Among The Cloud Dwellers (Entrainment Series) (28 page)

We made one last pass to make sure Gabe had packed everything, and we drove to the airport.

We had just enough time to park and check in before it was time for him to board.

My eyes finally lost the battle. Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks. Everything blurred. Gabe looked at me and his smile quivered. He hugged me for the longest time and kissed me deeply.
How can the body produce so much water?
I wondered with streaks of tears streaming down my face.

I couldn’t see the end of it. No matter how hard I tried to stop crying, I could only sob uncontrollably. I clawed the stretchy cotton of his T-shirt and dug my nails into his back. Pain and tears mixed into a mushy whirl, quickly draining me. Madonna Santa
, why does it have to hurt so much?

“This is the last time I leave you behind, Porzia.” With the tips of his fingers he wiped my tears. “There is no way in hell I’m going to see you like this ever again.” His eyes told me he meant it.

I looked at him, trying to smile. “I know. It hurts too much.”

“Come and see me when you get back from Oregon, and we’ll work it out,” he said.

“OK. Call me when you get home.” I choked on my own sorrow.

“I love you, Porzia.”

“I love
you
.”

He looked at me for one last second and walked away. The connecting tunnel swallowed up his form as the echo of the last boarding call faded into silence.

Motionless, I sat on one of those absolutely hideous airport chairs and watched his plane take off. A fist squeezed my heart until I physically cringed and gasped for air.

*

I slammed into darkness outside the airport. My eyes had puffed up so badly with all the crying that I could barely keep them open, and I was so out of it that I ended up driving away without my headlights on until I registered the oncoming cars’ warnings, flashing theirs repeatedly at me.

Once home I parked and leaned my forehead on the steering wheel. It vibrated with the engine buzz. I reached for the keys, switched the car off, and closed my fist around the dice. I hoped my heart would shut off, too, but no such luck. It still hurt infernally.

Outside, barely visible by the light of a rising moon, the oleander stood; a dark silhouette against the night sky. I reached to touch the smooth trunk and told him quietly to give me the strength to walk upstairs into a silent house. I felt the urge to cry again, so strong it made me queasy. Holding a hand over my mouth I hurried upstairs to open the front door. I scooped Peridot up in my arms, kicked the door shut, stepped out of my sandals, and ran barefooted to my bedroom. I collapsed on the bed and cried myself stupid against my pillow until it turned into a mushy mess. I rolled my head onto the other pillow. My heart stilled as I inhaled Gabe’s scent lingering on the soft pillowcase. I buried my nose, breathing deeply, worrying if I took it all in at once it might not last. The thought caused another rush of tears to sting my already burning eyes.

Peridot settled himself at my feet, purring.

I pulled the dress over my head. Bra and panties followed, randomly hitting the floor in the darkness. Naked, I hugged the pillow and tried to focus my breath, to empty my mind, and to shut down my heart. I didn’t even bother to slide under the sheets. It took just about an eternity but I slowly calmed down and finally drifted into sleep thinking how blessed I was to have an entire night in front of me while Gabe had to endure a sleepless journey all the way back to Australia. Tonight . . .

*

I floated into darkness. Eerie. That’s how I felt.

Warm ocean waves engulfed and lulled my body. All around me the waters met a black sky sprayed with stars that sparkled and randomly winked at me.

The warm water soothed and dulled my senses, making me believe that everything would be alright. I immersed my entire body underwater; I remember thinking that’s how opium ought to feel.

Then the waters turned into sand and I struggled to free myself.

With conscious effort, I walked to shore where I felt warm and comfortable. I turned to look at the wide reach of dark sand, not quite believing that a few seconds earlier it had been an ocean supporting me as I floated. Incredibly, the sand still moved in slow, relentless waves as if it believed itself to be water. It inhaled and exhaled each breath slowly, following the ancient rhythm of waxing and waning tides.

No moon shone above me, and the weak twinkling of stars was no help in casting light to penetrate such darkness.

Suddenly, without a warning, Gabe stood right next to me. With my heart welled up with joy, I reached out to him, but before I could say anything he walked into the sand until I could see him no more, and my heart told me he was gone forever.

Just as despair took over and pain burst to light the sky, a powerful, dark figure separated from the darkness. Far in the distance, as far as where the stars met the horizon, the figure grew, barely distinguishable, yet solid.

The sand shifted back to water, shyly lapping at my toes. I was sinking in wet sand.

Xavier walked up to me. He smiled and handed me one single die. One.

*

I awoke from the dream parched, my throat so dry all I could think of was water and how much I wanted to drink some. I reached for the glass I usually keep on my nightstand and remembered the way I had fallen hastily asleep. I swung my legs off the bed thinking I might land on sand. Relieved that my toes found hardwood floors instead, I groggily got up, walked to the kitchen, and poured a cold glass of water. I gulped it down without breathing, then poured another and drank it more slowly, down to the last drop.

I walked to the bathroom and washed my face in the darkness. I pressed a towel against my cheeks, went back to the bedroom, and crawled back into bed. I begged for no more dreams. No more heartache.

Peridot snuggled against my back. I rolled on my stomach to pet him and asked him quietly if he missed Gabe too. He didn’t answer; he just settled against my hand and resumed his purring.

I laid there in the darkness, hoping to fall asleep right away. My mind whirred with everything that had happened to me in the past few weeks instead. From a normal life of work, friends, and family, I was now soul-deep in esoteric mysteries, true love, and unknown paths. Worst of all, I seemed to have no control whatsoever over any of it. My past life regression under Evalena’s guidance seemed to be the catalyst unleashing all these forces. Even my work seemed to be part of the conspiracy. From Madame Framboise’s tarot reading to Delilah’s voodoo issues, the strange forces were coming out of the woodwork. Then Evalena tapped into Gabe’s secret and who knows what else was to come? I wondered if Oregon would be full of clues or simply generate other mysteries.

Of one thing I was irrefutably certain: This treasure hunt had my attention.

So, what was my inner intuition telling me this time?

In the darkness of my bedroom, with Peridot breathing next to me and Gabe up above, flying farther and farther away with each passing second, I thought of rivers of tears running to become ocean. I rubbed my eyes. There would be no more crying, I decided. It was time to set things straight and put an end to all this nonsense.

“
W
arrawarra,
” Evalena stated flatly, making an impressive job of rolling
R
’s and pouring coffee simultaneously. She took a look at me. I had shown up at her door unexpectedly—well, sort of, since she always knows anyway—earlier that morning. I had barely managed to take a shower and put on some jogging clothes and sneakers. I had tied my wet hair into a braid, hidden it under a ball cap, glanced one more time at the phone, wondering where Gabe could be at the moment, and rushed out the door in search of answers.

The fact that coffee came with Evalena’s advice was a pleasant extra bonus. I scooped three teaspoons of sugar and added cream to my cup. “You were saying?” I asked her, bringing the cup up to my lips.

My question seemed to startle her back into the now and she shook her head. “Yes, I was saying . . . A
warrawarra
or
nurrullurrulla
is an Aboriginal witch doctor, perhaps a shaman or medicine man. I’m sure you’ve heard of Aboriginal people going on their merry ways with life, having a family, a career, an established routine, and all of a sudden,
poof
! They’re walkabout.” She stared at me as if she was about to wander off herself.

I had heard of that happening and nodded at her.

“Well, this walkabout practice seems to go a lot deeper than what white folks think. It’s a matter of following ageless spoken and unspoken traditions and about being in tune with ancestral patterns enough to be able to hear them calling when the need arises. Some shamans are known to borrow the spirit of an animal to travel.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked, frowning.

“I just do. The terms I am using are from the Kaurna people language, so I am not sure I am giving the due respect here. But trust me on this one.”

Her words held that certainty I wasn’t about to stupidly slam against once again. “OK.”

“Your man seemed to have some sort of extreme bond with one such spiritual figure. There goes your connection between the Two of Cups and the Magician.”

“What?” I wondered if Gabe was going to go walkabout on me, just like that.

“You know I have this gift of being able to tap into energy fields and auras, Porzia,” Evalena reminded me.

I nodded, sipping my coffee silently. This I could do. Coffee I knew how to handle.

“Well, the night you two came over for supper, I tapped lightly and—I must add—involuntarily, into such a connection and found a strong resistance. It wasn’t only emotional but also impressively
physical
. Gabe is not Aboriginal, but he has been exposed to their traditions and he has an undeniable bond with one of their powerful warrawarra. I didn’t register anything negative about this bond, but Gabe has been given a second chance at life and someone is working hard at making sure he’s breathing.” Evalena stopped, lost in thought again.

“And?”

“And nothing.” She shook her head. “I’ve told you everything I sensed. Gabe is the only one that could explain more, but I have the feeling he has exposed himself to you because he wants you to understand. He loves you. But I have reservations regarding—”

I interrupted her. “You know he loves me?” I asked, stunned.

“Yes.”

“It has to do with his accident,” I said almost to myself.

Evalena just nodded silently.

I had one more question to ask but, as usual, she was prepared.

“I don’t know the answer to that one, Porzia, honey. We spoke about it when I brought you back from the past life regression. Only you can answer that. Only you can recognize him for whom he really is. But, as I was saying, I do have reservations.”

I blinked tears away. All of a sudden, no amount of sugar in my coffee was going to sweeten the bitterness I felt.

“What if I can’t distinguish between the feelings of recognizing him to be the true one and wanting him to be it so bad I’ll trick myself into believing it?” My own words frightened me.

“That’s not what you should be concerned with,” Evalena said. “What should worry you is do you love him to the point he’s dissipating a bond you carried on with someone else through the barrier of death? Or is he a teacher along your path? And if so, why? What lesson is Gabe teaching you?”

“Evalena, I love him.” I bowed my head.

“He leads by example, Porzia. Beware.”

*

Instead of answers, I had gotten myself tangled up deeper in questions. Don’t they say when in quicksand, be still? And there I was kicking up a storm.

A true storm had gathered up from the horizon and was working its way to shore, looming over me like an impending guillotine. I could taste salt in the wind picking up speed around me when I said good-bye to Evalena and walked to my car. Around me, arthritic pines and a few frayed palms still stood, forlorn and defeated by the continuous attacks from the ocean’s strong winds. They bent, sway-backed, all the way down to the ground, resigned to their fate. Still, they struggled to live on. Amazing when, doubtful of our course of action, we suddenly scout our surroundings and label nature’s regular occurrences with the official title of signs meant purposefully for us. Not that I have anything against such trees, but was I actually trying to read omens and draw strength from crippled pines?

The first drops of rain hit my windshield as I slammed the car door shut. By the time I sped across the Gulf Breeze Bridge, the storm had surged, chasing me like the pressure of wasted time. With my windshield wipers dancing wildly in front of me, I thought of Gabe up above the rain. I was glad at least one of us was away from such bad weather.

I wondered if someday we’d both be above the storm.

*

The blinking of my answering machine greeted me like a mad heartbeat. Under the wet ball cap, my hair had turned a sticky mess. My clothes clung to my skin. I peeled layers away and hit the play button.

Benedetta’s voice came on. She sounded sad and strained. Her trip to Savannah had been cancelled and she wanted to know if by any chance I wanted to get drunk.
Merda!
So early in the morning? It didn’t sound good. I wondered what had happened to Jason as I speed-dialed her number.

No answer.
Where could she be in such awful weather?

The following voice was Helen’s, executive assistant to Camille Weir,
A’ la Carte
’s editor in chief in Miami. Camille had something serious to discuss with me and wondered if I could squeeze in a visit to Miami by the end of the week; the magazine would cover all expenses. My instincts told me I had better check this one out. What could be so important to require my
physical
presence? I put the rest of the messages on hold and called her back. I told Helen I would fly down and to send me the info. In a grateful tone she told me an envelope would arrive by morning.

Right after I hung up, the phone rang again.

Oscar, from
Gusto
.

Chirping joyfully, he asked me for a piece on Chez le Chat.

We ended up chatting for quite a while. He’d been summoned by Camille as well and was keeping his visit hush-hush. But, as he lightly put it, even if she is the competition, more importantly, she’s an icon in the business. Simply put, you don’t say no to Camille Weir. I told him I couldn’t wait to pinch him in Miami and he laughed, quipping something about birdcages that I didn’t quite get. The doorbell was ringing as we said good-bye.

*

Benedetta stood in front of me with Eros on a leash, both soaking wet, her glasses fogged up, and with the saddest look plastered on her face like an obituary notice. She looked like a dunking clown after the show. I hugged her and dragged them in. She sighed and took a seat in the kitchen. Eros hid under the table.

As I put on the teakettle my mind scoped any possible reason why she would look so upset. I tried my best to keep quiet and give her the time she needed. I found two mugs, the loose chamomile jar, honey, and teaspoons. Finally, I sat myself in front of her. I watched her use my gingham kitchen towel to wipe her glasses clean.

Silence unfolded, disturbed only by the hard rain tumbling against the roof.

“It’s over,” she blurted and began to sob uncontrollably into the kitchen towel.

“Why?”

“Delilah did the spell and I was right. He got spooked.”

“What?”

“Accused me of witchcraft.”

Peridot and Eros both sensed her distress and rushed into one another trying to console her. I, on the other hand, struggled to suppress my anger. I physically seethed.

“Pretty pathetic, eh?” she said. “And he was raised by a
voodouienne
.” She sniffled and blew her nose in the kitchen towel.

“Oh,
Cristo
!”

“You
should
say ‘Oh, Goddess’!”

I leaped off my chair to kneel and hugged her, squishing cat and dog, letting her cry against my shoulder.

“I called you, then decided I didn’t want to be alone and drove straight here.” She looked at me over the edge of red-rimmed eyes filled with the wet debris of a devastated heart.

Peridot meowed from between us, and we shifted so he could jump off her lap.

The teakettle whistled and I got up to make us some chamomile tea. I added honey and a drop of lemon juice, then handed Benedetta a steaming cup. She thanked me, looking a bit better. At least the crying had stopped. We sipped our tea in silence and then I told her she should stay with me for the night.

“Thank you,” she said. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“No worries.”

Benedetta took a long, silent look around. “He’s gone back?”

I nodded, not trusting my own voice.

“Oh,
merda
! I’m sorry. How selfish of me to just puke all my stuff on you and you’re dealing with your own load.”

“Do you still wanna get drunk?” I glanced at the clock. Way past noon. We could have a drink. Or
two
.

“No, thanks,” Benedetta declined, cracking a small smile. “I’d rather do something else.”

I thought about it for a few seconds and then got up.

“
Vieni
—,” I called her, extending my right hand to pull her off her chair. We walked into the living room where I dug out some old Italian comedies.

We spent the afternoon watching silly movies on TV. We ordered pizza and listened to heavy rain ricocheting off the roof. She fell asleep, her immaculate, vulva-peach-painted toes curled up on my sofa. I brought a blanket out for her and told Eros if he wanted to it would be OK for him to sleep with her. He seemed to understand me, for he jumped on the blanket and settled behind Bene’s curled knees. I removed her glasses and tousled her hair goodnight.

I had just barely had a chance to walk back into my bedroom when the phone rang. I wondered if I should just let the answering machine pick up. I really didn’t feel like talking to anyone, but it would ring several more times before the machine answered, and Benedetta was asleep in the other room.

“Hello?” I sat on my bed. Unconsciously, I began to rub my feet. My mother told me once I used to do this every time it was raining outside and I had to get ready for crib. Not bed yet—crib.

“Porzia.” Gabe’s voice, tired and distant, reached my ears.

“Hey!”
Oh! He’d made it safe and sound.

“I’m home, luv. I miss you.”

“You’re OK?”

“Yes. Knackered, but OK.”

“How was the trip?”

“Long. I didn’t sleep at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too. But it must be nice to be home.”

“What’s going on, Porzia? You sound upset.”

“Benedetta. Her love adventure got nipped in the bud.”

“How come? Where is she now?”

I took a deep breath “She’s here, asleep on the couch. He didn’t believe in magic.”

“Not everyone does.”

“Do you, Gabe?”

“Only the kind I’m capable of, Porzia,” he sighed, exhausted. “Luv, I’d talk to you until the end of the world, but I need to go catch some sleep. I stopped by the shop on my way home. We’re so bloody busy with the Australian Safari we’re working hard to fit it all in before the start. I really wish I could race it. It’s bloody hard to see everybody get ready. The excitement is absolutely contagious. Gomi hasn’t been sleeping for the last three days. He’s chewing some strange root, telling everybody that’s how he keeps his energy going.” His last few words slurred, thick with sleep. “I’m rambling and I should really get going to bed, Porzia.”

“OK, Gabe. Thanks for calling and letting me know you made it safe.”

My heart bled for him.

“Yeah! I’ll ring you once I feel human again.” He laughed softly. “Have I ever felt human?” he asked almost to himself.

“OK, Gabe. Sweet dreams.”

“Not without you, luv.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Porzia.” The phone went dead.

I sat there for a moment, then wandered into the bathroom and took a long, warm shower, trying to wash away all the sadness of the day. I braided my wet hair and went to bed after checking on Benedetta. She was deeply asleep on the couch. Eros gave me a reassuring look.
OK, buddy, I know she’s in good paws. I’ll leave her to you.

*

The following morning, while Benedetta still slept cuddled on the sofa, Gerome brought me a pile of mail.

Peridot followed me around puffed up thrice his normal size to protect me from the beast still asleep on the couch with Bene. I made an espresso and walked to my desk to sort through the bundle, starting with Helen’s thick envelope. I glanced at a round-trip ticket to Miami set to leave Pensacola first thing the following morning and returning the same evening. A business trip with no time scheduled to play around in sunny Miami. Helen had outlined a detailed itinerary, down to the limousine pickup and return to the airport—including a lunch break at Lumière, Camille’s favorite restaurant in South Beach. She suggested an appropriate change of clothes.

Two copies of the issue of
A’ la Carte
with my article were included as well. The front cover featured the Jourdains and their dogs with a background of stark vines. I remembered when Desmond took the photo; the massive brick porch of Umeracha blurred on the right, while a field of bare vines gently sloped up a hill to the left.