Sojourner (10 page)

“Sleep now.  We’ll talk later.”  I want to fight the darkness trying to claim me but can’t.  The only saving grace is that I feel the same warmth through me, and I imagine him standing with me before those soldiers.  Maybe it’s just a twist of my thoughts, another cruel joke. 

“Let the dreams take you,” he whispers, looking at me, the light radiating around his golden hair and body.  “I’ll stay close.”

The blackness is finally reaching back to embrace me, the infinite darkness comforting like the blanket I have been denied.

“She’s still got a nasty fever,” Jimmie says.  The voices go on, but I can’t distinguish words anymore, only sounds like bricks that pave my yellow brick road to slumber. 

Chapter Six

Morning light spills across my face, stirring me from blackness.  I blink and test for the headache I felt yesterday.  It’s gone.  So is the cold.  Starting to sit up, I feel someone touch my shoulder, keeping me from rising.

“Not such a good idea.  Lev tells me you’re an accident waiting to happen.”

I look over and see Celia sitting there, her hand presses against me, and it is only when I settle back she moves her hand.

“Celia?”  I blink two or three times, not quite expecting to find her there.

“Yep.  Welcome back to the land of the living.”  She offers a bright smile.  “How do you feel?”

“Not so bad today.”  I blink repeatedly, trying to clear the haze.  “What happened?”  I reach for the sheet but find I have also been given covers, which must mean the fever finally broke.

“You passed out at school.  Lev got help and an ambulance brought you here.  Nasty combination of getting run down and taking a winter swim.  I should get Jimmie.”  She stands and starts to walk away.  Her long blonde hair is drawn back into a ponytail, making her appear younger than her brother.

“Wait.”  I’m in no hurry to see Jimmie.  He’s probably going to freak out.  Again.  “I don’t even remember driving to school.”

“You’re lucky you made it then.”  She lightly pats my hand and then pulls away to grab a small bag, probably from the gift store downstairs.  Her thin, graceful fingers pull a small box from the plastic bag.

“I got you something.  I know you probably won’t feel like reading, and you don’t know a lot of people around here so I got this for you to remind you have friends.”  She opens the small box and pulls out two angel figurines, a boy and a girl.  Each stand about three inches tall.  Both have blond hair and blue eyes.  Like Celia and Lev.  Grinning, she offers them to me.

“They’re beautiful,” I gush, taking them into my trembling hands.  “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome.”  She pats my knee.  “Now you just need to get better so you can go home.”  She looks around.  “I hate hospitals.”

“Me, too.  Where’s Lev?”  I trace the facial features of the boy. 

“He’s around.  Guilty conscience, I think from your fall off the bridge.  I’ll be right back.”  I want to ask more about her brother, but she disappears.

My eyes are getting heavy, but I hear the door open again, admitting Shelly and Bree.  Both wear heavy coats, so I know the temperatures are still frigid.  At first they hover at the doorway, Bree’s hand still on the door as if she hasn’t really decided if she’s coming in or not.

“Hey, guys,” I manage in a rough voice tinged with fatigue.  “Come in.”

They look at each other and then timidly step toward me.  Shelly takes the chair and Bree stands next to her.  Shelly grips the armrest, and she perches on the edge of the seat.  Her hair falls around her face, and she shakes her head.

“So, how are you?  You gave us quite a scare.”

“Sorry.”  I brush the hair from my face.  “I’m fine.  Just a little worn down.  Nothing that a little rest can’t help.”  My eyes keep feeling heavier and heavier.

“Is there anything we can do?” Bree asks.  She frowns and looks at her hands, double checking her polish.

“No.  Just tell Gail to keep Griffin occupied.”  My words are slurred, and I feel myself drifting, but I can’t stop the momentum sweeping me into blackness.  I try to remember, but between the fatigue and the fever, everything is a blur.  I don’t really even remember going to school, but I must have gotten there.  I must have seen Lev.  And probably Griffin.

Still tired, I dip my head to the pillow and close my eyes, aware that the old fears of the nightmares still lurk, waiting for me to surrender to the blackness but my body is so tired.  So tired.  I’ve been fighting these dreams off steadily for the last three months.  Before that they were irregular and not nearly this vivid.  The last week has been so excruciating that I barely sleep, which is probably most of what has brought me to this point.

Snow falls around me, spotting my buckskin dress.  The wind is harsh, and I try not to think about the cold creeping around my clothes and stealing my breath.  Shivering, I walk
faster, wondering how long it will take to gather enough wood to keep the fires going for a while.  As I walk, I dig the toe of my moccasin into the snow.  Unpacked snow flies up and covers it.  Then I repeat the motion with my other foot.

Ahead, movement startles me, and I stop.  Just ahead, in a clearing, I see him.  He is alone, wearing that brown coat.  Sunlight rains from a break in the clouds, funneling light into a patch of land where he stands, and his body seems to radiate the light.  His hands, dangling at his sides, seem to glow with warmth.  Strands of blond silk fall from his head, framing his face, and even in the distance, I see myself in his blue eyes.  I am small compared to him.  Insignificant.

“Who are you?” I ask.  But the words are not my words.  They are Cheyenne words.

“It doesn’t matter.”  He steps towards me.  The pocket of sunlight follows like a spotlight.  His voice sounds full, beautiful like gold transformed to sound.

“Why are you in my dreams?”  Even as he approaches, I cannot move.  There is no fear, only a feeling of inevitability.

“This is not a dream.”

The clouds suddenly lift and sunlight explodes around him, blinding me.

I jerk upright.   My heart rams my chest, but I don’t feel fear, only uncertainty about the mystery that refuses to unravel at my bidding.  Morning has fled, leaving a sky twisted and bruised by the coming twilight.  At first I’m startled by the hospital room, the untouched tray of food sitting on the rolling table, the muted television above the bed, the open door and nurses drifting past, but I quickly remember waking earlier when Celia was here.  Blinking, I see the angels she bought for me sitting on the nightstand.  I pick up the boy angel and bring it close so that I can look at it. 

From the corner of the room, I sense movement, and as I glance in that direction, I expect to find Jimmie.  Yet it’s Lev who sits there, quietly regarding me with his bottomless blue eyes.  Startled, I almost drop the statue.  As he realizes my discovery of his presence, he slowly rises.

“How long have you been here?”  Even as I speak, I think of the one in my dreams, holding that image side by side to the living, breathing Lev, trying as best I can to discern some differences that will tell me I’m not going insane, but it’s as if the one who stands before me has stepped from my dreams into this hospital room, and I don’t  understand. 

“Which time?” he asks, pleasantly and sits in the chair.  “I’ve made a few trips today, Elizabeth.”

“I’m sorry.  I don’t mean to be such a nuisance.”  I swallow hard and look away, trying to sort out everything I’m feeling and thinking.

“I didn’t come because I had to.  Surely you ought to know that.”  He picks up the other angel and examines it.  “Where did you get these?”

“Celia.  She thought they might cheer me up.”  I take a deep breath.  “Where is Jimmie?”

“He was called in to work and couldn’t get out of it.  But since the doc tested you so frequently,” he said, pointing to the bruises in my arms from where blood had been drawn while I was sleeping, “and ruled out anything besides being run down and catching a nasty case of the flu, he went.  I told him either Celia or I would stay.”  He lifts his arms above his head and stretches.  “How are you feeling?”

“A lot less tired, and warmer.”  I look one last time at the figure before setting it back on the nightstand beside the girl, which Lev has replaced. 

“Are you hungry?  Some of the food might still be edible.”  He lifts the top off the tray, glancing at the contents.

“No.  I’m not.”

He nods.  “Probably a good thing because this Salisbury steak doesn’t look so appealing.”  He slips the lid back on the food and sits.

“Can’t be any worse than the school’s spaghetti,” I manage.  I try reaching for the water, but Lev anticipates my desire and hands me my cup.

“Is the bed high enough?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“You look a lot better.”

“That’s good because if I have one more person comment on my skin color, I’m going to deck them.”  I nestle back against the pillow.

“Can I sell tickets?”  Lev grins.  “I can’t wait to see your left hook.”  His gaze falls to my left hand which has the IV hooked into the flesh.  The color drains away, and he swallows hard.

“Maybe my right one is better.”  Without thinking about it, my hand drifts to his, but I don’t know whom I’m seeking to comfort, him or me.  Although he stiffens at the feel of my hand, he doesn’t move.  His jaw clenches and I don’t understand the sudden timeless sorrow filling his eyes.

“Can I ask you something?”  My voice is soft, uncertain.

“I…guess.”  He suddenly averts his gaze and pulls back, pretending to stretch again.

“How do I really know you?”

A hollow laugh fills the air and he shakes his head.  “I know you didn’t bump your head this time.  I caught you before you hit the floor in the school hallway, so what’s up with that question?”

Before I can even answer, he shoots out of the chair and begins pacing the floor, his parted lips and averted gaze tell me I’ve struck a nerve, but he isn’t going to talk about it.  Not yet.  Maybe never.  He walks to the door.

“I’m going to get a soda.  I’ll be back.”  He looks up for a moment, frowning uncomfortably before slipping out the door, effectively ending the conversation.

Frustrated, I grip the blanket even tighter.  How do I ask him the right questions?  On second thought, what are the right questions?  Unable to slow my racing heart, I turn my attention toward the sun as it completes its final farewell for the day, sinking into the depths I can’t see.  But if there’s one thing I’ve learned is that vision is so misleading.  Just because I can’t see it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.

Celia slips into the doorway, a leopard print bag slung over her shoulder.  Those familiar blonde curls falls wildly around her oval face and she smiles broadly.  “Hey, there, stranger.  How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” I say, shaking my head, my thoughts still on Lev, as if I’ve thought of much else the last few days.

“Oh, that good.”  She takes over the seat where Lev had just perched before he practically flew out of the room for a caffeine break.  “So what’s on your mind?”

”Can you explain guys to me?” I finally manage.