Eve found the true center of the island easily. She had, of course, been there countless times over the past thirty years. She’d been the first to move to the island—several years before her brothers joined her. Unlike her, each of the boys had had parents, though they had been eager to grant the great Dr. Rick Stewart full custody of their children after the boys began showing signs of what was diagnosed as acute early onset schizophrenia.
Eve had never known any other father except Rick Stewart, and the closest thing to a mother she’d had was Cora Stewart, but she’d only had her for a few years and Cora had never known the truth about Eve. Not about her bond with earth, nor about her conception.
Eve shook herself mentally. It served no purpose to allow the past to torment her. It couldn’t be changed. It could only be endured.
But how much longer could Eve endure?
The centermost spot of the island used to be marked by a cluster of poinciana trees and a small park that held a wisteria-covered gazebo and a fountain that was a replica of the mermaid mother and child fountain in San Francisco’s Ghirardelli Square. The poincianas were in full flower, filling the abandoned park with the scent of caramel. The fountain had been dry for five years and wisteria had devoured the gazebo—though Eve thought that made it charming and magical.
Ducking inside the curtain of green vines and fragrant, grape-like clusters of purple flowers, Eve felt as much at peace as she was able to on an island. There was a long metal box under the dilapidated bench seat that ran along the inside circle of the gazebo, and from it Eve took a thick meditation pillow. She went to the center of the gazebo, placed the pillow on the wood floor, and sat on it cross-legged. Then she closed her eyes and spread her arms wide as if she was expecting to wrap someone within her embrace.
And Eve was embracing someone—she embraced Earth.
It was an understatement to say that she reached with her mind to find the thick curtain of vines that covered the gazebo. It was more accurate, and yet incomplete, to say that she reached with her mind, her spirit, and her body to join her essence with the growing plants. She felt them and her full lips lifted in a contented smile. Wisteria might look like a delicate blooming vine, but there was nothing delicate in its nature. She could feel the plant’s strength and tenacity. Eve joined with it and followed it down … down … down … As deep as she could go before hitting the water table.
Eve rested there a moment, surrounded by the fecund earth, drawing comfort from its beautiful mysteries. When she felt ready, Eve sent out her call. With every fiber of her spirit and the altered DNA that bound her to earth, Eve focused on what she sought. When she spoke her mouth did not open, yet her voice echoed eerily all around her from the leaves of the wisteria as the vines swayed with the weight of her need.
“Come to me, carnelian.
I need your protection against
Envy
Fear
Rage
I need your clarity. Stimulate my
Intelligence
Inquisitiveness
Instinct
I need you to dispel
Apathy and passivity
In return I give you my body, for you are mine and I am yours.
Come to me, carnelian!”
Eve welcomed the rush of sensation that opened within her like a flower bursting into bloom. She was filled with a sudden clarity that had her intelligent mind whirring with possibilities, and though there was pain—the pain of the perfect russet crystal that instantly began to swell just beneath the skin of her right shoulder—Eve welcomed it, accepted it, and appreciated it. The power of the earth was balm to her harried body and soul and she wished desperately that she could remain there, communing with her element, being filled with protection and clarity.
She could not remain there, though. What would happen to her brothers? To her father? To her world?
Eve’s eyes opened and she stood quickly, shoving the pillow back into the box and hurrying from the gazebo.
Why hadn’t she thought of it before? It was simple, really.
They shouldn’t be searching for Foster. That was a dead end. Cora had made certain the girl could hide from them.
They shouldn’t be searching for Tate, either. That he hadn’t surfaced—not to bury his parents—not to return home to what was left of his life—meant that Foster had convinced him to remain hidden with her. If that’s how the boy wants to play this, then they should accommodate him. Tate should have to stay off the grid. If he wants to act like he doesn’t exist, perhaps he shouldn’t exist, or at least not legally. Tate is following Foster’s lead, but he’s just following. He’s not like Foster. He wasn’t raised by smart, savvy Cora Stewart. Up until a few days ago he was a normal kid. Now he has no parents and no home.
“He won’t want to lose his entire world,” Eve spoke aloud to the waving palms and the swaying grasses. “And he won’t want to lose anyone left in his world. So, let’s turn up the heat on good-boy Tate, and keep an eye on any family he has left. He’s going to break. He’s going to contact them, and when he does—we’ll have Tate and Foster—two for the price of one!”
Filled with the clarity of carnelian, Eve continued speaking to the waving grasses and swaying palms.
“We can’t make the same mistake with the water kids. They need to be drawn together. One’s already in the Gulf. The second should be on his way there, but Matthew needs to be sure of that. He needs to follow those credit card trails. And Mark—my water brother—needs to brew up something that will be impossible for them to resist…”
Smiling with satisfaction, Eve headed to her brothers’ cottage with renewed energy and determination. Perhaps it was the sudden insight she’d gained, or maybe it was the stone’s protective properties, but as her steps lightened, so, too, did the pain in her shoulder where the carnelian crystal emerged from her skin. Eve touched it gently, thankfully.