Sisters, Long Ago
SISTERS, LONG AGO
SISTERS,
LONG
AGO
Peg Kehret
DUTTON CHILDREN'S BOOKS
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First published in the United States by Cobblehill Books, an affiliate of Dutton Children's Books, a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.
Copyright © 1990 by Peg Kehret
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Kehret, Peg
Sisters, long ago / Peg Kehret.
p. cm.
Summary: When Willow Paige nearly drowns, she envisions scenes from a past life which lead to an exploration of reincarnation and mental telepathy and set her on a quest to help give hope and strength to her sister who has leukemia.
ISBN: 978-1-101-66084-3
[1. Reincarnation—Fiction. 2. Sisters—Fiction. 3. Leukemia—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.K2518Si 1990 [Fic]—dc20 89-38677 CIP AC
The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their contents.
Special thanks to
Alice Burgess of the Fred Hutchinson
Cancer Research Center, Seattle, WA.
King County Public Libraries
FOR MY MOTHER
If I have another life,
I hope she’s there
Table of Contents
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1
NUK UA em ennu en Xu ammu Xu.
Willow stirred in her sleep. Beside her, Muttsie stood, turned in a circle, and curled up again.
Nuk ua em ennu en Xu ammu Xu.
The words floated into her consciousness, waking her gently.
Willow blinked in the darkness and reached for the tablet and pencil. Since she first dreamed of Kalos, she had kept paper and pencil next to her bed. If she had such dreams again, she wanted to write them down before she forgot them. She switched on her lamp.
Nuk ua em ennu en Xu ammu Xu.
She stared at what she had written. She had no idea what the words meant yet she sensed that they were important.
Why? What could this mumbo-jumbo sentence mean?
She said the words out loud. “Nuk ua em ennu en Xu ammu Xu.” It was clearly a different language but she didn’t know which one. Could it be a code? Did it have something to do with Kalos?
A month earlier, Willow would have gone back to sleep and forgotten the words. But not now. Too many things had happened. Strange things. Odd things, like these nonsense words.
It all began on her birthday.
Willow and her best friend, Gretchen, had walked barefoot on the warm sand, past Camelback Rock, to the cove where the old driftwood log provided a natural table.
Gretchen carried their towels, a Frisbie, a bag of sandwiches, sunscreen, and a pink cardboard carton containing a chocolate birthday cake with thirteen candles on it. She refused to let Willow carry anything.
“You aren’t lifting your little pinkie today,” Gretchen said. “You’re going to lie in the sun and pig out on the picnic.”
“Sounds good to me,” Willow said.
When they reached the log, Gretchen made a big production out of spreading Willow’s towel on the sand for her and handing her the bottle of sunscreen. “You use first, honorable aged one,” she said, bowing low.
“Aged one! You sound like I’m your grandmother,” Willow said, but she took the oil and began smoothing it on her legs.
“Grandma Willow look youthful for her age. Not seem a day over forty.”
Willow finished oiling herself and lay back on her towel, savoring the warm rays of the sun. It was wonderful to have someone wait on her, for a change.
She didn’t mind ironing Sarah’s blouses for her, or doing the dishes even when it was Sarah’s turn. She felt sorry for her sister and wanted to help her, but she did get weary. Even though Sarah was in remission, she remained frail and tired easily. Her leukemia was always there, hovering over Willow’s family like a thundercloud about to burst.
Mr. and Mrs. Paige, Willow’s parents, worried constantly about Sarah. Sometimes it seemed to Willow that they thought of nothing else. Other families talked about politics or football games or the neighbors. Willow’s parents discussed Sarah’s lack of appetite or Sarah’s blood count or Sarah’s latest nosebleed. Potential disaster lurked around the corner of each new day.
Willow knew it wasn’t Sarah’s fault that she was sick. Most of the time, Willow didn’t mind doing whatever she could to make Sarah’s life easier. Still, it was pleasant to have Gretchen fuss over her today; it felt good to be pampered.
Willow stretched out her arms, wanting to catch the sun in every pore. As the heat entered her body, it soothed her frazzled nerves and calmed her troubled thoughts. She relaxed, lulled by the luxury of laziness.
“Hunk alert!” Gretchen whispered, as she poked Willow in the ribs.
Willow opened her eyes. Squinting in the brightness, she looked at the couple who were spreading towels a short distance down the beach. Gretchen was right. The guy was definitely good looking.
The girl with him jammed a red beach umbrella into the sand, tilting it to get the right angle. Willow watched her lazily, noting the girl’s long, single blonde braid and her bright blue swimsuit.
The girl adjusted the umbrella, stepped back, and turned to face Willow. When their eyes met, the girl stopped and stood perfectly still, staring. Her look was so intense that for a moment, Willow thought perhaps the girl was someone she knew.
No. If Willow had seen that long blonde braid before, she would remember it. Probably the girl was looking at her because she realized that Willow had been watching her. Embarrassed to be caught staring at a stranger, Willow lay back on her towel and closed her eyes.
She awoke when Gretchen shook her shoulder. “You’re scorching,” Gretchen said. “Roll over and toast the other side for a while.”
Willow looked at the pink hue on her legs and arms. She felt hot and sticky; she knew she’d be geranium red by evening.
“I need to cool down,” she said. “I’m going for a swim.”
“Wait for me!”
Together, Gretchen and Willow waded into the lake, shrieking and shivering as the cold water covered their ankles. As Willow tried to get up her nerve to go in farther, Gretchen bellyflopped forward and started to swim. The sudden shower of water caught Willow in the face and she spluttered for a moment before she dove in, too.
She swam steadily but without pushing herself. She knew there was no hope of catching Gretchen—not after Gretchen took off first—so she didn’t even try to keep up. Instead, she alternated between a breaststroke and a sidestrok
e, taking it easy, liking the fluid way her body slid through the water.
The cramp caught her by surprise. She was sidestroking when it hit her. She clutched her stomach and tried to tread water but the cramp was so strong that she doubled over with the pain.
She opened her mouth to yell for help. When her lips parted, no sound came out. Instead, lake water rushed in. The water stung her throat, filling her nose and ears, choking her so that she couldn’t think clearly. In her panic, she forgot to move her arms or kick her legs. She could think only about air. The more she struggled to inhale, the worse it got.
The water closed over the top of her head.
I’m drowning.
The thought gave her a fresh spurt of energy. She kicked furiously, ignoring the cramp in her stomach, pushing aside the pain in her chest.
Her head burst up above the surface and Willow gulped frantically, trying to get air without water but unable to control what entered her nose and mouth. She screamed, or at least she thought she screamed, before she went under again.
And that’s when it happened. She was still struggling, still aware that she was drowning, when, in her mind, she clearly saw herself as a young child. She was about three years old and she had made a gift for her grandmother: a piece of yellow construction paper filled with red crayon squiggles and lines. Her grandmother held the yellow paper in one hand while she hugged Willow tightly. Her grandfather stood beside them, beaming.
She felt their love. It was a tangible thing, surrounding her, engulfing her. The room was full of love and Willow felt cherished and secure.
The scene lasted only a fraction of a second and then she saw a different scene. A girl stood on a small raft made of woven branches. She wore a simple, long white gown, belted at the waist, and her straight black hair hung to her shoulders. She was twelve and her name was Kalos. This black-haired girl looked nothing like Willow and yet Willow knew immediately that she and Kalos were the same person. She was watching herself, in a different time.
The raft, which was piled high with grain, floated on a wide river where tall reeds grew along the banks. Kalos moved her head back and forth as she pushed her steering pole into the river, watching carefully for sandbanks or crocodiles. She wasn’t far now from the east bank of the river. She would be home soon and her tired muscles were glad of it.
A flock of wild geese rose from the reeds ahead, startling her with their honking and flapping. On the shore, she saw two boys with throwing sticks. The boys took aim and flung the sticks with all their might. Kalos stopped poling and watched to see if either of the sticks would hit its target.
In that brief moment, when she failed to concentrate on the river, her raft struck the huge snout of a crocodile. Enraged, the beast brought its jaws down on the raft, tipping it sideways, spilling the grain into the river. Frantically, Kalos jammed her steering pole into the water, trying to steady the raft and move it out of the crocodile’s reach. She was too late. The crocodile snapped again and the raft broke, dumping Kalos into the river.
She clung to the pole as she tried to swim through the thick stand of reeds. The water behind her thrashed violently; she knew the enraged crocodile would spot her at any moment.
Kalos jammed her pole into the river bottom and tried to propel herself faster but it was impossible to move quickly. The reeds tore her clothing and cut her arms. Dark water washed into her mouth and, though she struggled with every bit of strength she possessed, her head sank beneath the surface.
Kalos looked upward, her vision blurred by the murky brown water, and saw the thick stand of reeds close over her. She would be gone without a trace. Her parents and Tiy would never know what had happened to her, or where.
She forced the pole upward, trying to move it forward. Her feet kicked frantically. A large shape, as big as herself, loomed in the water ahead of her.
Kalos quit struggling. Better to drown, she thought, than to be eaten alive by the crocodile.
And then, just as Kalos felt herself losing consciousness, the pole, which she still held in her hand, jerked. For a moment, she thought the crocodile had found her but then, even in her semiconscious state, she realized that the pole was being pulled toward shore. She put her other hand on the pole and held tight. She moved faster, oblivious now to the sharp reeds, thinking only that there was still hope.
Her head surfaced and she took a great gulp of air. She felt the sandy bank of the river beneath her sandals and fought to get her footing. She dropped the pole as hands grasped her, tugging, pulling. Kalos stumbled up the bank, coughing and choking, and fell to her knees. She blinked the water from her eyes and looked at her rescuer.
It was Tiy. Wordlessly, Tiy dropped to her knees and the girls embraced, both crying tears of relief.
After a moment, Kalos sat back on her heels.
“Thank you, my sister,” she said.
Tiy did not reply but her dark eyes shone with love.
As Willow watched Kalos and Tiy, she knew the same feeling of love that she’d felt when she saw herself as a little child, with her grandparents. It encircled her, and made her feel safe.
This second scene, vivid though it was, lasted no longer than the first one. It flashed through Willow’s brain like a video on fast-forward and was gone almost before it began.
While she saw these odd unrelated scenes in her mind, Willow still kicked frantically, fighting to keep her head above the surface of Pinecone Lake. Instead, she sank deeper in the water, and she felt herself losing consciousness.
As the water closed over her head a third time, Willow saw her grandparents again. They stood together, surrounded by a bright light. Their arms stretched toward her, welcoming her.
2
A HAND grasped Willow’s hair, yanking her upward. Another hand moved down her neck; the fingers dug into her shoulder and forced her body up until her head burst above the water.
Willow choked, desperately trying to get air. An arm went securely around her and her rescuer swam toward shore. Willow tried to kick but she had no strength left. She went limp, floating smoothly, grateful for an occasional breath of air.
As they reached the shore, Willow was lifted, carried by many hands, and then laid on her stomach while someone pushed on her back, forcing the lake water she’d swallowed out of her body. Willow choked, vomited, choked again.
At last she could breathe normally. She lay quietly for a moment, face down on the beach, relieved to be alive. Someone handed her a towel; gratefully, she wiped her face.
She rolled over and opened her eyes. The girl with the braid, the girl Willow had watched earlier, looked down at her.
“Are you OK?” the girl asked.
“Yes. Are you the one who saved me?”
The girl nodded.
“Thank you,” Willow said.
They looked at each other again and in that instant Willow knew. This was the same girl she’d seen in her mind, when she was drowning. This girl with the blonde braid once had black hair, black bangs. Long ago, she waded chest deep into a river where a crocodile thrashed in the reeds and saved her sister. Instead of a bright blue swimsuit then, she wore a long, white dress, but it was this same girl. The same, yet different, just as the girl who fell off the raft into the reeds was Willow and yet not Willow. Kalos was a different Willow—the same person in a separate body. The girl with the braid was Tiy, also in a separate body.
Willow didn’t know how she knew this. She could not have explained it to anyone but she was as certain of these facts as she was that the sun shone down and the waves lapped the shores of Pinecone Lake.
Gretchen knelt beside her, her eyes wide with worry.
“I think I should call an ambulance,” Gretchen said.
Other voices chimed in, giving advice, offering to drive the girls home.
“I’ll be all right,” Willow said. “I just need to rest.”
“I can’t believe this happened,” Gretchen said. “If you’re sure you’re OK here, I’ll go to t
he phone booth and call your mom.”
“I’m OK.”
“Stay right there until I come back.”
“I won’t move,” Willow promised.
She didn’t want to move. She wanted to lie still and think about what had happened. The memory from her childhood and the odd scene with the raft had each lasted only a fraction of a moment. Yet both were indelibly imprinted in Willow’s mind and each, when she recalled them, gave her a warm, secure feeling: the knowledge that she was loved. As little Willow, she was loved by her grandparents. As Kalos, she was loved by her sister, Tiy.
She looked around for the girl with the braid. The girl was gone.
When Gretchen returned, Willow said, “Will you see if you can find the girl who saved me? I want to talk to her.”
Gretchen searched without success until Willow’s mother arrived. Mrs. Paige insisted that Willow be examined by a doctor.
The doctor pronounced Willow unharmed but said she should go to bed, and stay there until the next morning.
As they rode home, Willow told her mother exactly what had happened. All except the part about the two scenes in her mind. Somehow, she wasn’t ready to talk about them. Not yet.
When Willow got into bed, she fell asleep immediately.
It was dusk when she awoke. Pink light from the setting sun filtered through the white curtains on her bedroom windows. Muttsie was curled beside her like a fur doughnut, having crept in after Willow fell asleep.
Willow lay quietly, thinking about the two scenes she had glimpsed so vividly when she was near drowning, and the intense feeling of love they gave her. She could understand the love between herself and her grandparents. She had adored them all her life and when they died two years ago in a tragic car accident, she mourned deeply. But what was the scene with Tiy all about? Why did she have a feeling of kinship toward the girl with the braid?
Before she could sort out her thoughts, Mrs. Paige came into her room.
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Hungry.”