Long Snows Moon (17 page)

“It’s peppermint chocolate tea, like a
Peppermint Patty.”

“Very unusual,” Doc Jo Jo said. “Does it have
any healing properties?”

“It’s my remedy for the sweet cravings during
the menstrual cycle. I call it Peppermint Mood Serum.”

“Very interesting,” Doc Jo Jo praised,
seeming to enjoy the tea. “Very clever, PMS, very clever,
indeed.”

“Thanks,” Jameson beamed. “Here are the
ingredients.” She handed her mother a sheet of notebook paper. “It
also has a mild diuretic as well as a few well integrated calming
herbs.”

“Well done,” Doc Jo Jo smiled as she reviewed
Jameson’s recipe.

“It’s great with a splash of cream, too,”
Jameson added some cream to her mother’s cup.

“You’ve made me proud. I appreciate your
loyalty to my work and to this place itself. Your father and I
bought this piece of land when Elk’s Pass was just a two-lane
bridge. This place drew us to it by a divine force. I have always
felt this location is infused with the energy from ancient tribes.
Their deep-rooted spirituality and tradition are ghosts that haunt
this land still today. My knowledge comes to me in dreams and
visions of healers past. My courage comes from warriors who fought
to keep this land. My fortitude comes from the ingenuity and sheer
will to survive in a culture exiled and excommunicated from their
property. I have always felt so alive and liberated here. It’s as
if God’s radio is always tuned in here.”

Jameson nodded. “I feel connected here, too.
I promise I will keep those ghosts from fading away. I’ll journey
and dream and I’ll keep our legacy alive.”

“You’re a good daughter.” Doc Jo Jo smiled as
she struggled to her feet.

Jameson jumped up to help her, but her mother
waved her away. “Don’t forget Lauren is doing a crystal healing
class here tonight. Would you mind locking up for me? I’m going to
my room and watch a little television. Tell Lauren I’ll see her on
the astral plane.”

“I will, Mom.”

Doc Jo Jo pinched her daughter’s cheek on the
way out of the kitchen. “You’re a fine friend, too. I always have
enjoyed your company.”

“Thanks, Doc, me too,” Jameson tried to smile
but the way her mother moved lately made her heart ache.

“Good night, Jameson.”

“Night, Mom.”

Jameson sat there a while staring at her
mother’s empty chair. Her words echoed and hummed in her head.
I
always have enjoyed your company
.

Berry whined from beneath the table.

“Do you have to go out?” Jameson asked,
peeking under the table. “Come on.”

Jameson snuck a cigarette from her secret
hiding place in the fridge, the butter dish, and headed out back
door for Berry to do her business.

Jameson sat on the back step and lit up,
contemplating the depth of what her mother said. It was true. The
property on which they lived was animate. Jameson always attributed
her gifts of sight to the high vibration of the land. Her
connections to the animals that lived around them had always been
profound, and now her understanding of the plants and trees was as
boundless. She felt empowered by her newfound knowledge and basked
in the glow of her mother’s praise.

Good night, Jameson.

Jameson looked up at the owl perched on the
roof of the greenhouse. It fixed her with its wise, knowing eyes.
Jameson glared at it.

You are a good daughter
.

Jameson’s annoyance gave way to fear. When
she looked deeper into the owl’s eyes her fear escalated into
terror.

And a fine friend.

She dropped her cigarette and sprung to her
feet. She screamed for Berry to come into the house but didn’t
bother to wait.

She bounded through the kitchen and up the
stairs to her mother’s room, the weight of the owl’s stare heavy on
her heart. Her pulse raced and her ears felt muffled. Tears
streamed down her cheeks. An anguished moan escaped her before she
reached the top step because Jameson knew it was too late.

She hesitated in the doorway of her mother’s
bedroom, her breath ragged.

Her mother lay on her back appearing peaceful
in the soft glow of a candle by her bedside.

“Doc?” Jameson whispered, entering the room.
“Mom?”

Jameson went to her and reached out a
trembling hand to touch her face. “Mom?” Her face was cold.

Jameson sunk to the floor and wailed in
despair. “No, please, no, please no!”

She gripped her mother’s hand and patted her
face. “Wake up, Mom, please, please, I can’t lose you. Wake up,
wake up, please don’t go!”

* * * *

Lauren Martine entered the store greeting
them in her lilting Creole accent, a tall woman ambling into her
seventieth year. Her maple colored skin a road map of experience,
her light gray eyes dulled by arthritic agony. Despite her pain and
sudden sense of foreboding, Lauren forced herself into levity.

“I have arrived! What’s simmering in the
cauldron tonight, my friends?”

She put her notebook and purse on Doc Jo Jo’s
desk. When she turned back around Berry was standing there.

Lauren Martine jumped and clutched her chest
with a narrow hand. “Oh, Berry, you scared the hell out of me. What
is wrong with you? You look like you have seen a ghost or
something. Joann? Did I leave a ghost behind at that séance we had
here last week? ‘Cause this dog look like she’s seen the devil
himself. Doc! Where is everybody? Jameson?”

Berry tugged at Lauren’s skirt and ran to the
stairs.

Lauren Martine didn’t need a crystal ball to
know something was wrong. An alarm went off in her head and she
moved as if hypnotized across the store and up the stairs. Berry
waited for her at the top of the stairs. She led her to Doc Jo Jo’s
bedroom door. Through the open door, she saw Jameson huddled on the
floor beside her mother’s bed, weeping.

Lauren’s legs went limp and she had to catch
herself on the wall. She slid down the wall and sat there stunned
as silent tears streamed down her face. Berry went to Jameson and
tugged at her clothes, but Jameson didn’t respond.

Berry barked at Lauren and tugged on
Jameson’s shirt again. Lauren found the legs to stand and entered
Doc Jo Jo’s room. She knelt beside Jameson and took her in her
arms. Jameson wailed in despair as she fainted against Lauren’s
chest. Lauren rocked and soothed her, casting tearful and forlorn
glances at her best friend’s lifeless face.

“Come on, let’s go downstairs.” Lauren pulled
Jameson to her feet. “Come on, baby, let’s go. Let’s get something
to calm you down.”

Jameson was too weak to stand. Lauren held
her close, and together they moved as one down the steps.

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll take care of
everything. Just sit here and relax.” She put Jameson in a kitchen
chair and went out front to get some of Doc Jo Jo’s calming
tea.

* * * *

Later, the back door stood open and the night
draped over the door like a black blanket, smothering all sounds.
Jameson looked down at the cup of tea her mother enjoyed. The milk
had curdled. Jameson picked up the teacup and pitched it out the
door. She bolted out into the night, seeking solace in the star
filled sky. She noticed the owl still settled on the greenhouse
roof, comfortable with his perch. He blinked at her
indifferently.

“Get the hell out of here! Do you hear me? Go
away!” She found the teacup on the ground and chucked it at him.
She missed him by a mile.

She dashed into the woods with Berry in
pursuit, her destination the stream. She didn’t stop running until
she tumbled face first into the water. She remained seated in the
shallow water, hypnotized by the moon’s light dancing on the
surface, her fists clenching and unclenching. Her eyes were hard
and remote. Her abrupt and radical loss of faith made her feel
dull.

She wanted to lie down under the water and
take a deep breath. Berry barked from the edge of the stream.
Jameson looked at her pet. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been
there or how long Berry had been barking.

Berry tried to come in to the water but
Jameson gave her the signal that stopped her. Berry sat and whined
on the bank.

I come to you with a message.

Jameson was not surprised to see the owl
sitting in a nearby tree.

“Go away!”

I am not the bringer of death, simply its
messenger.

“Deliver your message and go away.”

She has seen Wakan Tanka. Keep your faith
and you
will never be alone. We are all one, here as in
the other realms.

Jameson she crawled out of the stream.
Jameson sobbed at the owl, “No! No, no, no!”

You will not live this life alone. Love
will find you and you
will find it, too. First, you must
walk the wheel.

* * * *

In the month’s following Doc Jo Jo’s passing,
Jameson relied heavily on her mother’s Sleep Tea. A ruckus in the
kitchen hauled her from her deep slumber. She heard Berry barking
and what sounded like a man’s voice. She slipped into a pair of
moccasins, armed herself with her walking stick, and headed down
the stairs.

She kicked open the swinging door and snapped
on the light. She gasped. Berry had the intruder pinned against the
counter.

“Berry, hold.”

Berry growled but obeyed.

“Who the hell are you?” Jameson demanded.

He stared at Berry as if she were rabid and
gnawed his filthy nails

“You have two seconds to tell me why you are
in my home before your balls become a midnight snack for my
dog.”

“Heard you sold weed,” the man slurred. “I
wasn’t gonna hurt anyone.”

“You are the one who is going to get hurt and
I do not have any pot, you jackass. Where did you get an idea like
that?”

“Everyone knows,” he said.

“That’s absurd. Get out of my house you
fool.”

A noise outside said he wasn’t alone. In the
instant Jameson and Berry reacted to the sound, the man punted
Berry out of his way. She yelped as she slid across the kitchen
floor.

He snatched Jameson’s head back by her
hair.

“Where is it?” he demanded, his breath putrid
from cigarettes and rotten teeth. “Folks who sell pot usually have
money hidden.”

“I told you, I don’t sell pot you asshole,”
Jameson yelled, struggling in his grip. She recognized him as one
of the local ‘Injun’ haters who lived for hunting season. Who sat
in bars and bragged about their kills.

“Maybe I'll take a piece of you.’

Jameson reached around and squeezed his
balls. His squealed like a startled pig and doubled over,
gasping.

“You never should have come here,” Jameson
seethed.

“Let go, you fuckin’ dyke,” he wheezed.

“Misogynistic asshole.” Jameson wrung his
jewels like a wet rag as he slid down the counter, delirious from
the pain. Berry scrambled to her feet and charged him.

On his way down, he grabbed a kitchen knife.
Jameson released her grip and ducked from the blade. He flailed at
her, still blinded from the pain. He was lucky with the knife. Its
blade sliced open her stomach as one might test the temperature of
a nice steak. Jameson stomped his balls like a vat of grapes.

* * * *

Berry was on him. She clamped down on his
hand before he used the knife again. Berry was fierce. She ravaged
his hand as he moaned in agony. She bit down harder, tasting the
salty sweetness of his blood in her mouth. She felt savage. She
shook her head as her father might have done when taking down prey.
He tried to get to the door but Berry pulled him back. He fell and
hit the kitchen floor with his face. He rolled over and Berry went
for his throat. He found the strength to horse-kick Berry then
scrambled out of the kitchen door into the snow.

* * * *

Jameson heard him call out to his accomplices
by the greenhouse. “Run! Run!”

“Shit, what the fuck is that?”

“It’s a wolf, man, haul ass!”

“There’s a whole fuckin’ pack of them, oh
shit!”

Berry led the pack, Rubek, Kai and the others
responded to Berry's call. The wolves chased the three men to their
car. The last man pulled his leg into the car as Rubek gnashed on
his ankle, stripping off a tuft of skin. Jameson heard the man’s
cry of agony and defeat long after the car was gone.

The wolves disappeared back into the woods,
and Berry rushed home, her breathing haggard and her ribs
bruised.

Jameson sat at the kitchen table holding a
bloody towel against her stomach. She rushed to her master’s side,
whimpering.

“I’m okay, girl, don’t you worry. You did a
great job.”

Jameson used the table to pull herself up and
called Lauren Martine.

“Just because I can sew pillows and things
don’t mean I can sew up a human being,” Lauren wailed. “Why don’t
you go to the emergency room?”

“Because, I don’t want to,” Jameson
replied.

“Girl, you remind me of your mother, you know
that? You’re as stubborn and hard-headed.”

“I know,” Jameson agreed. She’d cleaned the
wound and applied some of Doc Jo Jo’s special balm. She took a long
pull from an ancient bottle of brandy and handed Lauren a curved
needle.

Lauren took it, shaking her head. “This is
not going to be pretty,” she warned. “Tell me again why you think
those hoodlums came around here looking for marijuana? What in
God’s name would make them think a nice upstanding young woman like
you would have that ass-grass around here?”

“Ass-grass?” Jameson chuckled despite the
situation.

“Yeah, smoking grass makes you act like an
ass. Why do you think they’re coming around here?”

“Because I grow it,” Jameson admitted.

“What? Jameson Jordan, I guarantee your
mother is spinning in her grave. What the hell are you doing
growing that stuff? Are you broke? Do you need money? If you need
money you better sure let me know.”