4/1: Whoops! I got bogged down by school and thought I had posted this already. My apologies for the wait; this chapter isn't any longer or grander than the others, it's just a quiet sort of conclusion.
Gibbs was the first thing she saw when came through the front door. "He's all right!" she shrieked, just to be able to say it out loud, and bent forward to scoop him up. The frightened cat flattened his ears and raced from the room, so she twirled to the side and reached for Jessa instead, grabbing the dainty forepaws in hers and pulling her up for a waltz. Jess had no love for dancing, but as she pulled her paws out of Kim's hands they balanced on the woman's hips, and the tall Greyhound took the opportunity to lick her owner's face.
Kim was so ecstatic that not even this bothered her, and she continued to whoop victoriously. Her excitable JRT jumped, yipped, and turned near back flips to mirror her enthusiasm, while Betsy grabbed and viciously shook a sock in her efforts to join in on the fun. Shasta stood watching the proceedings with her head cocked curiously to one side, as if trying to understand what strange madness had possessed the room. It was quite some time before Kim regained the power of coherent speech long enough to call family, friends, and anyone else that needed to know.
Later, while lying on her front porch looking at the stars, Bandit jumped onto her chest, chittering happily. She scooped up the raccoon and looked at him. "How come you stayed here, and your two silly sisters went back to the wild? The ingrates. I suppose one of these days you'll find a girlfriend and run off too…" He blinked, then made a noise like a purr and rubbed his head against her hand. She wondered if such feline behaviors were natural, or just the result of hanging around her cats all day. Nevertheless, she was glad to have the soft, comforting weight of his body resting against her as she looked up at the stars, reflecting. True, Tommy would still be in the hospital for a bit longer, but she was more than willing to count down the days until she could say Tommy will be home tomorrow.
It was quiet, for once, as Kim pulled into the driveway. Every dog was tied up inside, lest one overeager animal trip Tommy up as he got out of the car. His knee bowed out at the first attempt to stand, but she pretended not to notice and merely steadied him without comment. She knew he already felt self-conscious about his lack of strength, and though he minded less with her, there remained a streak of stubborn independence.
Kim's house contained a pair of spare bedrooms, but it was the one on the ground floor that she had fixed for him, mindful of the crutch he was still leaning on for support. Suddenly (irrationally) fearful of seeming condescending and overprotective, she watched anxiously as he entered it and looked around.
Tommy had seen most of the house before, but never had occasion to enter this room. It didn't look as though it got much use, but Kimberly's touches were still apparent, including an attractively framed painting he was more than willing to bet bore her signature in the corner.
When he glanced back he found her standing in the doorway, looking suddenly nervous. "Is it OK? I think I got all of the dog and cat hair out of here; I mean, I don't make any promises it will stay that way, but…"
With a warm smile, he crossed the few steps back the doorway, leaned down, and shushed her rambling with a soft kiss. She was more than willing to reciprocate.
Kim left him to settle in while she made dinner, allowing him time to get cleaned up. There were a few minutes left on the cooking timer when she returned to the room, where he was brushing his hair. "Need help?" she asked, cheerfully anticipating his response.
"Nope."
"Not even a little bit?"
"I seem to recall it was your shoulder that was hurt," he mused playfully, still refusing. "Of all the things that were broken on me, I'm pretty sure my arms weren't among them. Besides, I'm almost done."
"Shut up and give me the comb," she ordered, stern tone undone by a laugh. With a sigh, clearly meant to call attention to her exploitation of his long-suffering patience, he relinquished it and sat down on the bed, the only furniture in the room, facing a floor-length mirror. She settled in cross-legged on the mattress behind him and was quiet for a few minutes, concentrating on the task, before speaking.
"Tommy? What do you remember…if you remember anything…about what happened before you woke up?"
"Taking the role of hair stylist seriously, I see."
"I mean it. During the last month."
"The last month where I've been completely unconscious?" he asked, eyes twinkling.
She nudged him impatiently. "Would you please answer the question?"
Finally, he left off the teasing and looked thoughtful. When he spoke, his voice was also somewhat hesitant. "Honestly, I don't know. Everything's basically just a confusing mess, except for one time, just one voice …"
"And?" she pressed, now resting her chin on his shoulder, comb fallen by the wayside.
"And…I'm going to use the excuse that I was having a flashback or something, because I could have sworn it was Dulcea. There, go ahead and laugh," he said, meeting her gaze in the mirror.
"Trust me…I wouldn't laugh," Kim said with quiet conviction, eyes gazing elsewhere with an expression he couldn't read.
Not wanting to break the moment by asking anything further, Tommy merely closed his eyes and turned his head ever so slightly to touch hers.
Perched next to him on the porch bench that night, Kim began to relate the story, or at least as much of it as she understood. While she spoke, Shasta lay faithfully at her master's feet. Wiley climbed into Kim's lap and Gibbs came purring along the top of the bench to drape himself over her shoulder, so Tommy slipped his arm around her waist instead. Both were caught up in the magic of the story, Kim's voice weaving like a dreamcatcher as she spun out the tale, fingers similarly laced with his.
Later, as they slept, a shadowy white bird fluttered through an open window. Silently, it walked toward the dresser and scooped up the now-blank medallion, slipping it over its head, whereupon it flew back outside. It hooted twice, softly. In response, the white crane stalked forward from the shadow of the woods, and the falcon fluttered out from the trees. Together, they spread their wings, bowed as one, and lifted into the air, above the trees and then past the clouds themselves. Three oddly matched birds streaked as a single blur of light into the distance, without a witness, and the sacred trinity left as they had come.
When Kim awoke the next day, she found the medallion gone. Then she knew for certain whom the third bird had been, and in her heart she knew Dulcea had come for it, taking back what she had freely given. Still, without its presence, it was hard to believe the whole thing had not been some figment of her imagination.
A month later, Kim stood with Tommy on the high point of the trail to scatter the ashes of Rebelage. The air was cool, but not terribly chilly, as he released the container. With his arm around her, both watched the horse's remains fluttering down, disappearing from sight, and then she looked at the beauty around her. The scene before her stood as it might have looked a thousand years ago, etched like an oil painting. Deer were hidden somewhere in the depths of the trees, as were foxes and squirrels and rabbits, but her eyes were on the sky, trained on a distant pair of majestic birds of prey. Be they eagles, hawks, or even true falcons, they soared in loops over the sun, their fierce calls a triumphant reminder of everything wild, free, proud…and alive.
a/n: The end, she has been reached. It's been a fun month. I adore everybody that left me such positive reviews (or will leave them in the future); they mean more to me than you know.
Rainbow Stevie