Mia Darien - Good Things

Gabby had been speaking, but Jemi had been lost in her thoughts. “Sorry, wasn’t listening.”

The older woman looked at her. “I asked if you liked that book you had been reading in the store.”

Jemine shrugged. She loved reading, but she didn’t understand quite yet what was happening and it wouldn’t do to trust this woman. “S’a’right.”

They pulled into the small local market and Gabby grabbed her purse. “Come on,” she said, that easy smile still in place. “The others will start to eat all the sweets and leave none for us if we don’t appease them with meat.” Getting out of the car, leaving it unlocked, she didn’t even look to see if Jemi was following.

Curious, and hungry, Jemi got out and followed her. Once inside, Gabby was waving to the workers and chatting easily as she grabbed a cart. Filling it with a few items, she didn’t address the small shadow behind her, just accepted her presence. Soon they were back in the car and headed north. Just as the last streetlights of the town left the edges to the shadows, she pulled over and said, “Here we are.” The house was two stories. In the dark it was hard to tell, but the paint looked to be some pale color, maybe a yellow, or white. The house looked almost like a cookie house one of the foster homes had over Christmas, with colored shutters over wide open windows spilling light out into a slightly overgrown front yard with different flowers in bloom.

Continuing the pattern of trailing behind Gabby, Jemi picked up a bag and followed her into the house. All the lights were on, and once inside, she could see many candles lit. It looked like one of the groups she had read about in books, the ones that honored gods from the past, like her people, the gods before Christianity took hold. Seeing no places where it looked like they were about to cut her heart out, like in movies, she chuckled to herself and just accepted the comfort she felt when entering the place. There were five other people there, all calling out and asking what had taken so long with the food. Gabby answered them good-naturedly and led them all back to a dining room, which was easily as large as half of Grans’ house.

“Everyone calm down, we have food,” Gabby said, then began introducing the people before turning back on Jem. “I am sorry, I forgot to even ask your name.”

Jemine’s head was spinning with the whirlwind of acceptance she felt there, and she looked down. “Jemine.”

The others welcomed her, then swarmed Gabby as she laughed and continued to empty the bags. The older woman grabbed two plates and handed one to Jem, gesturing toward the food. “Meetings are no fun without food,” Gabby said, then started piling food on her plate. Watching to see that Jemi did the same, she then led them to the front room. “The house belongs to Wheaton and Marcy.” A woman next to the fireplace filled with candles raised her hand and a older man with long grey hair and a long beard in a chair near the window did the same. “We meet here every week to talk, discuss books, the world, and life in general.” Taking a seat in a high-backed chair, Gabby kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet under her.

Night, and the storm that rode with it, passed as everyone talked. The evening’s topic seemed to be books, though they eventually moved on to things happening in their lives and in town, but all were respectful of Jem’s choice to stay quiet. Some people left, and only Gabby, Wheaton, Marcy and one other woman, Jemi thought was Sheila, were left. Gabby looked at Jemi then, “Do you have a place to stay?”

Blinking quickly, Jemi shook her head. “Been staying where I can find a dry spot, but I can find somewhere.”

“Nonsense,” Marcy said. “We have three rooms, and with my children gone for a few weeks, you can stay if needed.”

Sheila grinned. “Stayed here once or twice myself when the wine was opened too late in the night.”

“I live just down the street,” Gabby said. “You are welcome to come with me, but you might end up pushing dogs and books off the spare bed. I am not heading out yet, we have some work to do tonight, but you are welcome to stay, or go, just know you don’t have to sleep outside if you don’t wish.” The way she said ‘work’ had Jemi curious, it held a weight to it, like it was something special.

Plates were cleared and the food was put away, then the others headed out into the backyard. Jemine followed. The smell of the rain that had passed was heavy in the night, and she was curious as they lit a small fire between a tree and a small pond. Sitting back on the porch, she watched and listened as they talked softly, calling to outdwellers and ancestors and then spoke the spirits of the land. This was more recognizable to the religions she had thought of earlier, but she had built trust in these people over the night and they seemed like truly good people, if there were any in this world. She was curious as to what they were doing, but gave them space. She was sure she was not in danger, but her great-aunt was a shaman and had raised her to know the spirits and the knowledge of their power.

As they worked, a blanket of comfort settled over her. Listening to them chant, talking quietly to each other and the spirits, helped her feel safe, protected, as if she was home again. While they worked, she began to notice things at the edge of the yard. At first, she thought they were just lights and shadows, but soon she could see the forms of animals and other things she had seen in her youth. She knew all about spirits. Her life had been filled with them until her grandmother died. She had never seen them before, except in dreams, but she knew that was what they were. The magic the people were doing was unfamiliar but the spirits of the land were not, and if they responded this well to these people, she knew deep inside that she was safe with them.

Watching with her outsider’s eyes, the hazel of her mother, she followed the spirits they had welcomed. She saw her own people’s, curious and welcomed as she was, and tears came to her as they neared, sensing that she saw them. Her great-aunt had taught her some of the White Buffalo Calf Woman’s language, but had told her it was not a child’s path. It was that of an adult and as she was not full-breed, she would have a struggle to learn all of their ways, but the spirits protected her the same.

The people in the circle spoke of their nine virtues: wisdom, piety, vision, courage, integrity, perseverance, moderation, and fertility. It reminded her of the seven Lakota virtues she had heard spoken of: praying, respect, caring and compassion, honesty and truth, generosity and caring, humility, and wisdom. All these things interlaced within Jemi’s mind and built a connection with these people that took time to honor the land and the spirits as did her people.

Sitting calmly, she waited. The spirits’ curiosity about her waned. Some danced around the fire, small human shapes, while the animals stayed further back, just watching. They circled as well, but she could tell the magic was an intrigue, not their calling. One circle of the flames, and Wolf padded slowly near her. The wolf was Winterhawk’s spirit animal, protector of them all, and just seeing it made tears come to her again. Wolf came to her, laid its head on its paws, and watched the magic with her, curious but unafraid, much as Jemi was herself. When the people began thanking the spirits for their company and their inspiration, Wolf stood, looked at her and in her head, like a bell, she heard, “The seeker needs a guide home.”

Turning its back on her, Wolf walked through the center of the circle and passed through their sacred fire before disappearing. Jemi was certain the others did not even feel the presence of Wolf, but then she saw Gabby’s body tremble slightly, as if chilled. Gabby turned and the spirits of the land around them stilled, fading to shadows until she turned back to the fire.