The Spirit Tree (8 page)

“Thank you, ladies. I will be in touch.” Aaron met my eyes and dipped his chin.

“Have a good night, Aaron.” Despite my embarrassment, I looked forward to our date.

Dottie stood. “We should get some rest. It’s going to be a long weekend.”

We drove to church in complete silence. Yesterday, we’d cleaned house and worked in the yard to prepare for company. Physical labor had kept my mind off my problems. Today, I couldn’t escape.

Friends and family filled the building, but I stayed close to Dottie and Mae. We walked to the front of the chapel and sat in front of the wooden casket. To the side of the flower-draped box, a large picture of Charlie smiled at us. Soft music flowed over sniffles and whispered conversations behind us.

I’d taken the aisle seat and propped my crutch against the chair. I sent up a silent prayer of thanks when Darlene plopped down beside Mae. I needed to be as far away from my mother as possible.

Mae patted Darlene’s hand, keeping her eyes forward. For once, Darlene remained quiet. Several others came forward and offered hugs and kind words to Mae and Dottie. Everyone ignored me, which was fine. I didn’t want to hear how sorry they were, and if someone hugged me, I’d lose my thin grip on control and cry like a baby.

The fragrant flowers irritated my nose, and the sickly sweet scent clung to the back of my throat. The soft music grated on my nerves. I wanted to tell the flow of people to leave us the hell alone. I couldn’t keep nodding at the same words, over and over again. The pastor took the podium, and I readied myself to leave. Had it not been for Dottie’s hand wrapping around mine, I would’ve run.

A handful of people came forward and spoke about Charlie. They told humorous stories, recalled fond memories, and spoke of him in the past tense. I heard every third word or so, refusing to let my brain process any of what they said. My spine remained rigid and my chin firm until the final prayer. We remained in our seats as each person went up and said the same words as before the service.

We waited until the room emptied before Mae and I helped Dottie to the casket. She set her trembling hands on the soft wood and bowed her head. I did the same. The wood reminded me of Uncle Charlie’s cedar box. My heart constricted, stealing my breath. Strong hands rested on my shoulders, and I turned to find Mae. We walked out the same way we’d come in, with quiet grace.

“It was a nice service,” Mae said.

Dottie and I nodded. Most of the others had already arrived when we pulled into the drive. People busied themselves by setting out food and catching up. The happy noise of children playing in the yard brought me to tears. No one should be happy today, yet life went on. Charlie always loved having a houseful of people and a yard full of kids, but it meant nothing without his laughter to punctuate the voices.

Dottie and I sat on the porch swing holding hands. We moved in slow motion while the world and people around us sped by. Cousins brought us food. We didn’t eat more than a couple of bites. Someone else brought coffee, but it went cold in our hands. The metal chains squeaked and groaned above us, ignored like the voices around us.

“Is Dr. Hicks here?” I searched the yard for an unfamiliar face.

“No. He called, said he’d been delayed due to the elders making preparations for the gathering. He’ll be here tomorrow for dinner.”

“What happens at the gathering? This will be my first.”

“They choose a new medicine man. The candidates have to prove their skills, then there’s a vote.” Dottie held my gaze.

I assumed whoever had tried to get Charlie’s book would be there, likely one of the candidates for the position. “Is it safe for us to be there?”

“The elders won’t let anything happen to us.” Dottie’s grip tightened on my hand and tensed. Darlene headed our way.

My mother squeezed between us on the swing and sighed. “It was a beautiful service.”

Dottie nodded, and I turned my attention to a group of kids playing tag.

“Do you plan to sell the house now that Charlie’s gone?” Darlene’s saccharin-sweet voice turned my stomach. “This place is too much to take care of now that it’s just you and Grandma.”

“I haven’t given it much thought,” Dottie said.

“I could stay here in one house and you and Grandma could stay in the other. I mean, I would be happy to help take care of the place in exchange for rent.” Darlene patted Dottie’s arm.

I turned to my mother and narrowed my eyes. “You’d be willing to mow the grass and clean up after the chickens?”

“Well, no. They would need to get rid of the chickens, nasty things. I’d see to hiring a lawn service.” Darlene smiled brighter.

“Thanks for the offer, Mom, but we have things under control.”

All eyes turned to the swing when Darlene jumped up and started to shout, “You don’t speak for Dottie. It’s her decision to make, not yours, young lady!”

I steadied the rocking swing with my good foot. “Mom, let it go for right now. This isn’t the time. We are all grieving and need time to process.”

“Look at Miss College Degree talking all fancy.”

Despite my education, I had hung onto my accent and poor white trash dialect to avoid appearing snobby around my family. Times like this I felt like a fraud as a professional and as a hick. I simply didn’t belong. “You’re upset. Let’s take a little time and calm down. Would you like to talk about Charlie?”

“Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me.” Darlene played it up for the growing audience.

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.” I didn’t see the slap coming until the sound rang out and my cheek stung.

“I birthed you, raised you, gave up my career. You’re an ungrateful little bitch. Who do you think you are?” Droplets of spit landed on my face.

“Enough.” Mae inserted herself between my mother and me, as she had so many times in the past. “Party’s over. Time to get going.”

People began to clean up paper plates and say their good-byes. Darlene stomped into the house. Mae kissed my cheek and walked to the bottom of the stairs. She accepted hugs and words of sympathy from the family. Mae stood watch like a four-foot-ten-inch guard, blocking anyone from getting too close until the last car pulled away.

“Tessa Marie, go get the big frying pan from Dottie’s. I took out some chicken. We need to get dinner cooking before the boys come calling.” Mae rubbed her hands together and took out flour, oil, and a dozen spices. Colonel Sanders didn’t have a thing on Gram Mae.

Dottie took a chair. “Boys?”

“I invited Detective Burns.” Mae grinned from ear to ear.

I grabbed my crutches and walked out the door. One day since we’d said good-bye to Charlie, and Mae was already playing matchmaker? I resolved to tell Aaron to stop accepting my great-grandmother’s invitations.

I retrieved the bottles from my trunk and set them near Mae’s porch steps. If the weather held out, I’d hang them in the tree later. I didn’t bother looking for snakes on the path to Dottie’s. I knew they were watching me; their eyes made the hair on the back of my neck stand upright. While I knew they were protecting me, I couldn’t get past my apprehension.

Fear gripped me; no one had locked the front door. With people trying to break in, someone should have thought to lock it. A quick inspection told me that everything was in place. The bloodstain had faded, though still damp from scrubbing. The house seemed peaceful, but my heart continued to pound.

I half expected to see Uncle Charlie walk out of his office and ask about dinner. Several times a day, I had to remind myself he wouldn’t be coming back. I didn’t have time to follow that train of thought, though. Mae was expecting company.

A white sedan bounced its way up the drive. Our guests were arriving earlier than planned—good. I hurried to the kitchen, pulled the heavy cast-iron pan from the cabinet, and walked to the front porch to get a better look. The snakes had returned to the porch and walkway.
Perfect
.

A middle-aged man stepped from the car and glanced around. If he noticed the snakes, he didn’t react. I couldn’t decide if she admired him or thought him crazy. Snakes swirled in his path but managed to get out of the way before he stepped on them.

“Dr. Hicks?” I called from the porch and waved my free hand. The amulet around my neck grew cold.

“That’s me.” He smiled and walked in my direction.

I cradled the heavy skillet against my chest and limped toward him, mindful of the snakes at my feet. The amulet chilled me to the bone. I hesitated leaving the safety of the front porch, but the pan made as good a weapon as any. If Dr. Hicks set the amulet off, I could clock him with the skillet.

“I’m Tessa, Charlie’s great-niece. My great-grandmother and aunt are—” I walked toward him and caught movement in the corner of my eye, a split second before a gun fired.

I would’ve bet my life that the cast-iron frying pan would stop a bullet—and I would’ve lost. The force of the shot knocked me to the ground, and the weight of the skillet made it difficult to breathe. I stared, half-blind, into the canopy of live oaks. In the distance someone yelled, “Stay inside.”

Someone took pieces of the skillet from my hands. It dawned on me that I’d been shot. Panic and pain followed. Someone lifted me from the ground and ran, laying me on the ground near Mae’s house. My body burned with a fire that started in my chest and ran out to my fingers, toes, and the top of my head, like lava in my veins.

“She’s gone,” a voice said from somewhere above me.

I’m not dead
.
I could see the sky, and hear Mae and Dottie wailing. My body burned as I tried to call out, but no sound came. Maybe I’d died and was on my way to hell. The little preacher in my head shook his Bible.

A black animal moved near me, but I couldn’t turn my head to see. Had the wolves returned? I had to get inside, but I couldn’t move, any more than I could call out. The animal sniffed near my ear, and I expected teeth to tear into my flesh. Instead, a huge bear filled my vision. The bear nudged the side of my face, grunted, and disappeared from view. It stayed close, but not close enough to see.

Snakes crawled over me, their cool skin slithering over my limbs. I wanted to scream, to flail and toss them off, but I lay helpless to their whims. When I thought my mind would break from the feel of them, they vanished.

Fire. I burned from the inside out. I screamed inside my head, and the earth shifted under my weight, as if to swallow me. My body changed so quickly I didn’t understand what had happen until I caught a glimpse of feathers where skin should be.
Oh my God, I shifted?

The pain threatened to consume me, until my body lifted, and a cool gust of wind replaced the burning sensation. I soared through clear-blue sky, still internally screaming. Sound filled my ears, alongside the sound of a bird screeching.

Brilliant red, orange, and yellow feathers moved in my peripheral vision. I cried out again, and the feathers shifted to flames. On the ground, three men crouched on the far side of the railroad tracks. I could make out the barrels on their rifles so clearly I could read the manufacturer’s stamp. The men looked toward the heavens when I screamed. I locked onto my prey. Something inside me took over, a primal instinct. I descended, and my talons moved through flesh, until the only things that mattered were blood and flames.

The engineer signaled three quick blasts of the train’s horn to get off the tracks. He hit the brakes but needed more time. The brakes squealed. The train smashed into a man on the tracks. When the train came to a complete stop, the carnage stretched for several hundred yards.

I sat in the tree, but I wasn’t myself, I’d become some sort of strange bird. My feathers faded as I hid in the deep shadows of the tree. The train conductor went to his knees and sobbed. I wanted to tell him he hadn’t killed the man on the tracks, only I couldn’t speak. I could no longer see the two women holding each other, or the large black bear that guarded them. They’d gone inside the pink house; they were shouting.

I’m not dead.
I stretched my right wing and groomed the coppery feathers.
I’m not dead
.
I fluttered both wings and my head.

A man emerged from the house, went to a car, and pulled out a suitcase. He wore a towel around his waist and was barefoot. I edged forward on the branch until one of the rays of the sun touched my wing. It turned from dull copper to vibrant shades of red and orange. I screeched and pulled it out of the light.

The man in the towel turned his head and searched the tree, but I perched too high to be seen from below. He turned in the other direction as sirens screamed in the air. I jumped onto a higher branch to see five cars approach. The train conductor stood at the sound of the sirens. The man in the towel had changed into clothes and was walking toward the train.

The women came out of the house and walked toward the train as well. I worried that they’d see what I’d done. They would be disappointed in me; after all, I’d killed three men. Hadn’t I killed before? I couldn’t remember. Their tearstained faces drew another screech from my throat, and I leaped into the air. I soared high over the field until the trees ended and asphalt took their place. I circled back and flew over the house. One of the women looked up and pointed, and the other looked at me. They were yelling, angry.

Cars came to a stop on the sandy road; people spilled out and walked to the tracks. From the air, it looked like a beehive. Everyone focused on the dead man spread across yards of track—everyone except the two women. One shielded her eyes from the sun and smiled. The other waved her arm above her head, calling to me. I circled lower, trying to remember something I’d forgotten, something on the edge of my consciousness, just out of reach.

I alighted in the oak, and the women moved toward the tree. The closer they came, the farther back I went. Instinct told me to stay away from humans, but the women drew me to them. I fluttered my wings before settling. My predatory eyes turned to the uniformed men near the tracks, and I craned my neck to see if any were watching before easing from the shadows again.