What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (34 page)

“Jack, you don’t need to-”

“Stop!”  Jack shot to his feet.  “Stop telling me what I do or don’t need to do!  I didn’t ask for this, I never asked to lead these people.  You and Rowan decided that for me, and now you think you can tell me how to go about it?”

He whirled on Naomi.  “Do you know how many of us are left?  Eighty-seven.  Eighty-seven people, not counting you, and we need every single one.  We need people who can work together, not just to produce food and shelter to keep us all alive, but for protection.”  He rubbed his temples, then scrubbed a hand roughly across his forehead.  “Something is coming.  Something bad.  I…dream about it.” 

He returned his glare to Layla.  “So do you.  I hear you in the night, when you wake up terrified and cry out.  Your shields are down and I can feel what you feel – you know what’s headed our way as well as I do.  So don’t tell me what I can and cannot do.  Don’t tell me I can’t manipulate people, to make them do what we need them to.  Do you hear me, Layla?  What we
need
them to do. This isn’t about what I want.  It’s about keeping this community safe.”

Their gazes were locked; Jack’s chest was heaving, and Layla’s eyes glittered with tears.  Verity leaned over to stage-whisper to Naomi.

“Gosh, if this was a movie he’d kiss her right now, don’t you think?”  Then, to Jack:  “If you’re not going to kiss her, you ought to storm out dramatically.  After a speech like that, it’s just called for.”

Jack heaved a breath, and when he released it, he seemed smaller.  Deflated.  He shook his head wearily at Verity, too exhausted to even try to hide his hurt.  “Thanks, Verity.  Mockery was the only thing missing from this debacle, and you’ve supplied it.”  He headed for the door, paused, then spoke over his shoulder to Naomi.  “I’m sorry for all this.  We’ll help you with whatever you need, and accept your help gratefully.  Please excuse me.”

Naomi just nodded.  In the wake of his departure, Layla turned to gaze at Verity.  “Why would you say those things?” she asked softly, her voice tender and exasperated.  “I know you intended no harm – I could
feel
that.   And yet you managed to cut him to the bone.  Why?”

Verity shrugged; she appeared contrite for the moment, but the imp lurked in her eyes, ready to re-take control of her features.  “I’ll apologize,” she said in a subdued tone.  “I just thought the moment called for the distance and perspective that levity provides.”

“Distance and perspective.”  Layla shook her head.  “I wish I could disagree, but I think that’s just what he needs.  That, and maybe a solid whack upside the head.”  She stood, and moved to rest a hand on Naomi’s shoulder.  “I need to see if I can get him to go home and rest – he’s exhausted.  Will you stay until I come back?”

“I will.”  Naomi rested her hand over Layla’s and sent her a pulse of comfort, just as she had with Martin.  “Please pass that on to him, would you?”

Layla’s smile was both delighted and startlingly beautiful.  “How lovely!  I’ll try, though he’s a lot more comfortable doling out comfort than receiving it.”

She left then, and Naomi turned to Verity.  They gazed at each other in silence for long moments.  Then Naomi narrowed her eyes.

“You planned this,” she accused.  “You wanted to talk to me alone, so you engineered this whole thing.”

Verity’s laughter chimed softly.  “Boy, there is no fooling those mom instincts of yours.  ‘Planned’ isn’t really the right word.  More like I nudged forces that were already in motion, and happily, everything turned out just as I hoped.”

“Why?  What is it you couldn’t say in front of the others?”  Naomi’s heart started to pound and her voice dropped to a hoarse, excited whisper.  “Do you have a message for me?  From Scott or Macy?”

“Naomi.”  Verity gathered both her hands, then brought them to her lips, kissing first one then the other.  From her, the gesture didn’t even seem strange.  “You were right the first time.  They moved on together to join the One.”

Disappointment slowed Naomi’s speeding heart.  She dropped her head for a moment, fighting not to cry.  She was so very, very weary of crying.  “Then what is it?”

“Your Macy didn’t just see the dead.  She saw possibilities, what might be, what could be, if conditions were right.  That’s what she wanted to talk to me about, when you were here before.  She didn’t have time to grow into her gift, to detach from the Earthly plane and learn what we all must learn to survive with such knowledge:  That no path is written.  That no future is better or worse than another.  There is simply the path, which is created as people choose it.”

“I’m not sure I understand,” Naomi said slowly.  “Are you telling me that Macy was trying to use her gift to control the future?”

“In a word, yes.  She saw an outcome she desperately wanted for you, and for her sister.  She wanted me to help you, to ensure that outcome.”

Naomi gazed at Verity for a long moment, then shook her head.  Once again, her question was not a question.  “You’re not going to do that, are you.”

Verity stood, and floated to the window.  She gazed out at the bright sunshine, and was silent for so long, Naomi thought she wouldn’t answer.  Finally, she turned back.  Her face was
aglow with a light that could only be called holy, her eyes faceted with knowledge, wisdom, sorrow, and joy.

“We are travelers together, in the time between what no longer is and what has not yet come to be.  This is a time of chaos – change is almost never neat and tidy – and mankind is transforming.  That transformation will occur, no matter what path you choose.”  She paused, as if considering, then nodded.  “I will tell you this:  I saw Macy’s path for you, and for Piper.  It’s a Hero’s Path.  If you choose it, your names will be remembered.”

“I don’t care about that.  A Hero’s Path?”  Naomi shook her head, bewildered.  “I don’t know what you and Macy saw, but all I want is to find my daughter, to bring her home and keep her safe.  You can keep your chaos and transformation – I don’t want any part of it.”

Verity’s eyes lit with glee.  “Ah, but that’s not yours to decide.  ‘All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.’”  She chortled – actually chortled.  “Tolkien, via Gandalf.  Gosh, I have always wanted to use that quote – never thought I’d get the chance.”

She sobered once more.  “You can deny the task, Naomi, but not the call.  I can mentor you as you travel across this space, but I can’t decide for you.  Always, always, the choice is yours.”

Naomi felt like her fingertips were just starting to brush the edges of Verity’s meaning.  “What am I choosing between?”

Verity didn’t hesitate.  “Fear and love.”

             
“Fear and love,” Naomi repeated softly, and something inside her resonated.  She could feel those opposing forces in her heart and mind, the push-and-pull of them.  Fear would keep her at the cabin, reading to Macy’s corpse and completing a wildflower book for a little girl who was as vibrant and dead as the blossoms preserved in its pages.

             
Fear was safety and security.  It was prudence, caution, suspicion, defense.  And love was…everything else.  The whole wide world.

             
She looked up at Verity, speaking softly, shyly.  “So, fear is limitation.  It’s the plan you make when you take into account your weaknesses.”  Verity nodded eagerly, and Naomi continued, groping towards understanding.  “And love is a free-fall off a cliff.  With only your courage for a parachute.”

             
“Yes!”  Verity shrieked the word, making Naomi jump.  She fist-pumped and strutted around the room in a hip-wiggling victory dance.  Naomi squinted, then knuckled her eyes like a tired five-year-old and squinted again.  Surrounding Verity, like something seen from the corner of one’s eye, was she seeing…angels?  And were they…dancing?

Verity pirouetted to seize Naomi’s hands.  Her eyes were incandescent.  “What an adventure!”  She sighed happily.  “Welcome to the Path.”