The Athena Effect (8 page)

It was a beautiful sunny day, and the meadow looked inviting, so she struck out for it, leaving him trailing along behind her. Her braid was starting to come loose, and she undid it, walking across the grass to sit under one of the oak trees. She leaned back against the trunk, combing the mass of curls with her fingers.

He sat down beside her, mesmerized. He’d never seen a girl so completely unaffected. Soft curls framed a face that had never been plucked or painted; she was as natural and fresh as the meadow they sat in. It occurred to him that she didn’t even know she was beautiful.

She caught him staring, and his dark eyes made her stomach shake a little inside. A blush spread up her neck, turning her cheeks a pretty pink color. When she looked down, her thick lashes shielded her eyes like a golden fan.

He swallowed hard. He wondered what it would be like to touch her, to kiss her smooth cheeks and pillowy lips, to put his hands in her soft hair. He wanted to feel the raised scars that ran down her slender arm.

“What happened to your arm?” he blurted out, unable to contain his curiosity.

“It was a cat,” she said casually.

“Must have been a pretty big cat!” he scoffed.

“It was a catamount.”

“A what?”

“A cougar… puma, mountain lion, panther,” she rattled off the names like she wasn’t sure which one he would know. “It jumped on me, caught me by surprise. It dragged me twenty yards before I could kill it.”

“Oh come on,” he said with a sarcastic laugh. “You
killed
a mountain lion?” He remembered the sheer size and power of one he’d seen at the zoo once. “How did you manage that?”

She turned to glare at him, “With a jackknife.”

He was shocked, because from the look in her eyes, he somehow knew she was telling the truth, “You killed a mountain lion with a jackknife?”

“Well, it tried to kill me first!” she huffed, misunderstanding his horrified look. She got up and walked off, flustered. She didn’t like thinking about that day, and she really didn’t like being teased about it.

He caught up quickly, walking alongside her, “How old were you when it happened?”

She stopped to look him in the eye, defying him to laugh at her again, “Twelve.”

“What did your parents do?”

“They got me a bigger knife.”

She turned to stalk off again, finally settling down under the biggest tree in the meadow. She took in the view hungrily, admiring the poppy strewn grass surrounded by trees and wooded hills; she wished she never had to go back to the city. He trailed behind her again, cautiously sitting down next to her. She was like a butterfly that had landed on his sleeve by accident; he got the feeling that one false move would send her flying off, never to be seen again.

“I loved coming out here when I was a kid,” he said. “My brother and I used to catch snakes and scare Grandma with them, and slide down that hill on cardboard boxes.”

She smiled, and he went on, encouraged.

“There’s a creek that runs right back there, it flows down to the river.” He pointed out the landmarks out to her, trying to keep her attention. “We used to get pollywogs and bring them up to that old horse trough. We’d come back later to see them turned into frogs.”

She listened, and he made her relax telling stories he recalled about his childhood visits to the ranch. It felt good, so he kept going, dredging up tales of the trouble that he and his brother used to get into when they visited.
 
He was surprised at the images that came flooding back into his mind, memories he hadn’t visited for a long time.

Caledonia finally closed her eyes with a sigh, turning her face into the warm sun. “You’re so lucky to have grandparents.”

“My mom grew up here, right in that house,” he said, not sure why he brought her up. He usually tried to avoid thinking about her if he could.

“What happened to her… your mom?” she asked him innocently.

“She died in a car accident,” he said bitterly, and his color grew dark blue and red, sad and angry all at the same time. She felt bad for asking, her heart flooding with turquoise sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and when he looked into her eyes he felt better.

“Why did you come to live with your aunt?” he asked her.

She looked down, and then back up at him. The naked pain in her eyes took his breath away, “My parents died in an accident too.”

What she said next blew him away.

“They were on a motorcycle.”

“When?” he asked, shocked.

“Twenty-one days ago.”

She got up briskly, and started walking around the base of the tree while he just sat there, stunned. No wonder she had a problem getting on his bike, he thought, realizing how much guts it took for her to help Rufus. He vowed to be extra careful from that moment on.

She meandered along under the oak, and he noticed that she was casting her eyes over the ground, hunting for something. She suddenly fell to her knees, picking up a twig and digging around until she extracted what looked like a gnarled little black potato, brushing it off carefully.

“What’s that?” he asked

“Oregon black truffle,” she answered, slipping it into her pocket.

“What’s it for?”

“People cook with it.”

She was as weird as she was brave, he thought.

Just then a bell started ringing and Calvin smiled at her, “C’mon, soups on.”

He showed her where to go and wash up, and she tried to straighten up her careless mop of hair in the mirror. They all sat down at a square wooden table with an enormous platter of fried chicken and biscuits in the middle. The smell almost made her faint from hunger.

His grandmother insisted that they all hold hands as his grandfather said a brief prayer of thanks, and then started dishing up the food.

Grandpa Costa stared at the tattoo that peeked out from under the sleeve of his grandson’s T-shirt. “Calvin, what the hell have you done to your arm?”

“It’s Cal, alright? Me and Jarod went and got some tattoos,” he said, adding, “For Mom.”

His grandfather cleared his throat and didn’t say anything else.

The old woman couldn’t seem to take her eyes away from Caledonia, “Well, look at you with all that curly hair! Aren’t you just as pretty as a speckled pup… And those eyes! I had a cat with two different color eyes once… Smartest cat I ever saw.”

“She’s a lot smarter than I am,” Calvin said with a smile while Caledonia sat squirming with embarrassment. Once her plate was full the food demanded her full attention.

She hadn’t eaten since the day before at school, and she dug in, emptying her plate before anyone else did. Cal’s grandmother noticed, wordlessly serving her a second helping. When she finally looked up from eating they were all staring at her, and again, she flushed a bright pink from her neck up to her cheeks.

“I like a gal that can eat!” Cal’s grandfather said, nodding his approval.

They all laughed, and Caledonia timidly asked if they knew they had truffles growing in their meadow, showing them the one she’d found. She asked if she could harvest them, offering to split the proceeds if she could sell them.

“Honey, they’re all yours,” Grandma Costa said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

“But I can sell them for a lot of money,” she protested.

“Take all you want sweetheart,” Grandpa Costa said with a wink.

“Okay… Thanks,” she said meekly. “Do you have a paper bag I can put them in?”

She spent the afternoon single-mindedly hunting under the oak trees while Calvin threw a stick for the dogs. The retrievers competed to get to it first, while Rufus just circled, barking with excitement. The dog looked happier than Cal had ever seen him, and it was hard to imagine that just a day ago he was doomed to a certain death.

Caledonia had changed everything.

He thought she was crazy, but he stood back and watched her work, admiring her swift grace and limber body. He liked the way she smiled up at him when she found a cache of the golf ball sized knobs.

“These are really good ones,” she said.

The sun was low in the sky when she finished. They said their goodbyes to his grandparents and Rufus, and he watched as she bound her hair into a braid for the ride.

“Can you take me to the fanciest restaurant in town?” she asked him.

“Are you still hungry?” he asked with surprise.

She laughed at him, holding up the paper sack she’d filled with the ugly brown knobs. “Not to eat! I want to sell these.”

“No one’s gonna want to buy those dirt clods,” he said.

“Oh, I beg to differ,” she slipped on the bike behind him. “Humor me,” she said in his ear.

Wrapped up in his thick coat, with a full belly for the first time in weeks, she was comfortably drowsy. She leaned against his warm back, her arms wrapped around him. He didn’t go too fast, and she wasn’t even afraid.

Without the dog between them he could feel her body up against his, and when she rested her chin between his shoulder blades it sent a shiver down his spine. He drove her to the nicest area he knew, a little downtown section with elaborate wrought iron benches and trees strung with lights that sparkled in the dusky twilight.

A well-dressed couple walked hand in hand into the restaurant, and a uniformed valet parked an expensive sports car. Another pricey car was waiting in line, and a woman wearing spike heels and a fur coat stood out front making a phone call.

He pulled up across the street, “Are you sure you wanna go in there?”

“Go around to the back,” she said in his ear, tickling it.

He wheeled past the dumpsters, coming to a stop where a dishwasher in a dirty white apron was smoking a cigarette. She got off the bike and handed Cal the helmet.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

He was worried, watching her heading out on a fool’s errand.

She approached the man, pulling the paper bag out of her coat.

“Excuse me… Can you get me the Chef de cuisine? El cocinero?”

He looked startled, and ducked into the kitchen. A formidable looking man came out a minute later, and she stepped up to him boldly.

“Good evening chef, I was wondering if I could interest you in some fresh black truffles… I just dug them today.”

She opened up the paper bag and handed him one. Calvin watched in amazement as the man inspected the ugly little lump and sniffed, his eyes widening with delight. He ducked his head back in the door and called out something in French.

Another man came outside, taking a paring knife and slicing a thin shaving from the truffle, inhaling deeply. “Tres bien. Sublime.”

She handed the first man the bag and he inspected the contents, pulling each one out and scrutinizing it like it was a jewel. Calvin couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The two spoke amongst themselves in French, finally offering her fifty dollars.

She could see they glowed violet with interest. She shrugged, shook her head no, and turned to go. The men spoke rapid French again, calling out, “One hundred dollars!”

She stopped in her tracks, flashing Calvin an I-told-you-so smile, “One fifty.”

They hurriedly agreed, and the second man went inside, coming back with a fistful of cash that he counted out into her hand. She folded the money and pocketed it, offering back her hand for a polite shake. Instead, the man took her by the wrist and kissed it, smiling seductively at her.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with such a rare beauty.”

She looked alarmed, pulling her hand back and nodding her thanks.

Watching them from the bike, Calvin felt his amazement turn to irritation. His first impulse was to run over and deck the flirtatious Frenchman, and he was surprised at himself. He felt better when she came back to the bike.

“Unbelievable,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“Do you think it’s enough for a bus ticket to Eureka?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I have to get out of this place,” she said desperately.

She put the helmet on and climbed onto the bike, holding onto him a little tighter on the ride back to his house.

They pulled up to see a row of motorcycles parked in front. The high pitched sound of a girl’s laughter cut through the loud music, and the air was filled with the pungent scent of pot smoke.

“Looks like Jarod made bail,” Calvin said, surprised at how disappointed he was. He had been looking forward to spending more time alone with her. “He’ll be happy to hear we saved Rufus. Why don’t you come in and meet him?”

“I don’t think so,” she said, hanging back nervously, “Can I please have my book bag?”

“Sure,” he said, disappointed. When he walked to the house to get it, painted faces smiled up at him from around a keg of beer. His brother jumped up to give him a drunken hug. Jarod’s girlfriend waved him over, “Hey Cal, come and meet my friend Candy!”

“She’s hot, huh?” Jarod asked, pointing out the girl bending over in a short skirt, pumping the keg up. He didn’t even ask about Rufus.

“I gotta go do something,” Cal told him, brushing past the party to the house.