Chapter 6 #2
Blurred tears spilled onto the page. She clutched the journal to her chest, body shaking with silent sobs. The wind chimes sang around her, their melody now more mournful than magical.
Slowly, her sobs subsided as grief moved through her. An ink pen lay in the box’s bottom. Should she leave an entry? Did she dare?
But what would she say? She had no wisdom to offer anyone. No palliative advice. With tears rolling down her cheeks and staining the pages, she began to write. She wrote and wrote, pouring her anguish onto the paper, and when she finished, she hiccuped, dried her eyes, and closed the book.
With care, Calista returned the journal to its resting place, making sure the resin lid was securely in place. She stood, favoring her injured ankle, and for the first time noticed a narrow path leading away from the clearing—one that looked far easier to navigate than the way she arrived.
Bidding the wind chime sanctuary goodbye, Calista found a tree branch to use as a cane and braced herself to shuffle down the path. With each step, a wince of pain gripped her ankle, but it wasn’t unbearable. A light sprain. Nothing more. She was tough. She’d endured much worse.
The tinkling of the wind chimes faded behind her. Calista continued, leaving the forest and making her way into a sunlit meadow filled with a sea of beautiful wildflowers stretching out before her.
Poppies blazed crimson in the grass. Bluebonnets stood in proud clusters, their flowered spires reaching skyward.
The lupines were spring flowers. Odd that they were still in full bloom in June.
Bees buzzed from flower to flower, their bodies heavy with pollen.
Hundreds of butterflies flitted on the breeze, their delicate wings fluttering.
At the meadow’s edge, three deer grazed, almost invisible among the taller stalks. The meadow was atop a rolling hillside that led to a cliff overlooking the sea. The waves a soft lull lapping against the shore.
The sun warmed Calista’s skin. She breathed deeply, inhaling the mingled scents of earth and blooms. Athena claimed their mother had brought them here as children, but Calista had no memory of this whimsical oasis.
If she’d been here, wouldn’t she have recalled such a place as this, even if she had been little more than a toddler?
Balancing against her makeshift cane, she tilted her face up, absorbing the mild heat, and gave thanks to the heavens, the universe, nature, whatever created this serene moment. Her panicked flight brought her here, but tranquility rooted her to this spot.
No wonder her mother escaped to Hobby Island. Calista wished for the millionth time that Mamá could have taken them with her. How different life would have been!
A hard knot of sorrow wadded in her throat.
She closed her eyes, fighting off melancholy tears.
She couldn’t start bawling every time she thought of her mother and the tsunami of regrets.
Fingers curled around the tree branch cane, she gulped past the fresh round of grief, waiting for the pain to ebb.
She had to control her emotions or she would dissolve entirely.
Then she felt something odd.
Vibrations. Thundering across the earth. Faint but growing stronger, faster. She opened her eyes and spied nothing at first, but then something huge parted the sea of blooms, heading straight for her.
An ostrich.
Actually, an enormous ostrich charging straight toward her, its powerful legs propelling forward. The bird’s black eyes fixed on her, its razor-sharp beak open as if it intended to eat her for an afternoon snack.
Eek!
Calista blinked, unable to believe her eyes. Ostriches on Hobby Island? It made no sense, and yet this genuine threat bore down on her. She couldn’t run. Her injured ankle made that impossible. Flight wasn’t an option, so fight it was.
Gripping the tree branch, Calista raised it like a Louisville Slugger. Her palms sweated, and her breath shot out rapid and shallow. The thundering of the ostrich’s feet escalated her pounding pulse.
“Stay back!” she screamed.
The ostrich showed no signs of slowing, coming within fifty feet. Forty. Thirty. It was almost upon Calista!
She steeled herself, timed her move, and just as the bird came within striking distance, she swung the branch with all her might, aiming for its head.
The ostrich’s reflexes were quick. It veered at the last second, the branch whistling through the air where the creature’s head had been a second before, but the sudden movement threw the bird off balance. Unable to alter its course, the ostrich’s large wing clipped Calista hard as it zoomed past.
The impact sent her spinning, the tree branch flying in the air.
The world tilted. Wildflowers and sky blurred together as Calista toppled and tumbled down the slope above the ocean.
She rolled, desperately trying to dig her heels into the ground and slow her momentum. But the slope was too steep, the soil too loose, her injured ankle too weak.
Her fingers clawed at the earth, seeking any handhold but finding only flowers and grass that tore away in her grasp.
The edge rushed up to meet her. A fleeting glimpse of the sheer drop beyond, waves crashing against rocks far below.
Calista absorbed the danger, gritted her teeth, and braced for a fall. No sweat. She’d danced on the razor’s slicing edge for most of her life.
She’d either survive or not.
Just like always.