Lifting My Heart to Heaven
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She had always been the one to clean up after the fights, quickly restoring the rooms to the pristine order he preferred, buoyed by the memories of how much fun they had once had together. It had given her hope that it could be like that once again. She would picture him as a handsome youth, with that wonderful laugh of his, when she had swept up the glass. There was always so much glass whenever he lost his temper. After this last fight, the door to those memories had closed. She could still taste the freedom on her tongue from leaving the place such a mess.
The female spirit guides she had called forth were still around her, soothing her. She felt strangely calm, and somehow she knew she had left just in time. There was enough love within her to save herself. She knew that the rituals she had learned in the past year had opened a doorway upon yet more doorways to herself.
She felt the love of these new sisters too, deeply within her, as she basked in the calm quiet of the midday sun. Was it almost noon? Earlier? Later? She didn’t know because hunger seemed a distant memory. Another ache within her was claiming all of her attention.
As she looked up into the intertwining fingers of the trees, she felt like she was close to home, and she fingered the gold brocade. The brocade reminded her of a wealth from long ago, another place and time. Her mother had married a man without prospects, but dreams aplenty. She had come from a family that had come from Europe with a strong work ethic and a determination to succeed in the new country in ways that had surpassed what they had achieved in the old country. Mama had fallen in love with the dreams in her Daddy’s blue eyes, eyes which had clouded over with disappointment by the time she was born. A girl. Mama had miscarried many times, each time a girl.
Her Daddy had left a trail of broken dreams in his wake, and she needed to remove the fragments that had embedded themselves in her heart. All she remembered of him was the night he had come to her bedside, as moonlight streamed onto his long midnight-black hair. There had been tears in his eyes and his voice, as he said he had to find the place where the wild horses still roam. “Mustangs“, he had said.
No one had ever talked to her about him again, not even Mimi, even though she knew that his leaving had broken the hearts of her mother and grandmother, forever bringing shadows to their lives.
Her Daddy. The next step on this journey.
Part 7 - HawkWolf
The next step…Claire came back to herself with a jerk. Had she dozed off? Jake would come to look for her here in the park. He knew this lush location, with its musky scents of bark and moss, was her special place. Claire's eyes were misty as she recalled that Jake and she had made love in this very spot more than once. It felt as if it were a lifetime ago. Claire felt Jake's angry tentacles reaching toward her from across town while she hastily performed her closing ritual and replaced the sacred items in her bag. Funny how that works, she thought. Images of predator and prey rose unbidden, and she firmly banished them. There'd be time to think about that later. For now, she had to find a way out of town. Where to go? Most of her friends had stayed here. Now she had no close living relatives. Years ago, Jake's mother, Margaret, had declared that Claire was the daughter she never had. Her lip curled as she thought of what Margaret would say when she found out that Claire was truly gone. There'd been no love lost between them since the beatings began. Margaret had made it clear she thought the trouble was Claire's own fault. She had a mother's blind spot for her only son, Jake. No, there'd be no help from anyone, except perhaps Denise. But Denise's place would be his first stop when Jake started looking for her.
Her sense of urgency was increasing by the moment. "Okay then, wild horses
it is", Claire said aloud. She was a long way from anywhere there might be
wild horses. Other than an old well-loved and very worn snapshot, she had
no information about her father to help her on her journey. Mama had
refused to discuss him with her. Even on her deathbed, after the cancer had
left her frail and small, Mama's expression was fierce in her denial. "No,
Claire. I have nothing to say. Leave him to his wild things. It's where
he was always meant to be. You can't catch him or cage him. I ought to
know. Besides, by now he's probably dead. Let him go. Anything you find
out will only cause you pain." Yet Claire knew she could no more let go of
her Daddy than she could let go of life. Since she had nowhere else to
turn, she would search for the wild mustangs. It was time. Somehow she
knew that they would lead her to him. She might not like what she'd find,
but at least the hole in her life might be filled, even if the hole in her
heart was a long way from healing.
Flipping her flight bag over her shoulder, Claire started the long walk to
the truck stop at the edge of town.
Part 8 - Deja
Night was lifting as the truck stop came into view. Claire_s
jeans were
dragging, wet from dodging across hidden fields. Her hair and
t-shirt were
soaked with sweat. It seemed as if nothing she brought along on
this
adventure was practical. She_d only chosen them for love. The
boots that
kept her warm and dry were now pinching to the bone. She wished
she had
broken them in properly a long time ago. They were Laramie
boots, from
Wyoming. Mimi always loved good leather things. She was said to
have been
Shoshone/Crow, and her face itself glowed like fine tanned
leather. Claire
remembered Mimi_s deep, knowing smile when she received the gift
for her
twentieth birthday. She had kept them sacred, like a treasured
memory yet
to be made. She winced as she went forward to cross the highway.
Better to
wear them now, then carry them or leave them behind.
Claire entered the Crossroads Café and scanned the faces
sitting at the
counter. The tables were empty. For a moment she was frightened.
She felt
exposed. Clearly she was a runaway. She sat at the counter and
tried to act
calm. She ordered black coffee and sighed as she leaned over the
fresh,
steaming cup. A skinny, teenaged waitress muffled a laugh,
catching Claire
by surprise. She said something about the irony of carrying a
flight bag to
a truck stop. Claire smiled a blank smile, and reached inside
its zippered
pocket for her money clip. Could she make this trip to nowhere,
on less than
thirty dollars? She would have to break a ten-dollar bill, she
thought, but
without the coffee, how could she presume to enter the truck
stop at all?
When the clip appeared in Claire's hand the waitress was
standing over her
impatiently. "It's time for the morning rush,"she said. Claire
looked at
the young girl's face for a hint of malice. There was none. She
looked again
around the room. The tables were still empty. Was she just
making
conversation, perhaps coming closer to satisfy her curiosity?
Claire held
the bill aloft, but the waitress continued to stare. Claire
followed the
gaze and realized she had unfolded the two bills carefully from
around the
old black and white picture of her father. The waitress gaped
and smiled
with delight.
"Do you know this man?" Claire asked, a little alarmed.
"No" the girl answered, adjusting her apron. "I know the
symbol, on the
mountain."
How clever, Claire thought. She scanned the photograph again,
this time
trying to connect with the location. There were severe cliffs
and a river,
that much she knew. Only, it was hard to tell where. She looked
more
closely. Sure enough there was a faint circle, like a wheel,
visible in the
grey distance between the cliffs that dominated the background.
Claire looked again at the waitress, who_s face had gone
completely
white.
"You might like to have a word with HIM." She said, and she
pointed toward
the windows on the east side of the café.
Turning around, Claire was struck by the blinding light of
the sun. A
large, darkened figure sat quietly at a table directly in its
path. His form
was like stone, barely breathing, but warm as the earth beneath
a fawn. She
rose quietly, tipping the waitress and gathering her things. She
walked
directly toward the figure, squinting to make out his features.
As she came
closer her eyes adjusted to the sudden light. It was no one that
she knew,
but somehow he felt familiar. She came to his table, determined
to speak.
Not knowing what to say, she opened her mouth.
"Please, sit down." Came a kind voice. "Share a story with
me."
Claire hesitated, and then noticed a faint smell of cinnamon.
"I'm Claire." She said, extending her hand for a greeting. She
could see now
he had streaks of grey in his hair and the deep crags in his
face, but the
twinkle in his eye defied his age. He raised his giant hand to
meet hers.
When holding it, Claire could feel the great power of the earth
within
herself rising. In spite of his strength there was something
androgynous
about this man. His hair was long, black and soft like the
feathers of a
raven. He wore jewelry in both ears and trinkets around his
neck. His shirt
was printed with bright desert flowers. His lips were full and
soft, his
smile brimming with white teeth.
Making herself at home, Claire sat across the table and
waited for his
story to begin. He said nothing. After a while she began to
speak again.
"Are you hungry?" the man interrupted. Before she could nod she
noticed the
tattoo on his arm. It was a spiral, no, a wheel, with stars
woven within it.
"It is a medicine wheel," he began, "just like the great
medicine wheel in
the Bighorn mountains, where I was born."
Claire drew out her father's picture and silently held it up
to the great
arm.
"Yes, here." He said with an accent she could only recognize in
a distant
part of her being. "It is very fortunate that you have come this
way." He
said. You must not take the white road to this mountain. He
pointed to the
faint wheel in the background of the picture. "Here, through
Lovell Wyoming
to the Devils' Canyon. You must take the Bad Pass Trail into the
Bighorns,
and then go empty to Medicine Mountain. You must walk, or ride a
good horse.
If you drive, you will lose your way. You must go the way of the
wild
horses."
Claire felt a shudder and began to wipe tears from her eyes.
When she looked
up, the man was gone.
Part 9 - Aloha
~~~~~
"Claire?"
A voice so soft, gentle, yet familiar. It resonanted deep within her being.
"Claire?"
At the edges of her consciousness, she heard it again.
"Claire!" more urgently.
Someone calling her name. How?
"Claire! It's me. Denise!"
Part 10 - Cindy
Claire thought she had been hit in the head one too many times, but she took a deep breath and listened to Denise.
“You have to get your ass in gear girl. I don't know where you are, but Jake is looking for you. Get going, and buy the scratch.” She heard the chuckle in Denise's voice to go with the urgency. “Oh do it for me!”
Claire wiped her tears said a heartfelt thank you to Denise. She picked up her flight bag and began to walk away. As she neared the cash register she saw the lottery bin. Scratch off games and the Lotto. She chuckled. She knew it would be a waste of her limited money, but she bought a ticket. When she scratched the ticket it revealed a $500.00 prize.
“Holy Crap I won!” Claire exclaimed.
The young waitress took the ticket from her.
“Oh, not too much, we can pay that out here. All you have to do is fill in your name on the back.”
Claire signed her name, careful to write her Maiden name. She didn't want to give Jake any clue. Since he thought her stupid, she would be clever. The waitress gave Claire her money. $500.00 would get her pretty far from here. And now she knew where she was going.
Claire hitched a ride with an aging hippy. She couldn't help but smile at the old Volzswagon Van complete with tye dye paint sceme.
“Where ya headed, honey?” The man asked. His hair was red with shocks of grey. She looked in the back of the van and saw music equipment and drums. Lots of drums.
“Lovell, Wyoming. But if you can get me to a bus station, I'd appreciate it.” Claire said as she hopped into the van. Her aches were starting to loosen. No doubt from Denise's help. Denise had taken her to Circles. That group of witchy friends Jake couldn't stand. It was a coven, newly formed by some truly wise women.
“I'm Sam. I can take you to the next bus stop but I'm heading up to Big Bear, Montana. I can take you almost all the way to Lovell.”
Claire looked at Sam with a critical eye. This can't be happening. He's heading my way?!? Is he serious? Claire calmed her heart, breathed deeply and looked into Sam's eyes. They had age in them, but no malice, hatred. They were honest eyes.
“Sam, I would be happy for the ride. I can even kick in for some gas along the way.” Claire very carefully said.
Sam stuck out his hand. He saw the bruises. He knew she had been beaten and he knew she was taking his measure. Claire eventually took it and returned his handshake.
“Honey, don't worry, I won't hurt you. In fact, if you look in that bag behind my seat you'll see an old Oil of Olay jar in it. Pull it out and put some of the cream on your face. There's a mirror on the visor. It'll clear up your face in a couple of days.”
He pulled back onto the highway as Claire leaned over to get the small duffle bag. Sitting in it was a jar that looked older than she. But there was the writing of Oil of Olay. Inside it was a cream that smelled of flowers. It had a orangey yellow color but it was cool. She could smell lavender, and other flowers, it reminded her of Spring but nothing else came clearly to her mind. She flipped down the visor and took a good look at herself. She looked like Mahamad Ali had just gone 9 rounds with her face. She cut her eyes to Sam, but he was staring down the road whistling a tune.
She dipped her fingers into the cream and began to apply it to her forehead and worked her way down.
“Put it on your lips too. Will help them mend and you can laugh without splitting them back open.” Sam told her gently but rather perfunctorily.
She applied the cream to her lips and felt all of her face become a bit numb. Not so numb that she drooled but numb so the skin didn't tighten up with the healing.
Claire murmured a thank you to Sam. She was so tired. She put her seat belt on and laid her head against the window. Sam continued to whistle. It really was a beautiful tune and Claire fell asleep. The kind of deep sleep you have where your mind and your body can truly rest.
Sam continued to whistle until he saw that Claire was truly asleep. Then he quietly stopped, laid his hand on top of hers and opened himself up. He could feel her troubles and feel her hurts. As he kept driving he saw Claire enclosed in a healing blue light. He felt her sigh and stretch her legs. He said a prayer that she heal quickly. Sam kept driving…..
Jake was indeed looking for Claire. He had come home full of remorse for hitting her yet again. When he got home and found her gone, he went into a full rage. First, he called Denise. She was still at work. When he told her that Claire had gone Denise sounded very pleased.
“It's about time she came to her senses!” Denise had cried.
Jake was enraged. “She's my wife and she should be home. This house is a mess! And she ruined my surprise.”
“What surprise, Jake? That you want to apologize for beating her again? When are you going to learn that you can't hit women. Have you checked the hospitals? Last time you hit her, she had broken ribs and needed a chest tube!” Then Denise hung up the phone. Silently prayed that Claire was alright and then focused all of her energy on Claire. Getting her to listen. She hoped that Claire had.
Jake was muttering and cursing Claire as he ran to his car. No real plan in his head, only finding her and making sure she came home.
But he was interrupted by Myrtle.
“Yoohoo, Jake, darling. Can you help me a moment. Our party is tonight and John has gone and thrown out his back! I need a big strong man like you to help me with the party preparations!” Myrtle simply looped her hand in the crook of Jake's arm.
Jake was trapped. And he knew it. Myrtle was too much like his mother. He couldn't hurt her, she wasn't his to control.
“Myrtle, I need to find Claire.” Jake started to stammer to escape her.
“Oh, I saw Claire heading to the grocery store not more than 15 minutes ago. You just come on and help me get this party set up. She'll be home shortly.” Myrtle continued to direct Jake to her back yard. She had seen the fresh bruises on Claire's face. She had taken pictures of them. Claire didn't know that. No one knew. She understood Claire far better than anyone knew.
Myrtle had been the victim of abuse with her first husband. Claire thought her nosy. But secretly Myrtle took the pictures of Jake beating Claire and the results of those beatings. She didn't bring it up because she knew Claire would only deny it. Much like Myrtle had all those years ago. But she knew one day Claire would need those pictures.
Myrtle kept Jake busy for three hours. Dragging lawn furniture around her backyard until it was just right. Three hours would give Claire a total of eight hours for her escape. Myrtle only hoped it was enough.
By the time Jake was done helping Myrtle, Claire was riding down a dark stretch of Interstate with Sam. She would sleep for many hours with Sam watching over her…..
OR GO
This site was last updated May 9, 2006.