Page 25 of It's You
It had taken four days to get the results back, but Darcy had mostly come to the conclusion that Willow wasn’t going to find anything significant on the scan. She’d gone inside twice more over the last three days, a record in terms of frequency. Both times she’d been lounging against the body of a black wolf, and both times the episode had ended with the words “I can’t do that.”
It was as if he was communicating with her, reaching out to her in the only manner at his disposal and forcing her to keep him at the forefront of her mind, as if she could think of anything else but beckoning, beautiful Jack Beauloup. She didn’t know how he was doing it, but she was getting fed up.
“Hey, you don’t seem pleased.”
Darcy forced a smile.
“No, I am. That’s great, Will. Should have done it years ago.”
“So I’m thinking too much champagne on Saturday, right? Explains the loss of time…even hearing and seeing things. Anyone who’s ever been to a college frat party knows you can black out and lose hours if you over drink.”
I wasn’t drunk. I know that. This has nothing to do with champagne.
“I’m sure you’re right,” Darcy answered.
Willow tilted her head, tenting her hands under her chin. “No, you’re not. I know you, Darcy. You’re still thinking this has something to do with Jack Beauloup?”
“I’ve gone inside three times in four days, Will. Sincehearrived in Carlisle.” She swallowed, looking down, wishing she could explain her certainty to Willow. “It has something to do with him. I’m sure of it.”
“Remember the first time you told me about going inside, and we did all that Métis research?”
“Yeah. Over that Christmas break.”
“And you know I dabble.”
Darcy glanced pointedly at the red door in Willow’s office and nodded. It looked like a coat closet, but Darcy was one of the very few people who knew it led to a small room where Willow dried herbs and practiced non-invasive Métis shaman techniques. Willow believed strongly that Western medicine wasn’t the only answer to solving medical mysteries, and she often consulted Métis texts and traditions for unusual problems.
“That word you said Jack used. With the bear.”
“Ship away?”
Willow nodded. “Shipawaytayin Michif means leave.”
“You don’t speak Michif.”
“Right. But I know that word. MyNohkomused to say that when I was underfoot. She’d be trying to bake something in the kitchen, and I’d keep grabbing for the mixing bowl or botheringher for the spoon, and she’d say ‘Shipawaytay, Nidanis.’ And it meant, ‘Leave it be, grandchild.’ Do you think that’s what Jack was saying? To the bear? Leave it be? Leaveyoube?”
“Could be, I guess. You think Jack’s Métis?”
Willow shrugged. “No idea. But his last name is French. The family moved back north to Quebec after the year they spent here, right? I mean, you’ve got to start somewhere.”
Willow stood up and turned to the bookcases behind her desk. She took out a book entitledThe Métis Peopleand handed it to Darcy.
Darcy flipped through it before tucking it in her purse and standing up to leave. “Thanks, Will.”
“Hey, with all these distractions, I haven’t asked you lately. How’s the book coming?”
“I’ve barely written a word. I’ll work on it today and tomorrow. Had to cancel one of my classes this week, but they understood. Miss Kendrick emailed me this morning. She’s been babying my samples.”
Darcy spent at least three days a week at Dartmouth, where she was a professor in the natural sciences department and had a standing fellowship as research associate in the Life Sciences Greenhouse. Because it was a two-hour drive from Carlisle, Darcy generally left for Dartmouth on Monday morning and came back on Wednesday evening. She spent Thursdays and Fridays finishing her thesis in the small studio over the detached garage at home.
“How anyone can devote a lifetime of study to…”
“Bryology, Will.”
“Bryology,” scoffed Willow. “That’s just a fancy word for the study of moss.”
“And lichen. And liverworts. Why does everyone always forget the liverworts?”
