Another door comes into view, made entirely of the same green stone. I wish I could put a name to it because I know I have seen it before. Perhaps, a paperweight in my mother’s study? I put my hand to it, feeling a jolt of electricity flowing from my fingers through the surface of the door in a swirl of sparkles.
It is almost as if this threshold, as if this new realm is reacting to me, but how is that so? My hand shimmers against it still, transforming my whole body in a sunlit sheen. The door releases, opening to two vibrant blue-green orbs. Oh, I have seen these before.
“Finally opening your eyes, sweet succulent,” a dark deep voice rumbles.
I attempt to catch my breath as I sit up abruptly and plant my hands upon soft, pillowy moss, which I now realize feels more like my blanket. I tighten it into a ball, making sure a blanket is indeed what I am touching. Those familiar eyes peer through the darkness at me, turning into the street lamps I see out my bedroom window.
I imagine the eyes again, matching them to the man who paid a visit to my shop just yesterday. But why would I dream of him, apart from the obvious? I brush my dark copper-colored locks away from my face and let myself fall back onto my pillow. That didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real and, even worse, it felt known.
My nightgown damp with sweat clings to places I’d rather it not. I jostle out of the bed, leaving the lingering whispers no one to reach. It is five in the morning, and the sink feels miles away. I splash cold water against my face, but my nostrils only take in the scent of damp earth—a smell I’m becoming very familiar with. A fragrance only the roots of the hickory know.
4
FOREVER FRIENDS
DETROIT 1978
Isit in my shop after another not so busy afternoon. The urge to move plagues my spirit. Pacing in circles around the near-ancient findings is all I can do, my mind a chaotic mess. Carya peeks from behind a hulking amethyst geode, her yellow eyes flickering with unease.
By no means am I an anxious person, but something has switched within me. The moment the jade willow shattered, and the ring touched my skin, I knew something had shifted. As if the Gods had handed me a path and dared me to follow it. The man and the dream last night eating at my subconscious. A vibration within my marrow screaming at me to pay attention.
The jumpy feeling within me eases once Lollie comes by looking worse than I do. Huge brown sunglasses cover her tired eyes as she stands before me in tan bell bottoms and a random cropped band t-shirt. Her hair swept up in a long and messy, barely made braid.
She is a free spirit, and it shows in her wardrobe. Where my everyday wardrobe comprises items that are organized and structured, she wears whatever will make her stand out the most. I look at her with sincerity and relief. She is just the excuse I needed.
“Oh, thank goodness, Lol. Let’s go get a coffee and walk throughthe park. I am dying for some air.” She reluctantly pulls her body out of the musty leather chair tucked in the shop’s corner that she had just collapsed into.
“Do I have to?” She groans. Last night was rough for both of us. And while I seem to have recovered just fine, it is obvious Lollie has not.
“No, but I’m drowning in my thoughts. Come on, I’ll even throw in a muffin from the bakery, remember the onesyouwere going to bring me this morning…” I do my best to persuade her. She can be stubborn as a bull when she wants to be.
“Ugh. Fine. But if I throw it all up, I’m blaming you.” She moves forward, dragging her feet like a dismissive teenager.
“Deal.” I pull her close and loop my arm through hers.
We leave the bakery with our pastries and coffees, and we walk silently through the park. Lollie, who isn’t her usual talkative self, looks up at the trees the whole time. I sense her mind working behind her wide-framed sunglasses.
“Are you sure you want to take on all this new house stuff right now?” She says after a deep breath. “It seems like it came on so fast. You don’t have to go right away; you can stay here in the city…with me.” She nervously spins the creamy white stone ring that adorns her finger, flashes of iridescence catching my eye.
“Aw, Lol, are you going to miss me?” I smirk at her jokingly, but then it quickly drops when I look into her eyes that hold the tears she is trying to keep back. I take her hands in mine as her worry seeps into them. Her emotions swimming in a muddled river to me. There really isn’t much I can say that could ease her mind, so I decide to go with the truth.
“Ihaveto go. I need to figure out why this has been placed in my lap,” I shrug. I know it’s not what she wants to hear, but it needs to be said. “If I don’t go now, it’ll be all I think about until I do.” Lollie looks down at our hands. Still toying with her ring witha silent regard.
“What if you don’t like the reason why?” she whispers. I’m taken aback by her unsteady voice that won’t let this go. Her comment is unwanted because I feel I am doing the right thing. Something is pulling me there, and it gets stronger by the day.
“I mean,” she continues with a little more pep in her words, “just don’t go finding any new best friends on me or fall in love with some backwards-talking Southern guy.” She winks, but when she looks at me again, she is all business. I give her the biggest hug, so grateful that I have her to worry about me.
“Never,” I say. But I’m not too sure about the second part, because as I hug her, a certain someone with branches tattooed against his arms pops up in my mind's eye.
The walk back is quiet, but handing Lollie the key sparks a new reform in me. I give her the rundown of the shop upkeep, and an idea of what the average workday around here looks like. Her eyes glaze over by the time I finish explaining, her not-so-subtle disappointment shining between blinks.
She is very much aware of how to run this shop, since she’s covered for me more than a couple of times when I was sick. And then when my mother passed and the days after when I couldn’t bear to get out of bed. Although on those days, she would usually just crawl in bed with me, and the shop would just stay closed.
I peck Lollie on the cheek as she takes off to sleep off her hangover, most likely for the rest of the day. A new excitement fills me as I rummage through the papers left here from the man with sea-foam eyes. His name is still a mystery, partly because I haven’t wanted to look for it. I am still trying to push away the reaction I had when he set foot in my shop.
The remnants of the jade willow tree are still piled up on the counter by the register, and I pull the ring from it again. Pinching it between my pointer and my thumb, I’m drawn to the intrinsic beauty of this thing. It holds such detail that it could only have been made by hand. And when you look closely at the stone pieces cradled insidethe welded metal, they are fragmented as if they too were tiny pieces broken off from a much larger stone. Did my mother know the ring was in here? She couldn’t have. Although my mother always loved a good mystery.
It’s then that I decide the ring will be coming with me to Racine. In fact, I feel more relaxed with it in my hand as I close a fist around it. My breath snags, a sudden ache blooming where longing and fear tangle like roots beneath my constricted ribs. Forcing my will, I open my fist and put the ring in my coat pocket. It helps the feelings dissipate—a little. A temporary fix to a problem I don’t understand in the least bit.
