The Skye in June (13 page)
Authors: June Ahern
Annie took the stick.
“Help me smooth out the sand.”
No sooner had an area been sm
oothed out then the waves would come. Annie couldn’t write out the whole name before it was washed away. They decided to move back a little. As her big sister wrote, June suggested they add more and make it like a letter. By then the other girls wanted to be a part of the project. They all ran around collecting seashells. The message became a loving “Hello” with shells placed around Helen’s name in the shape of a large heart.
As soon as they finished, the brat boy jumped into the middle of their message and erased their work by wildly kicking sand around with his feet. The girls yelled in disappointment and frustration and chased him along the beach with sticks. Mary yelled,
“You stupid bugger!” He ran away and hid behind his father, pretending to be afraid but poked out his fat face to smirk at the girls. June pleaded with her father to let them punish Mark for ruining their message to Helen. Jimmy ignored them and continued talking to Sandy about soccer.
June narrowed her eyes and pointed an index finger straight at the wicked boy.
“I’ll get you,” she mouthed at him.
“
Daddy, Helen will think we forgot her. Daddy,” June whined, tugging on her father’s trousers. Not wanting to think about the death anymore, Jimmy paid no attention to her, which made June fume with anger. She felt he did not care about Helen. Frustrated, she ran down the beach to sit on an old log and stare forlornly at the ebb and flow of the waves.
She searched the sky in hopes of catching a glimpse of Helen or her angel in the clouds. But the sky was completely empty of clouds. Disheartened, she closed her eyes and imagined the picture of her angel pinned above the altar at home. In her imagination, the angel flew out of the picture and across a hilltop full of yellow flowers and landed at a beach similar to where she now sat.
Pretending she was also flying, June opened her arms wide and wiggled her fingers. A seagull drifting in from the horizon caught her interest. It landed on the water not too far from where she sat. The bird bobbed up and down on the waves.
She pulled off her white sandals and walked to the water
’s edge to tippy-toe into the cold, Pacific Ocean. She loved the ocean––all of it. The sound of the waves, the smell of the salty water and the vastness of sea had a calming effect on her. The cold water helped to release her sadness. A picture of her mother’s face came to her mind. In the image, Cathy was walking through waves, holding out her arms and crying. June moved towards her mother.
“
June! Not so far in!” Her father’s voice blended with the roar of the ocean. It seemed to her as though it was a voice from across the water, saying “June…in!” She splashed the water with her arms and stared up at the sky, lost in time.
Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the water.
“Stop being so bad!” Annie said gruffly. “Daddy said to come back.”
“
I could swim back to Scotland and see Helen,” June said with chattering teeth.
They started back down the beach toward the rest of the group. June saw the brat toss his father
’s beer bottle into the ocean. When he turned around, a big wave came up unexpectedly and washed over him, knocking him down. Everyone, including his father, laughed at the sight.
Suddenly, June was inspired. It occurred to her that she could send Helen a message in a bottle. She was positive the ocean would carry it to her, with help from her angel. Her little feet scampered along the beach so fast that sand flew up behind her.
Jimmy was shaking the last drops of beer from the bottle when he heard a little voice above the beating waves. “Daddy, can I have your bottle?” June asked.
“
Can’t give you beer. Mammy will be angry at me. I’ll give you a wee shandy tonight at home.”
On special occasions, Jimmy would mix the half beer and half ginger ale drink for the girls. Cathy didn
’t like the idea of giving them alcohol, but Jimmy scoffed at her objections. He said a wee bit of alcohol wouldn’t cause the girls any problems.
“
Just the bottle, to send Helen a letter. My angel will make sure she gets it,” explained June.
Sandy laughed,
“Well, there you go, Jimmy. She’s not all that bad, eh? She may not be named after a saint, but at least she’s got an angel on her side.”
“
My pagan baby. Aye, there you go.” Jimmy handed it over to her.
June wondered why Sandy and her father had said what they did. She didn
’t know what it meant to be a pagan baby and decided to ask her mother later. In the meantime, she had an important duty. Gathering her sisters together, she told them her plan.
Maggie looked in her small pink
patent leather purse and handed Annie a piece of paper and pencil. Together, the MacDonald girls wrote a note to Helen.
“
Dear Helen, Hello. How are you? We are fine. We miss you. We went to Playland today. Do you play in heaven with Baby Kit? June says to come to the altar tonight. We will wait. Love,”
The girls signed the letter and Annie stuck it into the bottle. She used a stick to press it down farther. She then shoved in a thicker s
tick to use as a stopper so the letter would stay dry. It was decided that Mary, with her strong arm, would be the best person to toss the bottle into the ocean. The small group watched the bottle get caught up in the current and float out to sea. June felt content knowing that it would be watched over by her angel.
* * * * *
T
HE SECRET WORLD OF MAGIC
THE COASTAL FOG drifted lightly over Twin Peaks. It descended into the Valley, rapidly cooling the October day. Cathy, June, and Mrs. G sat on the back porch enjoying mid-morning tea. The scent of butter melting over Cathy’s freshly baked scones accompanied it. Mrs. G put the quilted cozy on the teapot to keep it warm. June licked her fingers and brushed the crumbs off her mouth before beginning a whimsical story about garden angels hiding in the fog’s mist.
After a long description of the different angels she could see, June came to the story
’s ending. “They live in a place called the Misty World. It’s a circle world with water all around it. Me and my angels dance all over a big hill with yellow flowers. Everybody is happy together.” When she finished her story, Mrs. G clapped.
“That girl’s imagination is going to get her in trouble some day,” Cathy declared.
“
It’s real to her,” the old woman said, wrapping her black shawl around her shoulders. “It’s a little cold out here. Come inside. I make tea hot.”
“
I’m going to pick flowers with the garden angels,” said June skipping down the stairs to the garden.
In the kitchen Mrs. G turned on the kettle and motioned for Cathy to sit at the table. Cupboard doors opened and shut as she prepared fresh cups of tea.
Hearing June singing outside, she remembered when she was a young girl playing in the backyard with her brothers and friends and smiled slightly, recalling the days of her first love. She sighed, thinking how that seemed so long ago.
“
Well, that day has come and gone for you,” Mrs. G said casually, “It’s the past now, my friend. Yes?”
She was always surprised when Mrs. G voiced her thoughts, but it also unnerved her, like when June told her stories about her angel.
The only reply to Mrs. G’s inquiry came from the kettle whistling on the stove. The old woman slowly poured the steaming water into a teapot. She filled their cups and sat back on her chair as the vapors from the tea swirled around them.
“
Maybe I’m just missing home,” said Cathy at last. She didn’t want to admit that her depression had gotten darker during the past few days.
“
For you, it’s not good to be so sad. You are young. Much to live for. I would like to see more for your happiness. Would you like that?”
Cathy gave a small laugh, uncertain of what she meant. Mrs. G reached for the object hidden under the crimson silk scarf.
“I think that you would not mind,” she said, opening her scarf to reveal a stack of tarot cards. She placed a few on the table.
Tarot card readings were forbidden to Catholics, but Cathy had to admit that s
he was a bit curious about them and also afraid. She wondered what the nuns would think. Enchanted by the cards’ beautiful pictures and colors, she leaned in closer. Curious, she decided that it wasn’t a sin if she only listen and didn’t ask questions.
“See that card?” Mrs. G pointed
to a card with a red heart being pierced by three swords. “Your heart not open anymore. Must open.” Mrs. G flipped over another card. Pictured in that card were three young women dancing and in unison, raising goblets in celebration. “Must love again.”
Impish laughter flooded the kitchen as June ran in to ask for a glass of water.
“The angels are thirsty!” she said, and came to a sudden halt. Wide-eyed and mouth dropping open, June stared at the cards. She moved to the table and touched one.
“
Don’t touch.” Cathy slapped her daughter’s hand lightly.
“
She likes. Yes?” Mrs. G said, raising an eyebrow to the awed girl.
Shyly, June slowly nodded her head, affirming that she did like the cards. Cathy leaned close to her daughter.
“We won’t tell Daddy about this, okay?” she said putting a finger to her closed lips.
June mimicked her, nodding in agreement.
The tarot cards were easy and fun for June to understand. She enjoyed giving voice to the colorful pictures, which were different on each of the seventy-eight cards. One day Mrs. G fanned all the cards out across the table and told her to choose one and peer into it. June picked one with a boy presenting a large goblet holding a white flower to a little girl. The children stood in a blooming
garden. The card had bright, lively yellow and red colors. In the background was a large stone house and in the foreground, five more cups with a white flower in each one. Quickly, June described it as getting a present from someone who loves you. The old woman encouraged her student to go beyond her first impressions and tell a story about it.
“
Play this game. Look at the card,” Mrs. G instructed her. “Now close eyes. Pretend you in the card. Do what the person is doing in it.”
June
’s story of the card, the Six of Cups, started hesitantly. “The boy and girl are good friends for a long time. The boy has a special present for the girl, but it’s not a thing. I think the girl is me and the boy is a new friend. He believes in my angel.” June saw a man in the background of the card, walking away. “When everybody is mad at me, the boy will still like me. Am I right?”
“
Probably. Later you find the truth,” said Mrs. G.
One of June
’s favorite cards was called The Sun. It pictured a young naked child waving a large red banner, while riding a white horse. Behind the child were four colorful sunflowers in full bloom and a big bold sun with rays extended beyond the card’s borders.
“
That’s me being happy in our magical garden. It means everybody should play, huh?”
“
Yes, that’s good,” said Mrs. G, laughing heartily.
In a short time
, June understood the difference between the cards; how the images and colors looked and how they felt. She also learned that not all the cards carried a happy message. One card had a picture of a devil and a man and woman chained to a cube. June said the card looked very dark and gloomy. It made her feel “icky.” In a very serious tone, she said the card meant, “If you’re not a good girl, you’ll go to the Devil.”
Mrs. G shrugged her shoulders.
“This card means people make a mess of life and that’s why they’re miserable. Soon they feel chained to unhappiness and blame it on somebody else. ‘The Devil made me bad. Not my fault.’ They say these things.” Mrs. G then flipped to another card.
Soon June could lay out all the cards in perfect order.
In time, the cards became such a part of her interest that they appeared in her dreams.
Mrs. G was very pleased with her young student
’s quick understanding of the tarot. “You are like me, destined to serve others with your special gifts,” she said.
Upon the advice of Mrs. G that the only way to really know the t
arot is to read for others. Excited with her new knowledge, June offered readings to her sisters when they accompanied her downstairs to visit their elderly neighbor. Annie was the most reluctant to participate, saying that Daddy wouldn’t like it. Maggie always asked about boys. And Mary wanted to know if she’d get better grades or win at basketball. At June’s warning, all were sworn to secrecy.
The tarot cards, like all other things she enjoyed most in l
ife, were best not talked about, especially to her father. Like the garden angels hiding in the mist, the little girl quickly understood that life was full of secrets.
* * * *
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