The Guardian's Wildchild (49 page)

Sam tried to sit up, and swayed back onto his cot as though he had been drugged. “Sidney?” he whispered.

Birthstone placed a reassuring hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Sidney can no longer carry Savannah. The burden falls to you.”

Sam thought about his sons when they were infants. He had carried them protectively. He then recalled the small child he had met at the school grounds and suddenly knew that she had been his daughter, Savannah. She needed him now. Even in his half-awake state, he realized that Savannah was all that was left of Sidney and he needed her even more. Needed to keep her alive, at any cost to himself.

Danik’s face came into his view as he knelt down beside Sam. “Hey, sailor, we can do this. Piece of cake. We’ll all look after your sons while you’re laid up.” Danik grabbed onto Sam’s hand and squeezed. “It’s gonna take some fortitude, but I know you can handle it.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, let’s get on with it.” Quickly, with Greystone’s touch, Sam was again unconscious.

Birthstone traced a line on Sam’s belly. The tissues parted to reveal the muscular abdominal wall. Birthstone’s left hand hovered above his exposed abdomen, and the muscles there began to quiver. Quickly they began to shape a small hollow bowl, with the opening toward Sam’s heart. “Sam is ready,” Birthstone announced.

Instantly, the membrane housing Savannah was nestled in the bowl. Birthstone touched the edges of the retracted skin. Gently, the skin returned to its former state, intact and without any mark to show it had been separated. The transfer was complete. To protect Savannah, the Elders had kept Sam in a dormant state most of the time. Twenty-four hours a day, an Elder was with Sam. Energy was transferred to Savannah, which then became all that she needed, as easily as they turn water to wine.

He remembered little of being in the dormant state, other than Danik at his side any time he was briefly awake. He knew he was carrying his daughter, but in his foggy mind, it didn’t seem to matter. He also came to understand that Sidney had died. It was a crushing realization, but over the next thirty weeks, the pain of the blow softened.

His body had quickly returned to its normal physique once the Elders removed a fully developed Savannah from the pouch. After Sam returned to full consciousness, his boys had given him focus. Simon and Nathan were rebels and at first had been resistant to remaining on the island. But together, they worked at becoming a family again, adjusting to the changes in their lives and in each other. Their family bonds held firm, and aside from a few threats and fistfights between the boys, the Waterhouse family had slowly merged into the Guardian’s lifestyle.

Greystone and Danik had hovered over Sam that first year. Waking up in the middle of the night, he’d feel the terrible loss of Sidney. Somehow, Greystone had always known when to be there at his side. He’d arrive, saying nothing and carrying a bowl of warm soup or tea. Greystone was the most powerful, yet loving man Sam had ever met.

Danik persisted in instructing him on ways to become aware of the presence of Sidney’s spirit. But Sam’s sorrow continued to simmer just under the surface, and his grief prevented him from shifting into the place where Sidney waited. His efforts to open the doorway to Sidney continued to be excruciatingly frustrating. It seemed impenetrable. If Sidney was standing there on the other side, he’d never know it — except for one glimmer of hope.

Each evening, as he slept in Sidney’s old bed, he’d carefully place his crystal on the bedside table. In the morning, the crystal would be gone. At first, Sam thought he was losing his mind. Then he remembered the game Sidney had played with him when they’d first met, moving the crystal in his office from one location to another.

Before doing anything else in the morning, he’d have to find where she’d hid the crystal. It was a connection, tenuous at best, but still a connection with her. It was almost enough.

Sam snickered to himself, recalling the incident less than two months earlier. He’d been searching his small house for a missing sock. Having only two pairs, he was becoming alarmed that some rodent might have whisked it off and he’d be left with only three socks. His search became frantic.

In a moment of desperation and without giving any thought, he blurted, “Sidney, where’s that damned sock!”

“Right where you left it last night, Sam.”

Sam had heard her and the teasing smile in her voice. He stood there, waiting for more. He ached for more. He closed his eyes tightly, and yet the tears still made their way down his face.

“I love you,” he called out to the empty room.

There had been no reply.

“Hi, Dad,” called out Simon, approaching him from the trail and bringing Sam back into the moment.

Nathan was with him, panting from the exertion of climbing the rocky trail. Beads of sweat formed on their foreheads.

“Hey, Savy. Dad still not letting you sit by yourself up here?” Simon chided his sister.

Savannah frowned. “No!” she said with a note of irritation.

“Come sit down, boys,” Sam called out to his sons. “What’s happening? Thought you were still in class.”

“All done. It’s five already. You comin’ down for supper?”

“I’ve been here that long?” asked Sam. “Didn’t realize it was getting so late. You go ahead and take Savy with you. I’ll meet you down there. Save a spot for me beside you brats in the lodge.”

“Oh no. We’re not sitting with you old folks,” his youngest son said, teasing him.

Nathan grabbed Savannah’s hand and led her back to the trail and down the mountain. Sam continued to sit on the ledge, looking out toward the ocean.

He thought of Admiral Garland and the file. It was only a brief thought. Once he’d turned the memory rod over to Danik, he’d made it clear to everyone that he wanted nothing more to do with that business. Recently, he’d overheard that Danik’s father, Aaron, continued to work with the admiral, but little progress had been made in defusing the Dark forces. Madame had escaped and remained elusive. She was hunting for Danik, having discovered that he wielded great power using the sun crystals. Frank Butchart had died. The
Nonnah
had been decommissioned, the crew scattered throughout the naval forces.

Upon inspection of the crystals, Aaron found that most of them had been damaged by the scientists and were now useless. The eight remaining intact crystals were with the Guardians, safe — for the time being.

The admiral had been granted a few visits to the island. On each occasion, Sam briefly greeted the man and then returned to his chores or his sanctuary on the ledge. Today, he felt the past had no more power over him. Today, there was only the moment — free of pain and sorrow.

The ocean called to him. He could just barely see his sailboat anchored in the bay, gently rocking with the waves. Never before today had the island’s spell infused him with such pure ecstasy — the complete and utter miracle of being alive, to be one with all. To feel immersed in healing energy. To be simply in the moment. He closed his eyes.

The sun, hovering just over the mountain across the valley, held its warmth and caressed Sam’s face. He welcomed it into his being and thanked the universe for all the blessings of the day. He inhaled deeply, held his breath for a moment, and then released it. He emptied his mind, inviting wholly and unconditionally all that had a need to be one with him. In doing so, he felt a sudden snap within his chest, as if a shell surrounding him had become too small. In the center of his forehead a slight pain pushed through and eased with the opening of his third eye.

The fragrance of plumeria blossoms arrived first, just moments before he felt the touch of her hand on his face. He opened his eyes and saw pale green eyes smiling back at him. Sidney was seated in front of him with an inquiring look on her face.

“I’m wondering, Sam, if this is a good time to go sailing.”

He reached for her.

The Guardians gathered inside the lodge for their supper. The Waterhouse boys had saved a seat for their dad and were wrestling with Savannah to get her to sit still.

Greystone approached the small child. “Savy, listen to your brothers. By the way, boys, I think your dad might not be joining us for dinner tonight. I noticed his sailboat heading out to sea. Remember to keep some food aside for him. He’ll be hungry when he gets back.”

About the Author

As a Canadian, Feather Stone was allowed the freedom to explore a kaleidoscope of infinite ways of being human. The only restrictions imposed by her parents were that racism was not acceptable and deliberately causing harm to any other being or creature for any reason was not tolerated. Upon meeting her spirit guide when she was a child, Feather’s life became a journey of experiencing the paranormal. Through her practice of meditation and Reiki and study of Shamanism, she’s been able to shift to dimensions that defy description.

On February 15, 2002, Feather was honored to receive the Exemplary Service Medal from Lieutenant Governor Lois Hole (representative of HRH Queen Elizabeth II) for her service as a paramedic with Edmonton’s Emergency Response Department. She and her husband are now enjoying retirement and loving their sheltie, Jasper, and two cats, Smokey and Leo. Her motto? Change your thinking, change your life.

Acknowledgments

How does a ship thank the ocean? The relationship is fraught with dangers of sinking or being shredded over a reef. And yet, the ship, if guided by wisdom and dogged determination, discovers its journey exceeds the joy in arriving at the destination. And so it is with the writing of this story. The experience was an intense journey of self-discovery.

This story would not have begun if it were not for a vision that shook me so deeply that I resorted to writing about the experience to free myself from its constant nagging. What I thought would be a few pages became a thousand pages. Over ten years I was an instrument of a force that instructed me on what to say and how to say it. Anytime my ego determined a story line, the “voice” became silent, and the story came to a halt without an ending. Thankfully, on computers there is the “delete” key. I would go back and obediently allow the storyteller within to direct the writing.

Writers must suffer the risks of exposing their soul to the critical eye of the public and rejection from publishers. And so it is with great respect that I bow to my publisher, Omnific Publishing, for accepting this jewel in its raw and unpolished form. In particular, I am forever grateful for the editor, Beverly Nickleson, whose incredible talent was instrumental to glean out the purest clarity of every scene and to bring into focus the soul of each character.