Found Page 2

Darkness greeted me when I opened my eyes from a dream that I couldn’t quite remember. It wasn’t a nightmare but the dream left me feeling uneasy. I lay staring at the ceiling as I tried to force the memory of a sleeping mind. Declaring it a lost cause, I turned my head to look at the clock on the bedside table. The red glowing numbers read six twenty nine. I rolled over, turned off the alarm before it had a chance to go off, and crawled out of bed. Grabbing my clothes from the chair in the corner, I shook off the last bit of sleep before making my way to the only bathroom in the house. It had been more than a year but I still missed having my own bathroom. We moved into the two bedroom house after my mom decided, for the second time in a year, it was time for a change. I was given a twenty four hour notice, by the next evening we were on the road.

  Showered and dressed, I stood in front of the small mirror mounted on the wall in front of the sink. Did I look any different? I’ve looked older than my true age since I was twelve. My mom said I had an old soul. I pulled my hair back with one hand and turned my head from side to side. Same brown eyes that were almost too big for my face, same tiny mouth that was almost too small for the very same face, skin the color somewhere between caramel and paper bag brown. Nope – I looked the same as yesterday. I sighed, pulling the unruly, thick mane I’d been cursed with into a ponytail before turning on the water to brush my teeth.

  It was my birthday and I was excited for the usual reason any sixteen year old would be. I was old enough to get my driver’s license. I asked and my mother approved. We both knew I was responsible enough. I’d even secretly wished for a car. We’d talked about it, and while not out of the question, no decision had been made. We hadn’t been looking for one so I was uncertain if it was in the works. I took a deep breath before heading downstairs for breakfast.

  When I was younger I asked about my father. My mother only said she didn’t know where he was. I learned that my mother could not be forced, bullied or persuaded to say or do anything more than what she wanted, so I eventually stopped asking about him.

  She was a beautiful woman, my mother, though she was not one to flaunt it. I saw how people reacted to her when we were out – men and women. She had a regal manner about her and strength seemed to radiate from her, it said—don’t mess with me or mine. No…Ruth Freeland was not one to be tried.

  I knew I was loved but there was no teenage angst in my home. I was obedient and quiet, a good student and daughter. I did what was expected of me before being asked. I was respectful to adults, but had been raised to know I had every right to expect and sometimes even demand respect from the very same adults. I knew my mother’s standards and tried to meet or exceed them at every opportunity. No rebelling, no temper-tantrums; her word was final and she never changed her mind.

  “What’s that?” I asked, spying the small present on the breakfast bar as soon as I entered the kitchen.

  "Where are your manners Wila.”

  “Sorry,” I said as I sat down and grabbed a piece of toast. “Good morning.”

  Even on one’s sixteenth birthday, with the possibility of a car seconds away from discovery, I was being reminded of lessons learned. As she poured me a glass of orange juice, my mom took a deep breath, looked at the box on the table and paused before starting. Butterflies took flight in my stomach as I waited for my lecture on road safety and the statistics on teenage drivers and accidents.

  “There are some things I need to tell you, but it’s important that you keep an open mind,” she said.

  For some reason the look on her face made me think about the dream from earlier. My mother words left me feeling off center. I would have fidgeted in my seat but years of training kept me still. I had been reprimanded once already today.

  “Today is your sixteenth birthday, and there are things that have been kept from you.”

  Whatever excitement I’d had for a new car vanished. My mother actually looked nervous, a new look for her and it made me nervous. I’d never seen any emotion other than the quiet reserve I’d lived with for the last sixteen years. When I was little I imagined my mother a queen or a princess, watching her graceful movements that were never rushed or clumsy. Each one looking planned and well thought out, whether it is folding laundry or buying groceries, nothing she did seemed spontaneous.

  I put down my toast and sat up in my chair giving her my full attention. I had never seen my mother with a man, nor heard her speak of one. Her beauty said that she was single at her own choosing. The thought of the conversation being about my father, or a new man in her life crossed my mind. The idea put me on edge.

  “I am not your mother.”

  Just like that, she spoke these words the same as; Good morning, how’d you sleep? The statement knocked the wind out of me like a sucker punch to the stomach. I didn’t have a chance to respond before she continued.

  “Your mother is the strongest woman I have ever known. Her memory has kept the path clear these last sixteen years.”

  Still reeling from the news of being adopted, I was unable to utter a single word. There was a ringing in my ears, my heart rate was elevated and I actually shook my head to clear it, hoping I misheard her.

  “You are one of seven children, all girls. Your mother had three sets of twins before she had you; her only single birth.”

  “What?” I finally choked out. Filled with so many emotions, I didn’t know where to start. “You’re telling me that not only am I adopted, but I have six sisters?”

  “You were not adopted,” my mom said. The look of confusion on her face only added to mine. Wait…maybe she kidnapped me. The thought made me sick to my stomach.

  “Did you take me from my real mother?” I whispered.

  “What...No!” She said quickly. The look on her face was enough for me to believe her. “Your mother gave you to me. She gave all her children away—to protect you.”

  Shaking my head, I looked at the woman I had known as my mother. None of this made any sense. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it… at all.

  “I should have told you sooner. I kept telling myself next year, and next year turned into many. Last night I realized, as much as I love you, I can’t keep you from your destiny. I’m surprise that I was able to keep it from you this long.”

  I gaped…with my mouth hung opened. It took me a moment to compose myself enough to ask a question. The conversation was getting more and more…weird…scary…unbelievable.

  “Destiny,” I said, “What does that mean?”

  “It’ll make sense once I’ve explained it all,” my mom said. She offered me a small, strained smile that told me that while she really wanted that to be true. It was highly unlikely.

  “Sixteen years ago your mother came to my parents’ house and asked if they would help protect her children. She asked them to help find new homes and guardians for them.”

  “Protect them from what?” I asked.

  Visions of a crazed and abusive father flooded my metal vision. In addition to feeling sick to my stomach, I also felt like I needed to lie down. I wanted to go to my room and climb back into bed. Maybe I’d never even gotten up. Maybe I was still dreaming.

  “There were people who wanted to hurt you and your sisters. The next part is where you’ll need to keep an open mind.”

  She took a resetting breath, all nervousness that I’d seen in her vanished and her confident and regal demeanor returned and oddly enough, it calmed me. I nodded my head for her to go on. I was ready to hear whatever else she had to say, besides, how much worst could it get?

  “Our people’s history tells the story of the seven mothers. They are the celestial mothers and guardians of the earth, its realms and universe. Two that will walk amongst the heavens, these Mothers are identical, one blind and one deaf. They are the caretakers of the universe and the symbols of justice, the authorities and bearers of conscience. Two to rule the underworld; they are warriors; they guard and supervise the world of lost souls and two to watch over the ea
rth and its realms. They will live in the forest and are the keepers of history, educators and guardians of the earth. And finally the Queen, one that is said to be so beautiful that no human can look directly at her. She is the center and she alone will connect us all. She will be the Queen Mother and the only one able to walk in all realms.”

  My mother finished the story and looked at me. I looked back at her not really seeing how her telling me a fairytale cleared anything up. If anything, I was more confused, what an inopportune time for bedtime stories. It took a moment for her to realize that I still didn’t get it.

  “Wila, you are the Queen Mother.”

  My first thought was that my mom had lost her mind. It was the only thing that explained the words that had just come from her mouth. The second was that she was mistaken. My head was spinning from too much information, too much still unexplained and too much that was just plain… unbelievable.

  I breathed in deeply, as if the act would take away the madness that was happening. Well on my way to hyperventilating, I took a second breath. The release was not the quick exhale I expected. Instead the slow release calmed me. I closed my eyes at the end of it and found the ghost of the dream I’d laid in bed trying to remember earlier. It came to me easily. I had dreamt of my family. It was as if I’d suddenly been snapped out of hypnosis as the memory of seven small girls filled my vision.

  I was an unseen guest in the dream, as I looked down at the children on the floor of a nursery. The sun bathed the room in bright light. I raised my head from the children at my feet to look around. There were two cribs set up side by side on one wall. A large rocker was next to the window and the sheers were blowing gently as a breeze blew threw them. The small chest of drawers was white and had pink flowers with blue ribbon painted on each drawer front, tiny glass knobs twinkled. The floor was hardwood, darkened by age. There was soft singing coming from another room but I barely notice, but I knew the voice. The children held me captive and the voice was secondary to them. The one in the middle, the youngest, was me. The other six, my sisters, surrounded my small newborn body, two on each side, one at my head and one at my feet. They were patting my legs, rubbing my arms, kissing my forehead. They love me.

  “Where are they?” I whispered. I hadn’t opened my eyes even though I no longer saw them. Like earlier, I was trying to will the dream back and opening my eyes would break the magic.

  “I don’t know.” There was sadness in my mom’s voice that mirrored my feelings and I let go of the dream and opened my eyes. "It was safest if no one knew where the others were going,” she said.

  “In all these years you never heard anything?”

  I wanted to be angry, but I wasn’t. I wasn’t upset at all. I was in shock, too shocked to cry, but the tears were circling in my chest, right above my heart…waiting

  .“I want to find them?” I said in a voice that I was surprise didn’t catch. Only years of mimicking the woman in front of me held the tears at bay.

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” my mom answered.

  “I don’t understand.” My voice was deceivingly calm. It was at that moment that I realized how much I was like her. I’d often wondered about her past, what type of childhood she had that allowed her to be this person? Now I knew; she’d raised me the same way.

  “The threat may still be there now. Trying to find your family, or mine, could put you in danger.”

  The mention of her family opened a whole other world of what-the-hells. There were only a few stories she’d ever shared with me. She rarely spoke of her past and what she told me was short, vague and devoid of any really information. Like my father, it was another thing I’d stopped asking about.

  “The prophecy of the Mothers is an old one and its time had passed. Only a few people still believed. My parents, along with a few other elders, were the last in our village. Your mother found a threatening note and decided to hide you and your sisters.”

  My mother had been standing on the other side of the small kitchen island and I watched her come around it to be closer to me. She took my face in her hands. She kissed my forehead, something she hadn’t done since I was a little girl.

  “I love you and your safety comes first. I will always protect you, can you understand that?” Her eyes pleaded with me; the fear of something happening to me radiated off her like heat. “You need to understand that the danger you’re in is life or death.”

  I understood completely. From the look in her eyes, to the feeling of absolute panic that was passing between us, I had no choice but to. It still didn’t change my mind. I wanted to find my family and hers too.

  “So where do we start?” I asked.

  With a sigh and nod, she released my face before she sat down next to me. “We go back to where it all began. We go back to our home town.”

  I stood up filled with nervous energy and excitement. “I can’t believe it.”

  “No, I suppose not, if you weren’t raised in the old ways.”

  I bowed my head taking it all in. “So, me and my sisters are the guardians of the world?”

  “My sisters and I,” she corrected me, “But that’s right.”

  The words sound ridiculous, but I believed them, more importantly, I believed my mom. I chewed on the inside of my mouth, a bad habit I’d had for as long as I could remember. My mom teased me on this self-cannibalism. It was worst when I was deep in thought. My head had begun to hurt a little, like it did when I almost have something figured out but not quite.

  “So when can we leave?” I asked.

  “Right now, let’s pack.”

  We hadn’t touched the food except for the one piece of toast. I hadn’t even drunk my juice. In the excitement of the morning, I’d all but forgotten the small box on the table, my birthday gift. No longer thinking it held the keys to a car, new or used, I picked up the present. Slightly larger than a ring box, it was wrapped as only my mother would wrap a present; in handmade paper with a pink handmade paper flower on top. I opened it with surprisingly steady fingers.

  Sitting on a mound of white cotton was a beautiful locket. At first glance it looked like blackened metal, but it was made of wood. The size of a large silver dollar, it had intricate gold and silver filigree that made the design of a tree. The trunk and branches and all but one of the leaves were silver. The single gold leaf had an extra sparkly, glittery, shimmering thing going on. I turned the locket over and on its back was a seven pointed star. Each point had a jewel. It seemed very old. I looked up with questions on my lips but my mom stopped me.

  “No more questions. We’ll be sitting here sixteen more years if I tried to answer all the questions you have.” Coming back around the kitchen bar she took the locket from my hand and slipped it over my head and then pulled my hair out from under the chain. The locket lay directly in the center of my chest.

  “It’s beautiful I know. I’ll tell you more about your present once we’re on the road. Go now, it’s time to pack.”

  Four hours later we were on the road. Phone calls had been made to stop the mail and newspaper service. I had set timers for the lights. My gut told me I would never see the tiny, neat house again. I’d looked back only once to say goodbye to my room after I’d finished packing before heading downstairs for the last time. Between the two of us we had two large duffle bags, my back pack, a large messenger bag and my mom’s purse. We threw all the bags in the back of the Jeep and the purse sat in its customary place between us. We rode with the top off. It was a great April afternoon – cool, but the chill of winter gone. We traveled with the sun on our face and the wind in our hair.

  “I found the necklace once we were settled. I don’t know if it was your mother’s, or if she had it made it for you. I’ve taken it to a couple of places trying to find out anything I could.”

  I couldn’t stop looking at the locket and when I wasn’t looking at it, I was touching it. I couldn’t find a clasp or hinge but it felt hollow
. I even shook it once.

  “It was probably custom made.” My mom looked back and forth from the road to me. “No one has been able to open it for fear of damaging it,” she continued to yell over the sound of the wind.

  I’d been holding the locket and rubbing my fingers along the front. It was comforting. I’d found yet another habit. “Do you really think we can find them, our families?” I asked.

  “We will never stop trying.”

  I thought back on the vision—I no longer thought of it as a dream. Could you dream awake? The seven children on the floor of the nursery with the sound of our mother’s voice, so soft it was part of the air around us. I couldn’t have been older than a few weeks old, maybe a month. My parents didn’t waste time. It seemed my sisters and I was separated by no more than a year, if that.

  “Their names,” I asked.

  “The oldest are Enid and Amala, Enid is deaf and Amala blind. Then there’s Sveva and Amara, and the youngest are Oneta and Alma.”

  Enid and Amala were the guardians of Heaven and if the rest were named in order of the story then that would make Sveva and Amara the earth guardians, leaving Oneta and Alma the ones for the underworld. They would be only a year older than me. The thought of two seventeen year olds controlling what I thought of as hell was…crazy.

  The empty, two lane highway stretched out in front of us with no signs of civilization. I looked to the side, watched the trees as they blurred into a shade of green that was iridescent. How many times had I pretended that one of our moves was an adventure? But we’d always moved to remote, out-of-the-way places, never to a city or anywhere exciting, now I knew why. My mother had kept me hidden; afraid for my safety. It was all so surreal. I didn’t know where we were headed but the adventure was on the horizon.

  “What realms?” I asked turning back to my mother.

  “The only one I know of for certain is fairy. The fae sent a couple who took Amara and Sveva.”

  “Who took the others?”

  I turned my body to point towards my mom, tucking my leg under me and grabbed the seatbelt to loosen its choke hold.

  “Our village’s elders took the oldest and their grandson took Oneta and Alma.”

  “What did the note say?”

  Mom shook her head. “I don’t know, but my parents called a meeting and word was sent to Fairy the same night. By the next day there were guardians for all the children.”

  “What was she like? My…mother?”

  I wanted to whisper the word. It sounded wrong but right. The woman sitting next to me had raised me but I couldn’t call the unknown woman, whose voice rang sang softly in my head anything other than mother. Mom said she’d kept all this from me because she didn’t want to let me go. I didn’t know if I was ready to let her go either. I did know I didn’t want to hurt her. To my relief she didn’t look hurt at all. She smiled.

  “Tiny,” she said. “But you look a lot like her.”

  I was tall. Five eleven and a half to be exact. I had been the tallest child in my class since first grade. Last year was the first that a few of the boys had finally caught up with me, finally hitting growth spurts. Now that the subject of looks came up, I thought of how much I favored my mom. Her skin was the color of dark chocolate; mine several shades lighter, but there were enough similarities between us that I never looked at her and thought I belonged to anyone else. Our hair texture was similar, her curls were softer and shiny and she wore her hair in an afro that haloed her head. My hair’s curls were tighter and I grew it out longer. It required a bottle of conditioner a week to keep it manageable. We had the same shape eyes and nose but her mouth was wide and her lips thick. I’d always envied that. I knew I was pretty but I was far from vain, because even with the shared characteristics, standing next to my mother I looked plain.

  We’d been traveling down Highway 11 and decided to stop to get something to eat and fill up on gas. The wood building’s exterior was painted dark beige with a complimentary dark brown trim. The gravel crunched under our feet as we made our way to the door. My mom held the door open for me and I entered the dim diner. It had a western motif. There was a blown up photo of a man on a horse riding in a parade on one of the walls. Stenciled ivy and cowboy boots bordered the ceiling. The place was deserted except for the lone waitress sitting on a stool behind the counter next to the cash register. It was one of those places you didn’t want to look too close or you might leave. I was sure that the food would be good. We sat in a corner booth and my mom picked up the well worn menu. The plastic cover was cloudy from age.

  “We’re going to start with the small town that was once our village. It’s a few hundred miles from here but we’ll reach it today.”

  The middle aged waitress wore a pink uniform and a surprisingly pristine white apron. She smiled and nodded her hello before putting silverware on the table. She’d also brought a couple of glasses of water and straws. Her name tag identified her as Alice.

  Chapter 2: The Angel