Crow - The Awakening Read online

  "Then it's time to go, Penny," Sirel whispered in her singsong voice. With a quiet whoosh she abruptly ascended into the dark sky without another word. Penipe stood up and watched her disappear into the star studded heavens above. After a final look at the homestead, she returned to the shadows. Vines and branches reached out from the undergrowth as she approached the wood, receiving her as if receiving their own. Then quite suddenly, the bluff was empty and quiet again.

  The harvest was starting to dwindle. The end of the season was seeing flowers starting to thin out, which meant less honey. It hadn't started getting really cold yet, but the nights were getting much cooler. Of course, in the hill country at this time of year, snow was just a quick cold front away, though it usually waited until December. Steven pulled a flatbed cart behind a little farm tractor back from the bee yard. On it he had stacked a few white wooden bee boxes, all covered with canvas to keep the bees out. They were very heavy with honey and Steven had to harvest them frame by frame. He wore a veil, but the bees he tended never really bothered him - the veil was more for the comfort of his godfather who couldn't approach the hives without a full suit. He grinned at that thought, feeling special.

  His thoughts meandered to his biological parents as Steven drove across the farm back to the little cob shed he and Jonah had set up to be his honey house. He had never known them since they went missing when he was still an infant and his godparents had adopted him. No pictures existed of them, even. The only thing he knew was at one time they were really good friends, and quite suddenly his parents met some mysterious calamity that had yet to have been fully explained to him. He resented that, as much as he liked his godparents. Steven felt that he had a right to know. Is anyone trying to find them, or did anyone try when they first went missing? He had seen no hint of any sort of search and he wondered if, after ten years, they would ever be found.

  The tractor jostled as it passed over one of the cattle guards on their farm that allowed access to their modest pastures. The jolting woke Steven from his thoughts. He had done this so many times that often he would go on automatic pilot as he drove to and from the house to the fields. He was getting close to their little cob and timber frame barn.

  While most of his peers loathed the homestead chores their parents had given them, Steven had taken the initiative himself to manage hives his godfather would have otherwise gotten rid of. He didn't really get an allowance - their farm life wasn't that lucrative. But the honey he sold from the hives more than made up for that. And that money was what he needed to try to get answers about his parents that he'd not been able to get from anyone in town or from his godparents.

  After he backed the trailer into the barn, he unhitched it and drove the tractor out so his godfather could use it out in their gardens. He thought about extracting the honey, but it was nearly time for market so there was not enough time for him to process these boxes right away. They would have to wait until later. But he already had a few cases of honey bottled up and ready for the sale sitting in the bed of the truck anyway. He was eager to get to his booth at the market and start making sales. He was amazed at how popular his honey had gotten and thrilled to have that income. Most kids in the area subsisted on meager allowances.

  Steven was preparing that day's lunch for market when his godparents finally dragged themselves out of bed. It wasn't all that late, though. He always was the early riser of the family, getting his chores done ahead of breakfast so he'd have the rest of the day to do things he wanted to do. Last night's events didn't help any, however. They must have been up late last night cleaning from the tremor because he didn't see any of the mess. Sally reached up into the hanging egg basket, grabbed a few of the eggs Steven had collected that morning, pulled a large ceramic bowl down from the shelf over their gas stove, and began preparing breakfast. She bumped into Steven with her hip as he tried to move out of her way, making him giggle, then she turned and gave him a big, spontaneous hug.

  "How are you doing, pumpkin?" She ruffled his black curly hair and looked at him, smiling. There was a glint of worry in her eyes, however.

  "Better." Steven smiled. As nightmares go, last night's was fairly typical for him.

  She gave him a kiss on the forehead and smiled back at him for a moment. "Way better?" He nodded. She grinned at him and turned back to cracking the eggs into her mixing bowl. "I hope you're hungry."

  "Oh yeah," Steven said excitedly. He was famished. He took a jar of dried mushrooms down from the shelf and put them next to her. The best eggs always have a bit of fungus in them, he thought to himself, smiling. Then he went out to the porch and brought in that morning's harvest of miner's lettuce. After rinsing it off, he put the bowl on the counter next to where Sally was cooking. Grabbing a handful of the greens, he started chopping it for the eggs. He liked cooking breakfast with his godmother.

  It didn't take him long to finish gathering and preparing the various ingredients they like in their morning eggs. Satisfied, Steven wiped his hands and sat down on a large hand hewn bench at the heavy picnic style wooden table that Jonah had made by milling trees from the farm. He played absentmindedly with the grain of the redwood. "Can I go to Brandon's after market?" He hadn't seen his friend in town for a few weeks since he spent part of his time in their primary mansion in Seattle.

  "Are his parents going to be home?" Sally looked over her shoulder at him while she whisked the eggs. Steven hesitated and she turned to look at him.

  "Uhm..." Steven didn't know but really wanted to avoid that question. Sally never let him go over to Brandon's if his parents weren't there. "...they might. It's the weekend."

  "We'll see." She poured the eggs into a heavy iron skillet and started stirring them as they scrambled while she adjusted the flame of the stove with her free hand. The vintage gas stove still seemed almost too modern for the kitchen that consisted of a lot of hand milled wood, cob construction, cast iron shelf supports, and rough slate floor tiles. A wood stove would probably have fit in better, and Jonah would have preferred it. But then, Sally ruled the kitchen. She glanced at him as she poured the scrambled eggs into the ceramic bowl and top-dressed them with some fresh goat cheese.

  Steven pouted. 'We'll see' usually meant 'no.' "We're just going to look at his comic books." Mostly, he thought to himself. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

  "And get on their computer?" Sally brought over the bowl of steaming scrambled eggs just as Jonah came back into the kitchen with a tin of home grown dried figs from the root cellar. He put it on the table and tied back his long, black hair. He grinned at Sally and winked at Steven. Jonah grabbed some glasses from the shelf and placed them on the table while he listened in on the discussion.

  "No," Steven answered too quickly. Sally already knew, and he knew that she knew. Jonah smiled at him, shaking his head. He knew, too, and that just made Steven more frustrated. "We only play games anyway." Well, not exactly, but that's what Brandon always wanted to do so it wasn't an outright lie. "How much trouble can we get in just playing games?"

  "Sorry, bub. No parents, no Brandon's." Jonah sat down next to Steven and passed him a plate. Like the bowls, the plates were hand turned ceramic from Sally's little pottery shop, glazed with abstract designs with a decidedly Native American motif.

  Steven was exasperated at the same old losing battle. What could they possibly do that could warrant his godparent's unreasonable fear of computers? "But Jonah, we don't do anything that's dangerous. Just games and stuff."

  "And stuff." Jonah nodded, looking at Sally as she placed a pitcher of orange juice on the table and sat down. He waved the spoon for the eggs at Steven for emphasis. "I've told you before, I've been there and seen the crazy stuff that goes on. There's nothing safe about computers nowadays. Not even games." He spooned eggs onto his plate and piled some on Steven's plate and passed the figs to his adopted son.

  Steven sulked, pecking at his scrambled eggs with his fork. "It hasn't hurt Brandon." He just wanted to download some hacki
ng software for his project and it was easier at Brandon's. They had a great connection to the Internet. How else was he going to find his parents? But he couldn't tell his godparents that. They were already too strict on computers as it is. If they knew what Steven was doing they'd probably ground him to his room and chores until he was gray and old. Jonah didn't answer Steven's perfectly logical reasoning. Sighing, Steven finished his plate and put it in the sink after rinsing it off.

  "I'll be out by the truck." Steven grabbed a handful of figs and walked out, dejected, dragging his feet a little as he walked to emphasize his displeasure.

  Sally looked at Jonah while chewing. Jonah sighed and shook his head. The kid was brilliant and bucking against the limitations pretty hard. He and Sally had all but given up computers ten years ago when they sold their shares in a technical research and development company and moved out to the hills to raise Steven.

  "It's going to be harder and harder as he gets older. All of his friends have computers," Sally said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

  "Telling him the truth won't make it any easier." He got up, grabbing the last fig from the tin. "See you at the market?"

  Sally nodded and gathered up their dishes as he left.

  The trip to the market was fairly quiet while Steven fumed. They had told him about the dangers but he was smarter than they gave him credit for, and he was ten years old. Most certainly not a baby anymore. He sniffed as he stared out the window watching the trees and scattering farm fields and vineyards go by on their short trip to town.

  "You ready for school?" Jonah hoped to distract him from his foul mood. Steven really enjoyed school. They homeschooled Steven and he soaked in everything he could learn and was always looking for more. He was already three grades ahead of what he normally would be at his age. Jonah wondered sometimes if he was reading the town library's collection over yet again completely, checking books out and disappearing into the forest to where ever it was that he went to read them.

  Steven tried to think of something negative to say, but drew a blank. "Yeah, I guess so."

  "Eighth grade already. Can you believe it?" Jonah gushed. He was amazed at how fast the kid was progressing.

  Steven grunted, milking his sour mood out for as long as he could. The prospect of new textbooks and yet another level of schooling did excite him, but he tried hard to not show it.

  Jonah looked at him then back at the road. "What were the years the Civil War was fought?"

  Steven sighed. They often played this game. "1861 to 1865." He fiddled with the fraying weather stripping on the window.

  "Hmmm. What was Black Tuesday?" He looked sideways at the pouting boy.

  "The Wall Street Crash of 1829," Steven sighed loudly.

  "What year was Black Tuesday?" Jonah grinned.

  Steven was about to answer then stopped and looked at Jonah. "Really?" Jonah laughed out loud.

  Steven grinned and straightened himself in the seat then sobered. "I just don't understand why you are so afraid."

  Jonah was quiet for a while then looked at Steven. "There are some really bad things that are going on, Steven. I've seen it. I don't expect you to understand right now. All I ask is that you respect our limitations."

  Steven sighed again. "Yes, sir." The forest started thinning and Steven watched the occasional farm house pass by, wondering if his godparents would ever relax about computers. After all, it was his parents that were missing, not theirs, and searching the computer networks was the only way Steven knew to look for information about them.

  The market was held on city property near the quaint courthouse every weekend all year round. It was a combination crafts market and farmers market, and was frequented by art and food connoisseurs as well as professionals. The seasons caused the balance between crafts and vegetable product to ebb and flow but it always drew a crowd. Some people came for the ambiance. Others were art collectors who resold what they found to businesses and restaurants in their respective cities. Steven's main customers were chefs looking for distinctive honeys, though he did sell to a fair share of honey to enthusiasts, too. Every region blessed their honey with its own distinctive flavor and his was popular.

  Jonah finished helping Steven set up his little honey booth. It was a modest but sturdy handmade table with a homemade display for his jars of honey and extra jars tucked underneath in their cases. Jonah really liked playing in his little woodshop, milling select trees into lumber for the various projects they had on the farm. And was a big believer in using what they had on hand as much as possible. The result for Steven's display was rustic, but very solid and durable. He mussed Steven's head then moved a few stalls down to his own booth which currently displayed the current harvest of the late summer season. That harvest consisted mostly of squashes, pumpkins, fresh beans, corn and a big display of wild harvested mushrooms. Steven looked at the display and thought about how much he loved helping Jonah with his stacks of wood that he cultivated mushrooms on, as well as scouring the forest around their property looking for wild mushrooms. If he had to choose one thing to eat, it would be mushrooms. Or figs. Steven thought for a second but was unable to decide between the two.

  Farther down was Sally's stall. She had just arrived and started setting up her stoneware, pottery, glassware and woodenware that she made in her little shop on the farm. She had discovered working with clay when they first moved out to the hills and had taken to it obsessively. Most of their dishes were made in her shop, even the glasses they drank from. She even had a limited selection of silver jewelry that she had just started experimenting with, too. Sally's wavy blond hair was pinned back and she wore a flowery apron as she got her displays set up and ready for customers.

  By comparison, Steven's little booth was less colorful. But he did start experimenting with waxes and soaps with the help of Sally, so it wasn't all just jars of honey. But he loved honey so he wasn't complaining.

  "You forgot this, gloomy." Sally plopped the basket with Steven's lunch on the honey table, and adjusted his display. He grumped and adjusted the display back. She grinned as she walked toward her booth. "You're welcome?"

  "Thanks." With her infectious effervescence, it was hard to stay mad at her. He peeked under the homespun cloth napkin covering his lunch and saw that she included a small jar of canned peaches and a spoon along with the sandwich he had put together. He tried hard to not look too pleased as he tucked the basket under the table.

  As he did so, he saw a pair of black leather shoes peeking under the tablecloth and heard a jar clinking up above. Steven stood up quickly to see a smartly dressed man with a graying, close trimmed goatee, wearing a tweed sport coat and gray slacks. He was holding a jar of his honey up to the sun, examining its clarity.

  "Oh, hello, Dr. Dougherty." Steven smiled. Dr. Dougherty was the town psychiatrist, but more importantly to Steven, his beekeeping protégé and friend. He had helped the physician revive his ailing hives earlier this season and was rather proud of the work they accomplished. "How are the bees?"

  The doctor looked down at Steven and put the jar down. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he extracted a small jar of dark honey. "Spectacular, Steven. Absolutely spectacular." He grinned, handing the jar to Steven. "My first harvest this year and the honey is sublime. A hint of citrus, of all things." He shook his head. "I have seen it and still find it hard to believe. Your methods are completely unorthodox from everything I had learned before, and yet I have never seen hives become as strong as these."

  Steven blushed. "Well, it's not all me. It's just observing the bees and working with what you learn. More than a few other 'beeks' are doing it too." He had picked up quite a bit of information sneaking on the internet, actually. But a lot was still instinctive for him. He was trying to teach Jonah also, but Jonah was still a little skittish around the bees.

  "Of course. Thank you nonetheless, young Master Crow," he said, giving a little bow. The psychiatrist looked at his watch. "Ah. I need to visit a few more stalls be
fore my next appointment." He straightened his jacket. "Come by the yard sometime. I could use your opinion on whether or not to combine a couple of late swarms before winter sets in."

  "Sure." Steven tucked the small jar of honey into his lunch basket as Dr. Dougherty walked off, noticing that he stopped briefly at another booth a few stalls down. Steven wondered if he could get him to talk to his parents about computers. He was a therapist and may know how to reach them better than he's been able to.

  "I see James stopped by." Jonah walked over grinning, startling Steven. "How're his bees?"

  "I think he's pretty happy with them." Steven tried hard to be modest. He was very thrilled that his advice was working out so well for the man.

  "Yeah, pretty happy." Jonah laughed. "I've seen his little yard and his hives are already five and six deeps tall. Happy is an understatement. Just ten years old and you're already getting consulting gigs. You'll be a hard act to follow soon." Something caught Jonah's eye. "Hey, Brandon. Back in town already?"

  Steven looked around Jonah as a tall, lanky young teen pulled up to the booth on his dual sport motorcycle. Steven could tell that Brandon had been modifying the motorcycle again and wondered what changes he had applied to it this time around.

  "Yes, sir, Mr. Crow. Mom and Dad dropped me off last night." Brandon turned the motorcycle off and removed his helmet, shaking his auburn hair.

  "Another wine tasting?" Jonah asked.

  "Yeah. Hopefully next year they'll be able to host their own wine tasting." Brandon said. His parents were recreational viticulturists with high aspirations of introducing yet another classy vintage into their little circle of wine producers.

  "Well, you tell them the cuttings they gave me are growing great!" Jonah said, smiling widely. Brandon nodded as Jonah noticed another customer coming up to his booth.