“I do. Go on.”
But before she could I heard someone slip through the door behind me. It was Opari. She saw the girl and the rose, then walked over and took my hand in hers.
“You are Opari, no?” the girl asked.
“Yes,” Opari answered and glanced at me.
“Mowsel has told me your name. My name is Arrosa Arginzoniz. I am the last of the tribe of Caristies, protectors of the Stone of Silence.” She paused.
“Unai,” Opari whispered. “That was Unai’s Stone. Now it is carried by Nova Gaztelu.”
“Yes,” the girl said.
I turned to Opari. “Arrosa was telling me she has a message and a warning from Mowsel. She says three of us are in danger. One you know well, as did your sister.”
“Ah, yes,” Opari said, knowing I meant Sailor.
“Who are the other two?” I asked Arrosa.
“Unai and Usoa,” she answered without hesitation.
I stared up at her for a full three seconds, then eased closer so I could see her eyes.
“You know them well, don’t you, Arrosa?”
“Yes, señor. They are also my godparents. My father was Aita. He…” Suddenly she let out a long sigh and the white rose dropped to the floor.
“This sounds complicated,” I said, “and you look tired.” I glanced at Opari and she understood. “Would you be able to leave this dance troupe now, Arrosa? And I really mean now. Can you gather your things and go with us? Stay with us while you tell us everything? Also, there is someone who needs to meet you and you her. I think she has already sensed your presence anyway. Can you come with us?”
She took a deep breath and seemed to be relieved of a great burden. “Thank you, señor. I will welcome the rest and I have much to say, much to ask.” She peeked behind her. “Give me one minute,” she said.
She was back and carrying a single suitcase in less than a minute, more like thirty seconds. She smiled down at both of us. “Thank you again. It is my honor.”
“And ours,” Opari said.
We turned to leave, and from somewhere in the semidarkness, I heard Mitch’s voice and a girl’s voice coming toward the backstage exit. “Go ahead,” I told Opari. “I’ll catch up. I want to thank Mitch for the evening.” Opari agreed, saying she would tell Owen of the change in plans. I turned back to wait for Mitch.
Mitch’s voice was calm, yet he seemed to be almost scolding the girl, not like an employee or dancer, but like a daughter. The girl was whining and begging him to let her stay. The two of them finally got to the stage door and stood under the red light.
“You can’t be hidin’ in here anymore. I told you a hundred times already,” Mitch said as he started to open the door. I was only twelve feet away, but neither he nor the girl had seen me yet.
“But how else will I learn? I got to learn the steps,” the girl complained.
“Not yet, you don’t. And not in my place.” Mitch opened the door. “You got to go. I mean now, right now.”
She started to leave, then spun around and leaned back into the light. That’s when she and I made eye contact. She was just a kid, maybe thirteen or slightly older, and she smiled at me—a genuine, ear-to-ear grin that radiated mischief and joy. I smiled back. Mitch noticed me and gently pushed her out the door.
Without ever mentioning the girl, he walked over and asked how everything went and I told him the “white rose” was coming home with us for a few days. He then asked how I liked the club, the sound of the band, and the tribute. I told him it was a great and glorious evening and all of us appreciated his generosity. I waited for him to volunteer some information about what I had just seen, then realized he was not going to offer any, but I was too curious.
“Who was the girl, Mitch?”
“Aw, just some girl from around here. She won’t stay out of my club, and I can’t allow it, Z.”
“What’s her name?”
“I call her ‘Tumpy,’” Mitch said, “but her name is Josephine.” He went on to tell me she was a good kid who had probably seen too much too soon and wanted out of her home and out of St. Louis. He was trying to help her, but she was anxious and he was worried she wouldn’t wait.
Fifteen minutes later we were in the Packards and on our way to Carolina’s. I was riding in the same car with Carolina and Arrosa. Carolina had readily accepted and welcomed Arrosa into her home, and she was in deep discussion with her about the new music the band had been playing. What did she think of the improvisations? What was it called, or did it even have a name? Arrosa answered with a word I had never heard before. She called it “jazz.”
Nova rode in the other car on purpose. She had acted nervous when Opari and I introduced the girl to everyone at the table, then I watched her consciously wait for Arrosa to step into our Packard before she scurried to the other one. I asked Geaxi to ride with her and explain to her what Sailor had explained to me years earlier when he introduced me to my Basque protectors and my Aita, Kepa Txopitea. “You come to them,” he said, “they do not come to you.” Nova seemed a little more like herself once we got to Carolina’s, but something was still bothering her. However, it had been a long day and night and I decided to talk to her about it another time.
The size and opulence of the big house astounded Arrosa. As Owen and Carolina showed her upstairs to her room, she was genuinely humbled and thanked Carolina profusely, saying she might sleep forever in such a comfortable place. Carolina said she certainly hoped that didn’t happen because Ciela would have a hearty St. Louis breakfast ready and waiting for everyone in the morning.
A short while later, Opari and I were also turning out the lights. Opari whispered, “The first day of April in America is a beautiful day, no?”
I laughed and agreed, but as I lay back on the pillow, over and over in my head, I kept hearing Jack’s voice saying, “Hey, Z, your shoe’s untied…your shoe’s untied.”
At breakfast we mostly made small talk. Everyone who was living in the house was present except Nova. Several times during the meal Arrosa complimented Ciela, at one point saying, “I have only tasted flavors like this in the small Cuban neighborhoods of New York.” Ciela laughed and kept the food coming. “Sí, sí,” she said, “es verdad, es verdad.” After breakfast I found Nova and asked if we could talk somewhere. She said she wanted to talk to me, too, and we strolled out to the “Honeycircle,” where the crocuses were still wet with dew. We walked over to Baju’s sundial and within minutes I knew I’d been wrong about why Nova had acted nervous around Arrosa. Nova had seen something the moment Arrosa stepped onstage at Mitch’s. She said when she looked at the white rose Arrosa was wearing, her real vision blurred and another reality, another vision, took its place. In this alternate vision Nova saw Arrosa’s throat being cut. The knife was flashing in bright sunlight, making it difficult for her to clearly see the one with the knife, but she could make out three things: the attacker was Meq, he had green eyes, and he wore two red ruby earrings. There were other images in the vision that came into focus and blurred again, including a gold mask and eyes that never close, a bleeding rose, and torches moving through airless darkness. Nova said she snapped out of it only after Arrosa left the stage. She asked me what it might mean and before I could even respond, I felt the old prickly feeling of the net descending. I didn’t know what the other images meant, but there was just one who could be the one with the knife—the Fleur-du-Mal. But what would he be doing attacking a young Basque girl, who meant nothing to him, in a vision of someone who has never seen him and probably never heard of him? I knew he was unpredictable, but it made no sense whatsoever. Also, I had to respect Nova’s “ability,” and yet I wondered if she could sometimes get it wrong, like Ray. Nova’s “ability” was the most baffling to me of all the varieties we possess. Even she seemed bewildered by it. Was she able to see real events to come, or did she see symbols of events; feelings and projections of her own fears and demons? And time was never part of the vision. For all I knew, each vision could be in some sort of dreamtime that has nothing to do with real events. However, if the Fleur-du-Mal was even remotely connected, I could not afford to ignore any “vision.”