Long Snows Moon (15 page)

“Does it?” Jameson raised a brow. “I have
some brandy,” she said, pulling a dusty bottle from under the
kitchen sink.

Devon poured with a heavy hand. “Do you want
to know how I decided to drive out this way? A raven flew in
through my bedroom balcony. I decided to follow it west to the
family lodge and ended up here.”

“I owe that raven a debt of gratitude.” The
bell above the door jingled and Jameson jumped up. “I’ll be back in
a second.

“Good morning, Mrs. King. Are you out of my
special blend already? You’re smoking it faster than I can grow
it,” Jameson joked.

Devon smiled and limped back to the steps
outside to take in the morning air. Moon joined her.

“You like it here?” Devon asked her.

Moon barked once and licked Devon’s face.

“Then I say we stay for the day.”

Moon barked once.
Or forever.

“Will you get me my cell phone, please? It’s
upstairs next to the couch where we slept last night. Bring me my
cell phone not a regular phone.”

Moon barked.

“You have confused them before,” Devon
reminded her.

Moon barked twice.

“Yes, you have to admit it,” Devon
insisted.

Moon barked twice.

“You did once.”

Moon barked once and disappeared.

“You know I hate it when we argue,” Devon
called after her.

Moon brought Devon her cell phone as
requested but refused to give it to her. She stood beyond Devon’s
reach ducking each time Devon tried to grab it.

“Give it to me, Moon.”

Moon placed the phone on the ground inches
from Devon’s reach.

“Moon,” Devon warned. “Move it closer.”

Instead of pushing it closer, Moon used her
snout to push it away. She barked twice and pranced out to the edge
of the woods in search of a more interesting game.

“Get back here,” Devon called to her. “You
better not go into those woods, do you hear me?”

Moon barked once and snuffled the earth
fascinated by an exotic new scent.

“I’m still the boss now give me my damn
phone! Don’t you even care that I’m hurt?”

Moon trotted to Devon and sniffed her swollen
ankle. She slid the phone to Devon with her paw.

“Thank you.” She had twelve new voice
messages. She checked the caller I.D. and was both happy and angry
her mother’s phone was reconnected. She took a few deep breaths,
not ready to confront her, not ready to hear her mother’s bullshit
explanations. She set the phone aside to contemplate the
situation.

Moon barked at the sky. Circling above them
was a beautiful red-tailed hawk. Its descent was unexpected, Devon
screamed when the hawk bumped her with a wing. The hawk plucked the
phone from the step, soared up, and disappeared beyond the peak of
the store.

Jameson rushed outside. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you see that? Oh, my God, it took my
phone!”

“What took your phone?”

“A giant hawk swooped down and snatched my
phone. What does the hawk mean?” Devon asked.

“It means you are supposed to work toward
fulfilling your soul’s purpose,” Jameson explained.

“So this journey that led me here isn’t
over?”

“Your life’s journey is never ending, and
this portion is part of a lesson. You will know when the lesson is
resolved. Life lessons are like chapters in a book. Come on, I have
a special day planned.”

“What about my phone? What about your
store?”

“You can live for a day without your phone,
can’t you? I have my friend Lauren coming over to mind the store
today. She’s a wonderful woman. She was my mother’s best
friend.”

“Where are we going?”

“I’m going to take you to my special place. I
want to share something with you. It might help you understand your
journey. It is peaceful and tranquil. I think it will do you good.
You’ll recognize it.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I’m lame!” Devon
reminded her.

“I have that covered. We’ll take my
four-wheeler, I have a trailer for it that Berry, I mean Moon can
ride on, and it’s big enough to hold some provisions, as well.”

“Provisions?” Devon frowned.

“Blankets, flashlights, my tent, some food,
you know, camping provisions.”

“I just got out of the woods,” Devon
whined.

“Come on, go pick out some things in the
store. Meanwhile, I thought you could use this to help you get
around for a while.” She handed Devon an ornate hiking stick.

“It’s gorgeous,” Devon traced her fingers
over the carvings.

“Thank you,” Jameson said.

“Don’t tell me you carved this unimaginable
piece.”

“I did. See the wolf at the bottom followed
by snake, buffalo, panther, horse, and mouse.”

“Mouse?” Devon asked.

“It represents scrutiny,” Jameson explained.
“Then coyote, butterfly and on the top is my raven.”

“Raven,” Devon, mused.

“My birth totem,” Jameson explained. “My mom
told me my dad used to call me Raven Song. According to my mother,
after my father died, whenever I cried a raven would appear in my
bedroom window. Ravens are excellent mimics but do not sing as much
as they do caw. According to my mother, this particular raven sang
beautifully and in minutes of his song, I would fall asleep. I
don’t remember my father much because he died when I was four, but
I do sign my art pieces with Raven Song as a special homage to
him.”

“That’s sweet,” Devon smiled. “I didn’t
finish telling you about the raven.”

“I’ll be right back.” Jameson dashed into the
store.

Devon heard her greeting someone and a voice
coming closer as they neared the kitchen.

“Lauren, this is Devon Danforth,” Jameson
beamed.

“Oh, my goodness child, you’re a real looker,
gorgeous, gorgeous! You were right, Jamie,” Lauren Martine gushed,
taking in Devon’s beauty. “And who is this sweet puppy dog?” She
leaned down and pet Moon. “She looks like Berry, for a minute there
I thought I saw a ghost. You two go on I’ll mind things around
here.” She noticed Devon holding the walking stick and grinned.
“Beautiful, isn’t it? You should see her flutes. Jameson, show her
one of your flutes.”

“You carve flutes? I play, well I used to
play.”

“Go inside and pick one out. They are on this
back wall here by the wind chimes and dream catchers. I’m going to
pack us some food.”

“You choose, I wouldn’t feel right,” Devon
hedged.

“Let her sit, Jamie, you pick one out for
her, it will be that much more special.”

The bell above the door rang and Lauren
Martine sailed out of the kitchen to greet the customers. “Nice to
meet you, darlin’,” she told Devon over her shoulder. “And
welcome.”

“Lovely to meet you, too.” Devon smiled.

“She’s right. I know exactly which one I want
to give you.”

“Sorry I’m not much help.”

“Come back into the kitchen and relax.”
Jameson helped her into a chair and pushed her up to the table.
“Don’t worry, please unwind, I want you to be open to the
experience we are about to have. Can I get you anything for right
now?”

“I feel like a princess,” Devon admitted,
“having you wait on me like this.”

“I’m sure that’s nothing new for you. You are
obviously wealthy. What about your servants and housekeepers?”

Devon giggled, “Servants? Don’t be silly. I
do have a housekeeper that comes once a week, I take care of myself
and always will. Maybe I was born into a life of privilege, but my
mother wasn’t. I have humble roots.”

“Do you really?” Jameson teased.

“Sure,” Devon nodded eyeing the bottle of
liquor still on the table. “I’ll tell you my life story later. It
will take about five minutes.”

“I doubt that, but it’s a deal, and I’ll tell
you mine.” She turned to leave.

“Jameson,” Devon asked, “would you bring me a
glass, please? With two ice cubes?”

Jameson did and left the kitchen.

Devon heard Moon groan when she poured
herself a drink. She sulked under the kitchen table.

“Just one,” Devon assured Moon. “One little
one.”

When the dirty water makes you cry, my
sister, who will sing you to sleep?

Devon searched the room for the voice. She
narrowed her eyes at Moon.

“Did you hear that?”

Moon barked twice.

Chapter Seventeen

An hour later, they
were deep within the woods setting up camp in a familiar clearing.
After Jameson built a fire, she put up the tent. Devon watched her,
feeling contented, from atop the mound of blankets and bedrolls
Jameson arranged for her. The fire crackled, its flames licked
curiously high and Devon swore she saw the shape of a snake within
the smoke.

We are all prey to something.

She watched Moon explore the edge of the
bank, extending a tentative paw toward the water. She looked back
at Devon and barked.

“I know, it’s cold, huh? You’re okay. You’re
wearing your lovely winter coat.”

Moon barked and pranced along the edge of the
bank, yipping at the tiny ripples in the water.

“Moon,” Jameson called. “Would you get me
some more branches? About this size, please.” She showed her a
branch.

Moon barked once and began to gather branches
and twigs.

Devon sipped brandy from her flask and tossed
the kindling Moon retrieved into the fire.

A semi-circle of tightly knit trees canopied
the clearing. The tent hugged the edge of the woods, close to the
narrow path that led them there. The fire was set up a few feet
from the tent. Between the fire and the stream was a circular
pattern of rocks that was about the diameter of child’s inflatable
pool. The strange formation that baffled Devon the night before
still baffled her now.

Jameson joined Devon on the stack of
blankets, her beautiful face gleaming with excitement and the work
involved in putting up the tent. She took the flask from Devon and
had a sip.

“I’m glad you decided to humor me and come
back out here,” she admitted, handing the flask back to Devon. “I
know you didn’t want to.”

“I’m not much of a nature girl, that’s all.
But, I do love the company,” Devon smiled.

Jameson draped a blanket over Devon’s
shoulders.

“This is cozy, so soft,” Devon muttered,
wrapping it around her.

“My mother gave it to me when I went to
college.”

“What did you study?”

“Art, but I dropped out when I found out my
mother was ill.”

“That must have been awful. I can’t even
imagine losing my mother. Well, I can imagine it, but I suppose her
leaving without a trace is better than her leaving this life.”

“See what you’ve learned? The scope of your
view has widened and you are able to see beyond what is happening
at hand. Growth is about perspective. I learned that lesson right
here, in this clearing the night my mother died. That was when I
made the medicine wheel. That was the moment I began to walk the
wheel towards perfection of being.”

“How can a bunch of rocks help you with
that?”

“Each rock within the wheel corresponds to a
separate lesson. The center stone represents The Great Mystery,
God, Wakan Tanka, and the essential part of your being. The four
outer stones are the four cardinal directions, east, south, west,
and north, each with its own teaching. For instance, the south
represents the animals, plants, and trees. The Great Mystery has
provided us these things for our sustenance. They give themselves
for our essential needs, the clothes we wear as well as food and
shelter. In addition, as you now know, the south is the direction
of trust, honesty, and youth.”

“It’s like an empathy wheel,” Devon
mused.

“Yes.”

“This is interesting to me. I have always had
an interest in Native American culture probably because of
you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, meeting you as a child changed me. I
never finished college either, but I wanted to study American
history.”

“You still can.”

“I suppose.”

“Well, you inspired me,” Jameson said.

“How?”

“In my art,” Jameson told her. “I used to sit
under a tree at school waiting for my mother or Lauren to pick me
up, thinking about you.”

“You thought about me?”

Jameson nodded as she touched the locket
around her neck. “All the time, that’s why I carved a protection
for you into the tree. My art teacher caught me.”

“Oh no, did you get in trouble?”

“No way. Granville loved my work, I could
have spray-painted graffiti on the school walls and he would have
applauded my technique.”

“You called your teacher, Granville?”

“Not to his face. He was really young, fresh
out of college.”

“Your first crush?” Devon teased.

“My second,” Jameson blushed.

Devon stroked Jameson’s face. “I thought
about you, too.”

“What did you think about?”

Devon averted her eyes. “I thought about
sleeping beside you. I thought about how your hot hands would feel
on my skin. I thought about your mouth and imagined kissing you and
that you tasted like peppermint gum and cigarettes.”

“Pretty racy thoughts,” Jameson chuckled.
“Gum and cigarettes, huh?” She took a pack of peppermint gum from
her pocket and offered it to Devon.

Devon chuckled and took a piece. “Okay, tell
me more about the protection thing you carved for me. Or show me
like you did before. What an amazing meditation. Plus, I love
seeing you as a little girl.”

“Oh yeah? Okay, then I will take you to meet
my art teacher, Granville. Close your eyes and see me in the woods.
I’m fourteen.”

* * * *

“It’s hotter than hell,” Jameson muttered as
she tramped along the well-worn path through the woods to her
private place. She chuckled at how Lauren Martine said it with her
Creole accent.

“It’s hotter than a witch’s tit in a brass
bra,” Jameson mimicked.