The Light of Asteria (2 page)

“See you made it home in one piece.” Holly
never answered with a standard hello.

“Yep.”

“Did you get the bag of goodies in the back
of your Jeep? Mom put it there while we were unloading the truck.”
Judy had personally enhanced my wardrobe all through high school. I
didn’t mind getting size four J Crew anything, even if they were
too long in length. A thought occurred to me—Holly’s dorm faced the
student lot. Maybe they were watching ... maybe they had seen
him.

“Not yet, but be sure and tell her how much I
appreciate it, all right? Hey … you coming home for the festival?”
I asked instead, instinct changing my mind. She giggled.

“You know, I have class. What about you,
Kate?”

“Sorry, that’s microbiology night,” Kate
hollered in the background.

We always vowed that once we got to college
we wouldn’t be able to make it back home for church functions. I
didn’t mind going, but it cramped Holly’s style and sent Kate’s
homework schedule into a tailspin.

“You and Kate take care.”

“Call me, you,” she automatically
replied.

I hung up the phone and ran upstairs, needing
a few minutes to myself.

The Carolina lily that lived under my bedroom
windowsill slumped over, wilting from neglect. I threw some water
in its pot as I came back from the bathroom. Judge Alan had gotten
it for Edna a few years ago, and when I wanted a puppy she
challenged me to keep the plant alive first. The blooms were rare
in that the long velvet petals were lavender with a crimson center
instead of the ever-popular white—at least from what I remember. It
bloomed once two years ago. Luckily, I lost interest in pets.

Edna stood at the bottom of the stairs
blocking my way, determination written across her sun-weathered
face. “Nora, honey, you could’ve gone with them … I’ll be all
right.”

She would never know how much I wanted that
to be true. But Edna was already having trouble with the upkeep on
the farm, and the last six months had taken its toll on her. Even
the simplest of chores seemed difficult, and several times I caught
her napping in the afternoon. She chalked it up to old age, but I
feared it went deeper.

“Ed, we’ve been through this. It’s cheaper to
go to community college, and the grant from the state covers
tuition. I just can’t pass that up.” I focused on the peeling paint
of the old doorframe.

“You should go live in the dorms with your
friends and get the whole college experience, Sunny. I could have
helped.” Compassion swam in her warm, cloudy blue eyes. I sighed,
trying to find patience for a conversation we’d replayed a million
times.

“I don’t want to give up my job at the
hardware store. Mr. Vernor’s been great, and I’ll work there on my
off days … its perfect,” I lied.

It wasn’t her fault my father decided to
leave his burden on her doorstep.

“No offense, but can we drop it?” I tried to
say it as kindly as I could, but really … enough was enough.

She started to say something, but exhaled in
defeat. I quickly hugged her before she changed her mind.

My stomach growled as the smell of vegetable
soup floated through the house. Edna kicked off her garden shoes
while I went and washed my hands. The kitchen was warm, and the
yellowing wallpaper hung as proudly as it had since the early
seventies.

“Sunny, did you put on make-up this morning?”
Her question surprised me.

“No….”

“Your skin seems lighter, like it has a sheen
to it.”

“I used that new lotion you bought me. Maybe
that’s it.”

“Maybe …”

“How’s Judge Alan?” I asked, changing the
subject. We went to the stove, filled a bowl, and sat down at the
old farm table.

“He’s fine … he sends his love … more tea?”
She kept her eyes down.

“What did you need to see him about?”

“It concerns the land … that’s all.” She
patted the back of my hand.

I relaxed under her touch. I loved those
hands. They were the testament of a woman that knew how to bring
joy to this dismal world—a caregiver. Aged and weathered by the sun
and hard work, yet they remained silky soft. Her skin seemed so
thin it was like paper, but her nails were always painted. Even
though Arthur died years ago, her wedding ring still adorned her
finger.

We walked out on the porch and watched the
stars as I told her about my day. Staying true to that still, small
voice, I didn’t share the stranger with green eyes.

“Well I swan … look over there. Do you see
them?” Edna whispered. I followed her finger scanning the fence,
not sure what I was looking for.

“See what?” I whispered back.

“Look there, below the roof line … under the
light.”

Seven small birds sat perched on the fence,
just below the barn’s floodlight. Their cobalt heads gleamed; their
bright orange breasts matched the ring around their eyes. Canary
yellow feathers interspersed with bright green, fanning down their
backs. They honestly looked like they belonged in the rainforest …
and I could’ve sworn they were staring at us.

“I’ve never seen them before. What are they?”
I murmured; Edna smiled.

“Those, my dear, are painted buntings.
They’re on the endangered species list now, but when I was your age
they were everywhere. Some even used to live in the barn.” Her mood
turned wistful.

Stifling a yawn, I muttered, “I’m hitting the
hay … night Ed.”

The birds flew into the forest.

“Don’t forget the new feed in the morning,”
she called out as the screen door closed. I waved that I’d heard
her.

As I lay in bed, the tree just out my window
swayed with the night breeze, and thin clouds blanketed the
crescent moon. Time had distanced the experiences of the afternoon,
making the memory surreal. Whatever happened today, something was
definitely different. My emotions were now close to the surface,
not buried where they should be. Broad shoulders blazed through my
mind. I didn’t know who he was or even if he was real, but my heart
ached at the thought of never seeing him again. I hid my face in my
pillow, resenting the tears that fell. I wasn’t usually this
emotional … survivors learn early that tears are a luxury for the
protected. Running through my list of things to be grateful for
settled my heart, and my eyes grew heavy.

That night, I dreamt of a place of my own and
emerald green eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 2—Edna’s
Mountain

The Appalachian mountain range sprawled below
our ridge in peaceful splendor. Moonlight leached the color from
the rolling hills of the mountains below, turning the trees black
before the dawn. Etchings of tree silhouettes contrasted with
brilliant white whispers that covered the valley below in a blanket
of fog.

I had been on this ridge for ten years now
and had never stopped gaping at its beauty. But this morning, it
simply took my breath away. My senses were still heightened, and I
knew I would have to grow accustomed to their feel. Standing there
for a moment, I appreciated the magnitude of life nestled beneath
the protection of the mist. It didn’t seem possible that the same
world that held such destruction and violence could also hold this
incredible majesty.

Dew sprinkled the front of the house, and the
melodious lilt of a songbird chirped through the air. Nutty, dark
aroma of hazelnut coffee drew me closer to the back stoop. My Edna
was up. She was a weird combination of time—old enough to be my
grandmother in age, yet young enough to be my sister in spirit.

The back door slammed, and a giggle escaped
her lips when I jumped. The broken hinge was now added to a long
list of items that needed repair.

“Mornin’ Sunshine,” Edna chimed,
u
sing the nickname I inherited my first
summer here. She said my hair was the color of the sun. Filling up
her favorite mug painted in fifth grade flowers, she smiled and set
a heaping plate of bacon and eggs in front of me. My stomach
heaved.

“You all right?” Her gaze stayed fixed on my
face as she put the back of her hand on my forehead.

“Yeah … but the smell of bacon is making me
nauseous.”

“You gettin’ sick?” She whisked the plate
away.

“I don’t know … fruit sounds good though,” I
said, finding an apple on the counter.

“Well, I can’t figure it out. You act like
the stomach bug bit you, but you look like the love bug got you
first. What did you do? Have you taken a look at yourself
today?”

I rolled my eyes. Edna always thought I was
the greatest thing since sliced white bread, as she put it. She was
my own personal fan club.

Since the first day my father abandoned me, I
wished Edna were my real mom. My d
ark blonde hair
and hazel eyes that occasionally changed to green were the only
vestiges left of my mother; the name Nora Johnson the only legacy I
had of my birth family.

“How did you like campus?” Edna asked. A
whisper of a smile crossed my face as emerald eyes flashed through
my mind.

“Personally, it was a little too big for my
taste,” I lied. “The residence halls are gorgeous, though. Kate and
Holly have matching everything. Judy even found a pink
microwave.”

“Judy and Mark are wonderful people, but
overindulgence does a child no good.”

I sighed. If she said that once, she said it
a million times. Edna started rounding up dishes and taking them to
the sink. I picked up the ragged tea towel off the oven’s handle
and started drying as she washed. The water stilled. Soapsuds clung
to her arms as she gazed out the window.

“Is something wrong?” I had always been able
to read people’s emotions, and today Edna seemed conflicted.

“I know you wanted to go with Kate and Holly,
but I’m really glad you stayed,” she admitted, her voice almost
inaudible. She started to wash the same dish over.

“What is it, Ed?” The silence stretched. Her
eyes found mine and then darted away.

“It’s nothing, Sunny. Don’t worry your pretty
little head,” she sighed, handing over the spotless plate.

My pulse quickened; Edna had a no secrets
policy that was strictly enforced. No good could come from this …
of that I was sure.

“Now go on and get a shower. You smell like
the front end of a backwards cow.” Her cloudy blue eyes twinkled
with mischief. I stuck out my tongue and then headed upstairs.

When I entered the bedroom, I froze. Two
lavender blooms now greeted me under the windowsill ... but that
was impossible. Last night, the plant didn’t even have buds.
Honestly, I was surprised the leaves weren’t still draped around
the lip of the pot. I grabbed sweats and a T-shirt from the basket
and headed down the hall.

Edna and I shared a small bathroom on the
second floor. The pink and mint green tiles told of its update in
the 1950s, but the best feature was the showerhead that was so
strong it practically beat the dirt off you. Edna always said when
you took a shower here you had no choice but to come out clean.

When I came downstairs, the sun was up and
Edna was already in her gardening clothes. This meant war with the
dandelions that had taken over the Johnny Jump-ups. Edna would
prevail. No weed had ever become the victor.

“Did you put fertilizer in Judge Alan’s
lily?” I asked.

“No … why?” Edna grinned, anticipating the
plant’s eulogy.

“Well, it’s blooming.” I proudly chimed.

“I guess you may just get a dog after all.”
She chuckled. Picking up my backpack, I gave her one last quick
hug.

“I’ll be back by this afternoon. I’m going to
HCC to make sure I’m registered.”

The old farmhouse was built in the late
nineteenth century atop the ridge that crested before the
mountain’s apex. Edna’s porch overlooked the entire valley below.
The sun burned off the fog of just a few hours ago, and hazy warmth
of all shades green brilliantly sprawled as far as the eye could
see. That early morning feeling of awe intensified. It was as if
nature had been sanctified in purity.

As I drove into town, I couldn’t help but
smile. Mayberry had nothing on Waynesville. The Cataloochie
Mountain had a ton of tourists that flocked to experience the
beautiful foliage in the fall and ski down the snow-covered peaks
in the winter. Tourism increased as the mountain’s popularity grew,
but Waynesville never lost its charm.

The trip to the community college lasted
about ten minutes. That was too easy … now my day stretched before
me in boredom and loneliness. I tilted my head back for a moment
and allowed the sun to warm my face. Green eyes and my only friends
popped in my head. Even though I had just seen them yesterday, I
missed Kate and Hol something fierce … and I needed some answers.
If he was real, maybe he knew what happened … or maybe my gene pool
had finally caught up with me and I was starting to go insane.

The entrance to the stone building emerged,
and I zipped up two flights of stairs to room 216. Finding Kate and
Hol was my first priority. If green eyes made it within a two
hundred yard radius of Holly, she would know who he was. My loud
knock echoed. A hinge creaked behind me.

“Have you lost gorgeous and her sidekick?” I
turned, finding Holly’s neighbor across the hall.

“I’m looking for Holly and Kate, if that’s
who you’re referring to.” My brow lowered. Really—Kate wasn’t her
sidekick.

“I heard gorgeous say something about the
bookstore … what’s your name?”

“Guess.” I said, side stepping the
question.

“You look like a … well … it would have to be
a beautiful name … Alexis?” I closed my eyes—the need to roll them
was too great. They snapped open when I had better control.

“How did you know?” …
Idiot
.

Normally I would have just let this type of
immature behavior roll off my back, but I was wearing my emotions
just under the surface these days and I barely could contain them.
I checked in my purse to see if I still had the campus map with
me.