She scanned Holy Rood through the open window like a searchlight at a prison break. He pulled up under a tree. She stood there and inhaled a silent, imperceptible yoga breath. “It’s a beautiful place.” He took her hand and led her through the grass between a row of graves. From thirty feet away, she pointed to the place where Damien was buried and looked at Jesse. He said, “Yes.”
They stood side by side and looked at the stone. She knelt down and he walked off to sit cross-legged in the grass and watch. He felt as if she’d known him as she prayed her silent prayer. She stood and picked up the leather bag she’d unslung and took out an elk-skin pouch as Jesse came to her side. She pulled the drawstring and extracted three small stones. Putting them in his palm, she said, “I brought them from the high plains where our Native American friends live. They’ve been blessed. I’d like to leave them on his stone…if it’s all right.”
“It’s all right.”
As she moved to place them there, he said, “What made you bring them?”
“To put them here.”
She took his hand. They stood in silence. The mystery of the place sounded softly in the whistle of the wind through the tall grass and the moan of interlacing boughs. Damien’s scent was there. Before he could turn to see if Holly was aware, Zack was standing there, looking at them with a twinkle in his eye. Jesse looked at Holly. She knew he was there and that Jesse was seeing him. She squeezed his hand and followed his gaze. Jesse saw him raise his hand and describe a little arc with his forefinger as a cool adios. Then he was gone.
A Mexican guitarist strummed while they studied the menu, a huge salt-rimmed Margarita in front of Holly and a shot of Tequila and a beer at Jesse’s place. He put the menu down and looked at her. “Sometimes…I see him. I mean I really see him. Not just in my mind. He’s standing right there in front of me. I know it sounds loony.”
“Not to me.”
“Have you seen your brother like that?”
“I was three thousand miles away when he died. He came and stood right in front of me just before I got the phone call telling me what had happened. I’ve seen him several times since.”
“Damien has spoken to me. Not words from his lips…but…I don’t really hear them with my ears. But they are thoughts…and they come into me somehow. Do you know what you want?”
“A burrito.”
On the way home, the warm dusk had deepened into amorous darkness. He reached across and stroked her shoulder. “How do you feel about sleeping out under the stars?”