Dragon Carrier Part One Treasure State

By Behenel Kharsma

Vaquella has struggled her entire life being different in the cow-town of Castern, Montana. Always the enigma and outcast, a silent and un-acknowledged force of nature and otherworldly knowledge. Forced to return to the hometown that never accepted or liked her, she is left reeling from divorce from a malignant narcissist that left her life shattered and bankrupt in every way humanly possible. Vaquella not only deals with living with her mother and raising her son as a single mom with a parenting plan to a malignant narcissist, not being able to find a job in the town she was raised in and forced back to by divorce several years ago, now the esoteric, the Dragon Realm calls gently and insistently to her.
Set in the rugged Rocky Mountains of Southwest Montana in the high desert cow-town of Castern, Dragon Carrier: Part One, Treasure State, introduces Vaquella and her life's story, and the beginning of the Dragon Realm gently calling Vaquella back to herself and the discovery of new purpose.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Behenel Kharsma
• Release date: Dec 5, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201234089

Behenel Kharsma

Raised in southwestern Montana, Behenel fell in love with the Rocky Mountains at an early age and still finds awe and inspiration in them with every sun rise and sun set. Always the creative soul, she reached for inspiration for her next source of creativity in writing. First published as a child poet in the Montana based magazine Ghost Town Quarterly, she has co-written in the Western series, The Big Muddy, with Chris Hoffert. Her first solo writing has been with the Dragon Carrier series, based in both Montana and Ireland. Behenel started off in college with a vocal performance degree at The University of Montana in Missoula Montana and finished with her degree in Native American Studies from BHSU in Spearfish, South Dakota. Her precocious son keeps her on her feet and is her continued inspiration to be the best human she knows how to be. She enjoys fishing and camping with her son, hiking through the woods and finding peaceful profound moments of the soul. Behenel defines herself as "quirky with a side of awesomeness."​ Some of her favorite authors are Gary Zukav, Maya Angelou, Kent Nerburn and Christopher Paolini.

Book preview

Prologue 

9

And YOU! You’re the last of your bloody kind! Yelled a man who looked more stark raving savage monster than human. He wore heat hardened leather armor covers over the main parts of his body, a few patches of home spun cloth showed through and under the armor. Spurts of animal hair adorned his shoulders like epaulets and his face and arms were covered with black paint made from charcoal, ochre, and animal fat. His hair was a divine mess any rat would be proud of and in his eyes was something almost inhuman, as if someone or thing had taken over. He was covered in dragon blood and spurred on by hate fueled by weak minds, inept human hearts and a new religion. Several men and a few boys that made up the hunting party all raised their weapons and yelled their praise and support of his words. One man in strange, dark, long robes that hit the ground, held something chain like in his hands and was whispering something almost audible under his breath.

"And I’ll take heart in knowin’ that I rid the Earth of you disgusting, foul, demons!" Yelled the same man who looked a human mess. The sky cracked the lament of a thousand screams as lightning made the dusk sky bright as day for a split second. Thunder bounced off the adjoining hills and mountains as the earth itself screamed back it’s weeping to the sky. It was appropriate that rain was coming down in cold and spiteful sheets as if the sky itself was crying for the moaning red orange dragon held down by chains and thick ropes of leather and dried plants. She was pierced by arrows with both metal and rock points and large lances and sharpened trees that rivaled the size of a man’s arm in diameter.

She was called Light Of The Morning, Sunset, and Sunrise, Last Light Of Day Falling On Clouds. She had witnessed the murder of her entire species by the one she was made to protect and bring to the Sacred. The betrayal she and her own had witnessed and were victim to was beyond pain and apology. And now. Now she was the last of Dragons in flesh on earth, and she was dying, soon to be shamelessly and unapologetically murdered. Her breath trembled as her heart beat raggedly. Humans were indeed sealing their own fate, she thought as the yelling bedraggled looking man grabbed a long-handled battle axe and walked toward her head and held it above his own. She felt her end near and screamed.  

Howl demon, hooowl! The disheveled man yelled maniacally. We are done with your kind! And with his words, the axe fell, lightning lit the sky, and thunder could be felt through all planes of existence, and all realms of Earth.

Day and Night, Yin and Yang, in some parts of the world they were called. Good and Bad, Male and Female. Twin Dragons born of the energy and essence of the Twin Stars. They were two that made one, and one that made a whole. Compliments of each other, perfect balance. And the scene that they were witnessing below them at the edge of a cliff and forest below was anything but balance.

The Twins watched in horror, hovering between the material, solid plane of existence humans now occupied, and the next plane, the Dragon Realm. Men gathered around Light Of The Morning, Last Light Of Day Falling On Clouds, with clubs and spears and weapons the Twins had only felt and seen through the other Dragon’s shared memories and thoughts and experiences and the infrequent excursions around Gaia the two of them took to check in on the growth of the Two Legged Pieces of God. The humans below bore a strange symbol with them on a flapping piece of cloth held up by two sticks that a young man carried. The symbol felt odd, it was somehow very solid, rigid and confining where there had once been flowing love and effervescence and light. It was two lines crossing, but also ending abruptly, one only slightly longer than the other. It had no natural feel to it as if the Earth herself found it perverse and confusing. It felt like death and confinement, and it was unlike anything humans had worn or placed importance on ever before.

Day screamed to silenced human ears as Night held around her with his presence. Siblings that were two in one and of each other, completion. Eons ago they chose to ascend. They were no longer Dragons of flesh in the solid human realm, but energy, intention, and emotion, an ascension of the flesh they had once been. Night wept as he held his sister, feeling her soul wrenching screams that now only dragons and those of their realm could hear.

"Noooo! NOOOOOO! You were ours...we were yours! Protect. Love."  Day sobbed and screamed, but human ears only heard thunder raging in the rain. "You cant!... please... don’t! Last. Only." Her thoughts whispered to those few who could hear them. The Dragon Realm answered her world piercing rage at the human traitors with love, compassion, and understanding at her anger and chest crushing pain. The human man raised a weapon over his head and slammed it down on the neck of Light Of The Morning. He raised the axe and hacked again at her lifeless red orange body to sever her head and body to make sure that she was dead. And the humans danced victoriously, ruthless barbarians in the rain, around her now lifeless body.

This time Day couldn’t hold back. This was truly more than she could handle. She didn’t just scream. She didn’t just cry. She felt fire within her heart start to grow. She felt the darkness within her kill hope and joy. Every dragon felt, every dragon experienced her pain as their own. So many mournful roars echoed throughout the Dragon Realm as the last flesh dragon was killed.  

A cloud of dragons unseen to human eyes swept toward Day and Night as several echoed Day’s roars of soul agony. Soft love dear one, you are so dearly loved. We know, we feel and we see. Pain, yes. Wrong, yes. Human decisions made...such sadness. They touched her gently with their hearts and minds as Night wept silent and invisible tears and cocooned himself around Day. She was much too raw and pained to continue watching humanity as it was. She allowed herself to be wrapped in Night’s ethereal Being and with each inward unheard sob, closed herself off to all worlds and realms. She was of Spirit and was pure emotion, and pure love. And the pieces of God she was made to protect and guard and guide and lead to the Sacred, had just murdered the last of her own. There weren’t words in any realm, human or dragon or other, that she could feel or say that could express her despair and agony.  She had no choice but to be dormant if she was to survive. Maybe someday there would be hope, but not now. Now there was only brutality and pain and she nor Night could let that turn to fear and hate.

Chapter One

1

Oh, good lord... Vaquella sighed out loud as she looked at the alarm clock. Six twenty-five. Her alarm was going to go off in five minutes. She had an almost disgusting knack of waking up before the alarm and recently she found it more annoying than pleasing. Five more minutes. What am I going to do in five minutes? She thought. I could snuggle Isaac for a few minutes before I have to actually get him rolling for school this morning, or I could go to the kitchen and start a cup of hot mint lavender tea before mom gets her day started. At that moment, she heard small clinking sounds from the sink and shuffled footsteps coming from the kitchen making their way to the living room where a fan turning on and whirring gave her mother’s actions away. Vaquella sighed. She wished she had it in her to cry. Vaquella closed her eyes again and put her right arm over her eyes. She tried holding onto the dream world just a bit longer. The dream world didn’t hurt her heart to live in. The dream world could be raw and wild and sometimes she woke up gasping for air and dry tears that weren’t real in dream became hot sap on her cheeks when she woke sobbing. But love and happiness were also so much richer in dreams. Hugs were soul deep, love was felt to the marrow of her Being and even strangers were family that she was free to feel love for without social awkwardness or restraint. She loved that part the most. It wasn’t a faux pax to hug a stranger or tell a beloved teacher that you loved them in a dream. And most of the time words weren’t even needed to convey emotion and thought, it was just understood and felt, and known and accepted. It felt more human than humanity did. She could remember falling in dreams and the feeling of sheer terror as she fell from the sky or off a building. No control, no safety net, no one to catch her. It was just her and her heart pounding in her chest uncontrollably as she fell to her imminent death. Until she dared both her dreams and herself to let her fall to the ground. And then she bounced in her dreams. And through bouncing, discovered that she could fly. She could spread her arms and rise above fields and mountains and the craziness in the dream world. She could turn terror into sheer, unadulterated, unfiltered joy. And freedom. There was no parallel to it in the waking world. She had learned the basics of controlling her dreams...if only waking reality were that easy.

I hate my life. She whispered to herself knowing that she just gave negative energy and thought to her situation. But Vaquella also knew that for her, there was only so much running away from reality she could do within her own thoughts before it became a lie. She had tried for far too long to sugar coat her reality, to make it something better than it was so that it was even slightly tolerable. Sure, she had read all sorts of self-help books, listened to all the PositiviTy Talks with Ty Warner she could find, listened to life coaches through various media channels, and had thrown herself soul first into moving forward positively in her life. And yet here she was. It wasn’t a dream she was living. It was a soap opera that absolutely no one wants to be associated with let alone star in, and here she was, living it. And the end credits were far from rolling.

Positive, positive, positive, positive, positive. Grateful. Ok, think of things I’m grateful for. She whispered out loud to herself. Roof over my head. Food to eat. Beautiful son. She smiled from her heart outward at her last words. Isaac, her son, was her light, her heart’s greatest joy. She had been through hell and back and would do it over again for him alone and the only reason she had done many things and the reason she hadn’t done even more things that would have ended up with her in jail. He was the reason she was still alive, and for that, she chose to live for him. No, it wasn’t easy. It was hell. Vaquella was forced by circumstance to live with her mother again. The woman who taught her how to cower, the woman who taught her what being passive aggressive was, the woman who taught her how to be painfully socially awkward. The woman who taught her to value other people’s feelings and thoughts above her own, the woman who shaped her life...but only as a child. Vaquella was a grown woman and she chose differently. Vaquella loved her mother and the last several years had taught her so much. Too much at times, but she truly believed that knowing was light years better than being ignorant, even when knowing became painful. Even when knowing meant you knew too much. Even when knowing changed how you saw yourself. Even if knowing changed how you saw someone.

OUCH! Darn wood...got me again. Vaquella’s heart dropped as she was reminded where she physically was by her mom’s accidental outburst from the living room. She sighed. That was her alarm clock this morning. She shut off the alarm on her phone with one more minute to go and fumbling her way off the top bunk bed, she leaned down and kissed Isaac good morning.

Good morning Sweet Potato. I love you. She kissed his sweet, soft cheek as he rolled toward her and clung onto her left arm. Mm...you need a snuggle or two to start off the day?

Mmmmmm. Isaac rolled around in his mouth as a positive response to his mama’s question. She bent over, sat down halfway on the lower bunk bed and pulled a mostly asleep Isaac onto her lap. He wrapped his arms around her neck, and she reached back with her left hand to grab what had been dubbed by Isaac as ‘the Mama Blanket.’ It was soft and thick and warm with grey, pink and light blue chevrons set on a cream-colored background. Vaquella had gotten it for Christmas several years back and Isaac had almost instantly claimed it as his. He didn’t care much for the almost identical red blanket with his name on it, but he would always grab the Mama Blanket first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Oh, and Beary. Better get him in the morning snuggle too. She leaned back to her right this time awkwardly balancing a very soggy Isaac, the Mama Blanket, and herself while reaching back for Beary whose cream-colored bottom half was sticking out from under Isaac’s pillow. Beary had been her childhood cuddle buddy and best friend that she had even brought to college with her.

Vaquella got Beary for Christmas when she was ten. She had wanted a teddy bear for her whole life and finally got one when she was ten and she didn’t let him go for the entire Christmas vacation. Sledding outside in the snow behind grandma’s house, Beary went with. Attempting to build a snow man with powdery snow too cold to do anything but eat, Beary went with. Watching Christmas movies with her sister and brother and two cousins, Beary joined in too. Beary even had a special place on the living room couch where he could watch while Vaquella ate dinner with the rest of her family. Grandma didn’t allow toys at the table and even though Vaquella argued that he wasn’t a toy, Beary still wasn’t allowed at the table. Good thing gramma also knew how much she loved Beary and decided to give him a special place where he could safely watch Vaquella. He was butter soft and snow white with sleepy half covered eyes and had a beautiful red velvet ribbon around his neck. And she adored him. So, when Isaac claimed Beary as his teddy bear, Vaquella couldn’t have been happier or prouder. She had so little to offer her son in a world that put so much callous value on material life, she was relieved to be able to offer her precious son at least something of value. She didn’t’ have much but she could at least offer her son her favorite childhood best friend. She knew how much she adored Beary and that her son loved him just as she had brought her a sense of pride and happiness that she couldn’t always put words to. Beary had seen better days but he was the most perfect thing in the world to both mother and son.

"Hey Aunt Garden, why are you starting the stove? That’s my job." Vaquella could hear her cousin Tanner lovingly tell her mother to stop her fussing over the fire in the stove. ‘Aunt Garden’ was a pet name Tanner had given Vaquella’s mother because when he was younger and came to visit, she was always in her gardens in the summer and had the most beautiful vegetables he had ever seen.  It had been several years since Loral had a garden, but to Tanner she’d always be Aunt Garden

Vaquella, her mom, Loral, her son, Isaac, and now her cousin, Tanner all lived in the house that Vaquella had grown up in. It was a single-story house originally built in the late 1800’s. An old homestead house on a couple acres just outside the small Montana town of Castern that had been added on to during the first and second world wars. Plumbing and a bathroom had finally been added to it after World War I at the cost of making one of the bedrooms barely big enough to put a twin-size bed in. The kitchen had once been the dining room, the master bedroom had once been a parlor and the library/living room had once been a bedroom. And after Vaquella’s dad passed away over six years ago, Loral decided to do a bit of adding on to the house. She had built on to the house what she called the mudroom that was almost as big as half of the original house. Now there were two bathrooms, a place to put their muddy boots and shoes when they came in from outside, a space for cleaning eggs from the chicken house, a nice big sink to wash everything from meat that needed butchering and wrapping to Isaac who dubbed it The Sweet Potato Spa.

Loral had a love hate relationship with that darned ancient wood stove and its’ incessant need for wood to keep the house warm. She hated the smoke, the dust and the slivers. Tanner on the other hand loved everything about it. He loved the smell of the smoke from the wood stove, especially first thing in the morning with a cup of coffee in his hands. He loved going outside to chop wood and pile it outside of the house, loved the kafflunk sound that the wood made when it was being stacked inside the house when the pieces hit each other. And making sure the stove was always going and that it kept everyone warm was something Tanner felt validated in doing and gave him something to contribute to his beloved Aunt Garden. He was ‘between jobs,’ as he explained to his career coach. He had an injury from his last job that they were legally battling over, and it could be months or even a few years before that mess was settled. Right now, he could split wood and that was the extent of his physical workload. But unluckily for Tanner, no one necessarily needed that exact skill set that couldn’t fill it themselves.

Tanner was the most country person stuck in a city life Vaquella had ever met. He stood slumped over at just under 6 feet tall. Red hair, freckles, fair skin and bright blue eyes that told on him. He had more softness around his waist now than he did when he first moved in and had a nasally voice that Vaquella could distinguish anywhere on the planet as belonging to Tanner. His daily suit was a printed t-shirt with something about either guns or long-haul trucking, blue jeans and his cowboy boots. He loved taking his four-wheeler muddin,’ loved camping, and taking his monstrous truck off road to see where the dirt roads led, loved his guns and ammo and he was staunchly republican. And more than once Tanner and Vaquella had gotten into discussions of politics. He was nearly immobile in his opinions that were nothing more than political party based, not intellectually based or informed by facts and Vaquella had to learn quickly which battles she wanted to fight, which battles were worth her time and effort, and which opinions Tanner had that needed to be addressed for her son’s sake. They never quite reached the boiling point but both Tanner and Vaquella tried to respect each other and if nothing else the fact that they were now both living with her mother kept them in line.

Tanner had the most perplexing morning rituals that Vaquella never did understand. He would get up early, start a pot of coffee, get the fire started, get a cup of hot coffee, sip on it while checking the weather, sports and anything else of interest in the news, take a shower around 10 am, get dressed and then go into town for a quad shot of espresso from the nearest coffee shop at around 11 am. It honestly confused Vaquella how someone who did so little could consume or need that much caffeine. Tanner had moved in with Vaquella and her mom at mid-summer. Vaquella thought little to nothing of it at the time. She was under the impression that Tanner was selling his house in Portland, Oregon, moving to the country in Montana with them for a few days, maybe a few weeks while he got his feet under him, maybe found a new job and started a new chapter in his life where he felt he finally belonged. Oh, but she was quite sourly mistaken. Yes, Tanner sold his house and everything that was of his old life to start a new life in Montana. But he had no intention of going anywhere in a hurry. He was quite comfortable with having two women cook for him, quite comfortable with having her son’s bedroom to himself rent free, and quite happy with his morning routine that led to his afternoon routine, week after week that had turned into month after month. And his afternoon routine? Tanner’s afternoon routine was sitting on the couch or the soft, green, lumpy leather chair where he played online bingo and gambling. And in the evenings after he ate his usual minimum of two huge helpings of dinner he didn’t help buy or fix, he would retire to the couch, chair or her son’s bedroom to check the news again, check his social media, watch a football game on his phone or play more online games. Sometimes he’d mix things up and go out to the mudroom with his computer and play online games out there. And there were the very occasional days when he’d get restless in the house and go out to the mudroom to his computer to play games and check social media, while snacking on pepperoni and cheese sticks. As of recently Tanner had decided to tackle the rather large stack of wood that her mother had out behind the garage with his chain saw. It wasn’t much, but at least he was out of the house and doing something that he felt positively about. And it got him out of Vaquella’s hair for at least long enough for her to gather herself and prepare for the next round of playing nice and avoiding him politely. It had been 6 months of feeling invaded daily and sometimes hourly and there was no real end in sight. Tanner had indeed moved in. And although his intentions might have been noble in his own mind, they were anything but that to Vaquella. She got the distinct impression that Tanner believed he was somehow saving she and her mom from being alone and without a man. Even the thought of it made her wince, roll her eyes, curl her upper lip and curse under her breath. Vaquella’s dad had passed away over six years ago. She and her mom Loral needed no saving and they were quite happy without the oppressing presence of male ego and dominating energy around the house. And now that Tanner was here, she had to share her 10x12 foot bedroom with bunk beds, her large antique dresser with mirror, her sewing machine, book case filled to the brim with books and clothes, her closet stuffed with sleeping bags and blankets on top of clothes and now half of her son’s belongings and all of his stuffed animals as he’d been ousted from his room by Tanner and his life. Vaquella tried in earnest to be patient and kind with not just her cousin but his situation, but the best she could do was reside herself to her bedroom like a moody teenager and avoid as much contact with her mother and Tanner as possible. She had no real intention of being rude. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Vaquella knew that if she shared space with Tanner or her mom, or both, she’d absolutely explode. She felt invaded in every aspect of her life and inner combustion was something she fought on a daily basis without being prodded by her mother and cousin. Tanner had a rude knack of goading into her life and accusing her of it being her responsibility to fix things between she and her siblings that were none of his concern, and none of her shit to fix. She resided in her overcrowded sanctum to keep the peace, both in the household and her own life. She was finally acknowledging her own limits and respecting them, even and especially when no one else would. That included her often child-like mother.

Loral was the Queen of Cute, Vaquella had said so many times. She could find a cute trinket or thing like pigs in Europe find truffles. Similar circumstances too. They seemed to appear out of nowhere for her mom and Vaquella was always amazed at what Loral found. A cute smiling bee pin in the middle of a pile of old car parts at a flea market. A darling fairy hugging a teddy bear on a mug in the middle of a shoe store, or the one time she found her sister-in-law an original Betty Boop figurine sitting on an old car in a convenience store on the way back from Casper, Wyoming. It wouldn’t sound unnatural to most people, but this convenience store had exactly one half rack for snacks and the other half of it had general vehicle supplies, three refrigerator sections for cold drinks and snacks and exactly one dusty, old spinning display for knick knacks souvenirs like shot glasses, key chains, and post cards. And three dust covered white printed t-shirts with cowboys on them hanging up in the back near the restrooms as display that had been there so long they became a part of the decor and ambiance of this tiny gas station and convenience store that could hold four people comfortably as long as they were all under six feet tall and didn’t wear over size 12 pants or shoes.

Vaquella had also been known to introduce her mother as the Party Princess. Not in a bad way at all, but in an amazed and appreciating way. Vaquella was certain that her mother was missing her calling as a party planner. Loral always had the most insanely awesome ideas for kid’s parties. Loral could make up games on the spot that would impress even the best kindergarten or PE teacher. And with decorations she was a genius. She’d make up paper chain dolls or character chains that would blow everyone’s mind. And she always had balloons galore. Balloons with confetti in them, double and sometimes triple balloons, mylar balloons that had music boxes attached at the base of the string that held them in place, mylar balloons that you’d never see anywhere else but somehow Loral acquired them. Loral was also a well-known cake decorator in town. She had made cakes with fluorescent frosting, edible flowers from her garden, crystallized sugar flowers, handmade marshmallow fondant, and everything from mermaids and motorboats to castles and strawberry shaped gnome house cakes. And when it came to wedding cakes, Loral was a magician. She took such pride in her wedding cakes knowing that the bride they were intended for trusted her with an especially important part of one of the most important days of her life. And for that Loral was always delighted to offer her services. It made her feel a part of something important and validated her even if it was only for a moment. She lived for those moments. And Vaquella knew their importance to her mom.

Ohh... Sweet Potato. Vaquella cooed softly to the warm lump on her lap. Let’s get up and rolling, ok? She asked a still sleep soggy Isaac on her lap on the edge of the bottom bunk bed. Ok. Isaac replied to his mama as he half rolled off Vaquella’s lap and his feet touched the floor with a soft scrubbing sound. He reached for the mama blanket and groggily thumped his way toward the door and made it through without mashing any body parts in the process. The day was yet to begin and already there was a small victory underway. There were mornings that Isaac wasn’t as lucky as this morning. A few times he’d missed the doorway completely and walked right into the narrowest part of the door. Those were mornings that required more than a couple snuggles to get started. They needed an ice pack, the Mama Blanket, and even though he was ten now, mama’s help picking out clothes and putting on his shoes.

Vaquella sighed as Isaac left her room and she closed the door behind him to get dressed. She opened the almost black-brown wooden antique dresser that was much too small for all her clothes to fit. But that was to be expected. In the late 1800’s they didn’t have nearly the clothes that are expected of a person nowadays. Thick denim blue jeans, bulky long-sleeved sweaters, cowl neck tops, and even the boosting bras that women and men alike both wanted women to wear just couldn’t all fit in her dresser. The women were smaller back then and didn’t have to worry about bras with wires and thick padding in them that kept the dresser drawers from closing. Ugh, the tribulations of modern living. Sometimes Vaquella wished she could be a Native Amazonian woman just so she could run through the forest naked and unencumbered by modern society’s demand on how a woman should look by the underpinnings she wore. Boost the breasts, a cage for the waist and squats to give you a bigger booty. Seems that her dresser wasn’t the only thing that was from the 1800’s. She had thought more times than she could shake a stick at that society was going backwards rather than forwards. Squats for a bigger butt. Why didn’t they just give women a modern-day bustle to wear? And a waist cincher? Why couldn’t they just call it what it was? They were modern day corsets. And it seemed to Vaquella that people were trying harder and harder to look like cartoons than people with real bodies. But along with the silliness of bigger boobs and butts and tiny waists, Vaquella had also noticed the movement for body positivity and for that she was grateful. Fuller figured models that weren’t a single digit size, manikins in department stores that modeled a more real body size for both women and men. Despite the dumb things that society and people in general were doing, she could feel and notice the positive things that were happening and that gave her real hope for the coming generations. Now to get her own contribution to that generation in his clothes, fed, and ready for school.

Vaquella pulled out a dark green, long sleeved cowl neck sweater from between her pajama pants and a long-sleeved cotton t-shirt from the mountain of clothes that took over the top of her dresser. At least five pair of blue jeans, three pair of slacks, pajama pants, old t shirts she used as pajama tops, a pile of panties, at least six balls of socks, six t-shirts, three large, fluffy sweaters, and more than likely some of Isaac’s shirts and socks had been thrown in there too. It seemed that pile of clean clothes was a permanent part of the dresser along with her three buried wooden and one silver jewelry boxes, scarves and knick knacks she couldn’t remember why she still had. It was going on nine years that she and Isaac had been living at her parent’s house and with as much stuff and junk as she had gotten rid of in the move back from Las Vegas, she couldn’t believe she was still collecting junk all over again. She lifted the pile of clothes to find a pair of jeans nestled between a pair of soft pajama pants and her green Hard Rock Café shirt she got from her Japanese Sister, Kaori.

Vaquella pulled on the dark green cowl neck sweater and shivered as she hurriedly pulled on her dark blue denim jeans. Right leg, over dragon tattoo number one, left leg over swirly symbol tattoo number two. She looked down at her legs very briefly and smiled to herself as a jolt of joy ran through her from the middle of her heart to her fingertips. Her mother hated tattoos. Loral was raised in an era and a house where they were representative of rebellion, a questionable lifestyle of drinking and drugs and partying and other nefarious things that good Catholic girls just didn’t do. Good, people pleasing Catholic girls didn’t have monstrous, repulsive things like tattoos. They didn’t use derogatory language, curse or speak out of turn. They always smiled and sat with their legs crossed, they had impeccable table manners, smiled politely at everyone, held meaningless conversations in public, popped out multiple babies, went to church regularly, went to confession every time it was available and absolutely most certainly didn’t have tattoos. Vaquella snorted softly while laughing at the archaic ways she had been expected to follow while growing up. Good fucking thing I don’t cuss. She said to quietly herself and laughed out loud as she zipped and then buttoned her jeans. She shoved a pair of white socks on her feet. Now for shoes.

Mama, what’s martial law? Isaac knocked at her door and came in at the same time. At least he was knocking on the door now and not just barging in. Cousin Tanner says that the government needs to enact it and that it’s a hard day for Patriots today. Vaquella’s eyes got huge for a moment as she took in a huge breath and sighed. Oh, for the love of donuts and all things holy. It’s way too early for this nonsense... It’s going to be one of those days. She thought trying not to make a face to Isaac that he would interpret as anger at him when it was really her exhaustion at her sometimes very misguided cousin. Skip the shoes, there was snow on the ground, she could shove on boots on her feet on her way out the door. Right now, an intervention and correction were more important than shoes.

You know what honey? Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some breakfast. Have you got your tablet? Let’s google what martial law is and then we can talk about times that is actually a called for action. Vaquella squeezed out the bedroom door with her arm on her son’s small shoulder and they made their way to the kitchen for breakfast. Too bad Vaquella didn’t drink. This would be the perfect day to start off with a nice shot of something very hard and completely inappropriate. But if divorce from a malignant narcissist, losing her life, home, friends and, everything she owned to a narcissist and living with her mother didn’t make her a raging alcoholic, nothing would.

Good mornin’ to ya! Said Loral to both Vaquella and Isaac in a half attempted Irish brogue accent. Vaquella truly tried to contain her disdain for her mother’s completely over the top chipper mood this morning. But then again, it was every morning that Loral was over the top too chipper. Vaquella knew it was just her. She was definitely not the best morning person in the world. She knew it and stuffed all her snide remarks back inside her mouth so they didn’t jump out and make her a complete asshole. She still had no other place for she and Isaac to live. Better to suck it up than speak and need a new place to live.

Good mornin’ mama. She reached toward Loral for a quick half hug. Not a full hug, she wasn’t in the mood for it this morning.

Isaac spread his arms wide open and half charged at his grandma for a big squishy hug. Morning Lolo! Mmmmmm...MMM! He buried his head in his grandma’s soft tummy and gave her the biggest squishy hug his small arms could give as he wrapped them around her and squeezed with all his might.

Oh, ho ho!! Gooood morning Toto! There’s my little Martian. Did you sleep warm enough? It got kinda nippy last night. How about some toast with peanut butter and tea this morning? She asked Isaac as she busied herself with taking bread from the old wooden bread box and putting it in the toaster. Hot water was ready for tea in the coffee pot they used only for hot water as neither Vaquella nor her mom could palate coffee. Peanut butter was in the slender cupboard to the left of the large cupboards that held spices, confection sugars, and everything Loral usually used for decorating cakes. Tea was in the cupboard to the left of the black cooking stove, mugs were in the small cupboard above the useless microwave that still hung above the kitchen stove they only used for the light it provided while cooking. The kitchen had been renovated at some point before her family move in and it still had it’s yellow pine cupboards and what Vaquella thought were becoming garish dark grey laminate counter tops. Before her dad had passed away, he had replaced all the floors in the house, including the kitchen that now had a lovely wooden floor that looked light years better than the cracked and broken linoleum that she had known the kitchen to have when she was a kid. Even the living room, library and hallway had gotten new carpeting. Her mom said it looked like the house threw up when they replaced the old floors because they had to move everything out of almost the entire house while the floors were updated. Vaquella still loved that descriptive visual and it gave her the giggles when she recalled it.

And Lolo, it says that martial law is the suspension of ordinary law. Isaac told his grandma in between bites of whole wheat toast and peanut butter. Lolo was Isaacs’s pet name for his grandma. When he and Vaquella had come back to live with her parents he had a difficult time speaking and getting his ideas to words. Saying grandma was too difficult. Isaac overheard her friends from church call her Loral and could get out yoyo which turned into Lolo. And Loral adored her pet name. She insisted she wasn’t old enough to be a grandma. Those are little old ladies with white hair and smelled of denture cream. So, when Isaac came up with Lolo, she was more than happy to have Isaac’s title bestowed upon her. And Lolo wanted to give her beloved little Martian a nickname as well. She overheard Vaquella calling Isaac her Sweet Potato on many occasions per day, so when Isaac gave her the name Lolo, she in turn called him her Toto. Loral said that Tato was too normal" a nickname and that Toto fit Isaac much better than something so ordinary.

Oh...really? Where did you hear about martial law Toto? Loral asked Isaac as calmly as she possibly could and turned to Vaquella sitting to her right while Isaac had his head turned and gave her a very wide-eyed stare with one eyebrow raised and mouthed the words, "Was it him?!"

Vaquella shook her head no and pointed with her eyes to Tanner in the living room. She mouthed the words, "No, Tanner." Loral took in a deep breath, let it out, let her eyes return to normal size, rolled them and then turned her attention back to a still talking Isaac. He may have been slow to speak as a toddler but once he got started, there was no stopping him. He even had conversations in his sleep.

...and I bet Kyle’s dad has one too, he has all the tools you need for an engine like that. Vaquella smiled at how fast Isaac could switch topics of conversation. God bless him, she knew he was speaking English, but he was speaking mechanic again and that was one language she was never going to speak fluently. So, she sat back with her cup of hot tea in her hand and watched and listened with a smile on her face as Isaac rattled on excitedly about his friend, Kyle’s dad’s tools, and the truck that Kyle and his dad and older brother were overhauling. She only understood a few words like carburetor, engine, tool, and intake. Oh, and sparkplugs. But that was only because she had to have the ones in her own vehicle changed out in November. She had thought of attempting to learn at least the basics of vehicle care and up keep but it was one of the most boring things in the world to her. It couldn’t spark her interest if it was the only thing that would keep her alive. She figured she’d go back to horse and buggy if it ever came to that. She understood horses on the hoof way more than she understood horses under the hood.

Are you warm enough? Tanner asked Vaquella as she tried walking a bit faster than normal through the living room to avoid any conversing with Tanner this morning. Yes, she’d had her tea but that just wasn’t enough to warrant her being prepared or even wanting what was bound to be a political discussion with Tanner this morning. If she bit on his conversational hook, he’d have her in an unwanted conversation, if she didn’t answer him, she would be rude. Ugh! She really hated this part of adulting.

Yeah, Tanner, thanks. The fire’s great, all nice and toasty. Thanks for getting it started. She was hoping that if she was a little over generous with her words on the topic of the stove and the fire it would distract him from any political conversations he was brewing in his head. Good God, I hate it when I have to sound like mom. She thought as she tried hiding her emotions under her skin.

Tanner’s mouth smiled and his bright blue eyes smiled in tandem. Aunt Garden tried starting it without me! He chuckled and feigned offense as he fake pouted and took a sip of hot coffee.

Vaquella gave a small quick fake laugh and smiled as she picked up Isaac’s backpack and walked to her room to get Isaac’s coat and gloves for school. His coat was on the floor, right where he had tossed it last night after she picked him up from school. Shoot, where is his reading folder? She knew she had something for reading to sign for him. She’d forgotten to sign it last night after he got done reading so that needed to be done before it was shoved in his backpack. Ugh! It’s back out in the living room. She groaned a sigh as she headed back out into the living room. Dang it I hate it when I forget stuff. I just avoided conversation with Tanner and now I have to go back out...again. Just for a folder. She took a deep breath and sighed. Ok, how can I avoid it this time? What can I bring up that will placate Tanner long enough to grab the folder and make it back to my room? Breakfast, no, he had a cup of coffee in his hands and won’t eat until at least 11am. Sports, no, Politics, hell no. Ok, do it the old-fashioned way. Don’t make eye contact. And with that Vaquella hurried her way to the living room, grabbed the folder, and walked back to her room as quickly as she could. She knew Tanner had seen her, and it looked like he was almost going to say something but then she picked up Isaac’s folder. She was hoping he’d noticed that she was on a mission and wouldn’t stop her in the middle of it for conversation and it had worked. Whew! Another thing to be grateful for this morning. Thought Vaquella as she opened up Isaac’s folder.

Vaquella felt a split second of disgust when she opened Isaac’s folder. Tina Roberts name was scribbled where a parent’s signature was required by Isaac’s teacher in last week’s boxes of reading homework for Isaac. Tina. She almost felt sorry for her. There was a time when she pitied the woman who had married her ex-husband. That was when she first met Tina and she knew that the other woman had no idea what or who she was marrying. She pitied her because she once had the same naivete about Gary Roberts. She had no idea she was marrying a malignant narcissist, and she knew that Tina didn’t either. Vaquella quickly scribbled her name into the bottom of the reading box for Isaac and slid it in the folder and stuffed it in his backpack. Now to navigate the living room once again.

Vaquella shoved her feet in her thick rubber and fur lined boots and held her car keys in her mouth by the wooden buffalo key chain she had gotten last year when she and Isaac went to Yellowstone National Park. Mama what’s your favorite type of engine? Isaac asked her as she was struggling to stuff her arms in her long wool blanket coat that she had hand stitched seven years ago. It was a long wool capote she had made from a pattern she found online when she and Isaac first moved in with her parents. She was in desperate need of a winter coat at the time.  She had nothing to wear that would keep her warm enough in the harsh Montana winters. Winter coats weren’t exactly something needed in Las Vegas but were an absolute necessity in Southwestern Montana.

"Ahmm...engines?