Natani said nothing. He helped me up and I started to brush off.
“It's lonesome in the saddle since my horse died,” M'Lady Two sang, and the three of them walked away laughing.
Natani stared after them, his eyes dark. Then he tilted his head as if he heard something and looked off to the right where some clouds slid beside each other, the bellies of them all dark.
“She flicked a lighter, Natani. She frightened Wind Song.”
He nodded. “I saw.” He continued to stare out at theclouds. “The wind is angry. There will be thunder inside us. That will be enough for today.”
What does that mean? I wondered. I stood there and watched as he led Wind Song back to the stables. I was so angry and frustrated. Maybe that was what he meant by the thunder inside us. There was enough inside me to cause a flood, but all I did was mumble curses under my breath as I went to the showers to clean off the manure as best I could.
Afterward, I told Robin and Teal what I had done and what had happened. I also told them what Natani had said as he looked off at some dark clouds in the distance. Gia was nearby and listened, but these days she was more introverted than ever. She kept her distance, kept to herself as if she was afraid we would do or say something that interfered with her thoughts. Sometimes, I would catch her pausing in her work, staring at the hacienda, her lips moving, but no sounds coming from her. After a while she would realize I was watching her and she would return to work.
At dinner she was no less quiet and to herself. She ate, did her chores, spoke only when she had to speak, then returned to the barn barracks where she read over what she had written in her notebook, did some homework, and went to sleep. She was going to sleep earlier and earlier each night. Robin asked me about her. She and Teal had noticed the dramatic changes, too, but whenever I asked Gia if she wanted us to do anything, she shook her head and said nothing. Once she did say, “Not now.”
Did she mean she wanted nothing now or nothing was wrong now?
I assumed her behavior might have a lot to do with Mindy and how much she missed her. Despite the wayshe used to snap at her and criticize her, Mindy was still closer to her than we were. It made sense. She had spent more time with her. Occasionally, I would see her staring at Mindy's cot, but even her staring was different now. She seemed to be seeing things. Her eyes would grow larger and smaller, her lips would move, and sometimes she would shake her head or nod slightly. She was so intense about it, she was lost in it. The barn could fall down around us, and she would still be standing there, looking at that empty cot, I thought. She heard nothing, would respond to no one, and then, when she was finished, just turn and curl up on her cot.
Didn't Dr. Foreman see these changes in her? I wondered.
Every day after we had returned from our desert ordeal, I anticipated some sort of therapy session with Dr. Foreman, either with the three of us or one at a time, but she wasn't around as much. We didn't see her at dinner for three nights in a row, but we did see the van coming and going with her.
“She's probably working on replacements, not that I have any high hopes about us being released any too soon,” Robin said.
I imagined she was right. There did seem to be a new stirring about the ranch. The buddies were on our backs less and more to themselves, one day going off on a so-called R-and-R trip and returning laden with lots of goodies, I was sure. They were too happy and light-hearted. We didn't dare go to the back of the house to spy on them, but we had little doubt they were partying.
And then, a little more than two weeks after our return, it happened.
We would spend many hours reviewing the details, trying to make some sense of it. We would also spend alot of our energy trying to forget it. It would be the stuff from which nightmares were made. Every scream I heard thereafter would nudge the memories and fill me with cold shudders. The same would be true for Robin and Teal, maybe even more so, especially for Teal. There was never a question about her being the weakest of the three of us, the most thin-skinned, although by the time this was over, she was probably as hard as a turtle shell compared to the friends she had and the friends she would make.
Natani once told me that life, time, experiences, spin more and more of the cocoon around you, insulating you against more of the same in the future or anything that can hurt you.
“We are truly like trees,” he said. “As their bark thickens and they grow taller, wider, so do we.”
I suppose it was his way of telling me not to be afraid of life, but to profit from it, to always be a student, to never turn my back on anything. One of the first things he had told us when we had first arrived was “I know you are not happy. But you must remember that life's sorrows often bring great joys.” With that attitude, he would never be depressed, never be sad very long. It made him as strong as the tree trunk he sometimes resembled.
It's no exaggeration to say that sometimes a series of events or even a single event would make you feel as if you had passed through a lifetime. That night was one of those times. It seemed to last forever, and for
