Darque Wants (22 page)

“Maybe she would open it after the funeral,” she told herself and pulled the pillow down over her face as if it would help hold in the tears.

*****

*****
            The sun was high in the sky, and the dust whipped across the ground in little whirlwinds as the pale horse carried him into Santa Casa. It was 1866, and what was left of the mining town hung in disrepair as it waited for the railroad to come. The buildings stood half empty. The shutters swung freely on their hinges in the hot wind that rolled in from the desert on its way to the Pacific. The sound of the rusted metal wailed out, like the call of vultures circling high above, as the dilapidated shutters seemed to cling on for dear life. He didn't seem to notice. His eyes looked straight ahead under the brim of his dirty hat as he rode through town towards the bluff overlooking the sea. His sat firmly on his mount, while the handle of his guns, glistening in the bright light of day, bobbed up and down with each step of the dingy white stallion.

              There weren't many people in Santa Casa these days. When the mine was at its peak, there had been five thousand, maybe more. But now, there were only a few hundred left behind, in the hopes that the great railroad would bring life back into town. For the most part, no one new came here, so the busy people along the boardwalk all stopped and stared as he rode by. He didn't look back. He didn't tip his hat or smile at anyone. He had a purpose, and he knew it. The others simply wondered what it was as he passed by.

              On the edge of town, his horse stood on the bluff looking down at the sea. In the distance, he could see the mission standing out. It's white, mud, brick walls almost glowed against the backdrop of the red California dirt on which it sat. A few splashes of green weeds poked through the dry ground along the hillside below him. He watched the Sisters busy in the courtyard below as the sun moved lower in the sky behind him. Sister Marjorie looked up from spinning and cast her eyes towards the hilltop to see a shadow on horseback, standing still with the setting sun behind him.

              “Could it be him? Was it time already?” she wondered to herself as she held her hand to her forehead and narrowed her eyes, hoping to catch some detail of the figure. “What do I know of time, anyway?” she thought as she squinted in the sharp rays of sunlight. If there was anything she had learned all these years, it was that it would be time when it was time. There was no point in her fretting over it. She saw the man nod his head and pull the reins. The horse swung it's head and pulled away, back behind the ridge and out of sight. Sister Marjorie carefully set the drop spindle down in the basket at her feet and rose. She felt her body creak inside as it rose up. “What I know of time is that it's catching me,” she thought to herself as she walked towards a rope tied to a latch on the wall and pulled it firmly. The sound of the mission bell rang out along the shore and rose up over the bluff on its way into town. He heard it behind him as he rode.

“It is almost time,” he thought to himself. “It will be good to see her again.”

*****

*****

Nai watched the rain through the plane window as it descended through the clouds into Los Angeles. Nai was an archeology student at St. Georges University in Virginia, and her mother had sent her the airline ticket for the funeral. Normally, she loved to fly, but this wasn't a trip to Cabo. It was her grandmother's funeral. And it was somewhere in the middle of nowhere, California. Apparently in her will, her grandmother had requested to be buried in an historic mission cemetery south of L.A. No one expected there was any chance that she could be buried at a historical landmark, but Nai's mother felt obligated to contact the church, at least. When she did, she was surprised to find out the church had handed down a special dispensation to have her buried in the cemetery, and a space had been reserved for many years.

              There was a lot about her grandmother that remained a mystery. Nai was named after her but still knew so little about her true past. Granny Nai was an adventurer. She was always off on some great trip in the Amazon or scrounging around the mountains of Spain for artifacts of some kind or another. As a young child, Nai had been her grandmother's favorite. Whenever Granny Nai was in town, they spent hours together with Granny Nai telling fascinating stories about magic, the Old West, and great mysteries. She told fantastic tales that actually inspired much of Nai's life. She always wanted to grow up tough, like Granny Nai, a “hard-ass” as Granny used to say. Nai's love of history and archeology grew out of the stories she had loved so much as a child. The tales about Mayan Witch Doctors, about Cowboys, shoot-outs, and adventures always made her so excited. It was such a contrast to Nai's mother. Nai's mother was so careful, so cautious. She always followed the rules, she always did what was expected. Granny said it was because she fell in love. “A man putting a ring on a woman is just like a man putting a saddle on a wild pony,” granny used to say. “It breaks her spirit.”

              By sixteen,  Nai had grown into the role of the heroine in those stories she loved so much. She was a tall, dark-skinned beauty but was by no means a delicate girl. Hell, no. Her western boots and tight jeans helped her stand out from the crowd even more in Western Virginia. And the last thing she was ever going to let happen was that some man would break her spirit. A boy at school who fancied a kiss might just as soon come home with a broken nose as the memory of her soft lips. Nai had a passion for the boys none the less. It was just going to be on her terms. She was no broken pony. Her mother always said she was a handful. Granny would just laugh and wink at Nai. “You show 'em,” Granny would say.

              Nai leaned back from the window and held back her tears. “Hard-ass,” she said to herself. “Hard-asses don't cry.” The loss of her grandmother was a sudden blow. She had been in Spain on a dig near Perdiguero Peak when she slipped and fell. For Nai, it was like the world had unraveled. Granny Nai was indestructible, the source of all Nai's own strength. It shook her to her core to think of a world without her grandmother. As the plane pulled to the terminal, Nai grabbed her carry on. “Travel light,” Granny always said. “You never know when you'll have to run like hell!”  Just her luck, the rental car company had a jeep. If this rain let up, she might get some sun at least. She tossed her bag in the back and headed down the coast for Santa Casa.

              Nai laid back through the open door of the jeep, her naked ass sticking to the leather seat with sweat as she felt the sun beat down on her and the hard cock thrusting into her open, wet lips. She struggled to pull her tank top up and get to her aching breasts as her nipples yearned for attention.

              “Oh God, yeah, fuck me,” she said as she peeled the tank top back and grasped her breasts firmly in both hands. “Fuck me, Gene.”

              “My name's Dean, Ma'am,” the man said as he held her under her knees and pulled her body toward his pulsing cock. His jeans were pushed down around his boots, his shirt hung open, and he still had on his Stetson as he pushed his shaft against her dripping lips.

              “Just fuck me, already, Gene I don't give a damn,” Nai said as she pinched her nipples between her thumbs and fingers and felt her body shiver. She felt his cock inside her, and it was hitting deep.

              “Yes, ma'am,” he said and reached up to tip his hat as he managed to keep the hard rhythm going. A quick stop at a road side bar for a cold drink had turned into a quickie stop when Nai spotted the cowboy eying her from across the bar.

              “Oh shit, Gene, make me cum,” Nai grunted out through her gritted teeth. “Show me you western boys can ride a filly hard, damn it!”

              “It's Dean, ma'am,” he said as he lifted her legs up and hung them over his shoulders. He grabbed her hips in his tight grip, sinking his fingers into her skin so hard that it hurt her. But when he ripped her body from the seat and slammed his hips against her exposed ass, the pain was the last thing on Nai's mind. The hard cock hitting bottom inside her, as she climbed towards her climax, had her full attention.

              “Fuck yes, yes Gene,” she screamed, not giving a damn who was driving by. She was going to cum, and that was all that mattered. She felt the center of her body shrink suddenly and then explode as her orgasm ripped through her body, and she writhed on the car seat in the hot midday sun.

              By the time Nai had arrived in Santa Casa, the sun was high in the sky, and there wasn't a raindrop to be found. The place looked like it hadn't see a rain drop in a hundred years, in fact. She had seen her mother's calls on her cell but ignored them. As usual, she was late. “A real woman arrives when she damn well wants to,” Granny had said, and Nai thought a little tardiness was just what Granny would want anyway. The dusty landscape stretched out in front of her as the jeep rolled down the center of town. There weren't very many people around, and Nai assumed the place was virtually a ghost town. The map showed the mission was at the end of the main road down below a bluff by the shore. As she passed the little collection of buildings and headed down the road, she quickly came to the bluff and was shocked by the rows of cars parked at the edge. She hadn't really expected this many people to show for a funeral, especially one so far from civilization. She squeezed the jeep around front of the rows of cars and parked with the wheels just a few feet from the edge of the drop-off. She grabbed the steering wheel and stood up to get a good look down the hill towards the mission. Yep, she was late. The old Spanish-style building was teaming with people. Nai hopped out and grabbed her bag. She slipped into a fresh pair of jeans and a tight black tank top. She thrashed at her hair with a brush briefly, grabbed her leather jacket, and headed down the hill.

              “I thought I told you to wear a dress,” her mother scolded her as she approached the door to the church.

              “I haven't owned a dress since that god-awful sixth grade dance you forced me to go to, Mom,” Nai said, and she hugged her mother. “Besides, I'm not about to do this in some fake-ass get up. Granny loved me just the way I am.” As her mother nitpicked at her hair, Nai noticed one of the Sisters approaching.

              “You must be Nai,” Sister Mia said as she grabbed Nai in a hug that was far too tight and personal for Nai's taste.

              “Yeah, I'm Nai,” she said as she disentangled herself from the robust nun. “And who are you?”

              “I'm sorry, dear,” the nun said as she stepped back. “I'm Sister Mia. Your grandmother talked about you so often, I feel like I know you.”

              “You knew Granny?” Nai asked as she tried to get her head around the situation. Granny had never been too religious. Yet here they were about to bury her in a Catholic mission surrounded by her best gal pal nuns.

              “Oh yes,” Sister Mia said. “We all knew Nai very well. She came here every year to visit us.” the nun said as she struggled to hold back her own tears. “She was a very special woman. You look so much like her dear.”

              “Thanks,” Nai said. “What did she come here for?”

              “She came here to visit old friends and to rest,” the nun said. “Nai lived a busy life and needed somewhere safe to recharge herself.”  The bell above the chapel began to ring out, and the Sister excused herself. Nai and her mother followed the crowd into the courtyard and back towards the cemetery. It was a dusty, red dirt field with sparse grass, more like weeds, struggling to survive in the harsh sunlight. There were a few rows of stones, mostly worn and cracked with age. When they reached the gravesite, a nun led them to a row of chairs at the front of the crowd. Like an oasis, the grave was surrounded with at least two dozen batches of flowers, and right there, on a wooden stand by the large dirty hole, was the coffin. It was beautiful, if a coffin could be beautiful. It was a rich, dark wood that looked to be hand carved with rows of symbols. Granny was always big on Mayan symbols, and Nai recognized the markings to some degree herself. But as she struggled to look at them, she couldn't handle the thought that this was the last she'd see of her grandmother. As the little service went on, she distanced herself from it by examining the people and surroundings. She didn't recognize most of the people. Granny didn't have much family, but she obviously made an impression wherever she went. After the funeral was over, most of the people cleared out. Nai's mother was chatting with a few people by the chapel as Nai stood by the graveside. She noticed a marker on the grave next to where Granny Nai's coffin had been placed. It seemed a bit odd that the two graves were so close to one another. She looked around the cemetery and saw most of the markers were spread out farther. She knelt down in the dirt and rubbed the dust from the old gravestone. It had a row of Mayan marking across it as well, a date, and one word. “1897 Vagar” was all it said. As she rested on her knee brushing the stone in search of more markings, Sister Mia came to stand beside her.

              “This was a special place for Nai,” Sister Mia said. “Every year when she came, she placed flowers on this grave. She was very clear that when she passed she had to be buried here beside him.”

              “It's a guy?” Nai asked. “It just says Vagar.”

              “It's Portuguese. It means wanderer,” Sister Mia told her. “And yes, he was very much a man.” Her words seemed odd to Nai, but she didn't feel like asking any questions. She just didn't want to be here anymore. So close to the open grave, somehow, was just too much. “Nai left something for you,” the Sister said as Nai rose from the ground and dusted off her jeans. “Something she wanted you to have and no one else. Come with me, and I will get it for you.” The Sister turned and walked away from the grave towards a small building near the end of the mission. Nai, curious, followed closely behind. The few remaining guests didn't notice the two women wandering off. Inside the building was only one room. The floor was the same red clay as the outside. The room was bare except for a large stone chest with a Mayan symbol that looked like a jar carved on the front of it. Sister Mia pushed the symbol, and it moved inward as the top of the chest slid open. She reached inside and pulled out a small wooden box. “This was your grandmother's most prized possession,” she said as she turned to Nai and passed the box to her. “She wore it always. Make sure you take very good care of it, and put it on as soon as you are alone.” The nun looked out the small window into the cemetery, hesitantly, and then took hold of Nai's arm. “Come this way, and you can take the path down to the beach. No one will see you leave that way.” Nai wasn't thrilled to be here in the first place, but now she felt like she was being rushed out the back door. “Hurry now, Nai. Down to the beach.” The woman pushed with considerably more force than Nai would have expected from an old nun, and she found herself shoved out the little back door before she had time to give it much thought. As she turned around to protest, Mia quickly closed the door, and Nai heard the heavy sound of the metal latch clunk through the old slatted door.

              “Sister,” she said but got no response. “Sister Mia?” Nai grabbed the door handle and sure enough, locked. She turned around to survey her position. The wall of the mission ran along the edge of the small ridge. The only way to leave the little door was a pathway leading down to the beach. So Nai shrugged her shoulders and started walking. As she came to the beach she found a large rock sticking out into the water. Nai climbed up and made herself at home, holding the small box in her hands. As she watched the waves break around her, she opened the box. Inside was a gold bracelet, intricately ornamented with thirteen small images of jars around the rim. On one side of the circle was a small hinge and on the other a tiny bolt. The bracelet lay in the box open, the two halves hinged open. Nai had seen it before, many times. Sister Mia was right. She had never seen her grandmother without it on. She had asked about it as a child several times, and Granny Nai would tell her a story about how the jars were the contents of creation, or something like that. She couldn't really remember. She had begged several times for Granny to let her wear it, but she always said, “Just you wait, you will have your time.” Now that it was her time, Nai just wished it was still on her Gr anny's wrist, that she was there beside her now, telling her the story again.