It came out as a roar, something deep and guttural. Everyone quieted, almost instantly, including Freya, who had never heard her mother raise her voice.
Quickly, the rage dissipated and was replaced with shame, which was always how it went. This was the Jekyll and Hyde of every human being—rage and shame, shame and rage.
“I’m sorry,” she said, looking around the room at the faces of the people she loved most dearly.
Matt and Jer looked dumbfounded. Aurora looked scared. Erik looked worried, so worried. Sitka was behind her, so Angeni couldn’t see her. Freya kept staring into Angeni’s eyes, transfixed and curious, likeWho was that, Mommy?Or rather,Who wasThatMommy?
She could smell Sitka approach from behind her, the vanilla scent of the balm.
“I’m sorry,” Angeni said again.
The room was pin-drop quiet. She could hear her own breathing. She wanted to hand the baby to Sitka and run into the forest, be with the trees, which would offer her their branches like arms of a hug.
“Here,” Sitka said, her voice gentle and kind, her hands already on Freya before Angeni could refuse.
Angeni let her take the baby, a passive allowance. Sitka had given her no choice, and that was a relief.
“We should have told you we were doing this,” Aurora said. “Surprises are a lot to take in, energetically. I know how sensitive your nervous system is. Freya’s too.”
She shared this frequently with her followers: the magic of a child being your mirror, your guru. In Freya, she saw herself—the thin skin, the tendency toward overwhelm at just existing in this chaotic, messy world. Angeni’s own mother had said she was “too much,” and she swore she would never say that to Freya, never let Freya ever feel like too much. But here she was, handing her to Sitka, effectively sayingI cannot deal with you right now. But maybe Freya could not deal with her either.
“Maybe you just need a breather,” Erik said.
“I’ll walk Freya around outside a bit. She loves the trees,” Sitka said. Then: “Like her mama.”
It was sweet of Sitka to say this, to remind Angeni that she understood her and Freya well.
“I’m okay. I was just overstimulated,” Angeni said.
“Of course,” Matt said.
They were all nodding at her.
“I might join you two in a minute,” she said to Sitka.
“Sure,” Sitka said.
Freya was back to her angel-baby self in Sitka’s arms. Angeni watched them leave, saw them through the big picture window in the kitchen as they meandered down the path to Angeni’s favorite tree, the one bearing Sitka’s name—how uncanny that was.
“The book deal, it’s a bit overwhelming. I think that’s it,” Angeni said.
She felt she had to say something, that the others were waiting for her to explain, to absolve them of any fault.
“I really do appreciate the gesture,” she added.
“Dude, if I had to write a book, I’d be having daily panic attacks,” Matt said.
Erik gave him a look. “I don’t think that’s helping, Matt.”
“It’s fine,” Angeni said. “Guys, I’m fine.”
Erik put his hand on her shoulder, squeezed the tense muscles.
“I’m going to follow my girls,” Angeni said, jutting her chin outside toward Sitka and Freya.
“Fresh air does wonders,” Erik said.
“Never fails,” Aurora said.
