Dances With The Daffodils

My eyes strain in the bright light. I've read the same pages over and over. The wind. It was so strong, almost like a mini-hurricane, but it came from nowhere. This can't be real. Can it? And even if it was, why would they be here, in California?

I want to tell myself it isn't true, but now that begins to feel like a lie. I remember Héctor's words from the club:

When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

I've heard it before, that quote. Sherlock Holmes. But now it sticks with me. The belief from earlier begins to settle.

Of course, I've heard about most of this before, about the Vikings, and their gods. But I had no clue about this Mimir character and Odin was just a name at the back of my mind, heard of, but rarely thought about. And I've only read a single page of the thick book. The depths of these tales stretch further than I can imagine.

But there's little time to consider that now. So with a sigh, I shut it and check the time. It's getting towards lunch. Stretching my stiff legs, I switch on the oven and wander over to the curtains. There are no birds on the oak tree outside anymore. At least, none I can see.

Then a cry comes from Mom's room. She's found the texts.

I rush down the hall and burst in, only to find her, sat in her nightgown, gripping her phone tightly between her fingers. When she spots me in the doorway, I watch a relief wash over her face and she holds out her hands, eyes beginning to glisten.

I move to the bed and take them but she grabs onto my wrists.

'You're okay?'

'I'm okay.'

She wraps me in an iron hug and I hold her tight. I know I should have told her earlier, woken her up, but some part of me wanted to delay. That I should let her be happy for longer, not tell her just yet, because I knew she would be sad later.

'I should have been there. I...' her voice falters and she squeezes tighter. 'What happened?' she asks.

'Car accident. No one's fault,' I say, although I don't believe it. And as the words come out of my mouth, something hits me. The birds, the huge black ravens in the sky. They were there before the crash, and they were in the garden too.

'What's going on?' comes a small voice from the doorway. It's Jake, small and scared.

Without a moments thought, Mom beckons him over and pulls him into our group hug. 'I'm sorry,' she says to me more than Jake. 'I've been letting myself waste away in here. I've left you alone, but that stops now, I promise. I promise.'

*

She invited Leah's family to dinner before I could stop her. And, whether out of politeness or common decency, they accepted.

I suppose not everyone grieves in the same way. Me, I tend to mope, wanting to curl up into a ball and shut the world out. But not Mom, she fills her world with distractions: cooking, cleaning, busying herself to quiet her mind. It's the most active I've seen her in a while. Now she's in the bedroom, digging out some old makeup and putting on a new face. A happy, healthier one.

While I watch the food, there's a knock on the door. I check the book is safe in its hiding place — buried at the bottom of a draw no one ever looks in — and call out:

'They're here!'

Jake appears first. He gives me a wide grin, bubbly as usual and not truly understanding what's happening. At least he believed the lie I told him about Odin, that he's our new landlord. I doubt he'll even remember when the real one comes knocking in a few weeks.