Moondance (26 page)

“The site?”

“Yes. I figured you knew about it.”

“I didn’t know that
you
knew about it.”

Sophie laughed.

“Oh yes, we knew more than you thought. We didn’t say much, but we knew.”

The tracks twenty feet behind them, they entered a meadow of grass and low brush sprinkled with purple and yellow wildflowers. Further in, grape leaves, wild apples and lilacs grew, infusing the air with perfume. The sun was bright and Althea could hear the pining of insects. They passed through a cluster of deciduous trees and stepped into a shaded clearing. The leafy canopy above them glowed granny-apple green. A ravine plunged down to the left. An oak tree stood straight ahead with expansive limbs open as if expecting an embrace.

As they approached, Althea tripped on an old beer can. They weren’t the only ones who sought out this place. But for the beer can, most of the camp was intact, just as Althea remembered. She surveyed the site.

At the end of the clearing was a free-standing stone fireplace, which looked as if it had been used recently. A makeshift ladder was nailed into the trunk of the oak, which had also been scarred long ago with symbols she didn’t recognize and the declarations of lovers past. It was Althea’s old lookout post. Sometimes, she used to come and watch the sunset, though she rarely stayed after dark. As children, she and Tori slept out here sometimes. “A bed under the stars,” as Albert used to say.

The oak stood as strong and tall as ever, the familiar carvings displayed like proud tattoos on its side. She never understood the carved symbols, circles upon circles, the pattern at once alien and familiar, its unknown creator adding to the mystery of this place. While sitting deep in Sophie’s back yard, Althea and Tori had told each other stories about the creatures that came here to carve symbols in this tree, daring each other to go into the bush to see if the exotic visitors were real. The creatures, they imagined, spoke in an ancient language, stayed long enough to carve their messages, then quickly disappeared into the sky.

Beyond the oak, further in, was a wooden shelter built on the slant of soft earth. This was where Althea and Tori had slept. The supports were made of wooden boughs and the top was shingled with bark. Though it had faded, the shelter was surprisingly stable, narrow branches of wood bound together securely with rusted metal strips. It was remarkable that no one had destroyed it.

Althea walked over to the oak and looked up. The platform was still there. From the platform, one could peek through the trees at the stars, in particular, at the big and little dipper. Tori thought the platform was a way for someone to connect with the spirit of nature, like the Indians did, to pray under the stars. Althea thought it had been built by runaways as a lookout post.

“It’s been many years since I’ve been here,” Sophie said. “Albert built this place.”

Althea was stunned. Sophie had never mentioned it to her. But then, she hadn’t mentioned the site to Sophie either. It was a childhood place. She was intrigued.

“Did you sleep out here?”

“Sleep, spend evenings.” Sophie said. “We created dreams here, Althea. After Albert died, I didn’t come, I found I didn’t need to.”

“The dream wasn’t the same without Albert?” Althea asked.

“No, not like that. The dream is still very much alive.” Sophie’s round
blue eyes glowed.

The balmy summer air wasn’t enough to fend off the chills on Althea’s skin, racing up her arms and neck. For a moment, it was as if she was looking at her mother for the first time.

Althea and Sophie explored the site and Althea spent some time looking at the symbols etched in the oak.

“What are these?”

“Ancient, universal symbols of life. Some call them sacred.”

“I want to climb up,” Althea said.

“You climb if you want. I’ll wait. I want to look around, sit for a while. There are many memories here for me.”

Sophie went to the shelter and sat down on the wooden bench that had been softened to a subtle sheen by decades of weather and use. Althea climbed the side of the oak using the boards nailed to its trunk. In four steps, she was underneath the landing. The final part was trickier. She stretched up, finding the handholds she knew were there and using these, she hoisted herself. Sophie was nowhere to be seen. She sat on the landing and breathed deeply. It was brighter here, still apple green. She looked around and up, finding a small patch of blue.
Free from the earth and open to the sky
.

To her left was the trunk, with more symbols, darkened with age. As Sophie said, it was a perfect place to imagine possibilities. What did Sophie and Albert dream? Althea wanted to know. Did it have something to do with her father? Her brother? When and if she was ready, Sophie would tell her. For all Sophie’s probing into others’ lives, she could be quite secretive about her own.

Since her blow-up, Althea had felt defeated, the same way she had felt as a teenager, when she had first asked about their family. All Althea learned was that Sophie wouldn’t budge.

Althea watched the sky through the canopy, a tapestry of green sprinkled over a backdrop of crystal blue. And beyond that the moon, asleep right now.

In the sky, a universe of possibilities.

Drifting, the weariness in her bones, she closed her eyes and wasn’t surprised when she felt a finger trace her foot. It was rough yet gentle, like the finest sandpaper. She felt him all around her here, and knew that if she were to look, Albert would be sitting on the branch up and to her left, his eyes sparkling.

Not ticklish any more
. She heard Albert chuckle and pictured his brown face crinkling in a grin. Vince, Daniel, Kevin, Albert.
I miss you
, she thought, her eyes hot. I
know, wee one. I know
. Her heart was still and the words came from within her.
I have to go now
, he whispered
But just for now
, and the gentle fingers squeezed her toe and disappeared.

• • •

“MY LEGS ARE GONNA ache tomorrow,” Sophie laughed as they walked back to the house. “I can feel it.”

“But the more you drink, the less you care.”

“Something like that. I haven’t walked out here for years. But it was about time I did.” Sophie lit up a wine-dipped Colt cigar and took a puff. Althea looked at her in surprise. The sweet smoky smell reminded Althea of summers when she was a child. After Albert died, Sophie quit smoking after a bout of pneumonia. The smell stayed in the house until she re-decorated years later. To Althea’s knowledge, Sophie hadn’t smoked since.

“What did you and Albert dream, out there in the woods?” It was the question she had wanted, but had been afraid to ask all day. Sophie puffed on the cigar and looked up.

“We dreamed of a way of prolonging love.” Sophie said. “A way in which love could transcend.”

“You and Albert.”

“Yes.”

“You celebrated your love.”

Sophie shrugged. Althea felt a wall, as though there was some place she wasn’t allowed to go.

“Tell me what happened just after Albert died.” Althea loved this story.

“Well, after Albert died, we went to stay with his brother Maurice for a while on Manitoulin Island. That’s where Albert stayed when he got out of jail in New York, before we met. Where he learned woodworking and sobered up. For a while at least. Anyway, you and I were staying at Maurice’s place. I don’t know if you remember much about that time.”

“I remember you being highly
organized
.” Althea said.

“I kept moving, I had to. We had known about the cancer for a while but it was so hard when he died. You think you’re ready. But you can never really prepare for it.”

“Did Maurice live on a farm?” Althea said.

“Not a farm, but a large property on the water, with lots of good hiking trails. The property was rugged, a lot of rock. Anyway, a few days after Albert’s funeral, you were with Maurice and I went walking and it rained. It was a warm drizzle and the fog came in, very thick. Kind of like walking around in a gothic horror novel. I’ve always liked extreme weather, so I didn’t mind. Albert used to say I was like a primitive explorer.”

“I remember that,” Althea said.

“I don’t know if you remember
this
, but Maurice’s property has some fantastic views. Some of the drop-offs are rock, and some of them are sloped and green. But that day there was rain and fog and I couldn’t see a thing. The path was a slippery mess and my mind, of course, was elsewhere.

“At one point — I don’t know how long I’d been out there — I felt a pressure on my chest, like a hand stopping me, and I smelled pipe smoke. So I stopped walking. Then there was another hand on my shoulder, turning me around, and a kiss on my neck, just the way he used to —”

Althea hadn’t heard this part of the story before.

“When the hand turned me around, I moved with it, though I had no idea which direction I was facing. The hand disappeared and I started walking again, this time in the direction it wanted me to go. Eventually, I made it back to the house. I was gone almost seven hours. Maurice was frantic. I told him what happened.

The next week, Maurice told me that he was out on his trails and saw my dried footprints leading up to the edge of a precipice, then around, like I was walking in a circle. I believe Albert was protecting me that night.”

Althea regarded her mother carefully. “Has he ever come back to you that way since then? Tried to communicate with you?”

“No, not since then. I’ve asked, but no he hasn’t.”

chapter 42

SOPHIE SAT ON HER bedroom floor, meditating. As she breathed, she noticed that the temperature in the room was slowly becoming warmer. Beside her, Princess was curled up in a ball on a flap of overturned rug, which Sophie had pulled to one side to expose wood inlay: the ancient pattern, circles upon circles. In the center of the circular design, Sophie had placed a ceramic bowl with pinched sides, a piece that Althea had made in art class. Across its mouth lay a stick of incense, the spicy smoke swirling.

Sophie knew it was time because tonight, she had been shown. When she found him, he was at his computer. She tried to get closer, to see if she knew him. When she tried, his image blurred. When she relaxed, his image returned. Though she could not see his face, she watched him as he looked intently at a photograph which Sophie recognized.

At that moment, Sophie knew that the connection had been made, and that now she was free to undertake the most critical part of her plan. Though she was excited, it was harder than she had imagined. But Sophie had no intention of stopping now.

She had also received another sign. This week, after six months of waiting, she received a letter in the mail. A letter of confirmation. When she opened the envelope, she experienced the electric shock of recognition at the graceful, even handwriting, and her heart soared. It had been so long since she’d seen this writing. Despite the nature of their last contact decades before, she knew this person well: their faith, their strength, their depth of honor, the only living soul who understood Sophie’s secret heart. The only person who could sabotage Sophie’s plan, and simultaneously the only person Sophie could trust.

• • •

ALTHEA WAS LYING ON her back just this side of sleep, her right arm curled over her eyes, which felt sticky as if they were coated in warm molasses. Her nose was stuffed, and when she breathed in using her mouth, she tasted sweetness, like vanilla-sugared water. Her body felt heavy. She tried to sit up and couldn’t. A dry feathery touch traced the underside of her right foot, and the laugh followed, gentle and rolling.

“Open your eyes, sweet girl,” Albert said. Her head felt as if it was dissolving into everything around it, without direction, without gravity. Slowly, she opened her eyes. Albert sat perched a few inches above the foot of her bed. He was smiling at her and his brown eyes twinkled.

“I’m almost used to it,” she said.

His voice sounded normal, but her voice sounded thick and hollow. Albert smiled, and his face lit up like a thousand white lights. As he spoke, she was fascinated by his hands, which looked as brown and rough as she remembered. He had one hand resting on her ankle, as if she anchored him to the earth. Once and a while, he’d pat her gently, when he wanted to make a point.

“Yeah, girl, you are. You’re not ticklish any more.”

“How are you.”

“Well, me, I’m fine wee one, but I’m not here for me.”

“For me?” Althea’s voice had taken on a child-like lilt, like small pink bubbles rising through warm syrup.

“You got it sugar. Your momma’s gonna drop something big on you soon, something that I had something to do with, something that’s bendin’ the rules.”

“What’s that?”

“Well, honey, I’m not allowed to tell you that, but I am allowed to say that Sophie loves to the bottom of her shoes ... and that’s what you gotta remember. She’s not goin’ about it in all the right ways right now, but even so, it’ll all work out.”

At Albert’s words, Althea felt comforted, cradled, as if nothing could harm her. She felt no fear, just a bright warmth, which grew inside her, ready to burst. A beautiful round light. Like the moon.