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It’s in those desperate, groggy, lonely hours that the thoughts creep into Lenna’s mind. The visions. Thememories.They growworse and worse, twisting from what really happened on that awful morning into something even more terrible, something involving her son. It’s what happened last night, actually, what made her bolt up in bed, text Rhiannon that she changed her mind, and look up a flight online that left mere hours after she purchased it.
A scraping sound catches her attention. A woman drags Adirondack chairs into a circle around a fire pit full of ash. She wears rubber clogs, and her close-cropped hair is nearly all gray, her torso is thick, and she has bulging blue veins in her calves. She stands up, wincing and clutching at the small of her back. Her forehead is beaded with sweat.
“This is getting harder and harder every year.” She turns to Lenna. “You’re Lenna, right? Rhiannon’s friend? I’m Marjorie!”
The famous Marjorie,Lenna thinks.
“The famous Marjorie,” Rhiannon says.
“Oh please.” Marjorie waves a hand, humble but also proud. “It’s the rest of them who do all the work these days. I just found an ugly heap of land and did something with it.”
“Not so ugly,” Lenna says, gesturing at the mountain, the sky, the phalanx of saguaros. “Your place is beautiful.”
“It’s ‘nowhere like home,’ am I right? In the best of ways, of course.” Marjorie shrugs. “Then again, this place doesn’t belong to mereally. We’re all just guests here. In fact, we regularly acknowledge the people who came before us. Small offerings, a round of songs, that sort of thing.” Rhiannon nods solemnly.
Then Marjorie turns to Lenna again. “So you’re thinking of becoming a resident?”
“Uh…” Lenna feels caught off guard. “No. Sorry. I’m just visiting for a few days.”
“But clearly you’ve come for a reason,” Marjorie says, her gaze unwavering. “This land is very special. It has a way of revealing the truth.”
Lenna’s mouth falls open. She isn’t sure what to say.
“I told her that,” Rhiannon says eagerly. “We’re called here, you know?”
Jacob lets out another wail. Marjorie turns to him. “This one giving you trouble, Lenna?”
“I mean, he’s nottrouble,” Lenna says quickly. “I adore him.”
Marjorie snorts. “I wasn’t questioningthat.But babies under six months are impossible, they cry and you don’t know why! Do you know that my boy cried for days, and eventually we found that he had a hair wound around one of his fingers? We didn’t even see it! Wish he could have told us!”
“Oh my.” Lenna glances at her baby’s fingers, wondering if she’s missed tiny tourniquet hairs. But they seem fine.
Marjorie’s gaze fixes on something over Lenna’s shoulder. The door to the house has opened, and a few more women stream out. Two are chatting boisterously, but as soon as they spy Lenna, they hurry over.
“Hello there!” the first calls, circling her. She is tall and has large, friendly features and strong, square teeth.
The other, a petite, birdlike woman with darker-colored skin, twisted braids, and small eyes with long lashes, approaches, too. “Who’s this?”
Rhiannon acts as ambassador. “Lenna and Jacob, meet Melissa and Amy.”
“Welcome,” Melissa says.Melissa,Lenna thinks. The one who just had the baby. The teacher.
“Aren’t you a cutie?” Amy, the one with the braids, pats Jacob’s head affectionately. Jacob responds with a lazy smile, a rarity. He’s getting drowsy. It’s Lenna’s favorite time with him, because he goes from angry and sobbing to sleepy and almost pliant. She smiles proudly, reveling in the moment of calm.
“Mel teaches the kids reading and science and does a bit ofapothecary work,” Marjorie says. “Amy handles new construction, property upkeep, and teaches health and art. Her daughter is Matilda. You’ll meet her later.”
“And you do all thatandchores?” Lenna asks, incredulous.
Marjorie laughs. “It’s way less than most women do at home!”
A third woman approaches next. She is freckled and sunburned, and has a pixie cut. She wears her sweater sleeves over her hands despite the heat. She gives Lenna a closed-lips smile, unreadable behind her glasses…but not entirely unfriendly. “I’m Ann.”
“Ann’s in charge of our four-legged members,” Marjorie explains. “And the planting.”
“And this is Coral.” Rhiannon points to a young woman with brown eyes, tanned skin, and a kerchief covering her hair—only a few frizzy pieces stick out the bottom. She wears a long hippie skirt, clogs, and rubber cleaning gloves. She’s a slip of a thing, petite with slender limbs and arms. “Our chef extraordinaire.”
“Youcook those meals?” Lenna asks.You’re so young,she wants to add.
