The Light of Asteria (19 page)

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Chapter 11—The
Dokkalfar

We rang in the New Year at the castle in the
trees I had grown to love. Edna started to sleep longer, and my
focus was on making her as happy and comfortable as possible. I
went to her sitting room every evening, and we either played cards
or I read to her. She loved the sound of poetry. The past few days
had been unusually warm, and so Gavin had Edna’s glider moved to
the new home so she could enjoy the outdoors.

“Sunny, see up there?” She pointed to a ridge
at the top of the mountain directly across from the front porch.
This was the only place the mountain could be seen over the massive
forest surrounding Gavin’s home.

“That’s our ridge. See that white and red
spot?” I shaded my face with my hand, squinting in the sun’s light
and shook my head yes.

“That’s the house and barn.” She sighed, as
we continued to glide back and forth. Homesickness washed over me.
I realized that this time last year we were tilling the soil by the
side of the barn getting it ready for strawberries. Edna patted my
hand.

“Life’s about changing; nothing ever stays
the same,” she pointed out.

“But what if I don’t want it to change?” I
asked, staring at the speck I used to call home.

“Oh Sunshine … to everything there is a
season,” she said. I put my head on her shoulder. Her tea rose
perfume enveloped me, and I took a moment to appreciate the best
person I had ever known.

Rena and I had now moved onto clay, and she
was teaching me the finer points of sculpting. I broke several
pieces in the firing process, but her patience never faltered. Her
studio was one of my favorite rooms in the house.

We spent Sunday at church, and then home for
our traditional meal. Edna grimaced as she stood.

“Ed, is something hurting you?” She seemed
tired.

“I’m going to rest for a moment. Can you call
me when dinner’s ready?” she whispered. I didn’t know if she could
make it up the stairs.

Gavin heard my thoughts and came to my side.
He picked Edna up, cradling her in his arms as he carried her to
her room. His concern shrouded my heart. My forehead creased in
awareness, but his emotions quickly faded.

“Let’s try to fix your foot. It isn’t that
bad.” Rena giggled.

My foot, as she termed it, was no more than a
blob of clay. She laughed as she saw the toes I tried to create.
Rena was adamant that working on objects that you were very
familiar with helps understanding perspective. I think she just
wanted me to make something silly. My mind so focused on trying to
fix the monstrosity, I hadn’t reached for Gavin the entire
afternoon. The sudden emotions coursing through made my heart
plummet.

I could feel the sorrow before he reached the
stairs.

“Nora, honey, Edna wants to see you,” Gavin
murmured.

I automatically turned my shield up full
force. We walked arm in arm to the second floor. The soft lamp on
the small table illumined the empty sitting room.

“She wants to see you in her bedroom,” he
whispered. Tear sprang to my eyes, as I felt the now familiar hot
ache of his grief.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to go into this room.
I hesitated at the doorway, and Gavin turned and kissed me.

“I’ll be right here, but I will not go in
with you. This you must do alone.”

Taking a deep breath, I walked into the room
that held so many mysteries. The lights were dim, but I could see
Edna’s tiny frame under the covers of the huge bed, which was
facing the entrance wall. The ceilings were raised to double the
size of a normal room, and the wood paneling on the side and back
walls spoke of wealth and splendor. Sapphire blue was the solemn
color here, and the windows were adorned with ceiling to floor
length midnight-blue curtains that accented the bedding. This must
have been Michael’s room.

Edna was staring at the wall when I walked
over to her. I followed her gaze and gasped. A mural that must have
been twenty-five feet across made all other work in the home seem
like child’s play. The panoramic view of Edna’s mountain was
clearer than a photograph. The mural was angled from the left of
the farmhouse; the front porch I grew up on was the focal point in
the far corner. A young, vibrant Edna sat on a swing overlooking
her mountain. Her face beamed with lipstick-red lips that were so
popular in the mid 1940s. Her blue eyes sparkled as she laughed.
The light rays from the setting sun caressed the delicate curve of
her face. Michael painted his muse so that she was the last thing
he saw before he went to bed at night, and the first thing he saw
when he got up in the morning. Tears already streaming down my
face, I found the cloudy blues that had been my whole world. Edna
searched my expression with very sad and tired eyes. I sat by her
side and held her hand.

“This is what I missed, Sunshine. I don’t
regret marrying Arthur. I do regret never having the opportunity to
experience this,” she sighed shakily. “I always thought my one day
was enough, but in truth, it wasn’t. I loved him the moment I met
him. He had an energy about him that spoke to my soul. I would have
run off with him that night, even at sixteen, if he had asked … Oh,
how I wish he had asked.” Her eyes mindlessly stared at her wall. I
could no longer sense her emotions, and my heart ached.

“My life is full of many chapters, but the
one I wanted to write more than anything remains missing. Perhaps I
can write it now.” Her whisper faded, and she took a shallow
breath.

“How am I supposed to know what to do … I
don’t want you to leave me.” Edna always fought for me, believed in
me, and loved me. How was I supposed to go on without her? A sob
escaped my lips. I couldn’t do this alone. I reached out to Gavin,
and his strength, compassion, and love eased the ache around my
heart. I placed her hand in mine and held it to my face, quietly
humming her sunshine song. Her breath became labored, and I knew it
would be selfish of me to ask her to fight.

“I love you, Edna. I will always love you. I
have my Gavin; it’s time for you to go find your Michael.”
Whispering the words in the way she always said them, I gave her
permission to die.

“Nora … don’t forget … you must be brave …
you’re my fighter,” she mumbled, as she gasped for air. She sadly
looked past me, and then her face lit up in a smile.

“Michael …” her mountain voice weakly chimed
once more, and then she was gone.

Grief crashed over me in waves, and I didn’t
know what to do or where to start. I just didn’t want to leave her
side. She was so peaceful in death; a hint of her last smile still
lingered on her lips. I kissed her hand one last time, and then
Gavin was there.

We buried Edna next to Michael on a Tuesday
afternoon. A gentle breeze echoed through the trees. The pastor of
our church gave a wonderful sermon from the bible about a time to
live and a time to die. My heart ached as I realized that Edna had
quoted some of his message a few short days ago on the front porch.
Gavin placed his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to his side.
He surrounded me with love and understanding, and I knew his
strength would get me through. Judge Alan gave the eulogy, and I
realized Edna’s devotion to her church and the town she loved had
left this world a better place; that her work mattered. She would
always be with me in spirit, but I ached for her laughter, her
beautifully soft hands, her eyes that twinkled, and her sayings.
Those precious memories would forever be etched in my mind. My new
family surrounded me. I smiled through the tears knowing that Edna
had enriched their lives; even for the short time they had known
her. Rena came and hugged me, and I cried as I saw the compassion.
Tark’s understanding was strong; he held me close for a moment, and
then slowly bowed to Gavin. Tark’s hand never left Rena’s as they
headed toward the house. Elaine’s warm embrace was strong and
comforting, and Elias never left her side. Their emotions spoke of
sorrow, but it was different somehow. They were older than the rest
of the clan, and I had the impression that the experience of losing
many over the course of time had strengthened them from the power
of grief. Elias’ sapphire eyes were deep with sorrow, as he stiffly
hugged me.

“The life we choose to live honors the ones
we have loved. The one we lost today was a great spirit. Her
strength of character allowed your pure energy to grow during your
dark beginning. That part of her essence will live on in you, young
Nora.” The truth of his words lessened the grief. He turned to
Gavin, the silent conversation conveyed condolences. Elias and
Elaine guardedly walked toward the house. Gavin held me for a
moment more, kissed my forehead, and then let go. He walked to the
preacher, handing him an envelope and thanking him for the service.
I went to the sapphire-blue casket, dripping with flowers, and
rubbed my hand over its smooth surface. At least Edna was with
Michael and no longer in pain. The large white marble gravestone
next to Edna’s casket was surrounded by perennials and simply said
Michael
. No traditional birth and death dates or sayings.
This stone held intricately detailed creatures around its base, and
I knew Gavin had created the marker. I had never even seen a
picture of the man that held Edna’s heart. Gavin’s grief
heightened, but then he quickly got control of his emotions. The
preacher left, and warm arms were around me once more. I knew it
was time to leave, but I didn’t want to.
Life’s about changing,
Sunny, nothing ever stays the same.
Edna’s Appalachian voice
chimed in my memory, and I took a deep breath.

Goodbye, Mom.
Tears swelled, and a sob
wretched from my throat. Gavin turned me to him and held me. I
rested my forehead on his breastbone. Edna was the one that truly
believed in me, the one that refused to let me fall. The breeze
swayed, and the sound of the leaves rustling through the forest
helped a little. She was next to Michael. I looked to the red and
white spots directly across from us, just below the mountain’s
apex. It only seemed right her mountain would watch over their
final resting place.

Gavin waited patiently while I gathered the
strength to finally leave Edna and walk towards an unfamiliar
future without her. His arm shifted to my waist, and we turned from
the graves and started towards the house.

“May I speak with you?” asked Judge Alan,
falling into stride next to Gavin. I startled a bit, not even aware
he was still here.

“Of course,” I mumbled, my voice thick with
loss. The stone path to the graves straightened; the house emerged
in the distance.

“I need to speak with you alone. It concerns
Edna’s will, and it is only supposed to be read in front of family
members,” he murmured uncomfortably.

“Gavin is family. He will be present or we
will not speak at all,” I said rather rudely. I had no patience to
be cordial today, and I needed Gavin now more than ever.

“I guess that would be all right.” Judge
Alan’s emotions were mixed with frustration and sadness. At the
moment, I really didn’t care.

We went into the living room; all of my new
family surrounded me. Judge Alan pulled out an envelope from his
pocket and started reading. Edna left me the farm and all of its
contents, but she willed her remaining savings to the church and
the children’s home.

The judge seemed to think her giving money to
children and her congregation of over seventy years would upset me.
I was offended, and Gavin’s comfort helped ease the anger. I didn’t
want Edna’s money. I never had the knack for coveting financial
gain. Grief washed over me fresh and horrible as I realized the one
thing I wanted was Edna back. I couldn’t have what I wanted, and so
all of the other seemed inconsequential.

Gavin went upstairs to file the will in the
desk drawer of our sitting room. The others excused themselves,
allowing some privacy so I could say goodbye to the Judge. I
realized he had been a big part of my life, and we might not ever
see each other again. The setting sun streamed long shadows across
the lawn as I followed him to the driveway.

“Thank you for all you’ve done for me. Edna
always appreciated you more than you know.” I wiped the tears from
my face. Judge Alan nodded, his eyes narrowed a little, but he kept
them fixed on his car. The uncomfortable silence stretched, and we
walked past the garage down the drive. He opened the car door but
didn’t get in.

“I’ve known Edna for forty years. After
Arthur died, her life seemed to diminish. She came to church and
that was about it. Her Sunday school worried she was turning into a
hermit, and then you came. In you, she had more joy than we had
ever seen, even before Arthur’s death. I feel it important you
understand. You were never her burden, hon, you were always her
blessing.” Tears streamed once more and I hugged him. I held his
door as he got in and rolled down his window.

“Kate’s mother wanted me to tell you the
family was sorry for your loss. Kate transferred to Chapel Hill
this semester and didn’t have your new number.” I thought about
that for a moment … no wonder she didn’t call.

“Do you know anything about Holly?”

He tensed and became very focused on making
sure his seatbelt clicked into place. “She dropped out of school,
and I believe her parents have put her in rehab.”

I hoped it would run its course, but maybe
she would find help there. I knew she couldn’t continue down the
path she had chosen.

The judge interrupted my thoughts. “Please
don’t say anything, no one knows.”

“Of course not …”

He started the car. “Goodbye Nora. I’ll see
you in my office tomorrow. We need to sign some papers and empty
Edna’s safety deposit box. Remember, hon, you’re always welcome to
stop in and see me anytime.”