Long Ride Home (3 page)

“And Daddy. I think Low misses Daddy.”

She blinked back tears and hugged him tighter. “I think you’re right, Bear. He misses Dad.”

Aaron’s whisper was almost lost in the wind. “I miss Daddy, too.”

Jena couldn’t speak as she swallowed the lump in her throat. Finally, she said, “We all do.”

Hours later, both boys were packed into the car as she drove through the tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles. She could have bypassed the traffic and taken the route through the foothills, but she was in no hurry and didn’t want to spoil the excitement for Aaron. Low sat in back, patiently looking at everything Aaron pointed out in delight and astonishment. The skyscrapers. The Hollywood sign. Mile after mile of houses that quickly became repetitive, even to her youngest son.

As Jena turned east, she realized that they were finally pointed in the direction that would take them back to Cambio Springs, the town she had grown up in. The town she had fled with Lowell, desperate fugitives of a fate they thought they could outrun. The town that would shelter her sons as they grew.

“Hey, Mama?”

“Yeah, Bear?”

“Is it much farther?”

She glanced at the sun as it set in her rearview mirror. “Not long now. Go to sleep, Aaron. When you wake up, we’ll be home.”

Night Three

Mojave Desert

This time, when Jena cracked her window open to let in the night air, she was hit by the scent of creosote bushes that had just taken rain. The distinctive smell filled the car as she drove down the deserted highway. They had passed the lights of the city and the stars shone overhead as a full moon hung in the desert sky. Jena noticed that her foot had pressed down on the accelerator as she took deep breaths of the damp creosote.

“You always loved that smell.” Lowell watched her with sad eyes as the desert whipped past.

She shrugged. “It’s nice enough.”

“You loved it. You
love
it.”

Jena whispered, “I do.”

“Just because I didn’t like it doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t.”

“Low—”

“It’s okay to be excited, Jen.” He smiled, even as his voice grew hoarse. “You’re excited to be back. I can tell.”

She shook her head. “It’s just some kind of instinct. You know that.”

“It’s part of you. It’s a good part of you.” He glanced over his shoulder where the boys snored quietly, slumped together as Aaron lay under his older brother’s arm. “It’ll be a part of them, too.”

Jena could feel the tears start to well in her eyes. “Are you sure?”

He ignored her, staring at the boys before he looked back at her. “Hey, baby, want to know a secret?”

She nodded with a jerk as the tears gathered. “Yeah. Sure. What’s the secret? God give you the mysteries of the universe while I was driving today? Winning Lotto numbers? The recipe for Grandma Crowe’s pie crust?”

He chuckled low in his throat and Jena sensed him draw nearer. Her skin prickled in awareness and she could have sworn that, just for a moment, she could feel his warm breath blow across her cheek.

“The secret is…” His voice dropped even lower, until he was whispering into her ear. “I was only borrowing you for a little while.”

The sob ripped from her throat just as she passed over the last rise before the lights of the Springs glittered in the distance. A sign on the side of the road read “Cambio Springs Turnoff: 5 miles.” Jena pulled the car over to the side of the road, put it in park and pushed the door open, stumbling into the night. Lowell’s ghost met her outside, leaning his ever-more-hazy body against the side of the car.

“Enough!” She shook her head and dashed the tears from her eyes. “That’s it. I’m not going any farther. Get back in the car, Low.”

“Calm down, Jena. You need to keep driving.”

She paced the side of the road, her feet stirring up red dust as the creosote filled the air. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No!” she yelled. “You—you were not
borrowing
me! I was yours. We belonged together. We were supposed to beat it. Why did you let go?”

He moved toward her with his hands raised. “We did belong together. For as long as we had. But it’s time—”

“It was
not
time!” Her sobs were carried away in the desert wind as she pulled at her hair in frustration. “You’re going to disappear as soon as I drive into that town, so I’m turning around. I’m going home!” She walked back to the car, reaching to pull open the door and get in, but suddenly his hand stopped her.

Jena gasped and looked down to the hand that had been her husband’s. Her breath caught. It was as clear and substantial as the day he first held it when they were ten years old. Solid. Strong. When she halted, Lowell lifted his hand and brushed across her damp cheek in one last caress.

“You’re almost home.” Whatever energy had animated his spirit seemed to drain as she faced him. Jena could see the star-lit night shining through his sandy hair.

“Low…”

“That”— he pointed toward the lights—“is your home. Always has been. I was borrowing you for a little bit, but this has always been your home.”

She whispered, “It was
our
home.”

“No.” He shook his head. “You were my home. The only home I needed to live for as long as I could. But you…” She saw him swallow hard. “You need more. You need this place.”

She shook her head as he continued, “It’s okay to go back. It’s okay to be glad. To be relieved. You’ve been hiding for so long, but now…” He sighed and the wind blew, making the outline of him waver before he eyes. “You’ll drink from the springs. And you’ll spread your wings, and you’ll be strong again.”

“Lowell…” She reached out, but her hand passed through him. “Please don’t—”

“You’ll heal, Jena. I want that for you. I want you to be strong.” Lowell cast longing eyes toward the darkened car where his sons still slept. “I want that for them. This is where they belong, too.”

“You’re leaving me,” she whispered. “You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”

Her husband’s ghost smiled and nodded toward the car. Pulled by some ancient instinct, Jena walked over, opened the door and got in. The low hum of the engine greeted her, along with her children’s quiet snores as she pulled the car back onto the road. 

She drove slowly for a few miles. No passing car marred the peace of their journey. Jena put her hand on the center console and Lowell’s ghostly hand hovered over it as she made the left turn off the highway. Her eyes were dry when she spotted the blue sign.

“Welcome to Cambio Springs.”

She curled her fingers, as if to hold onto the last, insubstantial piece of him. For a moment, Lowell’s green eyes lifted to hers and he smiled.

Jena opened her mouth to protest helplessly. “Don’t…”

He winked at her one final time, then disappeared, and Jena heard his voice whisper in her ear, “Welcome home, Jena Crowe.”

She blinked back tears as she drove through the silent streets. At the edge of town, she passed The Cave, the Campbell’s bar, which had been serving beer and guarding the gates of Cambio Springs for as long as anyone could remember. She passed Ollie’s low ranch house a half  mile past, then a few more dark houses. Then a few closer together. She passed the small library where Allie volunteered. City Hall. Ted’s clinic. McCann’s farm supply. Then, at the signal, she turned right and drove past The Blackbird Diner. It looked like her dad had repainted the sign since the last time they’d visited.

As she slowed down on the next block, she could see the lights on the front porch of her parent’s house glowing. A thin figure rose from the porch swing and the door began to open. Jena heard the boys stir as she pulled into her parents’ driveway.

“Mama,” Low mumbled. “We home?”

Jena blinked back tears when she saw her father’s broad figure emerge from the house. His hair was black as midnight and his eyes as dark as hers. Her mother came to stand beside him, her neck craning to look for the boys in the backseat as Jena brought the car to a stop and put it in park. “Yeah, Low. We’re home.”

Her son’s green eyes met hers in the rearview mirror and locked. Then he nodded once and said, “Okay.” He sat up, blinking as he nudged his brother. “Hey, Bear, wake up. We’re home.”

Day Three

Cambio Springs

Her mother sat on the edge of her bed, and Jena could feel her stroking the hair back from her forehead before she even opened her eyes. She took a deep breath and woke. The window of her childhood room was cracked open to let in the cool night air and the sky still wore the pearly light of a newborn day.

She cleared her throat and looked up at her mother. “The boys still asleep?”

Cathy Crowe nodded, her delicate hand falling away from her daughter’s forehead. “They’ll sleep for a while. They were exhausted.”

“Thanks for waking me up.”

“No problem.” Cathy nodded toward the window. “You going out for a while?”

“Just for a little bit. I want to be back before they wake up.”

“Okay.” Her mother rose and walked to the door. “Don’t lose track of time.”

“I’ll keep an eye on the sun.”

“Okay.” Cathy slipped out the door, but her hand held on. She peeked around the corner one last time. “It’s good to have you back, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

The door closed and Jena pushed back the covers. She went to her suitcase and got out her running clothes to change. But instead of putting on the sneakers she’d worn in Oregon, she slipped on a pair of flip flops. Then Jena Crowe opened the window of her childhood room wide, swung her long legs over the windowsill, and hopped into the garden.

She walked down to the end of the small street on the edge of town where the oldest houses were built, each house resting on a large piece of property that stretched back from the street until it butted up against the red wall of the broad canyon where Cambio Springs had been built. She passed Lowell’s parents’ house on the right, his aunt and uncle’s house on the left, but she kept walking.

Past the houses. Past the park gates. Back to the natural hot springs that lay in a curve of the rocks. The red walls soared up and green trees lined the base of the cliffs, dipping long branches into the water of the seven springs that dotted the canyon floor. Jena paused, listening as something large rustled in the brush, but she only smiled and continued walking. 

Paths had been trimmed and lined, a few of them paved, where the people of the Springs rode bikes, walked, and let the children run in the winter when the days weren’t so hot. Jena passed all of them until she came to a dark slash cut into the canyon wall where a small stream of water trickled out. She stepped over it and into the ancient cave.

Petroglyphs still marked the walls, high where no human hands should have reached. The sound of steady water filled her ears as she reached over to the niche near the entrance and lit a stubby candle, the low light of dawn not filtering in enough to light her way.

In the back of the cave where the rocks met, water bubbled up out of a sandstone pillar, three feet high with a basin cut into the top. Like a natural water fountain, the water pushed up out of the rock and trickled over the side, flowing into a small stream that fed into the springs outside. But this water, she knew, wasn’t hot or mineral-rich. It would be cool and clear. The water in the cave was the safest and sweetest water in the world.

Jena heard the call of a mockingbird from somewhere outside the cave and she smiled. Then she took off her sandals and let her feet touch the cool sandstone floor. She slipped off her clothes and put them in another niche cut into the wall. Then, she walked over, bent down, and drank.

The sweet water touched her tongue and slid down her parched throat. Visions of clear skies and open horizons called her. She could almost feel the wind in her face as she took deep, hungry gulps. It splashed over her face, wetting her chin and cheeks, meeting the hot, salty tears that flowed from her eyes. Then Jena took one last desperate draught before her knees gave out. She knelt on the floor, pressing her body into the cold sandstone pillar, hugging it as she wept in sorrow and relief. She felt the water spill over her arms, and she crawled to where it flowed over the side of the basin, curling her naked body under the stream, letting the water soak her skin as she watched the sky at the mouth of the cave grow lighter.

“Don’t lose track of time.”

She rose, standing tall in the shadows of the cave where generations of others like her had found comfort and strength. She felt the water soak her veins, reaching into a long-hidden part of her soul. She closed her eyes and felt the cool, morning air around her and the water splashing her feet. Then Jena stretched out her arms and let her head fall forward in surrender.

The unbearable lightness started in her heart, which began beating rapidly. The bones in her body felt insubstantial, as if the air around her was leaching though her skin, filling her up. It crept through her limbs and down to her toes as she followed the path of the slick sandstone where the ancient spring led her into the cool morning air. Jena felt the light touch her face and the wind lift her arms.

Then she raised her head, opened her eyes, and wasn’t.

The russet-feathered hawk spread its wings and leapt into the morning air, letting out a shriek as it flew over the town. It pumped its wings, catching the current of air that streamed through the canyon as it flew higher and higher over the desert floor. It dipped and climbed, arching over the trees, the houses, and the rocks that spread out for miles around them.

The hawk kept one watchful eye on the angle of the sun as it flew over the desert. Then Jena Crowe let out another piercing cry and soared.

The End

Look for the first full length Cambio Springs novel in Spring 2013.