Chapter II

Jacob raised a hand and absently pushed away a stray curl. His head was bent forward over his desk, reading a brief, a harassed public defender dropped there after lunch. The case outlined was not complex but the young attorney seemed to be over his head, seeking a viable defense for a client. His more experienced colleagues had steered him in the direction of Jacob's office where miracles sometimes happened.

Jacob's mind was not fully on his work. His eyes absorbed the written words which implanted ideas and thoughts somewhere in his unconscious but on the surface his brain was littered with visions of his wife twirling in circles and emitting sparks from her body in colours which jumped off her skin like shards of living fire. The whole sequence of events resembled a weird dance with a release of uncontrolled energy. Even more strange was the outpouring of desire which followed. While no healthy male would resist the call to satisfy his wife, Jacob felt as if the lover driving him to ecstasy was not the same woman who made his heart race with love. Because of the uniqueness of their being he felt lost and unable to discuss the strange behaviour with anyone.

The curl fell forward again and he brushed it back with increasing frustration. Jacob knew it was past time to get a haircut. Sue was always ready and willing to perform grooming services for the family. Although the housekeeper had become indispensable in so many other ways, her early years had been spent as a first as a hairdresser then as a practical nurse caring for his comatose mother. After years of personal growth, her multitude of skills were an invaluable resource to the whole family. She often trimmed Jacob's unruly locks. He wasn't sure why there was a hesitation.

Jacob tugged on the errant curl, focusing his mind on the strands of gold for a brief moment. He had read the story of the biblical Sampson and knew that getting a trim was just a matter of accepting his grooming needs and not some event which would render him powerless and yet each time his hair was cut he felt out of sorts for days. The strangeness of the ways in which the mind could absorb one idea and yet hold on to a nonsensical version brought a silly smile to his face.

Mentally laughing off his thoughts and physically shaking off the worry of Cathy's infrequent but troubling metamorphoses into the Diosa persona, he returned to the papers, trying to absorb the inadequate information and knowing immediately that the case could not be won due to an appalling lack of credible evidence. Rising from his desk he went out to the large open room where the PD's were housed. Several men and women were hunched over mounds of paper, books, pencils and laptops trying to find ways to help their clients. In a corner, much like the spot where Jacob settled on his first day on the job, he found the young man, sitting and looking as overwhelmed as he felt.

'Hey Steve, can I talk with you?'

'Yeah, sure Jacob. I guess the information isn't …'

'Let's not start with what it isn't. It is well written but your evidence can't support your case.'

'I just don't know where else to look. My client was caught with stolen goods. He says he doesn't know how they got there and sure his life has been rough but he does day work and odd jobs to make ends meet. He said he doesn't need to steal.'

'Do you believe your client?'

Steve hung his head. 'I don't know. I guess so.'

'Then you shouldn't be defending him. Either you believe what he says and try to find out the chain of events which led him to where he is or accept that he is a felon and work with him to get the best sentence and rehab if he needs it. If you hand this in the way it is, he doesn't have a chance.'

'You mean I should go out and do detective work?'

'I mean you should talk to your client, see what information the police have, then yes, do detective work on his behalf if you need to. Cases don't solve themselves and the prosecutor isn't working for you.'

Jacob dropped the papers on the desk and left. He wasn't unkind but Steve didn't seem to have a clue about his responsibilities. Jacob sighed. He stopped and turned. For a moment, he felt as unsure of where he wanted to go as Steve did about his client's innocence. Instead of returning to his desk immediately he pivoted on his heel and headed towards the office of the Director. He pushed the door ajar and popped his head around the edge to peer into the anteroom.

'Anyone in with the boss?'

'Not like you to drop in Jacob. Is anything wrong?' asked the senior secretary, who seemed to be a perfect fit after a series of empty headed wannabes.'

'Not really. I think I just need a head slap.'

'What? You? Well if that's what you really want you've come to the right place. Just a sec, I'll let him know.'

Jacob offered a half smile and pushed back on the stray curl for the umpteenth time, swearing under his breath as he did so. Within a few seconds he found himself standing in front of Oats, wondering why he elected to disturb his busy boss.

'Well Mohammed to the mountain…what's buggin you?' Oats said barely looking up from the papers on his desk.

'A lack of commonsense! It's fairly basic Oats. You can't defend if you don't make a case. Steve just gave me a pile of sh...'

'Don't say it! Your profanity restraint is one thing I can admire.'

'I think I am moving more towards your way of talking.'

Oats held his tongue. Jacob rarely swore and seldom came to his office. When silence followed the Director pulled off his glasses and invited his assistant to sit.

'To be honest, I was aware of some inadequacies. I was planning on implementing a change. I didn't intend to share it with you just yet but I think it will solve the problem of interns and new grads being unprepared and unmotivated.' Oats stared straight ahead at Jacob. There was a clear challenge in his eyes.

'Aw c'mon Kurt. You aren't going to give me more work are you?'

'More is relative to time and space. Once a month I want you to do some prepping with the new guys. Just pick a topic and review...kind of like a case study. These guys have to get on the ball. I see a trend I don't like and Steve is just a symptom.'

Oats expected a challenge to his directive. More than anyone in the office, he was aware of the unique burdens Jacob had to shoulder at home. In between, the hours he worked in the public defender's office consumed much of his life. That the young man said little, worried him more than an outright refusal.

'What's up Wells? That look on your face is saying something to me.' The long pause and troubled face required a prompt. 'Your Mother?'

Jacob grunted and shook his head.

Despite the outer presentation of a bully, Oats brusque demeanor hid a warm and caring heart which barely concealed a longstanding respect and admiration for Jacob's courageous mother. Relieved that Catherine was not the object of Jacobs concern he turned his attention to the other woman of importance to both of them. Oats' feelings for the abandoned young woman who had once been his most efficient secretary only grew with each passing year. Giving away Cathy on her wedding day, to the young man seated in front of him, had been one of the few real pleasures of his life.

'Don't tell me that Cathy is sick?' he demanded.

'No. I can't say she's sick, but she is different.'

That Jacob's distraction had its roots in the marriage, troubled the director immensely. He said nothing, hoping that Jacob would feel safe in unburdening his concerns.

'Listen, I know that everything she has suffered through these past two years has been extraordinary.' Jacob looked up waiting for the confirming nod before continuing. 'This power which has come to her seems almost uncontrollable.'

'What do you mean? Is she acting crazy? Like a dog with a bone or more like a rabid dog?'

'Really Oats, your dog references are bizarre.'

'Yeah, I know but I understand dogs. Women no!'

Despite feeling some discomfort discussing his wife, Jacob laughed derisively. 'No, she's none of those things.'

'In heat maybe?'

'Kurt!'

'Listen Jacob, I have had three wives and while I have no doubt that you are up to the task, sometimes women have these funny urges. I know you got this strange family thing with kids but maybe she's coming into her time.'

Jacob was thoughtful and did not dismiss Oats words right away. Neither did he want to reveal too much, even to someone he knew he could trust. Family issues were one matter, intimacy another.

'We talked about having kids. We didn't feel ready yet,' he compromised.

'Sometimes the body and mind are not in agreement. In your case, with your history, there may be elements out there which are deciding for you.'

Jacob nodded. Some part of him thought the same. Cathy was unaware of the vibes she gave off when the power entered her body but when she had intellectual control, the birth control pill was popped into her mouth without fail every night. 'Thanks Oats. I'm not sure I could have had this conversation with my Dad, but I appreciate your ...uh...outspokenness.'

'No problem kid. So let's talk about this project to rehabilitate my staff.

Oats was all business again.


Cathy paced herself along the uptown street. She had done her homework. A dress style which seemed suited to her mood was shown to be available in a small exclusive store. She didn't want to intentionally exclude Catherine from the shopping spree but her mother-in-law had been under the weather from the stress of Susanna's retaliation and the task of taking on the committee's work. While Catherine needed additional time to rest, those same events caused Cathy to become invigorated. For the past few weeks however, she felt limited in her ability to match the role thrust on her. Instead of shrinking away from the awesome responsibility, she tried hard to remember the strength which carried her through so much of her troubled childhood. She thought of her mother who gave birth to her and Holly under the most trying circumstances. Even though Cathy struggled to accept the limitations of Lena's horrific lifestyle, finding her two amazing grandparents in the past year, brought her mother to life in a different way and added to her strength.

An early morning telephone conversation with her grandmother in Canada, brought forth some of that positive energy. Armed with a picture of the perfect dress lodged firmly in her mind and on her cell phone, and the location of the store on her Google map, she found the destination and opened the door, breathing in deeply. An impossibly thin woman, wearing a beautifully cut sheath dress, approached her with barely a smile.

'Madame?'

Cathy paused, not liking the tone. She remembered the obsequious and fawning man at the store where Catherine shopped. She was hoping for more of the same.

'I saw a dress which I would like.'

'We only do fittings by appointment. Did you book a time with our couturier?

'I didn't. I know what I want. I don't need to be fitted.'

'Madame we design everything individually for the client. You WILL have to be fitted.'

Cathy could feel something inside of her rise. The woman wasn't mean but the tone and delivery sent all of Cathy's confidence right back to the tips of her high heeled shoes. As quickly as the feeling sank into her feet, she felt it reverse direction almost immediately and rise like heat in her body. She stared at the woman in front of her, straining with everything inside, to avoid what she could now recognize as a power surge. Cathy said nothing.

Even if she wasn't aware of her behaviour during those events, Cathy knew the outcome and had no desire to track down her busy husband. The woman was not a threat. Somewhere in the recess of her mind she sought for something to trigger a control mechanism. In her clasped fingers she gripped the ring which Jacob had given her, pressing the stones into her flesh. She saw the tree where Jacob had offered her the ring as a unique tool to facilitate inner communication. Her breathing slowed and she stared into the ice blue eyes of the strange woman. Cathy watched in amazement as they softened and changed colour.

'I can help you if you follow me. Come this way.'

Cathy was taken aback. She looked around to see if there was someone behind her.

'Madame?'

It took just seconds to sink in. If she could control the power surge, whatever the trigger, she could also stall its inevitable flow outward with some focused effort. Judging by the look on the face of the woman, change could happen slowly and more effectively, if she could just get it organized. Still holding on to her fragile self, she created an awareness of every fibre of her body, stilling any further outward movement by sheer will. At the same time she had no wish to send the wrong message to Jacob. There must be an in between force which gave her more control. The revelation was enlightening. Instead of accepting the women's offer, Cathy tilted her head to one side.

'As you said, I don't have an appointment. Thank you.'

She turned and left without another word. The same street which she had just walked appeared different. Almost without thinking she sent a text to Jacob assuring him that she was fine. He would have known about her telepathically, but Cathy sensed that she had found some measure of strength. She could be in command of the energy which threatened to overwhelm her at the strangest moments. There was no need for Jacob to protect her. She picked up her pace, ignoring everyone and headed towards the building which housed the women's rescue center that she and Holly had organized in honour of their mother Lena.

Cathy should never have tried to move away from the norms in her life. Erin, Holly's mother in law was more than capable of making any dress, especially a dream dress. At the entrance, she pushed the code buttons on the wall and entered the foyer to be greeted by the sights and sounds of a busy women's shelter and mini clothing factory.

In a far off corner, she spotted Holly, with her baby son secured tightly at her bosom. The length of colorful cloth wrapped around her slim body, kept the sleeping infant close to her warmth. Cathy observed the young mother, not as her sister but in a role which consumed most of Holly's waking day. In spite of the demands of the women's centre and plenty of help at home Holly rarely left her infant son with anyone, except his paternal grandmother Erin and a trusted nanny. Cathy felt a pang which she suppressed, turning her attention instead to Erin.

Keeping her focus on the dress, she hailed the busy dressmaker.

'What would you be needing?' Erin asked in her straightforward way.

Cathy took out her cell phone picture and handed it to Erin. 'This, if you think it will look good on me?'

'You can wear anything. What you up to?'

'Something to dance in.'

Erin raised her eyebrows but said nothing more. She gave Cathy a knowing look from head to foot, before walking away. Cathy wondered about the look but ignored it and made her way to the office upstairs. Behind the closed door, she buried her face in her hands, feeling near to tears but refusing to acknowledge any weakness. 'There was already enough to go around' she thought remembering Catherine's limited energy. Jacob was stretched to the limit of his own personal resources trying to do so much. Cathy knew she couldn't hide what she was feeling forever. As expected, it wasn't long before there was a knock at the door.

Holly entered without the sleeping baby. She meant business.

'You know what's going on with you. Why are you running away from it?'

'Holly, please! I am not ready.'

'But your body is. The rest comes with the experience.'

'You have had a lifetime to get ready for this. I haven't.'

'A lifetime? What are you talking about?'

'I'm talking about this energy that feels like its choking me.'

Holly fell silent. She observed her sister with a curious eye. 'We have clan responsibilities. So far, the demands have not been overwhelming. Whoever is out there, needing to challenge us, still waits. Your energy force has nothing to do with an external source. What you are feeling is an inner pull to fulfill your other role.'

'No Holly.'

'Then accept the consequences of a drive, clearly being misplaced, compelling you to act in ways that are...' Holly threw up her hands and left as quickly as she had come.

Cathy stared at the back of her sister who had turned on her heel, pony tail waving, as she walked out the door. She tried to stifle a laugh. Holly's warning seemed melodramatic. Outside of their ritual meetings, the younger woman was very much a modern feminist. She no longer wore the black wig that her father had forced on her to cover up the gold hair which was a mark of the chosen ones. Holly and Jacob were so much alike. Cathy was different in appearance and yet they all carried the same gene pool of strange skills and weird power.

Cathy ran a nervous tongue over dry lips. She spun around in the desk chair, facing the wall. It was unadorned discouraging invitations to stay and chat. She realized that a lovely office encouraged the women to linger on and on allowing counselling sessions to extend well beyond the allotted time. In order to be helpful she had to often call a halt. Looking at the stark wall painted in a vague beige colour offered nothing but a moment of peace and quiet. Cathy continued to stare at it becoming mesmerized by the nothingness. Almost without thought, she raised her arms and wrapped them around her upper body; a self-hug to stave off the uncertainty.

She longed to close her eyes and rest but a need kept her focused on the nothing. Very soon she could hear soft unrecognizable sounds. It wasn't musical but carried on the imaginary wind like a soft pipe. Before long, an image realized itself in a scene which Cathy immediately recognized. Veneranda and Theodoric! Cathy shed some tears for the love story which filled her dreams for months. Last time she saw the couple, Theodoric had been wounded and Veneranda kept him alive long enough to pull his weakened body into the phosphorous pool in an effort to save his life.

It wasn't long after that Jacob was shot by Susanna. Cathy, like Veneranda, held his wound and guided him home, washing his body from head to foot and offering her love to help heal both the physical and emotional wounds inflicted on him and his mother. She was thankful for the dream-state lesson which enabled her to act to save her husband, knowing without any training or skill that her energy, manifested through the hands of the Diosa could speed healing in real time. Without realizing it, Cathy's hands dropped from around her shoulders to her belly. Unknown to her, the life barely stirring in its depths, felt comforted.

The image on the wall changed as Cathy perceived her guide, not just as a disembodied voice but in a vision.

'Amatrice', she whispered.

'Cathy, my child, don't be afraid of all life has to offer. You must accept your time in all things. I will not fail you. Trust that you will be cared for and guided. Close your eyes now. I must give you my blessing.'

Cathy did as she was told. She felt her body go limp, as if she lost all power. Once she surrendered to the guide, the touch, as light as gossamer, lingered on her head, her breasts, her belly and at her feet before it swirled back up and around her legs, thighs, and body, much like a whirlwind. Breathing in softly and slowly, she waited for some minutes before opening her eyes. She had not moved but something had shifted in her body. Uncaring of events outside her room and beyond, she slept peacefully.