Song of the Shaman by Annette Vendryes Leach Page A

turned his head as if he saw himself run by, his expression softening into that of a child’s.
    “Perhaps our garden is similar to the one you grew up in. These courtyard designs were probably typical in San Jose, too,” Louise said, thinking how fate took him out of the stifling atmosphere of colonial customs and society and brought him to a magical place. How lucky he was.
    A week after the bookcase fell there was another strange occurrence. It was Independence Day, and Louise, sorry that her sister was missing all the colorful costumes and dance, returned early from the grand fiesta patria with silky ribbons and a bouquet of torch ginger flowers to surprise Maud. As she entered the house she was shocked by a queer sight: an enormous sea turtle was parked in the middle of the parlor floor! On clumsy legs the olive leathery creature stood its ground, blinking its ancient hooded eyes at her with a dreamy wisdom. She too blinked, frozen in her steps. How could it have gotten inside? Where did it come from? At that moment Benjamin came in through the garden door. He saw her confusion first, then the turtle. Immediately his excitement grew. He spoke rapidly, emphatically, while Louise tried to piece the meaning together:
    a great honor…the sign he was waiting for…the Primal Mother is here…a reminder that She provides for all our needs…just as the turtle cannot separate itself from its shell, turtle magic helps unite heaven and earth…awaken the senses on both a physical and spiritual level…now he is seeing what he should…hearing what he should…sea turtles carry the symbolism of water…
    Louise’s head was spinning. “What is the symbolism of water?” she asked.
    He took his eyes off the reptile and focused them on her. “It’s the power of the female energies, of reproduction.”
    She watched as Benjamin knelt down and murmured gently to the turtle, thanking it for its message. She felt transported in his presence. He had a reverence for all of life that she found utterly alluring, tender and romantic. She wanted to stand closer to him, to touch him. He said he had to help the turtle get back to the sea. He coaxed the creature out of the house and she stared after him until he disappeared from sight. She was in awe of him. She was in love with him.
    “WHAT ARE YOU DRAWING?”
    Louise shut her sketchbook.
    “Benjamin! I didn’t know you were there.”
    It was just after breakfast. He had come up behind her while she sat outside on the terrace, drawing. She’d thought she was alone.
    “May I see it?”
    “It’s nothing.”
    “Please? I’d like to, if you don’t mind.”
    “You won’t like it…”
    Louise opened the book to a half-finished portrait of him. She viewed it with him looking over her shoulder as if someone else had drawn it. She did not recognize the complexities, the intricate detail and emotion that flowed from her into the drawing. She saw not an idle sketch but a sensitive work of art. More than that, it was evident that she was in love with her subject. He stood behind her for what seemed an eternity. Her face became hot.
    “Is this how I am to you?” he asked.
    Louise opened her mouth but no words came out.
    “Then I must show you how you are to me.”
    Sweet notes from his flute encircled her head. Gentle, lyrical notes danced into a sensual yet mournful melody. It seeped through her skin and flowed in her blood, its beauty making her dazed and dizzy with the notion that he, too, felt the same for her.
    AT DAYBREAK THE NEXT MORNING Charles appeared outside Louise’s bedroom impeccably dressed in a morning coat and matching waistcoat, dark trousers, white turnover shirt collar, and black floppy bow tie. His hair, moustache, and beard were neatly trimmed and smelled of pomade and bay rum.
    “I have some urgent business to attend to in Balboa. I shouldn’t be long, but tell Rosa not to expect me for supper.” He removed a stack of papers from under his arm and straightened