pulled my boots off. My wet wool mitts scraped my hands as she removed them. I started to shake uncontrollably.
That’s when Cheveyo stood behind me and put his arms around my shoulders as Emily slowly put my fingers in the cold water. She ordered my mother to slowly add the hot water. Eventually I started to feel my fingers again but when I tried to move them the burning started. It felt like they were on fire. I began to shout, the pain was too much.
“Cold water, please, more cold!” Emily just continued to hold them in the water.
“Annie, add more hot water,” she ordered again. The burning began to subside when Cheveyo put his hands into the water with mine. I smiled up at him.
“Thank you,” I sighed.
“You’re Welcome,” Emily replied. I smiled uncomfortably, forgetting for a moment that she was helping me too. Then she went to work on my toes. John was sitting in the chair beside me, wrapped up in a blanket. He was drinking tea mother had made for us. I think she was a little unsure of what else to do. When I was able to wiggle my toes and fingers without them hurting too much, Jim told Emily it was time to go.
“Thank you so much, I don’t know what I would have done without you,” my mother cried. They just looked at her like she was a child, patting her on the head.
“Next time you need the driveway plowed just ask,” Jim said as he turned and walked out the door, after giving John and I each a rub on the head. He really was nice. Emily gave me a quick hug, grabbed John’s hand, squeezed it and quickly walked out. I loved them.
“Cheveyo lets go upstairs,” I ordered, as I got up.
“Who?” mother asked, looking at me in an odd way.
“Oh, haven’t you met Cheveyo yet?” I asked, still feeling faint.
“Annie, that’s Cheveyo, Cheveyo that’s Annie. Now let’s go upstairs, I’m tired now.” I headed for the stairs. My mother just watched me go, mouth open, confusion on her face, like she thought I was crazy.
She came upstairs with a plate of food for me a little while later, toast and jam, an egg and some tea.
“Thanks mom,” I said sitting up in bed.
“So tell me about your friend, what was his name again?” she asked.
“Cheveyo, it means spirit warrior or something,” I said in between bites. I was starving.
“Where does he live?” she asked.
“Near the river at the end of the field, he used to live here, when the trees were here, but when they cut them down to build this house and plowed the fields his family had to move farther away,” I told her all I really knew about him.
“Do you know how old this house is?” she asked me.
“No, not really, it seems pretty old though,” I answered in-between bites.
“How old is Cheveyo?” she continued her inquisition.
“I think he is twelve or something, he doesn’t really know,” I began to slurp my tea now, wishing there was a bit more sugar in it.
“This house is almost a hundred years old Natalie,” she said, almost like she was trying to shock me.
“That seems about right,” I replied, not letting her get to me. She was thinking Cheveyo was either a liar or a figment of my imagination. I believed him. I believed in him. I knew he was real. He was more real to me than anyone else.
I looked up at Adam and smiled. I reached for his hands and held them in mine. “You’re so warm, why is that?” I asked, not moving, starting to feel more afraid now of his answers to my questions.
“I am warm because you are warming me,” he said, holding me closer.
“If you were not here, touching me, then I would be cold. I guess I reflect your warmth, even intensify it. This is still very new to me. You’re the only one who has touched me since my death,” he replied. The word death sent chills down my spine. I looked up into his beautiful, sweet face. He smiled nervously at me. I had to reassure him I was not going to run away screaming. I held his face in my hands and leaned in to gently kiss his
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley