Eleven Hundred Sand Dunes Page 3

  “I presume you will wait for Bridey…keep in touch with her…let her know where you are and when you will meet again.”

  “Of course.” Guilt flashed across her face. Avoiding Irri-tat was one thing; abandoning Bridey at a time of great need, quite another. “I’ll wait to say goodbye.” She shook her head slowly, burrowing her face into my neck. “If she needs me,” she said, “she will only have to think of me.” We waited while the picture formed between us. “She has Gabriella, and is stronger now than she believes.”

  “Homarta! Go with my blessing. You have done well here.”

  As all must keep changing, the time came to leave her. Standing, I pulled her into me, my arms tight across her back, placing my lips over hers and filling her with my love and affection. The kiss was deep and, as all such kisses, nurturing for both but tearing with the parting. There was a pressing matter now requiring my attention.

  Elaris had been with me constantly since she had had to resign herself to losing the battle with her pride. No one had sided with her, and reluctant as she was to take an inferior position to that which she sought to claim as her due, she was terrified of being returned to the isolation of the dell in the mountains. She was not allowed to leave my side for an instant at this stage, but was clouded in darkness each time there was business with anyone else; privacy coupled with the need to protect against her influence. I love her because that is my nature, but it was no pleasure for me to be with her as it might once have been. Much of the time I ignored her. This was designed to reduce her sense of what was owed to her. Often, she attempted to open the conversation with me where her basic position was defending her case and complaining about my mistreatment. It was far less pleasant than Homarta found being with Irri-tat.

  Now, she would stretch her wings a little. She would fail of course. But, she had no idea of it. I could have returned her to her prison if having her there could have been bearable for me. To be aware of her suffering and not attempt a cure was inconceivable.

  Ignoring Elaris was effective. Without an audience, she was bereft. Although unable to discern it, the greater part of her suffering lay in the loss of our friendship. She was mutinous and at times seditious. Turning my attention to her on leaving Homarta’s warmth and caresses, I spoke with steel, overriding her attempts to cut me off in protest at being ignored.

  “Elaris, you will hear me! Be silent!” She quietened, but her demeanour was sulky. “You have nothing to say to me that is new or interesting.” She gasped. “You will now do exactly as you are commanded. One false step and you will be returned to your solitary abode.” I watched as she cringed in fear. “Do you understand these words?”

  “Yes, Love,” she said, meek for the first time.

  “Do not call me Love, for you feel no affection towards me; only for yourself. You will now refer to me as Master, or Lord. This is the position you have chosen.”

  Her eyes filled with trepidation. “But Breath…,” she began.

  As the elephant trumpets, my roar crushed her into silence. “You will not address me thus until you have been given permission to do so. You have relinquished the right to be intimate with me. You may earn it again. At this stage, it is impossible to predict.” For the first time since her rebellion, I saw subjugation. But it was prompted by terror, not loss. My smile was distant and cold. “What did you expect of me?” When she declined to answer, I said, “You have no place by my side. You cannot represent me to others. You are no longer a Caretaker for you cannot manage yourself.” She hung her head, plotting.

  “What can be done with you?”

  She squirmed under the silence, as though my hand held her to the ground. Then, there was an imperceptible change towards insight. It was miniscule but an opening. Barely an instant passed before I put out my hand and snapped my fingers.

  She gathered strength to continue. “Master, how may I serve you?”

  “You will be tested now. There is a task no one will willingly accept. I am offering it you, Ravesh. (This will be your name until you have sought and found the other.)” She processed all that this would mean, appearing meek and resigned to her fate.

  “Ravesh! Will you accept this task? You will have few powers to support you.”

  “I will do it.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not know, my Master. There appears to be no other way.”

  “For the present, this will be acceptable, but it must change quickly, Ravesh. I cannot allow darkness to have any power in this situation where you must serve.”

  She bowed her head, acquiescent. I sent her to Irri-tat, her task being to win over the young spirit and extend her understanding of the ways of Caretaking whilst she herself having no powers in this arena. The task was to introduce her to the wind which would now avoid the ravisher who had once seduced it. It involved taking on the role of the trickster, useful at times, but never to be trusted. Her way was clear, but she could not discover in it a path for recovery, or for winning back a name, only an opportunity to begin in darkness and spin possibility. When she attempted to meet my eyes, I turned from her. It had come to this.

  Ravesh made her way to Irri-tat while I sought out Bridey as she walked.

  ***

  Bridey

  Seeing Sandro in his frozen state frightens me. It fills me with far more terror than the thought of losing him has, which is awkward to admit. He seems like a vegetable with all of his personality gone. Wednesday passed without change, but today when I come in, he recognises me. Gabriella arrives around two o’clock. We can’t talk much because Sandro will hear, and there’s no way of telling what he would make of anything we said. His two sisters, Carmel and Joanne, visited last night and plan to come in again today, after work. Gabriella picks up her bag at three o’clock, too dispirited to stay, and offers to drive me home. It’s an opportunity to talk more openly, but we don’t find anything to say to each other.

  She hasn’t been to my strange, little blue house. After all the days together, she knows hardly anything about me. Because of her meeting with Flagran in the hospital, I decide to invite her in hoping Homarta’s there and dreading that she might be with Irri-tat. We find her in the garden, but she’s not alone. Horror of horrors, she’s facing off with Elaine.

  These two have taken an aversion to each other. Mum has a habit of appearing like this, without notice, yet in her eyes Homarta’s the intruder. This is not the time. It’s bad enough having the ‘meet the parents’ thing coming up, but not like this, surely. I haven’t told my parents about the accident. We were supposed to be doing the meeting Friday night over dinner. I’d completely forgotten which at any time might be a possibility because I didn’t want to do it. Sandro had insisted. There are times in your life when the pile up of troubles and horrible events are a complete deluge, and you feel like you’re spinning in a tornado. “Well!” Elaine starts up, “What have you been up to?” Her belligerence triggers an impulse to tell her to shut up and mind her own business, but Gabriella being here makes me hesitate.

  Homarta steps into the gap. “Elaine, this is Sandro’s mother.” Gabriella must be wondering about this odd figure, but Elaine is putting on her fake social smile and proffers her hand. Gabriella’s reserve is polite, and she gives her the faintest, tired smile as she takes it for an instant. The only thing I can think of is to make a cup of tea; to get rid of Homarta who never comes inside and to give us somewhere to sit. We troop into my kitchen, and I stare at it in dismay. The dishes haven’t been done since last Friday. The place appears to have been overrun by ferals. That’s viewing it through my mother’s eyes. She shoots me a disgusted glare turning to Gabriella and apologising for the standard of my housekeeping which, she insists, is not what she’d taught me.

  Should I just put on the kettle, leaving them looking at each other? Or, should I leave it to one of them? The other alternative is to take off outside back to Homarta. Flagran’s shake up has done some good. Now it reminds me to focus on things other than
my discomfort. Sandro’s mum helps, always gracious, yet she’s suffering at least as much as me. Water running into the kettle is the only noise in the room while thoughts of brown water rush back. Too much has happened since then. It feels like I’ve been living in another dimension for many weeks now. Well, I have!

  The two mothers remain silent staring into space at the table while I stare out from the kitchen window at the beautiful garden. When I’d first met Homarta, out there had been a barren lump of dirt which rarely even grew a weed; a fact that’d been quite useful. I wash mugs and still the parents don’t speak. I turn to the Source in my head begging ku to do something for me. Homarta looks up at that moment and smiles. Her eyes say, “You can do this.” Taking orders and wiping down the table fills another few awkward minutes. Gabriella’s too exhausted to take on Mum, and Elaine seems overwhelmed by her.

  When I bring the drinks, apologising for having no biscuits, Mum turns to Gabriella and says, “She never has any food in the house.”

  Gabriella smiles a wan smile and says, “Yes. That’s about the way it is in most young people’s households. Especially those who live close in to the city. It’s so easy to find food without having to cook it.” This small speech clears the air and makes a huge difference.

  “Mum?” My attention is caught by the neat brown hair with the slight highlights you hardly notice. They hide the creeping grey. Today, she’s wearing a sensible dark woolen jumper and the colour of her plain pants could be anything. When she turns I say, “Sandro’s had an accident.”

  “What! A car accident? They just can’t drive safely can they?” She turns to Gabriella fully expecting to be supported in this position and is startled to find Gabriella glowering at her in a manner which looks distinctly dangerous. Backing down immediately, she adds, “Of course I’m sure it wasn’t Sandro’s fault.” If she imagines this will placate her listener, she could not be more wrong.

  “Actually, it was his fault,” Gabriella says stiffly. “He ran out in front of a car.”

  Elaine is clearly thinking suicide attempt because she becomes embarrassed and doesn’t ask the questions.

  “Mum, he was chasing someone. Trying to catch up with a friend. He didn’t see the car.”

  Finally, she thinks to ask the important question. “How is he?”

  “He’s been unconscious for four days, and now he’s awake but not responding.” Then I add, “So that puts Friday night out of the question.”

  Gabriella rises to her feet. “I’m sorry to run out Elaine, but I’m weary and needing my home.” At the front door, she gives me a brief hug saying, “Talk to you soon,” and runs quickly to the car. This is not about me, or my family. Taking a deep breath, I go back inside.

  “What is that woman still doing here?” Here she goes, always focussing on the important stuff. If I turn out like that, I’ll only have myself to blame.

  After Elaine finishes complaining, and forgetting to talk about Sandro, and leaving without asking her daughter about any feelings she might be suffering, I’m able to visit Homarta. My reception there is confusing, and immediately my mind jumps to I must have done something wrong. But, I make every effort to focus on her. She rewards me with a beaming smile which fades away before I’ve caught it.

  “Bridey, can you do without me for a while?” Well, that hadn’t been so far off the mark had it?

  “Of course,” I say, steeling myself for another loss. “How long will you be gone?”

  Wincing, Homarta replies, “Maybe for a month, or so.” At my horrified response, she quickly adds, “But you can call me any time, and I’ll come.” By this, she doesn’t mean telephone or text. She’s talking about spirit communication. While it’s a generous offer, I can’t imagine asking her to come back if she needs to be somewhere else.

  I sink into a chair regarding her glumly. “When are you going Homarta?”

  “As soon as you can spare me.”

  “Then you should go now.” Tears well up, but are stuffed down under a tight lid. She wouldn’t be going if she didn’t need to. “Will it ever be like this again?” Once the most unwelcome visitor, I’d even have preferred to entertain Elaine, but here I am devastated. My initial response had been a mixture of terror and disgust. But, all that has changed. She’s probably my closest female.

  “I’m not abandoning you, Bridey. It’s just I’ve been here too long. I’m stale and unsettled. I need to bury myself in elements of my kind. This garden is a triumph, but it’s nothing to the places I will go to refresh myself. Remember it’s not you who is the problem. It’s me.”

  She watches me cry helplessly and offers me a grubby rag. I laugh and hiccup at the same time. “Sorry,” I say. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.” This is a lie I’m telling her. I won’t be. I can’t do this. It’s too hard. The snot running down my face forces me to use the rag, and we both laugh.

  “It’s a hard time for you.” The soft voice makes me cry more. I’m disgusted to be sooking like this.

  “What is it you need?”

  “I don’t know.” How could that be true? “It was for Sandro to wake up, but it’s worse now than when he was unconscious.” Nasty, frightening thoughts about what life might be like if this continues swirl around, and I drop my head into my hands.

  “Have you been feeling blessed since we came?”

  “Of course.”

  “But you think the Source gives only to take away?”

  Many times since the waterfall meeting it had seemed like that.

  “When Torrenclar took you through the stream, where was ku?”

  “Watching.”

  “If you could change your decision, would you, and not go through with it?”

  These are ridiculous questions. It would be horrible to do it again, but now I know I could…It’s complicated.

  “Do you think you will survive without me?” “Of course.” I’m used to loneliness. “But I don’t want to.” There. It was said. I’m such a selfish person. It’s always more about what I want than anyone else. Even Sandro. Or Homarta. Flagran. I’m a flop. “Could you survive without Sandro?” There it was again, that icicle. “Will I have to?”

  “Bridey, I can’t tell you the future. Even if I could, that’s not in your best interests. You need to be prepared to go through the stream knowing you will be held all the way but not knowing what it will be like, or how you will manage it.” The tone was firm.

  “It’s so hard. Why can’t it just be easy for a while? Why can’t Sandro and I just get on with each other and enjoy it, at least for a few days at a time. A week would be good.” Then I was smiling through the tears.

  “Hopefully we’ll spend some more concentrated time together this year,” she says. Then big hugs and rapid goodbyes, and she’s gone. Her absence is a great gaping hole. If Sandro was up and around, likely to pop in at any time, it would be much more bearable. Missing him makes me ache for Homarta before she’s been gone ten minutes. The Source is responsible for this. What’s happening? Why is ku leaving me without support? There’s no answer. Being in the empty garden is unbearable.

  After half an hour of sitting with my misery, I walk along the creek. This brings back memories, lovely memories and another wash of misery. Once you have special people/spirits that sounds really silly it’s never the same again.

  Before Sandro, I don’t think I ever noticed the loneliness. That was just the way life was.

  While walking along feeling empty and lonely, the Source speaks to me. I recognise the voice. It’s gentle and the sweetness washes over me like a warm bath filling me with happiness. But the words startle me and make me question if I’m making this up.

  “You should return to the hospital, Bridey.” No. No more hospital! “Sandro is awake and asking for you.”

  I pull up on the path, closing my eyes to check if it’s real. But there’s nothing.

  Three

  Bridey

  The train is pulling into Clifton Hill as I run up
to the station. Thank God for Mykes. Must remember to top it up. When we arrive at Flinders street, the rush to the Elizabeth St exit gets me there just as the right tram pulls in. Even though it’s the middle of peak hour, I’m slight enough to make a place for myself under some large guy’s armpit. Thank God it’s winter! Walking would be faster, but the hospital is a fair distance away. The longing wasn’t to see Sandro so much as to ride again in his little red Ferrari. Trouble free, full of excitement to be going out with this beautiful man. Never mind the fact that he’s extremely difficult, I just want him back. That possibility is growing, although it’s going to be forever before even his leg heals, let alone what might be going on in his head. At least he’s asking for me, that’s positive.

  Again, the trip through the hospital, despite being familiar now, is endless and the lifts are so slow. Fortunately, the Intensive Care Unit is nearer the bottom. It takes more time to get from the lifts to the right room. What if he goes back to sleep before I get there? If I have to turn around and go home again, I’ll just get into bed with him. That’s a huge ‘no no’ in the ICU. But, the way my heart starts racing when the ward appears, they might have to give me my own bed.

  He sees me as soon as I come through the door, and his face lights up. He’s back. My heart starts in with the palpitations, and breathing hurts. He’s alone. I stand at the door watching him for so long his face falls before I realise I’m rooted to the spot and drag myself forward to kiss him. He tries to put his arm around me and bangs me on the back with his cast.

  It takes a few minutes before I notice he’s all touch and smiles, but there are no words. Several of my eager questions disappear into kisses, and at first that works for me. Then I pull away and stare at him. We freeze. He turns his head towards the far wall. It’s awkward. I have no idea what to say. Having a conversation with someone mute, please let it be only temporary, is a lot worse than awkward. He’s the smooth talker. I try to pull myself together for his sake and mumble a few disjointed words. There’s no relief when a nurse comes over to check him and asks questions which he attempts to answer, but can’t, just has to use his eyes to tell her he’s in pain. Her sympathy makes it worse, her soothing voice telling us it’s very early days and not to worry. A great wave of exhaustion hits me just as the chair beside him comes up behind my trembling legs.