Long Snows Moon by Stacey Darlington Page B

She removed the cork without a crumble and
handed the bottle back. “That was a good wisdomism, huh?”
    “Yes very good. I wish I’d written all of my
mother’s sayings down.” She perched on the coffee table with an ice
pack on Devon’s ankle. “She used to say things like, ‘fly high and
you can see more clearly’.”
    Devon took a generous sip of her wine. “I
seem to have heard that today,” Devon muttered. “You don’t have to
hold that all night. It’s numb. Come sit next to me. There is a big
black bird out there stealing your mother’s lines.”
    “She is highly quotable. How does your head
feel?”
    “Whatever was in that tea of yours really
worked and the heat from your hands brought the swelling in my
ankle down immediately. What did you do on me, energy healing?
Reiki?”
    “Yes, something like that.”
    “Jameson you are magical and I am awestruck
by your talents. Thank you again for rescuing us.”
    “My pleasure.” Jameson smiled. “I’m glad
you’re going to stay. Look at Moon. She is out for the night. You
both need to rest. I want to be sure you are both in good condition
before you get on the road again, and no more drinking and
driving.”
    She topped off Devon’s glass.
    “That’s one way to get me to stay.”
    “It’s settled then.”
    “Is that your bedroom?” Devon referred to the
room behind the divider.
    “That was my mother’s room. It is my art
studio now. This has always been my bedroom. I set it up as a
living room because it is more functional this way. The couch pulls
out into a bed. You can sleep here. It’s really comfy.”
    “Where are you going to sleep?”
    “I have a cot I’ll set up for myself in the
other room.”
    Devon narrowed her eyes. “You can’t be this
nice.”
    Jameson shrugged off the compliment and
sipped her wine.
    “So Berry, the puppy I met when we were
fourteen, was Moon’s mother? Isn’t that some strange shit? I know
you don’t believe in coincidence, but, come on, it’s weird.”
    “It’s not strange. Our lives go in a circle,
joining end-to-end and continuing. Sometimes you are able to see
the joins but sometimes where the circle meets is vague.”
    “Is that the kind of thing your mother used
to say?” Devon asked.
    Jameson laughed. “Yes, actually it is.”
    “So since she passed you’ve live out here all
alone?”
    “Most of the time.”
    “And sometimes she stays with you?” Devon
asked, reaching over Moon and picking up a framed photograph from
the end table.
    Jameson said. “Our visits are rare. People
grow apart and realize they were never together, at all.” She took
the photo from Devon and put it face down.
    “That’s for damn sure,” Devon agreed. “I know
that firsthand. It breaks my heart to think of you out here all by
yourself.”
    “Why?” Jameson asked.
    “I don’t know why,” Devon said. “My own
loneliness, maybe projection.”
    “I’m used to being alone.”
    “Me, too,” Devon admitted, avoiding Jameson’s
eyes.
    “This wine is good.” She slid down onto the
couch. “It’s nice out here. Peaceful. Listen to that, wow. Listen
to the wilderness out there.”
    “Yes, it lulls me to sleep every night.”
    “I love the way the moon winks in through
that high window over there. I love it here,” Devon whispered.
    “You do?”
    “I love it.”
    Jameson stroked Devon’s hair and watched her
face in the candle’s glow. They talked about mundane things.
    Devon finished her wine and rested her head
on Jameson’s lap, her legs draped over Moon’s dozing body. She
gazed up at Jameson and stroked her braids.
    “I can’t believe it’s you,” she breathed.
“And I can’t believe you are wearing your hair in braids.”
    Jameson laughed, only when I exercise. She
touched Devon’s face, tracing the outline of her lips with her
forefinger.
    “What does this mean?” Devon asked. She felt
a warm glow wash over her. She stared into Jameson’s glistening
eyes. “What does this