I flinched at the unexpected sound of his voice, dropping the hotel key. “Sheesh! What are you doing out here?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Yeah, me either.”
Nicholas motioned toward the inside of the room. “What about her? You wear her out?”
I couldn’t help the slight curl of my lips. I was sure I was turning a lovely shade of red that would be obvious in the stark florescent lights that lit each of the hotel doorways. The light was harsh, too bright and clinical to my heavy eyes.
“Xia’s sleeping fine.”
“You going to Carlsbad?” Nicholas was good at deducing people’s thoughts, but this in particular didn’t strike me as odd. I didn’t have any other place to go at the moment.
“Yeah.”
Nicholas twisted his foot on the butt of the cigarette. I hated seeing him smoke. It meant his anxiety was high.
“Without us?”
“Yeah. I kinda need some time. I haven’t really noticed the trees talking much lately, and if I’m going to find out where this acorn came from, I’m going to need some quiet, you know?” I wasn’t lying.
Nicholas nodded. “You can’t really focus with her around?”
That wasn’t a lie either, but was also a half-truth. “Not on what I need to focus on,” I grinned.
“When will you be back?”
“I figure around dinner? We can maybe get together then and grab drinks with Henric after?”
“Nah, we already decided we aren’t a fan of that guy,” Nicholas grinned, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket of his basketball shorts. He slapped the pack a few times against his palm.
I waited until he had lit his next cigarette and expelled the first puff of smoke.
“Can I borrow your car?”
He smiled. “Sure. And don’t worry about her. Xia and I can find some stuff to do today. I’ll keep her entertained. You can report on what you find, if you don’t think we’ll be any help.” Nicholas raised his eyebrow at me on that last part. “I’m sure we could all use a break from all of this magic shit for a while.”
“Yeah, okay.” I responded. “So,” I motioned toward his room, “you alone in there?”
“Nope. Barista.” This time it was his lip that curled, but he hid it by shoving the end of the cigarette back into his mouth and taking a slow drag.
“Well don’t sleep in too long,” I joked. “Xia wakes up pretty early and I didn’t leave a note.”
“You should at least text her something in case I’m in the mood for a little morning exercise,” Nicholas grinned, twisting his foot onto what I thought had been his second butt. Now that my eyes were adjusting to the outside light, I could tell it was more than his second—he had been at this for quite a while.
“Will do. Hey, take it easy on those.”
Nicholas shrugged and looked down at all the cigarette butts that were littered around his feet.
“Hey, you be careful,” he said, tossing the remainder of the pack into a nearby trash container.
“I’m tree hunting. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“Well, if I recall correctly, didn’t you catch on fire from that once?”
I grinned. “I’ll be careful.”
***
The drive to Carlsbad from San Diego is pleasant at three-something in the morning. The air is brisk and has a slight salty smell from the ocean, instead of the smell of exhaust that is so common on the California highways. My father’s ring was pulsing so often that I had the passenger side window down and the heat on in the car to keep myself comfortable.
Eventually I found myself driving on some smaller, curving roads that inched toward a set of ridges to the east. Large trees became common along the countryside as a dense morning fog rolled across the mountains. I followed an unknown road for quite some distance until the fog became too thick and I was forced to pull over. Normally, this prospect would have been frightening—being alone very early in the morning with no other cars or people or signs of life, unable to drive and unable to see because of reduced visibility. But I knew something beyond me was happening. My father’s ring was now sending constant streams of ice through my body and the acorn in my pocket hummed with life.
I pulled over and got out of the car, not surprised to find a hiking trail just inches from where I had parked.
I hiked until the first signs of the sun turned the pale white moonlight reflecting off the fog into a murky grey morning. It was actually easier to see in the moonlight because it didn’t refract against the fog like the sunlight did—didn’t hide the shadows of the trees that had been visible in the lesser light.
“Edmund,” I heard a female whisper my name behind me in the fog, and the resulting chill my ring shot through me gave me more than goose bumps: it made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end like it does when I’m being watched.
I spun around and strained to see through the fog.
“Hello?” my voice creaked, barely above a whisper.
“Is it him?” another voice whispered, this time in front of me. I spun back forward in time to see a dark shadow flicker into oblivion… unless my eyes were just playing tricks on me.
I couldn’t tell if the whispers were from real people or if they were carried on the fog like the tree’s whispers were carried on the wind in Orenda, but I suspected no one out here would know who I was… unless Nicholas or Xia had come to look for me.
“Nicholas?” I asked, taking a step forward on the trail. I listened carefully for a response, for a rustle, for footfall on the path, but heard nothing. The world seemed almost too still, too quiet. So quiet in fact, that I could only hear my heartbeat in my ears when I tried to listen.
Then, as if by some change in the wind, the fog in front of me began to dissipate and a large, black figure started to materialize. At first, I thought that it was a person, but it soon became apparent that it was too large. Then, it sprouted giant arms… no… branches…
I strained to see the large tree, but while its silhouette was becoming clear, I couldn’t make out details. Finally I could hear the slight rustle of its leaves carried on the soft breeze that had started to clear my path. I couldn’t distinguish the individual leaves or see any color, but I could make out the shape of the tree and could tell that it was still a long way off—off the path, into the forest.
Something at the base of the tree caught my eye—movement. I couldn’t tell if it was a trick of the fog or something really moving, but the base of the tree seemed to twist and turn, then rise up, then get smaller. I watched as a shadow stepped away from the trunk of the tree and divided into two.
They were people!
“Hello?” I called to them, my voice more confident this time.
There was no vocal answer but the two shadowy figures raised their hands and started waving at me.
My legs decided to start moving toward the tree when the acorn in my pocket began to hum again. It only took a few steps to realize that the tree was much further than I had originally thought, and was much larger.
Every step brought more of the tree into focus. Every step seemed to make it grow. With every step the acorn in my pocket buzzed with excitement and knowing. It knew something I didn’t and it was excited to show me.
The two figures at the base of the tree danced. As I got closer I started to make out human characteristics. One was much larger, the other more subdued. The one dancing was almost as excited as the acorn. Both shadows vibrated with the same intensity as the acorn in my pocket, or perhaps the vibration was actually coming from me. I couldn’t tell.
Then, suddenly, one characteristic came into clarity that made me stop dead in my tracks. Amid the black-and-white world of fog and shadow, one color stood out as vividly as a color in a selective-color photograph; the larger figure had fiery red hair. I would know that shade anywhere.
“Ralph!” I burst out and started running.
It was like a nightmare and the best
dream of my life at the same time. I could see them, Ralph and Hailey. They were unclear but they were there. I knew it.
The faster I ran, the further away they seemed to get. The tree, however, got closer, its giant black trunk obscuring my view of the dancing human shadows, one with red hair.
When I finally got to the oak tree, I could see that my two shadow friends were actually just smaller trees, one with fiery red leaves and the other with limber branches that swayed and danced even though the air felt still.
My heart fell and I couldn’t help but feel disappointment. I chided myself for missing my friends and for letting something so foolish get me excited. Yes, I longed for Hailey and Ralph both—but they were in another life. Now, I had friends here… Nicholas and Xia.
Still, the pep talk didn’t fill the emptiness. It was more than just longing, or missing, or sadness, or loss. I felt out of place. I didn’t belong.
My, my child. That is quite a burden you carry, the wind seemed to whisper.
And that feeling, that wonderful feeling of magic, filled my entire body. I knew that voice. I spun around to gaze at the oak tree.
“Mother Tree!” I gasped aloud, and this time, there was no holding back the tears. “But how?”
We trees remember, but you people forget. How is it that you remember?
I had no idea how to answer her riddle, but it didn’t matter. I swung myself up into her branches and secured myself around her trunk in what must have resembled a hug. I wanted to be connected with her.
“Show me. Show me how you came to be here?”
And she did. I could feel what her life was like in Orenda, on the outskirts of the rolling alfalfa fields. I saw our previous encounter from beginning to end. I even felt the fire consume her.
The transformation from Orenda to this earth wasn’t like I had expected, but then again, I didn’t remember being born on earth myself, so I didn’t really have any reason to have expectations. Mother Tree’s birth here seemed quite ordinary, not fancy or transformative. In fact, it was almost as if her roots were so deep that when her life force encountered the flames of the fire, it retreated into the deepest parts of her roots, flipped inside out, then sprouted new life here.
And that life here simply made sense to her. There was no questioning within her about who she was or where she came from. Orenda wasn’t her home; Earth wasn’t her home. She just was.
That understanding made sense to her, but not to me. In that, we were different.
I wanted to be consumed by Mother Tree’s understanding. I found myself wondering how many lifetimes she had seen—completely awestruck by the knowledge that a tree’s lifetime could be hundreds upon hundreds of my years. Just the time she would have spent in Orenda alone would have been generations to any human, and the knowledge and memory that she carried with her from lifetime to lifetime must have been infinite.
Mother Tree responded with answers to my thoughts as quickly as I thought them. She could show me her life in Orenda only because I had been there with her. If I could not remember that life, it would be against the laws of nature for her to show me more. I tried to prod at the memories prior to the lifetimes we shared, wondering why the laws were the way the laws were but found nothing but darkness, a barrier as thick and strong and dense as the heavy oak wood.
I opened my eyes to the sound of my name. At first, I wasn’t sure if someone had actually spoken it or if Mother Tree was poking at some of my memories in a sort of playful retaliation because the voice was definitely from a memory.
“Edmund!” the voice sounded again, breathless with excitement and surprise.
I looked down into a pair of eyes sunk so far back into their sockets that at first glance I almost missed the kindness in them. The soft shape of the corners that once made them look like they were smiling had given way to gravity, and delicate wrinkles that were once easily covered with makeup were now canyons—canyons that looked like rivers of tears had worn through them.
But there was no mistaking the glimmer, the brightness, and the inner fire.
“Sister Chantale!” I exclaimed in complete shock.
“And Sister Elizabeth,” a second, harsher voice responded. I hadn’t even noticed the other woman standing on the other side of the tree. Her voice was so jarring that I teetered on the branch I was balanced on.
I was down on the ground and in Sister Chantale’s open arms before I even realized I was moving. She was no longer dressed in the nun habit but she still smelled of eucalyptus, just as she had when I was a child. My eyes stung with happiness.
“How? I mean… I saw you. I thought…” I couldn’t bring myself to say that I thought she was dead.
“The Lord spared me that night, somehow,” she responded. “All I remember is a sharp pain, then waking up in the hospital. They said I had a heart attack.”
“That seems to be a common theme,” I said, pulling away.
“What do you mean?” Sister Chantale responded, but before I had a chance to answer Sister Elizabeth was by my side.
“Got any hugs left for an old hag like me?” she grinned. I never remembered her being affectionate, but there was something familiar and warm when she hugged me and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek. She smelled like mothballs, a scent that I found to be extremely pungent, but also oddly calming. I caught myself wondering how it was that anyone even used mothballs anymore. Did clothes-eating moths still exist?
“I was actually on my way to see you. How…?” I began, but then decided I was asking the wrong question, “What are you doing here?”
It was Sister Chantale that answered. “Actually, we were looking for you.”
“It was an odd coincidence, our running into Nicholas’s mother,” Sister Elizabeth explained. I realized about this time that I didn’t even know their real names.
“Oh, don’t bore him with the unnecessary details. Long story short, Elizabeth and I had faith that the acorn would find its way into your possession, and that it would lead you here.”
“Elizabeth?” I gawked at Sister Elizabeth. “Your real name is Elizabeth?”
“It is now, my boy. Come, let’s sit down. My hips are a bit sore from the hike. We’ve been coming up here for days hoping to find you. Took you long enough.”
The fog hadn’t yet yielded to the heat of the sun so the air felt murky and heavy. I couldn’t tell if it was the fog playing with my vision, but when Elizabeth turned to walk into the fog, her eyes looked milky white, translucent and hauntingly dead. I shivered and reached for her hand, not in guidance or out of an emotional necessity, but because I had an overwhelming need to make sure it was still warm.
It was warm and clammy and the skin was loose around the bone as it gets with age, but I could still feel Elizabeth’s heartbeat as it pushed blood through her fingers.
Elizabeth spun and looked at my hand in her own as if she expected someone else. The look in her eyes as she sized up the gesture was somewhere between surprise and sadness, but at least the color of her eyes looked normal now. She gave my hand a light squeeze of acknowledgment, then dropped it and turned back to the fog.
I glanced over at Sister Chantale, whose half-smile seemed forced. “So what is your name these days?” I asked lightheartedly.
The smile faded, which made the old wrinkled face appear ghost-like in the fog. All signs of life within her seemed carried in her lips. I hadn’t noticed before how I only knew them to be upturned, which caused the wrinkles near the corner of her eyes to star outward. Without the smile, her face was less than expressionless.
“I actually took the name of my son, Simon. You must think that strange.”
We had walked a few feet from the large oak tree to a place that had benches carved out of marble. As we sat down, I found myself cursing the fog—I would have loved to see where I was and what this place looked like in the light. Between the hiking trails, the large oak tree, and the benches, it must have been some sort of park, but everything was unfamiliar to me. Ev
ery few feet I may have been in a different world for all I knew. My entire point of view was lost. The shadow of the large oak tree had even given way to new fog wafting in from all around us. I could still see the shadow of the small tree with the orange leaves, though. I had to keep reminding myself that not only was there not a person standing over there, but that even if there was, it wouldn’t have been Ralph.
Simon Chantale’s hand on my knee brought me back to her comments.
“Actually, it answers a lot of questions for me. I went to see a priest at the school,” I said.
“Father Paul. Yes, he called me,” Elizabeth interrupted.
“Yes. He said that you were living with Simon. Obviously I knew Simon couldn’t be…” I didn’t finish the sentence again when Simon Chantale’s face fell and her hand tightened on my knee.
“It made me curious,” I settled, resting my hand on hers in a show of solidarity. “Then to find you, Sister Chantale… I’m sorry. Simon. I thought you were dead.”
“In a lot of ways I am,” the old woman responded and her eyes seemed to glaze over like Elizabeth’s had done.
I blinked and those eyes were looking directly at me, now shining, wet with tears.
“Now look at me,” she chided herself, producing a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at her eyes.
I turned to Elizabeth who was watching Simon Chantale cry, judgmentally. She really was a bitch.
“Anyway,” I interrupted Elizabeth’s stare, purposely giving her a judging look of my own. She opened her mouth as if she were about to protest or make an excuse, but then closed it and waved her hand like she was waving her thought away.
I continued, “I wanted to come talk to you about the survivors from the orphanage.”
“What survivors?” she asked, and the question almost seemed menacing, like a serial killer asking “what bodies?” It took me a minute to process that she didn’t mean there were no survivors; she just didn’t know that I was asking about all of them as a collective.
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