Legacy (The Biodome Chronicles) (21 page)

Leaf continued walking without offering Ember a reply of his own, fearful of the emotions that were playing tricks on his mind. Loneliness amplified his heartache, a situation he did not know how to rectify on his own. He was isolated, bound, and chained by his Legacy. There was no one he could turn to with the sorrow and stress he carried deep inside, and his heart yearned for comfort from the Daughter of Fire. She rightfully belonged to his closest friend, and so he would dutifully attend to his responsibilities with as much care and dedication he could provide to cope with and distract himself from the ever-building pressure inside his chest.

Jeff had confirmed his fears, and he was glad Willow did not ask about the card. He was still processing the story the lawyer shared on the card’s origins. It changed everything he thought he knew of New Eden Township and The Elements, as well as his father.

Chancing a look at Coal, Oaklee met his eyes as he walked toward Leaf and furnished a small smile with hopes to rebuild what was torn down. Leaf may be astute, but she had a special talent for communicating through her eyes. Many explained this phenomenon as being soulful, and Oaklee relished in the idea of her soul conversing so freely.

Coal’s body stiffened and his face fell before turning around, ignoring the gift of reconciliation, his pride still too freshly wounded. Grow up more, indeed! At least she was mature enough to offer an olive branch. Coal’s shoulders slumped as he passed his sister, and he yanked his hair out of the leather thong he used while working. Oaklee could no longer see his face, and she knew this was his way to further hide from her attempts to reconnect.

Sorrow replaced the resentment, and the torment that their friendship may be over consumed her. How does one go back in time after such an experience? She lost her father and dearest friend in the same week. Woozy from scabbed-over grief bleeding red once more, the free falling feeling making her head spin, she leaned against an orange tree for support and closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Oaklee focused on the heady and intoxicating scent of citrus to ease her escalating emotions. She would not crash, she would not be destroyed. She would grab at anything during this fall and save herself from hitting bottom. Experience had taught her that the floor was merciless, and an unnecessary event. And she was sure she would not survive another crash.

Oaklee continued to take deep breaths and opened her eyes, trying to abate the tears that traitorously fell despite her vow not to cry. An orange dangled in her peripheral vision, the juicy morsel ripe from exposure to the elements. Oaklee plucked the fruit, inhaling the citrus oils that protested at the manhandling, and smiled as she allowed her thoughts to drift.

“Let’s open you up and find out what secrets burdened the tree that carried you,” she murmured to the orange while digging her thumb into the waxy peel, pulling away to the tender fruit beneath. Taking a bite, she willed her muscles and thoughts to relax, and imagined the orange consuming her negativity, bursting with sweet and sour secrets under the pressure—instead of her. Better. She would fare well and somehow manage to pull through to the other side of this sudden deficit. Oaklee knew she had to if she wanted to survive.

She reached inside her hidden pocket and gently caressed her golden leaf. Nature’s gift reminded her that she was simply enduring a necessary cycle of life. Spring would bring new growth eventually, and perhaps restoration with Coal.

“Well, Sir Orange, let us promenade through The Orchard and give those old biddies something to gossip about. Shall we scandalize your distant fruit cousins?”

With determinedly lighter steps, Oaklee continued her journey to The Waters in search of Laurel, savoring each bite of the orange as she sauntered through the apple, pear, and cherry trees. She realized while enjoying the last bite that she had never asked her brother about the strange piece of paper he found in father’s pocket. She tucked the orange peel into her own pocket and made a mental note to ask him following the meeting.

Upon reaching the arbor, she looked around, unable to find a single small child in sight. Normally they were running around, laughing and enjoying the fantasies forged from their imaginations. Now, it was eerily quiet. Panic tightened her throat as she spun around in a desperate attempt to locate a small pair of feet, any small pair of feet.

While facing the arbor, Lake suddenly came crashing through the trained shrubbery, stomping with frustration. His face was red, making his hair and freckles stand out even more.

“Why Lake, what on Earth is the matter?” Oaklee knelt before him.

“I cannot find anybody,” he ground out.

“When did they disappear?”

“While I was counting to one hundred.”

He kicked a fern next to him. Oaklee began breathing again, not realizing she had been holding her breath.

“Oh, playing hide-and-seek are we? Do you need a partner?” Oaklee gave Lake a pleading look, one she hoped would not be refused. He nodded enthusiastically. Clearing her throat, she said in a loud voice, “You have yourself a partner, Lake. Ready or not, here we come!”

She took his hand, pulling Lake along playfully as they explored the landscape for clues and glimpses of hidden children. They stood before a hedge, and she noticed the leaves sway although there was no wind. She gently knelt down on the forest floor spreading the shrubbery to peer inside, and discovered the smiling faces of Windy and Gale, Skylar’s younger sisters. Lake shouted in glee at the discovery, and Oaklee laughed.

Moving on, Oaklee decided to search behind a cluster of giant ferns, their swords and spears a natural defense against seekers, protecting those she was sure they kept hidden. She pointed for Lake to go look and nearly jumped with her six-year-old partner when Rusty, one of the village boys, shouted “boo” upon detection.

A pile of leaves gained her attention next. She placed a finger in front of her lips in silence, and tiptoed over to the pile with Lake. He gleefully lunged into the leaves, colliding with Laurel and Corona. All three emerged laughing, throwing leaves at each other, the orange, gold, and red hues falling back to the earth in a merry dance.

“There is only one more to find,” Lake boasted as he fell on his stomach in the pile, watching the leaves poof in all directions once more.

“Who would that be?” Oaklee asked.

“My brother, Canyon, of course.”

Red hair and freckles marched off toward The Waters with confidence, and the other children marched in a single line behind him. Oaklee giggled, thinking how he appeared like the Pied Piper, a story she had heard when she was little. She was amused that Canyon was playing hide-and-seek with the children; at fourteen, she thought he might be too old. Although, what did that make her? Then there was Windy, who at age twelve was most likely here to enjoy interactions with Canyon, a girlhood affection that caused the eldest Daniels boy to turn red and roll his eyes whenever she sought his attentions.

“Canyon, I shall find you! Just wait and see!” Lake shouted from inside The Waters. He came marching out, and the children continued to follow in a single line, a determined parade of seekers.

Oaklee threw her head back in mirth, catching a glimpse of something white high above as she laughed. She focused her vision and watched Canyon crouch on a branch while hiding behind remnant leaves, his linen clothing nearly invisible against the dome skyline. Canyon moved his head to camouflage his titian hair in the autumn leaves.

“Oh, Lake, I do believe I have an idea of where your brother may be hiding.” Oaklee could barely contain herself, casting a mischievous glance up at Canyon who glared at her in return.

“Point the way!”

“It is not polite to point. However, we could look above for inspiration.” Oaklee innocently lifted her eyes up in a look of deep thought and prayerful reflection. Lake looked up as well, mimicking her expression until he caught sight of his brother, his mouth forming an “o.”

“There you are, silly toad! I found you! I found you!”

All the children cheered when Canyon moved from his position, and began finding his way back to solid ground.

“Thanks, Willow. I could have enjoyed a quiet afternoon up there, perhaps even avoided returning to work,” Canyon said, but the twinkle in his eyes let Oaklee know he was teasing.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she replied, giving him a playful curtsy.

He lost his balance for a moment as he took a step on a hidden rock, and then righted himself with a lopsided grin. She was about to say something else, when she felt a tug on her hand.

“Willow, will you play another game with us?”

Oaklee felt a surge of happiness at hearing her sister’s small voice. Yet in the distance, she could see groups of people work their way toward the Great Hall, and she reasoned it must be close to three in the afternoon time.

“I shall a little later, Frog.” Laurel’s smile vanished, and Oaklee watched sadness creep around her sister’s eyes. “I have a meeting at the Great Hall to attend to first, darling. I promise, I shall play more games later.” Her sister smiled again, grabbing Corona’s hand.

“Come on, Rona, let us make crowns from ferns and leaves.”

“You can be the Autumn Princess,” Corona stated simply in her soft seven-year-old voice, earning a big smile from Laurel before they ran off toward the heart of the forest, white skirts and long braids flying behind them.

Turning toward the Great Hall, Canyon asked, “May I walk with you to the meeting?”

“Yes, thank you. Is Rain interested in the exchange?”

“I believe she would rather stay home with mother.”

“Understandable. How is your mother faring? I understand your father came to the evening meal without her company.”

“She is feeling better today, thank you. The warm blanket you sewed her for her birthday last week was very kind, and lifted her spirits.”

“I am glad to hear it. Everyone needs to experience the healing touch of their community.”

The last words died off in a quiet trickle of tears. She quickly recovered, not wishing for Canyon to see her grief, and turned her head as she wiped away the moisture on her cheeks. She vowed never to make another silly vow; she could no more stop crying than breathing, it seemed.

“Your father was an excellent man.”

Canyon looked the opposite direction, giving Oaklee the courteous space she needed to gather herself before facing the crowd up ahead. How is it all other males could extend the courtesy she needed but Coal?

“Thank you. He is,” Oaklee responded, changing the tense and redirecting her thoughts. Her father may be dead, but he would forever be a good man.

Up ahead, she noticed Leaf walk inside the stone structure. Oaklee turned toward Canyon to say farewell when she met Coal’s eyes, a few yards over Canyon’s shoulder. His wounded pride and broken heart pierced through her makeshift strength and settled in her bones, rattling her courage. Canyon curiously glanced over his shoulder, and then looked back her direction, humored.

“Someone lit a fire under his arse.” Canyon began laughing, but then stopped upon seeing the look of discomfort pass over her face. “That is a joke, Willow, as his father is the Fire Element and he is named Coal.” Canyon laughed a bit more at his own wit. Oaklee rewarded him with a wobbly smile. “Where is your brother? I need to report that his sister rudely interrupted my quiet time, turning a pack of savage children on me.”

This time she provided a more genuine smile as he winked. “You would not dare!”

“No? There is only one way to find out.”

With a playful look directed at Canyon, she flung long hair over her shoulder, noticing that her tresses were brightened by the afternoon light. The shine glinting off her hair made her feel magical, removing the shadows in her heart, and Oaklee trotted toward the entrance in merriment. She refused to see if Canyon followed her, only heightening the excitement.

How is it she could feel such deep sadness one moment, fear the next, and then a desire to break free and play as if she were not a grown woman?

No longer caring how the community may view her nontraditional behavior of mourning, she began giggling with each step, the insanity of it all overwhelming her senses. In the back of her mind a warning blared that it was the illusion of free falling. The detachment had not removed the painful memory of hitting bottom. Instead, it fed a feeling of joy to enslave her mind, creating the distraction to forget the floor. And then the crash. She felt her body slam against the greedy floor, and her reality shattered once again.