Leaving Tracks

by Victoria Escobar

He grinned at me and winked. “‘Course. And I’ll make sure to get her home in one piece too. No bloodshed whatsoever.”

  I couldn’t stop myself from grinning back. “As long as we understand each other.”

  Glory slammed the door behind me. “See you later.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek much the same way North had. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

  I only nodded as the memory of that moment robbed me of my voice. Such a simple thing, a brush of skin against skin, I realized my sisters did it often and yet, somehow when North had done it; it had felt completely foreign and new.

  I watched Glory trot down the stairs and couldn’t prevent smiling when Rhett opened the passenger door. Glory waved once when they settled into the truck and I watched it drive away. For some reason it made me unbearably sad.

  I heard the boots on the wood and didn’t react when a hand came down on my shoulder.

  “She’ll be back in a few hours.” Morgaine said quietly.

  “I never really have any time with her.” I murmured. “In the past I’ve always been training or away at events. We didn’t even have the same tutors. Hard to do I suppose with the weirdness of our schedules.”

  “I’m sure you’ll find time to spend with her now. You can help her with homework when she gets back.” Morgaine stepped closer to wrap the arm over my shoulders and rest her cheek against my head. “I could use a hand in the greenhouses doing some pruning if you remember how. It’ll keep your mind busy.”

  “Sure, I’d like to take a walk first, and clear my mind.”

  “Absolutely. Take fifteen and I’ll see you in the vegetable house.”

  “Alright.”

  I walked through the house, stopped in the kitchen to mooch some more fruit before stepping into the solarium. Avala liked to sit in here and read, I knew, and it was a peace zone for Morgaine. Often both sisters were present in the room if they couldn’t be found elsewhere.

  I picked up a glass milk jar from a ledge and studied the flowers in it. Morgaine had several of them along the ledge though I never knew how she did it. The jar held four flowers–a single stalk of heather, an aster, an iris, and a single stalk of lilac. Four flowers, one for each sister.

  I carried the jar out the back door before Avala could see me take it. I would catch hell from Morgaine later when the flowers started to die because of the cold exposure. I wanted them though, needed them in the way all living brought flowers to their dead.

  Inside the low stonewall of the family cemetery, graves were arranged with the oldest closest to the entrance and the newer ones closer to the lakes and trees. I read names to myself as I passed familiar ancestors from my mother’s family. They all rested here. It didn’t matter how distant, Knifeblade family was family.

  I stopped in front a particular granite headstone and read the name out loud, “Doris Canna Knifeblade. Hi, Grandmamma.” I crouched and set the flowers down on the lip of the stone. “I’m sorry it’s been so long. Well, I’m sure you know what’s happened. I’m home to stay now. I’ve always loved it here.” I looked up from the stone over to the lake. In the distance, I could see a small person walking this way. Probably North, I thought.

  I turned my attention back to the gravestone. “I’m a little lost for direction. I really didn’t have anything in mind other than skating. There wasn’t really time to think about anything else. I have time now, and it scares me that I have no idea what I want to do with my life. I know if you were here you’d point me in the right direction or at least give me some sage advice that I’d consider and mull over. I really miss you and I’m sorry I wasn’t here in the end. Morgaine’s expecting my help, or I’d stay a little longer. It’s probably too cold for me to stay out here too long anyway. I’ve been in Georgia too long. I’ll come back soon, though.” I bent and picked up the glass of flowers. “I love you.”

  As I straightened, a new stone caught my eye. I cocked my head and frowned at it. It hadn’t been there the last time–right before the event in Boston–I’d been home. Curiosity had me walking over, studying the names of various great aunts, uncles, and cousins as I went. Probably another one of those. I did have some older cousins that were sick and failing. I couldn’t remember if they asked to be buried here though. Avala would know.

  When I reached the stone, some snow from a previous fall was stubbornly clinging to the front of the stone. I shrugged, reached out, and wiped it off. The glass jar of flowers slipped out of suddenly numb fingers and broken against the unforgiving granite it landed on.

  I didn’t notice. The sudden constriction of my chest was so tight I was seeing spots at the edge of my vision. I couldn’t breathe, and the drumming in my ears wiped out all outside sounds.

  “Mom?” My voice sounded far away even to myself. My fingers trembled as they traced the dates. I’d been in Boston, three days before the National when my mother died.

  Grief struck hard and knocked the rest of the wind out of me. I dropped to my knees in front of the stone. I fell forward against the stone and rested my head there. And cried.

  North

  I hummed the music to my short program as I crossed the field. I was still debating on whether or not to use the lake or the rink. Even with Hadley’s open offer, I felt I should probably give her some privacy as she did whatever to make her decision.

  I stopped at the edge of the lake and studied the snow blowing across the open surface. It’d be hard to skate on with snow blowing. And since snow insulated ice, there were probably sections of it thinner than I should risk. Still…

  In the silence of my internal debate, another sound carried through the whistling wind. My brows drew together as I puzzled over identifying the additional noise. I walked in the direction of the sound trying to clarify what it could be.

  Crying, I realized as the low stonewall drew closer. I’d never heard Morgaine or Avala cry in such a manner. And I already had a text from Rhett that he had picked up Glory for school. That only left…

  My stomach clutched. Hadley. With visions of mysterious injuries and blood soaked earth driving my fear, I raced the rest of the way to the fence and jumped it easily. “Hadley?” I called out her name even as I scanned the rows.

  Her deep maroon coat caught the corner of my eye and I instantly turned towards her and ran. I stumbled on a low gravestone I had barely cleared but continued to run.

  “Hadley?” I panted and dropped down next to her. With both my hands, I pulled her face up from her semi-curled position and stared into her eyes. “Are you hurt? Where does it hurt, Hadley?”

  Her eyes only swelled and she cried harder. I pulled her close unsure what to do, and looked around. She didn’t appear physically hurt, but she was definitely in some kind of pain. Unsure what could cause such a reaction; I looked up at the gravestone. It wasn’t difficult to put two and two together.

  “They never told you.” I said slowly, and cursed internally, “Oh, Hadley.”

  I pulled her away from the cold stone and wrapped my arms tighter around her shaking body. I didn’t give her useless words, just held her against the cold to give her some of my warmth while she cried. Some things, I knew, words would never be adequate for. I rocked and only held tighter when her arms came around me and squeezed.

  I would give her this. I could give her this. No one knew better than me.

  The snow grew thicker the longer we sat, but I knew better than to try and move her. Hadley would be ready when Hadley was ready. The only thing I could do was be a good friend. When her hysterical sobbing had ebbed to silent tears, I deemed it okay to speak.

  “It’s starting to snow too hard to be out here,” I murmured quietly into her hair. “And it’s not just sorrow that has you shaking.”

  “I want to go home.” Hadley mumbled against my jacket.

  “Sure,” I said. She didn’t make a fuss about me gathering her into my arms; Hadley only closed her eyes and rested her head against my shoulder close enough to the opening of my jacket that
I could feel her breath on my neck. I pretended not to notice the lack of bulk on her right leg. She was entirely too light for my peace of mind. I felt as if I could break her if I squeezed too hard.

  I carried her from the cemetery to the back doors of the skating rink using the building as a shield from the main house. No one looking out any of the windows in the house would see us enter the building. I thought right now, Hadley would just want the privacy of her apartment. If she wanted her sisters, she would have said that. Some of the work areas still had clear angles of the door but I doubted anyone was actually snooping instead of working.

  Hadley said nothing as I climbed the stairs and fumbled with the door. She still didn’t speak as I stepped around the dining room set to the living room to place her onto the fainting couch. Her silence worried me as much as her stillness did.

  She allowed me to removed her coat and shoes, and wrap her in the blanket I pulled from the back of the sofa. I checked the coat pockets for keys and phone before setting it aside and setting the objects on the coffee table in front of her.

  Not satisfied with the thin lap blanket, I turned the electric fireplace on before going to the bedroom to pull one of the many blankets from her bed. She was still where I had left her and didn’t move from her recline when I covered her with the new blanket too.

  I knelt beside her and studied the new hollowness to her face that hadn’t been there yesterday. Grief could carve even the supplest face into shadows and hard lines. With her eyes closed, her dark lashes accented the tear stained plains. I couldn’t resist and leaned forward to gently kiss her eyes.

  “Hadley.” I leaned back and reached out to gently comb a hand through her hair when she didn’t stir. “Hadley, is there anything I can do?”

  “You’ve done it,” she murmured without opening her eyes. She sounded tired and hollowed. “I’m so tired now.”

  “Of course you are. Get some sleep okay.” I wiped a stray tear away and impulsively bent forward to place a kiss on her forehead. “Your phone is on the coffee table if you need anything.”

  Another tear escaped. “Thank you.”

  I left quietly feeling helpless. I hadn’t wanted to leave her there alone, but I didn’t know what else to do. She wanted, she needed to sleep now. I knew that better than most people.

  With each step I took away from her, I grew angrier instead of calmer. What in the world were they thinking? How could they not say anything?

  With my temper boiling over, I nearly forgot to stomp my boots before knocking briskly and entering Avala’s kitchen.

  Avala’s surprised face did nothing for my anger. “North, is there something you need?”

  “I just carried Hadley from the cemetery to her apartment. Apparently someone forgot to mention her mother died while she was away.” My voice was a hard, cold slap without any physical contact. Avala visibly flinched and staggered over to the bar to lean against it.

  “I…it…we,” she pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. “It wasn’t something we did consciously. Or maybe we did. She’s already been through so much. It seemed cruel to drop something else on her.” A single tear trickled down Avala’s face and cut my temper in half.

  I knew Avala would do anything to spare her sisters pain, and I knew that if she could Avala would take that pain onto herself if it made it go away. “I know, but to find out that way wasn’t kind either.”

  “I had no idea she went out there. She was supposed to be with Morgaine in the greenhouses. We thought maybe another day or so for her to settle in before…”

  “She’s sleeping now.” I told her instead of allowing her to judge herself any harder than she already was. “If you’ve got some soothing tea, and maybe some soup that would be easy to digest I can take it over.”

  “I have some lemon chicken barley that she’s fond of for comfort soup. She likes lemon in her chicken soups,” Avala rose smiling faintly and walked over to her freezer. “I made the pot before she arrived as I know she goes through it as fast as I make it. We’ll add some quiet tea too, though I doubt she’ll drink it. Hadley doesn’t like muddling her mind with the herbs even when it’s good for her.”

  “What about the smelly stuff?” I asked, “What’s it called, aromatherapy?”

  Avala pursed her lips as she set the Tupperware of frozen soup on the bar. “Lavender and sandalwood certainly.” She hummed as she moved around the kitchen and opened her herb closet. “A touch of mint perhaps.” She mused to herself as she gathered dried herbs and laid them out on the counter.

  I just watched as Avala studied her stock, selected, trimmed, and ground it into a powder. She added things she hadn’t named to the mix and did some more hand grinding with her marble mortar and pestle. Avala’s motions were smooth and practiced. In a few minutes, she was pouring the mixture she had made into a small wooden box. Then from her closet, she pulled out a small bag of what looked like sand, a marble or granite bowl, and a short curved black rock.

  Avala set all the items on the counter and I saw the black rock was actually some kind of charcoal. She pulled a grocery bag from under her sink and began to carefully stack everything in the bag.

  “Put the sand in the bowl and the charcoal in the center of the sand. Then light the charcoal. It’s not a toxic mix so don’t worry. Let the charcoal heat, and then sprinkle the herb mix over it. I wish we had time to let it sit for a few hours, hopefully Hadley sleeps that long so it can cure a bit. I’m sure you know how to deal with soup, and Hadley has jugs of water over there. She’s not really fond of much else when it comes to liquids. I’ll come over with Glory and Morgaine later, if you could stay with her until then. I just need to…find the words.”

  I studied her sad eyes then nodded. “If you could let my brothers know. I think they’ll take it better from you.”

  “Of course.”

  I didn’t question Avala when she came to relieve me. I had done as Avala had asked and then just sat with Hadley holding her hand in mine while she slept, hoping she knew that she wasn’t alone even in sleep.

  “If you need anything,” I began but she nodded absently and ran a hand lightly over Hadley’s hair.

  “I know where to call. Thank you, North.”

  “Sure.” I quietly left the sisters. It was after all a family matter. While their mother had been a stand in for mine, it wasn’t something I was even comfortable talking about. Her death had been unfair and in my mind unjust.

  When I reached the lake, I realized I had left my skates next to Hadley’s door. There would be no skating in the foreseeable future without them. Slightly put out, I stomped–the best I could through almost a foot of snow–to my shop to do some work before suppertime.

  The warmth and smell of the space was almost enough to make up for the forgotten skates. Almost. There was comfort in this routine as much as there was in my skating ones though.

  When the music kicked on, I was almost done rotating stock from kiln to table and back in again. I still had a few carved pots to glaze, and since the ones that just came out of the kiln looked so well, I wanted to make more in a few different shapes.

  I hummed along to Halestorm as I finished loading the kiln and set the timer. There was something about routines and good rock music that lifted spirits. It didn’t keep my mind from wandering towards thoughts of Hadley. Didn’t keep me from sending positive thoughts out that way, but it helped having something to do with my hands. If I hadn’t, well, I’d have found something to do.

  I hated dealing with the email. It was always ridiculously huge, but it was something Wesley put his foot down on. I would deal with the emails. Wesley would do the rest.

  The email from the University of American Fine Arts stopped my cursing. Curiosity had me open the email and skim it. Shock had me start over and read it slowly from the beginning. I hadn’t had time to do the entrance testing and whatnot; instead, I had sent them the link to my website. That was as good a portfolio as I had time to build at the mom
ent.

  I hastily composed a reply, proofread it to make sure I didn’t sound like a star struck idiot then sent it. Since waiting for a response was as bad as waiting by the phone for a girl to call, I pretended I wasn’t waiting and finished sorting emails and sales slips. Wesley would get the receipts from PayPal for shipping and accounting purposes–the only reason I printed and filed the emails was to compare against PayPal for quality and inventory purposes.

  Deciding against working with glazes–I’d lose track of time and Wesley would have to come get me for supper again–I began the tedious process of pulling inventory off the shelves for shipping. It was a necessary part of retail service; a part that I loathed with fervor usually reserved for longtime enemies.

  I was an artist and as such found it a waste of time to have to stop my process to pack and ship. However, if I didn’t pack and ship then I wouldn’t sell any art and I’d be up to the ceiling in useless pottery. That would definitely annoy Thierry more than he was already annoyed.

  The phone rang as I was fighting with the labeling machine. How the hell had the sticker part gotten stuck on the metal part? And how did I fix it so it stopped ripping the labels down the middle. The phone was only an additional annoyance and I answered it as such.

  “Hello? What?”

  “Can I speak to North Graton?” a hesitant, but pleasant woman asked.

  “That’s me, hold on a second.” I set down the phone long enough to rip the rest of the roll out of the label printer and chucking it in the garbage. “Sorry about that, mechanical difficulties with a printer. How can I help you?”

  “My name is Reaghan with University of America Fine Arts. I’m an academic advisor here at the University. Do you have time to speak about your interest in classes?”

  I sank to the floor as my knees gave out with my surprise. “Yea, ah, yes. Sure.”

  Hadley

  I rarely took naps. The reason behind that was time–training didn’t allow it–and I didn’t nap well. I always woke disoriented and groggy. After crying was no different. If anything, it was worse.