Solstice - Of The Heart (22 page)

I set the wood tote down and stepped
out onto the street. I searched the pavement and looked to the
gutters in search of my beanie. I remembered being told, after I
was hit, I slid down the street.

I strolled down the hill, farther and
farther from the house.

It dawned on me the neighbors might
think I had gone loony. Here I was, wandering around out in the
street with my robe and bright orange hat on. As I searched for my
beanie I saw Cherrie walk out of her house. She carried a
snowboard.

I backtracked.

I gave my best shot at sounding
motherly and bitchy. “And where do you think you’re going, young
lady?”

Cherrie opened the back seat of the LC
and slid the board in.

“If you got to ask that question you
haven’t lived in this town long enough.”

I threw my arms up in surrender.
“Okay. I admit it. But,” I said, “I have a girlfriend who confides
in me. So what’s up?”

“Yeah. You also got a girlfriend who’s
going to ask you what the hell you’re doing roaming around out in
the street? Didn’t you learn your lesson, yesterday?” She tapped
her head. “Forget the knock on your noggin?”

“I lost my beanie, my maroon
hat.”

“Consider yourself lucky. At least you
didn’t lose your brain with the hat. Or did you?”

I stepped closer. “No school
today?”

“No one has school today.”

“You serious?”

She gave me the
don’t-I-look-serious-to-you face.

“School’s closed down?”

“They don’t have a choice. Half the
kids call in sick on the first snow day. Principal used to fight
it. Now they just give everyone a snow day and make it up
later.”

I looked at the mountain.

Cherrie saw my gaze.

“You want to go?”

“Snowboarding?”

“No. To school, silly. What else? Have
you snowboarded?”

“No. Skied a bit.”

“In Minnesota?”

“Yes.”

“On what? Mounds of snow?”

“Buck Hill.”

“Should have known. A hill? How
high?”

I thought for a minute.

“Three hundred feet or so.”

Cherrie chuckled. “That’s not a hill.
That’s a speed bump.”

“Don’t knock it. Lindsay Vonn learned
to ski there.”

“Who?”

“Just the greatest American downhill
skier there is.”

Cherrie threw her snow boots in the
back seat.

“Yeah, but can she
snowboard?”

“Probably. She’s an Olympic gold
medalist.”

“So what happened to you?”

“To me?”

“You learned to ski on the speed bump.
Why aren’t you going to the Olympics?”

“Funny.”

“I thought so. So, hey, do you want to
come along or not?”

“Sure. If you teach me how to
snowboard.”

“I don’t know.” She gave me the once
over. “Doc said you were supposed to take it easy for a few days,
remember? Or did you lose that part of your brain as
well?”

“I’m feeling fine.”

“Either you are a quick healer or
someone’s been laying their hands on you. I wonder who that might
be?”

“You want me to come or
not?”

“What’s your mom going to
say?”

“She’s not home.”

“Client in Redding, huh?”

“Yes.”

I didn’t elaborate.

Cherrie tapped her
snowboard.

“The first step in snowboarding is to
actually have a snowboard. Don’t imagine you have one lying around,
do you?”

“No.”

“I know this is going to break your
heart, but we’ll have to stop by the Fifth Season on the way and
rent you some gear.”

I masked a
smile.

There was a good
possibility Aaron, given the day off from school and with the slow
season over, would be working.

“Give me a minute. I’ll be right
back.”

I grabbed the wood tote on the way
back in, rushed to my room, and put on a pair of sweat pants and a
sweater. I took a look in the mirror and screwed up my nose. My
head looked like the total disaster I was.

I pulled the beanie off.

My hair hadn’t been washed for two
days. It stuck out like porcupine quills. The bandage wrapped
around my temple made me look like a war veteran.

I peeled it off.

There was a small bump with some
bruising but, thankfully, no cuts, stitches and soon-to-be scars. I
didn’t have time for make-up. Already, I could hear Cherrie leaning
on the horn.

I threw on the beanie and my coat and
out the door I went.

“How do I look?” I asked Cherrie after
jumping into the car.

“Like road kill.”

“You didn’t look.”

“I don’t have to. I saw you hit the
pavement. Remember?”

“No, I don’t remember. What’s your
version?”

“Of what?”

“My becoming road-kill.”

Cherrie pulled the steering wheel hard
right to execute a turn. The power steering screeched.

“If you’re asking if I saw Aaron
there, yes I did.”

“So you saw what he did?”

“Of course. He scraped you off the
pavement and hauled you down to the car. Glad he showed up. No way
I could carry you that far. You were like a feather in his arms.
He’s strong, I’ll give him that. And fast. Your mom and I had a
hard time keeping up with him.”

“So you didn’t actually see the
accident.”

“No. Your mom told me about
it.”

“And you didn’t find anything unusual
about what happened?”

“Told you before. I don’t find
anything the Delmons do bizarre anymore. You know as well as I what
is going on. From what I’m seeing the Delmon boys are following in
Bernard’s footsteps. They are becoming some kind of super human
freaks.”

“So you do believe they have special
gifts.”

“I don’t believe it. I know it. The
real question is; can they control themselves? Or are they going to
become like Bernard and go around killing people?”

“You said grandpa’s death was an
accident and he didn’t blame Bernard.”

“Accident or not, grandpa is dead.
Immense power corrupts people. The way I have it figured the
Delmons are no different than the rest of us. After all, as far as
I can tell, they’re human just like us.”

“I would certainly like to think
so.”

“That’s what worries me. It should
worry you, too. The fact the Delmons are human, but have godly
powers makes me nervous. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts
absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.”

I looked at Cherrie in astonishment.
She was smart, well read, but even for her, some of what she said
was, for me, disturbing.

“Where do you get this
stuff?”

“Lord Acton.”

“Not even going to ask you who he is.
You’re scaring me.”

“Mission accomplished.”

“Accomplished? Accomplished
what?”

“Keeping the naïve girl from the
sticks of Minnesota safe.”

“Naïve? Sticks of Minnesota? That who
you think I am?”

“Doesn’t matter who you are. Love
clouds your judgment. It never hurts to err on the cautious
side.”

“Never said I was in love with
Aaron.”

“But you are attracted to
him.”

“So?”

“You ever asked yourself,
why?”

“Duh. He’s a demigod for
one.”

“What? You think god means
handsome?”

“In his case, yes.”

“Also means he possesses great
strength and can accomplish super-human feats.”

“Not a bad combo if you ask
me.”

“And you don’t think you’re
naïve.”

“What?”

“History’s littered with bodies of men
who possessed more power than they could control. What makes you
think the Delmons are any different?”

“I don’t know about the other Delmons.
I know Aaron isn’t like that.”

“You got part of it right. Gramp’s
passing is a classic example of a man who didn’t have the ability
to control his power. And look at the Hitlers, Stalins and
Mussolinis and all those bad asses we read about in social
sciences. Superiority breeds insensitivity.”

“Aaron’s not that way.”

“That way or not, there are
consequences for actions no matter what their intent. From what
your mom told me it sounds like Aaron’s stunt led to the bump on
your head. What if what he did had gotten you killed? Then what?
Forgive and forget, just because he didn’t mean to kill
you?”

“He was protecting me, not trying to
hurt me.”

“And what about the snowboarders? He
could have hurt them.”

So Dierdra told you about the
snowboarders going backwards.”

“Yes, she did.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you? I mean
about Aaron’s powers?”

“We made a deal. You don’t tell anyone
grandpa is dead I won’t say anything about Aaron and his mystical
powers. Right?”

“Right.”

We saw Main Street parking jammed pack
full.

Cherrie pulled the LC around the back
side and parked on the side street.

We entered the Fifth Season from a
door at the rear of the building.

Several lines of people stood at the
rear counter, mostly students who went to my school and a few
out-of-towners I didn’t recognize.

“You wait in line,” I told Cherrie.
“I’m going to see if I can find Aaron.”

“Of course,” Cherrie said. “When you
find him, ask him if he can ram us through. This line
s...”

I didn’t hear Cherrie’s last word as
it was drowned out by the excited chatter of the skiers making
ready for the snow.

I wondered if I would find Aaron
walking around touching people, soaking up what he would consider
wasteful energy.

As I searched for Aaron, I found
myself speculating if there was any truth to Cherrie’s thoughts of
abuse of power. Wasn’t the act of touching someone and extracting
something from them without their permission abuse of power? The
thought gave me an ill feeling.

Would Aaron stop touching if I asked
him? Could I ask him? Did I have the right? After all, at this
point we were friends, nothing more. I had no hold on him, no say
over him. Would I ever? And the real question burning a hole in me;
did I even want to have a say? Or would that make me an accomplice
and benefactor?

I wandered through the store. I didn’t
find Aaron, but I did spot Carson Gruen. I saw him fitting a
customer with a set of expensive mountain climbing
boots.

“Hi, Mr. Gruen.”

“Oh, hi,” he searched my face for a
name, “oh yeah, Julissa, Simon’s daughter.”

He looked uncomfortable with having
the child of a man who died on a mountain standing before him while
fitting another man with shoes to climb a mountain. Without
question, he wasn’t about to open that conversation, nor did he
care to have me say anything about it.

He pointed to my feet. “You going
snowboarding.”

“Yes. Is Aaron working
today?”

“He came in earlier, but he took the
rest of the day off. He’s on the mountain.”

“Thanks. I pointed to the customer’s
feet. “Nice boots,” I said.

I could see Carson wincing.

“Bye Julissa. Be safe.”

“So,” Cherrie said upon my return,
“where’s your beau?”

“He’s on the mountain.”

“Snowboarding?”

“I don’t know. Carson didn’t
say.”

“Doesn’t matter. Here. I got you a
pair of boots and a snowboard. Pay the man and let’s get out of
here.”

“How do I know the boots
fit?”

“Our feet are about the same size.
Besides, there’s not much left on the shelf. They’ve been cleaned
out. We’re running late, so let’s get going.”

Riding up to the snow park was like
driving through a picture postcard. The conifers weighed heavy with
gobs of snow. Snow covered the road. Banks of snow, piled high by
the snowplow, hemmed us in. There would be no going over the edge
with the LC this morning.

I saw more cars coming down the
mountain than going up.

“Why are so many people leaving
already?” I asked.

Cherrie glanced at the train of cars
heading down.

“Don’t know.”

She rolled down her window and held
out her hand.

A passer-by slowed. He rolled down his
window.