Blake stepped into the secret garden for the first time. He walked to Nancy’s Tree, knelt and began to weep softly. At first, only a solitary gentle tear, as he was man enough to suppress the others. But then, the angel appeared and placed her loving touch on his left shoulder, opening the dam of tears to drench the soil. The angel knelt beside him as the girls played in the corner with a pair of frogs that Angelica had introduced them to. She draped her arm around Blake’s shoulders, taking great pains to not press down on his neck. He collapsed his head in her bosom and reached around to hold her as dearly and closely as if she was the most treasured being in the universe. He tried to look up to her, to meet her eyes, but the lead weight of shame pushed his eyes down and kept them subservient. Still, he began to speak through the tears. “I’m so, so sorry, Angelica.” The first words brought more tears from Blake, more stroking from Angelica, as she listened and tried to understand.
“I’ve just–” the tears took over, momentarily getting the best of Blake. This was no football game, no opposing crowd. He couldn’t block this out, couldn’t block out this pain. Most importantly, he couldn’t shift the blame to someone else. He had to accept the tears and the remorse. “I’ve just—been wrong about everything,” he said. “And you were right about everything, about how we should live our life. I’ve just done so much that’s wrong.” The stream of tears flowed as Blake was in the midst of a powerful confession, both confessing his sins and giving himself at the same time. Giving himself to God, he felt, but more important to him, giving himself to Angelica.
She held and stroked his head.
“There, there,” she said, just as all mothers and caregivers say in times of comfort, “it’s okay. It’ll all be all right.”
Blake fought through the tears, realizing that he hadn’t told Angelica everything. Hadn’t told her nearly everything. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I’ve done some awful things. I’ve been—on the mountain, just back up that ways a bit, I’ve been–” Blake broke down, saying no more and keeping his finger pointed high on the mountain where he had built the sheds, built the fences that held the pigs. Pigs that had now unleashed this deadly plague, this trail of death that led straight back to him.
“There, there,” she said. Blake straightened up. He looked into Angelica’s soft eyes. The hard part was over, he felt. He had confessed, he had told her. The secrets were mostly out, but not entirely out.
“Angelica, I feel like I am the one who unleashed this storm. Everything you saw on TV last night, all that stuff with Nick.” He paused; not wanting to say what he knew was true. “That was me,” he said. “I just want to fix it, to get out of this mess so we can live our life just the way you want.” He took her hand. “Can we? Can you forgive me?” Blake forced back the storm of tears that swelled beyond the dam of his eyes.
Angelica stood as Blake knelt at her feet. She stroked one of Nancy’s branches with her left hand before turning her gaze back to Blake and taking his chin in her right hand. “Blake,” she said, “sometimes God calms the storm and sometimes He lets the storm rage to calm the child.”
She glanced at the girls to make sure they were content and looked back to Blake. “You do what you have to do, Blake, and God will sort you out. You need His forgiveness, not mine. I will be where I belong.”
Blake rose before her and cupped his hand behind her head and stroked her hair. He pushed his tears back and looked at the tree. “So, this is Nancy’s Tree?” he asked.
“Yes!” she said. “Isn’t she a beautiful young woman?”
Blake smiled. He had troubles that lay before him, he knew that. But he now had a peace within him thanks to Angelica’s amazing gift. “Yes, she certainly is,” he said. “What’s this contraption over here in the center?” Blake pointed to a large circle of stones at the center of the garden. Within the circle, thirty-six stones outlined four segments, creating pathways to the center.
“That’s my medicine wheel,” Angelica said. “I gathered the large rocks for the circle from the stream and planted various medicinal herbs in each of the four quadrants.”
Blake pretended to be interested, but was already confused. “What’s it for?” he asked.
Angelica smiled. “Oh you’d be surprised what I can use it for,” she said. “Our Cherokee ancestors relied on these for a great many things, but this morning I used it to harness healing energies.”
“Why?” Blake asked. “Heal what, who?” Angelica looked at Blake sternly and placed the palm of her hand against his chest. As she touched his heart she closed her eyes and spoke. “I feel,” she said, “trouble brewing around me, Blake. And I will summon the help I need to repel it and protect the innocent and those I love.” She opened her eyes slowly and pulled her hand from Blake’s chest. Blake stood motionless, as if he had survived a spell.
“Uh...listen,” he said, shaking his head in awe of Angelica, “I have one more thing I have to do to clean up this mess I’ve made. I have to take the farm truck and go now, but I’ll be back for dinner with you and the girls.” He leaned and kissed her on the forehead and began walking down the path. As he did, he turned to see Angelica standing in the middle of the circle, facing south with her arms held wide and her head tilted back. It reminded Blake of a human crucifix.
Hidden in the bushes thirty yards behind Angelica stood Ozzie, who had found his way down to the secret garden for reasons that were beyond him. He stood and watched the man and woman speak in twisted tongues, but the man had gone now and Ozzie began to wander. At the other end of the path Blake got into the F100 to ascend the mountain one last time.
Boom! Pow! Belch!
Ozzie stopped suddenly as he heard the monster cry, every hair on his back standing erect. Without hesitation, he spun around and sprinted in that direction. Blake gave the truck gas and ground the gears as he put it into reverse and took off down the driveway. Ozzie bolted out of the bushes and ran straight past Angelica, chasing his monster down the winding path.
Chapter 29
Ozzie burst onto the front lawn just as Blake turned left from the driveway onto Hale Ridge and began driving up the narrow road. As he heard the sound of the truck climb the road and turn left, Ozzie took a shortcut through the woods to intercept the monster.
Blake disappeared around a curve a half-mile above his driveway just as the sheriff appeared around a curve a quarter mile below his driveway. Lonnie turned into Blake’s drive and parked next to Blake’s 2010 F-150. Lonnie got out and knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. When there was no answer he walked around the house, but found no one. He looked at his watch: 11:10 a.m. Lonnie walked to the front door and took out his pen. He wrote the following note and left it pinned in the kitchen door.
“Angelica, please call my office ASAP. Sheriff Lonnie Jacobs.”
He started walking back to his car. A mile up Hale Ridge, Blake turned left on an abandoned logging road. As he did, the old F100 backfired loudly. Ozzie heard the sound from only a quarter mile away and increased his pace, running through thickets with ease.
In Blake’s driveway, Lonnie stopped at his car door as he heard the faint backfire from up the mountain. Normally it would probably not have registered with him, but it sounded like an old farm truck. He thought about the old farm truck he had seen in the Facebook picture less than an hour before. Lonnie got in his car, and instead of turning right on Hale Ridge to return to Clayton, he turned left to climb toward Rabun Bald.