by Susan Klaus
Kari reflected on Charlie’s last statement. The old Indian obviously admired the harpies, but something was amiss. Perhaps it pertained to her father’s hatred of the winged creatures. She changed the subject not wanting to ruin the day. She was traveling through the enchanting jungle with the knowledge that her golden male still lived.
She and Charlie laughed over past adventures when she was a girl. “I remember you brought a poisonous lizard home and wanted it for a pet,” he said. “You nearly gave me and your father a heart attack. Why the lizard didn’t bite you, I’ll never know. You were as wild as the creatures in the forest and very stubborn. I pitied John at times.”
“I suppose I was a tomboy.” Kari grinned. “Never did care for dolls.” The mood was merry on their westward journey.
* * *
Evening approached, and Charlie pulled into a small clearing with a stream. Like when she was a child, Kari gathered wood for a fire while Charlie set up camp, erecting a small tent. At dark, the meager fire snapped and crackled, and the cries of the night animals came alive under a star-filled sky. Rather than use the vehicle’s heating element, Charlie prepared the food over the open fire, claiming it would taste better. The smell of the grilled meats, vegetables, and Charlie’s biscuits enhanced their appetites.
Kari sat on a log, enjoying dinner, and stared at the fire. “Tell me, Charlie. What made you leave Earth and come to Dora with my grandfather?”
“You wish to hear more?” he asked. “Never have I talked this much.”
Kari smiled, knowing this to be true about the quiet Indian. “I enjoy listening to you.”
“I came here for the same reasons as your grandfather,” he said, “to live among the trees and nature. My reservation was a dead desert—even the snake and scorpion were gone. The tribe sold it to developers, and I received a few credits. I did not wish to live under the city domes, so I left for the cold north. I met your grandfather in the last great forest. He was there to save it from the ax. We had much in common, your grandfather and me. When he failed to protect the trees, he told me of Dora, a small planet covered in jungle. He offered to pay for my trip if I helped him build a new home. The reservation was gone, but it was a hard decision for a young man. There was an Indian girl I loved and had to leave. I promised when I made enough money, I would send for her. The time came, but by then, she had married another.” Charlie shrugged. “I knew she did not want to live on a wild planet, but it is hard to find love again.”
“Charlie, that’s so sad,” Kari said.
“I have no regrets,” he said. “When your father was born, I loved him like a son, and you, like a granddaughter. If I had stayed on Earth, I would have loved her, but been miserable in those cities. And she would have grown tired of an unhappy husband.”
“I lived under those domes, and it is no life for people like you and me.”
Charlie rose and left the fire. “It grows late. I will take the tent, and you, the vehicle.”
“Good night, Charlie,” she said, climbing into the comfortable vehicle bed. Exhausted from the lack of sleep on the previous night, she quickly fell asleep.
* * *
The golden harpy nuzzled her until she lifted her head. She stroked the silky hair hanging against his face. He turned his head and kissed the palm of her hand. “Do you have a name?” she asked, using her subconscious instead of her voice.
“I am Shail,” he answered with his animal telepathy.
“Why do you come to me, Shail?” she asked.
He pulled back and stared at her in confusion. “As I am yours, you are mine. This was always meant to be,” he related. He leaned over and tenderly kissed her lips before rising to a kneeling position.
“Don’t go,” she conveyed. “There is so much I want to know about you.”
He tilted his head, perplexed. “You know. The light comes. It is time.” He stood up and extended his long, yellow wings. With one flap, he was airborne. He fluttered for a second, gazing down at her, then vanished.
“Come back, Shail,” she cried. “Please come back.” She opened her eyes and saw the faint rays of dawn. “A dream,” she said, looking at the locked vehicle doors. She shut her eyes and smiled, thinking of Shail.
* * *
Kari heard the songbirds and smelled the campfire. She sat up and looked out the window at the neatly rolled tent and stacked camping gear. Charlie gazed at the fire, sipping a cup of coffee.
“Guess I overslept again,” she said, leaving the vehicle.
“The biscuits are warm, and the coffee still hot,” he said.
She nodded and walked to the stream. After splashing water on her face, she returned and sat on a log, enjoying a biscuit.
“You did not sleep well?” he asked.
“What makes you think that?”
“I heard your calls for someone named Shail. You seemed very upset. I nearly woke you to end the nightmare.”
Kari bit her lip. “I’m sorry I woke you, Charlie, but it wasn’t a nightmare. Since I came back to Dora, I’ve had this crazy, passionate dream. It’s so real I wake up and check the locks to make sure I’m alone.”
“So Shail was a lover.” He grinned.
“I’ve loved him for ten years,” she said, without thinking.
“Ten years? He’s from Dora?”
Kari’s eyes widened, and she remained silent, realizing her mistake. She had unintentionally revealed the identity of her dream partner.
“You meet the golden harpy then,” he said, solemnly. “Is Shail the harpy? Does he come to you in your dreams?”
“Yes, Charlie, yes.”
He tossed his remaining coffee on the ground and straightened. Flinging his long gray braids back, he stared upward through the branches at the sky and murmured, “God help us.” Coming out of this trance, he turned to Kari. “We must go now. Your father must learn of these dreams.”
Kari saw that Charlie was very upset. Instead of neatly packing the gear, he threw the equipment into the vehicle. “What is wrong?” she asked, walking to him. He didn’t answer. “What do these dreams mean? Why must Dad know?” When he ignored her questions, she grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her.
“The dreams are not yours.” He sighed. “They are the harpy’s. They mean that after all this time, he still wants you. He enters your mind when it is weak and receptive with sleep. There, he weaves his spell of seduction. Your father sent you to Earth to protect you.” He shook his head. “John must be told, and the golden must be hunted down and killed. Had I known this two years ago, I would have shot him when I had the chance.”
Kari was in shock and stumbled backward, away from Charlie. “They’re just silly dreams—my dreams, Charlie. Please, don’t tell Dad.”
“They are not your dreams or silly,” he said sternly. “This golden has marked you, and the reason the harpies rescue you is now clear. When you met the golden, you were both very young. John hoped that distance and time would break any spell. He thought you would return, forgetting the harpy, and the young male would find another mate. But none of this happened. You wonder why your father hates the harpies. They are a threat to you. To be taken by this Shail will bring you great grief and even cause your death.”
“If you tell Dad … if he kills Shail…,” she whimpered. “Don’t you understand? He saved me not only from the mogel, he’s the reason I didn’t commit suicide on Earth.” She fell to the ground and wept.
Charlie watched her for some time. He finally went over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “All right, Kari,” he said quietly. “I will not tell your father. Just promise me. When the golden comes, you will be strong and reject him.”
She stared up at him through a blur of tears. “I promise. If he comes, I’ll reject him, but not for my sake. I’ll reject him for his.”
They climbed in the vehicle and moved slowly down the road. After an hour, Kari asked, “You really believe that harpies can bring grief and death?”
“Yes,” C
harlie said.
Kari remained quiet the rest of the morning, confused and saddened by Charlie’s words. She knew the Indian would never lie to her. Were the handsome harpies really seductive monsters that preyed on women?
* * *
At noon, they came to a barren patch of land. “The swarms have been here,” Charlie said, pulling the vehicle to a stop.
Kari got out and surveyed the damaged land. “It is terrible.” For several miles the black ground was exposed, and all life was gone. A few sheared-off stumps remained where the beetles had stopped eating. An eerie feeling crept over her. The only sound was the whistling wind sweeping through the vacant land, blowing the smell of sour soil. She climbed into the vehicle. “It’s like a great storm came through and blew everything away.”
“Yes, these beetles are like a storm, but worse, for they know no season and give no warning. And, unlike a storm, they destroy everything in their path.” He started the engine to the terrain vehicle.
They soon were back in the jungle. The sounds of birds and aroma of flowers filled the air with music and perfume. She glanced up at the towering trees that hung over the road, making it cool with their shade. It was similar to traveling in a beautiful colorful cave of light and splendor.
Charlie stopped for lunch along the road. Kari spotted wild berries and picked some for the journey. The land became hilly as the northern mountain range dipped southward. They crossed two more barren areas devoured by the beetles. “That is the last,” Charlie said, “unless they struck while I traveled to meet you.”
Between the vivid hills, the sun was setting in the west. The black mountains gleamed in the distant north. Charlie pressed the communication button, and a small screen appeared between the two front seats. “Hello, Maria,” he said to the image.
“Charlie, where have you been?” Maria growled. “Did you pick up Kari?”
“She’s here,” he answered.
“Mr. Turner is having a fit! He’s tried to call you several times.”
“I turned off the com,” said Charlie. “Tell him we will be home before dark and in time for dinner.”
“Mr. Turner will be upset, making him worry,” she scolded.
“It won’t be the first time. See you at dinner.” He disconnected before Maria could respond. “That woman would call me every hour if she could,” he grumbled.
“Some things haven’t changed,” said Kari, remembering the contention between Maria and Charlie, but she knew deep down they were fond of each other.
* * *
Darkness covered the landscape, but Kari recognized some old buildings as she and Charlie neared the turnoff to Westend. They passed a road and an old painted sign saying, WELCOME TO WESTEND. They continued on the highway for another ten miles until she saw the wrought-iron gates of the Turner Estate. Turning into the drive, Charlie said, “You are almost home.” The jungle was replaced with large rolling meadows and herds of cattle. After a mile, the drive forked. The road to the left went to the house, to the right was the wood mill and the smaller homes of the employees.
Kari felt a tinge of nervousness when Charlie veered left at the fork. What would she say to her father after ten years? She saw the imposing grand house that sat on the largest hill with the jungle beyond. Outside lights lit the white columns and front yard. The vehicle traveled through the hills and came to a stop at the front doors. Two Irish wolfhounds leaped to their feet and greeted the familiar vehicle and the Indian who drove it. Kari stepped from the vehicle and petted the large dogs that her father always kept.
The front doors flew open, and the old housekeeper rushed out. Maria ran as fast as her short, plump legs would carry her. “Miss Kari, Miss Kari,” she cried, throwing her thick arms around her. “I’m so happy you’re home.” Tears of joy ran down her round cheeks.
Kari hugged Maria, who was the closest person to a mother she had known. “And I’m happy to be home.”
Maria let go and stood back. “My word, you have blossomed like a beautiful flower.”
Kari looked up, and standing in the doorway was her father. Amazingly, he hadn’t changed that much. His thick blond curls hid any strains of gray and his chiseled face was slightly more weathered. His tall, well-built frame strolled toward her. She stared into his pale blue eyes as he lightly embraced her.
“It’s good to have you home, Kari,” he said quietly.
“I’m glad to be back.” Kari put her arms around his waist, but felt the tension between them.
He released her. “I hope you’re hungry. Maria’s been cooking all day.”
“I am,” she said politely, “but I’d like to wash up first. We camped last night.”
“Of course. Take your time,” he said, grabbing her bags as Charlie unloaded them.
Kari and her father walked into the foyer and Charlie followed. She took the smaller bag. “I won’t be long,” she said, and ascended the stairs to her old bedroom.
As she reached her room, she heard Charlie and her father’s low voices. She froze and listened.
“How is she?” John asked.
“Bitter, but you can’t blame her, John,” Charlie answered. “If you want her to stay, you had better open your heart and tell her all.”
“I will.” John hesitated. “Charlie, I know that look. What else is troubling you?”
Kari held her breath and prayed that Charlie would keep the secret of her dreams.
“She is like her mother. That is all I will say,” said Charlie. “I must unpack the vehicle now.”
“I understand. Thank you, Charlie.”
Kari heard the front doors close, and she crept into her bedroom. Time had stood still in the room. All her old things remained in place except for a large vase of fresh flowers sitting on a dresser, obviously the labors of Maria. Kari picked up a stuffed toy animal that rested against a bed pillow and held it, remembering how it had comforted her in the night. She walked to a dresser and picked up a picture of her mother. The woman was dressed in a long white gown, the jungle behind her. She was radiant, Kari thought. Long blond hair flowed down her shoulders and partially covered her petite body. Kari saw the similarity between herself and her dead mother. Is this what Charlie had meant? In all these years, she had never heard Charlie refer to her mother.
Kari returned the picture to the dresser. “No more unanswered questions,” she said firmly. “He’s going to tell me how she died.” She gathered a clean change of clothing and went into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she dressed, came downstairs, and entered the dining room. Her father poured a glass of wine, and Charlie sat at the table. Maria placed a steaming bowl of vegetables in front of them.
“It smells wonderful, Maria,” Kari said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.
“I hope you didn’t get spoiled on Earth and still like my cooking.” Maria smiled.
“Spoiled?” Kari said sarcastically. “That was hardly the case.” She seated herself in her old seat next to her father and across from Charlie.
“Did you enjoy Earth?” Maria asked.
Kari glanced at Charlie, who lowered his head. Her father nervously sipped his wine. “It was all right, but I prefer Dora.” She took a drink of water. The half-truth stuck in her throat and was hard to swallow. She quickly changed the subject. “So tell me about the swarms, Dad.”
John breathed deeply with relief. He obviously knew that an Earth discussion could create an outburst of anger or tears from his estranged daughter. “The swarms are very bad and will get worse if we don’t find a remedy soon. I’m expecting a new insecticide from Hampton that the government assures me will work.”
Through dinner, her father talked about the beetles, obsessed with the problem. She couldn’t blame him. When Kari, John, and Charlie finished, they went into the spacious living room, and Maria cleared the table.
“I am tired,” said Charlie, “and you two need to talk. I will help Maria clean up and see her home.”
“Okay, Charlie,” said John �
�Have the men start on the shipment of red in the morning.”
“Good night, Charlie,” Kari added, settling into a large stuffed chair.
John bent down and lit a small fire in the fireplace. “Was Earth really all right?” he asked, watching the growing flames.
Kari felt her animosity rise, the betrayal churning in her gut. “No, it wasn’t,” she bit out. “In fact it was so bad I don’t care to discuss it.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, rising from the fireplace. “I know you’re still angry and probably hate me for sending you away. I just hope you’ll give me a chance to explain. I did it to protect you. There are things about Dora—”
“Dad, I’m tired,” she interrupted. “Can we talk later?” She was ill prepared and too agitated for this conversation, feeling the urge to scream, curse, or cry.
“Of course,” he said. “We’ll talk in the morning if you’re up to it.”
Kari saw her father was trying to mend their relationship. “In the morning, then.” She rose to leave the room. At the threshold, she stopped and glanced back at him. The once strong, determined man appeared frail, his gaze dejected. “I don’t hate you, Dad. I just hate what you did to me.”
4
Kari entered her bedroom and opened the balcony doors. A cool breeze blew the curtains into the air. She stepped out on the terrace and stared toward the jungle. Squawks and screeches of creatures rang out from the dark. Beyond the trees was the small hidden lake, the lake where she had met him, the golden harpy, years before. A longing crept over her to go to it and find him. She then remembered Charlie’s warnings. Stepping back inside, she closed the doors, and locked them. She surrounded herself with the numerous pillows and drifted to sleep.
The dream overtook her, and she was wandering through the jungle. Pushing the colossal ferns aside, she searched for the golden. A dense fog covered the fantasy jungle, and she couldn’t see far ahead. “Shail, where are you?” she called, drifting through the trees. In a small clearing, she saw him. He was curled up beneath a tree, and his wings were slightly extended, covering his body. She walked up and knelt beside him, pushing his hair from his sleeping face. He sadly gazed at her. His large eyes had lost all their fire and passion.
