Between Darkness and Dawn

by Margaret Duarte

  “She’s stronger than you give her credit for,” I said.

  “She’s full of surprises, that’s for sure.”

  I studied the handsome man I hadn’t been able to stomach only days before. He needed a haircut and shave. He was letting himself go. “Aren’t we all?”

  Veronica, Adam, and Buster lay on an area of wild grass a short distance from where Cecil and I sat, absorbing the last rays of sunshine. Crows, jays, and blackbirds flitted around them looking for food and voicing their complaints at not finding any. It struck me that the crow’s wings only show their iridescence when hit just right by rays of the sun That’s when you see that they’re not really black. They only appear black to the blind.

  “It’s time,” Anne called.

  Cecil practically leapt to a stand. “Summoned at last.”

  Veronica and Adam trailed behind as we headed for the ceremonial site.

  “Claudia has opted to stay outside the circle,” Anne said as the four of us reached her side. “She knows she can’t enter it later. Doing that would break the circle and allow whatever energy is in it to get out. The same goes for those inside. Once in, we can’t leave until the ritual is over. We must hold in our personal power until we’re ready to release it.”

  We all nodded, except Adam, who stared over Anne’s shoulder.

  “What about Buster?” I asked.

  “He stays outside of the circle with Claudia,” Anne said. “Got that, Claudia? Don’t let him into the circle.”

  “Got it,” Claudia said.

  “How do we get into the circle?” Veronica asked.

  Anne raised the double-edged knife she held in her hand. It had a black handle and was at least six inches long. “With this athame, I’ll cut a door in the energy that makes up the circle and then seal it once we’re inside.”

  The frown on Veronica’s face suggested that her “openness to the new” was being stretched to the limit. Her sense of humor, the little there was of it, seemed to have evaporated.

  “Claudia and Buster can guard the door,” Anne said.

  “From what?” Claudia asked.

  “From anything that approaches our circle.”

  “Like what?” she asked.

  “Squirrels, chipmunks—”

  “Skunks and bears,” Cecil added.

  Claudia bit her lip.

  “Don’t let Cecil’s teasing get to you Claudia,” Anne said. “Soon it’ll be too dark for you to see much beyond the circle. Consider it a symbolic job.”

  Claudia gave Buster a pat on the head. “We could always use the broom for protection, right boy?”

  Once Veronica, Cecil, Adam, and I were seated within the circle, Anne said, “The moon is waning, a good time to get rid of the negative things in your life. I wish we had the power to get rid of Adam’s illness, but we don’t.” She paused and winked at Adam. He responded with a slight narrowing of his eyes. “But we may have enough power between us to help him in some other way yet to be discovered.

  “We summon the energies of earth, water, fire, and air to join in our ritual. We summon the archangels—Michael, Gabriel, Uriel and Raphael—to watch over us and protect us. We summon the spirit of the trees to help us bend, forgive, and adapt. We summon our Lord, God, and our mother, Mary. And finally, we summon our ancestors, Antonia and Katherine.”

  Adam jerked at the sound of his wife’s name.

  “Everything is energy,” Anne continued, “a rock, water, wood...our bodies. And we’re all part of the huge energy field of the universe. The repercussions of our thoughts and actions ripple out, connecting us to all things, including the higher realm. We must send our intentions to our subconscious minds and to the spirit.”

  I closed my eyes and tilted my head to the darkening sky.

  “We need to build our energy into a cone of power,” Anne said, her voice hypnotic. “Let’s concentrate on our outcome. See it as happening in your mind.” She started to beat a drum. “Let our energy build.”

  With Anne’s rhythmic beating, I thought about Adam. What did I want for him? A cure? No, that was impossible. Peace? Tranquility? Reconciliation? Yes. I wanted father and son to bond and heal while there was still time. And I wanted for Adam and Cecil to find peace.

  Anne put down the drum. I opened my eyes. She struck a match and leaned over the altar. “With the lighting of this candle, I will direct all our stored energy out to do our work.”

  It was nearly dark. I could barely make out the faces of those in our circle, let alone that of Claudia, sitting in the beyond. I rubbed the mouse totem in my robe pocket, Joshua’s gift, a reminder to touch—and be touched by—my surroundings. Night wind whispered through the vast energetic field that surrounded us. I took a deep breath and exhaled, imagining a cord of light energy descended from the base of my spine into the core of the Earth, and the Earth’s energy traveling back up that cord into my body.

  “My father told me I was a loser,” Cecil said, “and that I wouldn’t amount to shit!”

  Now, that was unexpected. I waited for Anne to reprimand him, but she remained silent.

  Okay, so I knew how much it hurt to have a parent attack me verbally, but, somehow, I thought Cecil was above such hurt. I peered through the dimness at Adam’s downcast face and couldn’t reconcile him with the image Cecil portrayed.

  Veronica blew out her breath. “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

  “I proved him wrong, though,” Cecil said in a strangled voice. “An empty victory, since he no longer knows or cares.”

  Adam looked at Cecil, but said nothing.

  “What Dad? Not even a tear of regret?”

  Adam stared at his son, but remained silent.

  An owl hooted. What a lonely sound.

  Cecil threw up his hands. “What’s the use?”

  “Exactly,” Anne said. “There’s no going back. The only way is forward. The Adam behind the false mask that he once presented to the world is still here with us now, the Adam behind the ego. We have with us his spirit and soul, alert and conscious, not bogged down by guilt, regret, or disease.”

  Could it be true? Was Adam’s spirit aware of what was going on? Was it above and beyond guilt and regret? Was that fair?

  “Oh God,” Claudia screeched from beyond the circle.

  I jerked and turned in the direction of her voice.

  Buster growled.

  Cecil leapt to his feet.

  “Stay put,” Anne said, blocking Cecil with her outstretched hand. “Don’t leave the circle.”

  “What is it, Claudia?” Cecil asked.

  The swoosh of a broom. “Stay back!”

  Anne stood. “Calm down, hon. You’ve got Buster. Anyway, she won’t hurt you.”

  “She?” Claudia shrieked.

  “Come closer to the circle, Claudia, so we can see you.”

  A dark shape scampered toward us.

  “That a girl. Now sit and close your eyes. Try to ignore what’s happening.”

  Claudia huddled near the edge of the circle and appeared to make the sign of the cross. It was too dark to see if she had closed her eyes.

  “Are you okay?” Anne asked.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice trembling.

  “Have you closed your eyes?”

  “No. I want to watch.”

  Anne sighed. “Is Buster there with you?”

  Right on cue, Buster gave a high-pitched whine.

  “Then let’s be still and wait.”

  Had Antonia come to participate in our ritual? Did she and Adam share space in the depths of the Sacred that couldn’t be grasped with the eye or the mind, only the heart? Trouble was, we hadn’t yet explained to Cecil and Claudia who Antonia was and her deep connection to Adam in another realm.

  It takes a huge stretch of faith to put yourself in the hands of the invisible, but I was willing to try. In order to reach through the portal in the fabric of time to the level of awareness w
here Antonia’s consciousness dwelled, I would have to quit trying to figure everything out. I would have to open my heart, open my mind, and relax into a trusting, effortless state of being. In other words, in order to touch the energy of the Universe, I would have to stop being who I thought I was.

  Like Adam.

  As I refocused on the flickering candle and watched the small stream of smoke waver, I allowed myself to fall into the space of alignment, deeper, deeper into the depths of consciousness, deeper, deeper into the unifying field underlying physical existence. I bypassed my shadow self, the naysayer, the judge, the blamer. Deeper, deeper. No more quivering, no more stammering, no more stuttering. I had a story, but I was not my story. I was the detritus on the forest floor, necessary for the birth and survival of Antonia’s message. Whatever that message might be.

  I felt the force of my mother’s presence extend from outside the circle as if an invisible chord stretched beyond and through the boundaries between us. I heard what sounded like a thousand cricket wings rubbing together. Power surged inside me, filling a space that was once empty. No more weeping, no more doubting, no more questions. No more forcing the situation. I would accept whatever I could decode from Antonia’s message. No more. No less. And then move forward from there.

  “Antonia?” Adam’s voice reached my ears, but didn’t pull me from the place of pure consciousness, where emotions, body, and the external world recede.

  “Why did you come?” Adam asked.

  Silence.

  “No, you don’t owe me anything,” Adam said.

  I couldn’t hear what Antonia was saying, which was okay. This wasn’t about me.

  “Ce Ce?” Adam said. “No. He’s not here.”

  A groan from Cecil’s direction; the only indication that he’d heard his father’s words.

  “Ce-Ce?” Adam asked. “He’s here?”

  “Yes, Dad, it’s me,” Cecil said.

  “Son?”

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “It’s him,” Adam cried. “Antonia, it’s my boy! He’s back!”

  “I see something,” Claudia screamed. “It’s...it’s—”

  Buster’s bark covered up what she was about to say.

  “Hush, Buster,” Anne said. The coyote obeyed. “Claudia, Antonia won’t hurt you.”

  “Antonia? Who’s Antonia?”

  “We’ll explain later,” Anne said.

  “My dear son,” Adam said as though he were as lucid as the rest of us instead of experiencing the later stages of AD. “If I failed you, I ask for your forgiveness.”

  What must Cecil be thinking and feeling on hearing his father’s words?

  It broke my heart to consider that I had misinterpreted my adoptive mother’s love for me as manipulative and overbearing, when she, like Adam, had only been parenting the best way she knew how. She must’ve felt abandoned when Antonia began speaking to me and taking up all the room in my heart. No wonder the name calling, the anger.

  “I love you more than life itself,” Adam said, “and always will.”

  “I love you, too, Dad,” Cecil said, his voice a broken whisper.

  When my stay at Big Sur was over, I would cut Truus some slack and show her my appreciation for the good mother she was. I love you mother. I love both mothers.

  “Call me by name and speak to me about your daily life,” Adam said. “I will hear you.”

  Cecil started to sob and embraced his father.

  Another surge of energy. Time stilled. Boundaries dissolved. It felt as though Antonia were embracing me, too, yet passing through me, leaving love in her wake.

  Don’t try to grasp or understand, I told myself, just feel.

  Veronica and I will do our best to live the life you missed out on, Mother. We’ll feel the sun on our skin for you. We’ll sing and dance for you. We’ll marry and have children and feel love for you.

  Antonia began to cry, but this time it had a joyful sound, rather than that of unabated grief. Veronica slid next to me and took hold of my hand.

  “Sunwalker,” Adam said. “You need to talk to your father.”

  He paused as if waiting for further instructions. “Ask him—”

  Veronica tightened her grip on my hand. “Our father? What the hell does he have to do with all this?”

  Silence.

  Chills and goose bumps coated my skin. I listened with my body as if it were my ears.

  Fallen Light, Antonia said. Ask your father about Fallen Light.

  “She wants us to ask our father about Fallen Light,” I said.

  Veronica gripped my hand so tightly I thought it would break. “Fallen Light? Who or what—?”

  You must complete the circle.

  “She wants us to complete the circle.”

  “What circle?” Veronica asked.

  The sound of cricket wings rubbing together began to fade. As did the connection I felt to my mother. But power continued to surge through me—electrifying power—in the form of love.

  Rest in peace, Antonia

  The pain shooting up my arm reminded me that Veronica was still clutching my hand.

  “What was that all about,” she asked, releasing her grip.

  I shook my hand to regain its circulation. “Seems you need to introduce me to our father.”

  Her reply. “Dear God, give me strength.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  I HAD BEEN IN BIG SUR for over seven weeks now and had experienced only three days where the temperature reached past the seventies. And this wasn’t one of them. Veronica and I sat at a table in the Big Sur Lodge restaurant staring at the remnants of our breakfast. Neither of us had been hungry. My sister wore her hair in a slack ponytail. Her eyes appeared large and vulnerable without the distraction of shadow, liner, and mascara. Emotions played across her face that I’d never witnessed before, as if our mother’s strange request to ask our father about Fallen Light had stripped her of a mask behind which she’d been hiding.

  “Why’d Antonia have to meddle in our lives this way?” she asked. “This’ll change things. Forever.”

  Antonia’s so-called meddling had brought about change all right. Like a flash flood that sweeps you up in its current and carries you to destinations not of your choosing. I hated change. It made me feel vulnerable, off balance. But our mother had made one request—just one. How could we ignore it?

  I eyed my sister’s unusual attire. The fact that she even owned pink sweats meant she had a soft side, which gave me hope that we could be friends—as well as sisters. I put my hands over hers, amazed at how cold they felt. Mid-morning or not, the best place for her right now was in bed. “We’ll talk some other time,” I offered.

  “You mean it?”

  “Darn right, I mean it. Let’s get you back to your room so you can lie down.”

  She looked like she might float away, and I’d wake up to discover this had all been a dream and that I didn’t have a sister after all. “Come on,” I said. “I’ll tuck you in.”

  ~~~

  Anne was waiting for me at her campsite dressed in wide-leg chino pants that looked at least a size too big, a heavy black overcoat, and a matching knit beanie. You would think she’d just raided a distribution center for the homeless.

  What was going on here? First, Veronica switching from black leather to pink sweats and now Anne trading in her boho skirts and sandals for safari-type clothing and army boots.

  She sat in front of her camp stove, humming a tune I didn’t recognize and steeping a cup of what appeared to be tea. She waved me over. “Hey girl. How about taking the edge off with a synergistic shot of theanine?”

  Theanine? I blew out a puff of air, which fogged the front of my face like a cloud of grievance. “Only if it’s tea you’re offering and only if you have something non-organic to go with it.”

  She pulled out a bag of assorted chocolate miniatures. “For special occasions, I keep certain foods on hand that
don’t quite make the health food grade.”

  Special occasions? What did she have up her sleeve this time?

  She tossed me a Milky Way Midnight Dark chocolate. It plopped at my feet. “Cecil’s taking Adam home,” she said, “and I’m going along as his nurse.”

  I stared at her, unable to muster a sense of joy at the news. What had I expected? That she and Adam would stay here forever, while I came and went as I pleased?

  “Cecil did some checking, but couldn’t find anyone trained in the holistic and spiritual aspects of Alzheimer’s. He could’ve saved himself the trouble if he had asked me first, but... Oh well, it looks like I’m in. Being an oddball, a renegade, a traitor to the medical community makes me a perfect fit for the job.”

  “You’re a renegade, all right.”

  “Coming from you, that’s a compliment.” Her words held the humor mine lacked. She looked me up and down. “You okay?”

  I tore open the Milky Way’s silver and black wrapper and popped the bite-sized chocolate into my mouth, resulting in a euphoric rush, taste buds tingling. Leave it to Anne to have comfort food on hand when most needed. “When do you leave?”

  Anne tossed more candy my way, as though they possessed some kind of pain-blocking super powers. “In a couple of days. Cecil’s arranging things as we speak.”

  I stared at the cheerful heap of chocolates.

  “They live in Los Angeles,” she said.

  I shuddered at the thought. Traffic congestion, smog, Santa Ana winds, earthquakes, flooding, wildfires, crime. “In the city?”

  “Bel Air, actually.”

  “Oh.” My mind automatically shifted from visions of crowds, gridlock, and shootings to ones of palatial homes in the Santa Monica Mountains, spectacular views of city and ocean—fires and Santa Ana winds.

  “Cecil told me that Adam owns a Rolls Royce and his own private jet,” Anne said, “and that he belongs to the Bel-Air Country Club.”

  Try as I might, I couldn’t picture the Adam I knew surrounding himself with such things. “Not much use to him now.”

  “No, thank God.”

  “Does Cecil live like that, too?”

  “Afraid so.”

  I thought about Cecil’s yacht, his Harley, and his toffee-nosed, I’m-so-superior, attitude. “What kind of attorney is he?”