camille, as promised, kept out of it.

  I finally spoke with Benedetta but asked her not to mention the situation, for I wasn’t ready to deal with it. Honestly, I didn’t know what to do. I raged from extremes of anger toward him and his selfish behavior to tear deluges, feeling so sorry and sad I wished the earth would open up and swallow me.

  Benedetta respected my wish for peace and quiet but checked in on me often. Evalena, on the other hand, must have sensed my initial, unjustified resentment and left me alone. She knew exactly what I was going through, for I could sense her love around me. Without interfering, she left me to solve things at my own pace.

  It was around Thanksgiving when she finally called, asking me to join them for dinner to celebrate the holiday. I politely declined but told her I would like to talk to her in person. As usual, she embraced me.

  And I cried. For an eternity. Back in her restored home on Navarre Beach, I sat on a brand-new sofa much different from the past life regression one and told her everything I had understood of my quest. Finally, I blew my nose and accepted a fragrant mug of tea.

  Evalena sat next to me and blew over the rim of her own mug.

  “One thing is for sure, Evalena: I didn’t stifle myself in this relationship. On the contrary. Whatever will happen, I feel that I have truly discovered some of my strengths and qualities and not for one single instant did I make myself uncomfortable. Not for anyone.”

  “You know, to quote one of those Greek myths Benedetta loves so much, Demeter could be compared to Eingana. She thought she could overcome the limits of human flesh by imposing immortality on a baby prince.”

  “Did she succeed?”

  “No, the queen mother put a stop to it.” She took a sip of tea. “I don’t believe The Wizard of Oz is your favorite fairy tale either, Porzia. It’s not really a fairy tale, anyway.”

  “Well, it is one of my favorite stories. But I discovered it later in life. I should ask my mother which ones I loved when I was younger.”

  “Not a bad idea, sweetie. She’s right on track.”

  “With what?” I asked, suspicious.

  “You. Now.”

  “Her theory of me facing my fears and surviving?”

  Oh, I understood! Finally! I had confronted my own spirit. I killed the old Porzia in the desert; the events had brought me to the point of asking to know. And my wish had been granted: the wizard had recognized my power and opened the portal. Through the fire of the phoenix, I transformed and stood my ground. Ultimately, I survived the knowledge.

  Evalena cast me a meaningful look. “You had a deadly combination of fear and pleasure, Porzia. Both are powerful stimulants to attain full consciousness. You’ve grown strong enough to demand sacred knowledge, faced it, and survived.”

  “What’s next?” I sensed this to be only a partial transformation.

  “It will come to you. Give it time.”

  “And him?”

  “He’s flying, Porzia. But if Gabe is fulfilling his own fate—” she held my gaze, “where is the One? Where is Xavier?”

  “Still out there?” I sounded skeptical.

  *

  I left her house praying for time.

  Time for what?

  For hope to finally crush me?

  I knew deep inside me that I hadn’t given up. I was doing exactly what Gabe had set me free not to do. I was secretly waiting. Superstitiously, I thought that if I kept away from the escalating interest in the race, if I kept from listening to the news and reading the papers, I would keep from jinxing it, giving him a little more room to . . . what? Negotiate with his death?

  My own accomplishment had rendered me utterly arrogant.

  *

  A week before Christmas the race began.

  On Christmas Eve, Gabe died.

  *

  Right before midnight, an eagle perc
hed herself on the oleander and began to screech, careless of the rain pelting her feathers. I had been folding laundry by the fireplace when I heard the wretched shriek and froze. My skin crawled and Peridot ran to the window, meowing loudly. I followed my cat in a daze and pulled the curtain to see the eagle illuminated by the artificial glare of the parking lot lamppost. It was so windy, rain fell sideways. Yet the oleander stood immobile, as if surrounded by an invisible protection. Still screeching, the eagle looked straight at me, then spread her wings and took flight, her piercing screams blending with the sudden noise of the phone ringing.

  “Porzia?”

  “Yes?” I whispered with a knife carving my heart.

  “Clark here, Porzia,” his voice cracked.

  “I’m on my way,” I sobbed.

  *

  Clark met me at the airport and drove me straight to the funeral.

  I have a poor memory of the following events.

  I remember the Jourdains, including Madame Framboise, who rose, trembling, from her wheelchair, to give me a surprisingly firm hug. Nicolas held my hand, and I hid my face against his shoulder, falling apart.

  Gomi wasn’t there. He had been in the car with Gabe at the time of the accident and was now in intensive care, having not yet awakened from a coma. No visitors allowed.

  The rest of the Miller team spoke to me briefly afterwards, but I honestly don’t remember much. The crowd was unbearable and the media worse, suffocating.

  Clark took me aside and finally found a moment to give me a wrapped gift. Gabe had told him I had forgotten it. He had aged so much I was having a hard time remembering the Clark I had met only months earlier.

  I had declined Madame Jourdain’s offer to spend a few days with them and asked Clark to please take me back to the airport.

  “I thought at first you’d be able to stop him,” he confessed, and his already red-rimmed eyes welled up with tears again.

  I leaned over to squeeze his arm. “I’m so sorry.”

  “No. I owe you an apology.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ll take care of Tess, and you need to be strong,” he said quietly. “Time will help us all.” I hugged him outside the airport and told him to please not wait with me. He cast me a curious look, and I lifted the wrapped package he had given me.

  He nodded and left.

  *

  I leafed through the book as the plane took off, and Australia became a distant map down below.

  *

  —The Cloud Dweller—

  *

  And I found out why Gabe lost his wings, to finally find them again.

  Evalena had said it would come to me. Just give it time.

  I had learned how to harness my powers. Now I needed to discover how to love what I feared.

  *

  Fine.

  About The Author

  Giuliana Sica

  Giuliana was born in Siena, Italy. At the age of 4 her father gave her a box of markers. She immediately began to doodle stories on the house walls, and after a few weeks of repainting, she finally received paper as well. She has not stopped writing since. She calls Whidbey Island, Washington, home where she settled in 2001 after globe-trotting the world teaching Italian in exotic places as far off as Japan.

  She holds a Classic Italian Literature and Philosophy degree with a minor in English still laced with a Chianti-infused accent. She speaks fluent Spanish, has forgotten most of her French, and holds tightly to her Japanese, mostly by eating sushi every chance she gets. She currently teaches Italian for Skagit Valley College and Rosetta Stone. She shares a yellow cottage on the island with her husband, 4 cats, a vegetable garden, and a fig tree named Federico.

  Every residual free minute of her life is spent working on Book Two.