That was what was surprising. Mona and I didn’t fight. We put aside our differences to make things okay for Maria and her baby. We kept our voices low. I even let Mona be in charge of the stereo and let her put on soothing acoustic hippie music. I tried to tease her about her surgery, but instead, it just came out as concern for her eyes, which did seem to be clearing up on the drive. Although during the brightest part of it, I made her put on the sunglasses that she kept trying to remove because she couldn’t see anything.
“You can’t see anything, anyway, so put them back on and rest your eyes.”
“You’re not the boss of me,” she grumbled, but I could see a darkening flush to her smooth golden brown cheek and thought that maybe she enjoyed having someone being concerned for her welfare. She fell asleep at one point, and I realized that I missed her low conversation about yoga, her friends, and growing up in the mountains. And I missed having her listen to my stories about my travels around the world and all I’d seen, along with the satisfaction of being able to capture some of the beauty that stirred my soul in the photographs I took.
“Mona!” called the woman coming out of the ramshackle house. That would be Natalie Sky-Jones, more commonly known as Mama by, apparently, everyone who encountered her. Mama had rich brown skin with her hair pulled back into a puff at the back of her head. She was short, barely reaching Mona’s nose as she hugged her. She was round and looked eminently huggable.
Mona’s dad, Leonard, was tall, skinny, and bald with pale skin and pale blue eyes. He opened the car door and helped Maria out of the car, talking in low tones to her. I could see her nodding, but I couldn’t hear what they said.
I felt awkward. I was just the driver, but I wanted to help. I started unfastening the car seat.
“Here, let me get that for you, Son.” Leonard was there, taking over for me.
“Hi Mr. Sky-Jones; my name is—”
He waved at me. “No need, no need. I know who you are. My Mona’s been talking about you for years.”
That couldn’t be good. “Listen, Mr. Sky—”
“Call me Lenny.”
“Lenny, I don’t know what Mona might have said but—”
He laughed as he stood up, now with a diaper bag on his shoulder and the car seat in his arms. “Don’t you worry about that. My Mony’s quite the fire cracker, but I’m experienced in translating her particular language. She’s like a fine hunk of wood. You can read her story of growth in the rings and swirls of her markings. If you pay attention, she’ll tell you where to cut and how to carve to bring out the essence of her tale.”
He looked like a normal man, but when he spoke, I couldn’t be sure of anything at all. “I’m sorry, what?”
He laughed again. “Don’t you never mind. Let’s get this darling sweetheart in the house with the rest of the girls, and we’ll get her and her mamita all settled up in their room where they can be safe and secure.”
He started for the house, and I just stood there, staring. He stopped and turned back for me.
“Well, don’t just gawp. Let’s get some food in you. It’s been quite the trip, I’m sure. You made it in record time.”
“Oh, yes.” I felt like an awkward kid meeting his girlfriend’s dad for the first time. Wait, what was happening?
“Let’s get a move on. Mama’s green bean and potato curry is on the stove, and I, for one, am hungry.”
“Sure, yeah,” I said and closed the car doors, following Lenny into the house which was not nearly as little as I had thought it was from the outside. The main room was all wood inside, but the ceiling went up twelve feet and skylights let in the sun. Macrame hangings covered the walls alongside family photographs, and there was a giant wood carving of a bear sitting in pride of place right next to an enormous stone fireplace.
“What now? Don’t stop here; the food’s in the kitchen . . . oh.” Lenny turned around and caught me gaping at the bear. It was giant and staring at me. Instead of fur, there were symbols and swirls carved all over it. “That’s Ursa. She’s my masterpiece. I carved her for a commission, but I couldn’t bear to let her go. So I had to go out, find another stump, bring her back, and fast carve another one for my customer. He loved it, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t give Ursa away; she was mine, like family. She tells my family story, so she sits in my family home.” He stepped up to stand next to me. “You like her, huh?”
I startled. Did I like her?
“Come on, come up and touch.” He drew me toward the bear. “See, if you look close, you can see the lines of the wood. I never cover up the grain. Do you see it? Do you see the bear in the wood grain?”
I did. I felt drawn to it, placing my palm over a swirling mark. “It’s beautiful.”
He laughed and I pulled back, ready to apologize.
“No, no. No apologies. Go ahead and touch. She’s warm and alive. She likes being touched, it’s just that this . . .” He put a finger on the marking I had covered with my palm, “This is my daughter’s name in Arabic. Mona. It means ‘wishes.’ ‘Desires.’”
My heart was racing for no reason. But I felt oddly at home. Lenny was still talking. He liked to talk.
“I carve all the names of my kids on Ursa. Or their symbols. A word is just a way to symbolize something else.”
“You have more kids? I thought Mona was an only child.”
“Oh, I don’t mean my biological kids. That’s the easiest way to be a part of the human family. All the ones who come to stay with us, who need us for a while and then move on. Look.” He pointed to a carved vine with flowers. “Sweet Pea, that’s for your sister April. And here?” The swooping wings of an owl. “That’s for Minnie, our little Minerva.
“Jack? Is that a nickname for John?” He went up to the bear and started running his hands over it.
“Uhm, yes.”
“John, yes.” Lenny stopped at an empty space near Mona’s name. “An eagle, right there. That will be your mark.”
“I get a mark?”
He turned back to me and smiled. “Of course you do.” The baby in the car seat whimpered and stirred. “Woops. The little one is waking up. Let’s get you settled, and I’ll take her to her mom.”
He led me into the kitchen, which was an addition off of the side of the main room, all glass and open to the dark gray clouds rolling in. There were baskets, herbs, and pots and pans hanging from racks, and Lenny nodded, wisely. “Sit. Let me get you something to drink.”
With the car seat in one hand and a bottle in another, he poured me a glass of something unidentifiable and then, plopped it in front of me. “Drink up.”
I took a sip. It was sweet and slightly fizzy. I couldn’t identify the taste. “What is it?”
“Mead. I brew it from the honey from my bee hives. If you listen, bees will tell you their story, too. You just have to listen.”
I cocked my head and looked at him and decided it was a good time to listen and not talk. The mead was tasty, if not like anything I’d had before. He fussed a bit and so did the baby. And then, he took her off down what looked like a glass hallway on the outside of the house, and I was left alone in the kitchen, given a chance to breathe. I felt slightly dizzy, and I didn’t know if it was the mead, the man, or the bear.