The Awakening of Leeowyn Blake

Chapter 1

Why is it that I only ever want to buy sunglasses when it’s autumn and the skies are in a perpetual state of overcast?

I know what you’re thinking.

Couldn’t I just save them? Wear them in the spring and summer? It’s not like sunglasses have an expiration date. At least not in anything but fashion. Not that fashion has ever been on my Top Ten list of things that matter. Or even my Top Twenty.

I’m getting sidetracked.

The thing is, I only ever buy sunglasses in the fall because I’m desperately clinging to that last bit of summer. In the summer I can be a normal teenager. I can spend it on the beach, hanging out with my friends, staying up way too late and sleeping until noon if I want.

I’m a normal teenager. I have a normal teenage life with normal teenage problems. The summer is my heaven.

I live with my mom during the summer months. We stay in her tiny condo in Jacksonville, Florida.

My parents split up when I was little. I’m not sure why. My mom never talks about it.

Whatever it was, it was bad enough to make my mom pack me up in the middle of the night when I was four years old, and run to my Gran’s condo.

My mom got the condo after Gran died. It's not like it was this big, grand vacation home; more like a little cottage. But it was enough for us. The first couple years were shaky, and there were more than a few times when the money just wasn't there, but mom never backed down or asked for help.

It was tough, but we made it through, and from that time on all I had known my entire life was beach life.

Until four years ago.

Until my uncle found me.

Apparently my dad's family had not been doing anything for the last ten years other than trying to find me.

My mom may be a bit scatter-brained, but when she sets her mind to something, she does it.

My mom had set her mind on us disappearing.

It was mid-November, the night of my fourteenth birthday. Mom had splurged on this huge monstrosity of a cake. We were sharing it when we heard a knock on the door. Mom answered it as I continued working on my third slice.

At first I thought it was just some pushy salesman. There seems to be lots of them in Jacksonville these days. I could hear muffled, angry words.

That struck me as odd, because my mom was never the type to be rude to anyone. She would be more likely to invite the salesmen in for a cool glass of lemonade and whatever store-bought baked goods she had on hand, even though she never bought anything from them.

Your Gran would turn over in her grave if she knew I wasn’t showing these people some real Southern hospitality, she always said when I got annoyed with her for constantly letting strangers into our house.

I didn’t inherit my mom’s patience. Nor her sense of Southern hospitality.

When I heard my mom starting to raise her voice I knew something was wrong. I was up and out of my chair in an instant.

I grabbed the first blunt object my hands came in contact with as I rounded the corner into the living room, wielding my mom’s umbrella like it was a broadsword.

Points for trying, right?

Look, Bud, if my mom doesn’t want to buy anything, then she doesn’t…

My voice died in my throat.

Mom was crying, and shaking.

I had never seen such a sight. I mean, ever.

My mom just doesn’t cry.

As shocked as I was by the sight of my mother in tears, I was more shocked by the man standing in the doorway.

He was at least six feet tall. His red hair was mussed out of place and he was wearing a well-tailored, three-piece suit, which made him look out of place.

I mean, this is Jacksonville. No one wears a suit in Jacksonville. Not unless they plan on sweating to death.

I noticed all of that in a moment, but none of that mattered once I noticed his eyes.

He had my eyes.

I don’t have normal green, blue, brown or even violet eyes.

I have tawny eyes; almost yellow, really.

My mom’s eyes are the color of a calm sea, so I knew without asking that I got my eyes from my father.

And this man had my eyes.

Dad? I whispered.

The man half-smiled as he stepped into the living room.

My mom tensed and glowered at him.

No, Leeowyn, the man said. I am not your father. I am your uncle; your father’s brother.

That stopped me in my tracks. I never knew my dad even had a brother.

Truth be told, I didn’t know much of anything about my dad. The only thing of my father’s that my mom kept when she left was his last name - Blake.

My mom and I pretended he didn’t exist. It was like an unspoken rule between us.

I had always been curious about my father, but the few times I got up the nerve to ask about him, my mom got the saddest, far-off look in her eyes. She wouldn’t say another word the rest of the day. I learned fast that it was an off-limits topic.

I tightened my grip on the umbrella.

The curiosity that I had kept on a tight leash my entire life began to gnaw against the restraint of my better judgment. My mom was still shaking and sobbing silently. It ripped my heart out to see her like that.

The man in the doorway – my uncle; my father’s brother - was the reason. If he had only been within reach of my umbrella I would have… but no such luck.

Your father is dead, he said.

I cast a sideways glance at my mom.

Not even a flinch from her.

Not a flinch from me, either.

It’s not that I’m a cold person, but hey, you can’t miss someone you’ve never known, right?

Oh, I said.

The man in the doorway - my uncle; my father’s brother - continued staring at me with those yellow eyes like he was waiting for some kind of reaction.

Um…that’s real sad, I managed. I was starting to feel really uncomfortable.

He just continued staring at me. I suppose he was hoping for a more stereotypical response to the news of the death of one’s father.

He didn’t get it.

He shrugged, walked uninvited into the room, turned and sat himself down on our faded blue couch, looking terribly out of place with his crisp suit and somber expression.

I finally relinquished my grip on the umbrella and tossed it down on a side table. I looked at Mom for some indication of what I should do next, but she looked as lost as I felt. After a few more nonresponsive moments, I slowly sat in a chair across from the stranger intruding in my living room and my life.

The silence in the room was as thick as a late-April thunderstorm that refused to break, crackling with pent up electricity, gagging the thunder that wrestled to break free.

It scared me.

It thrilled me.

On his deathbed your father made me swear that I would find you, my father’s brother finally said. He paid no mind to my mom who looked as if she were about two seconds away from jumping up and driving the umbrella through his heart.

You have a right to know who you are. You have a right to know your father’s family. It is a right your mother stole from you.

Okay, hold it! I exploded out of my chair and into his face.

Something inside me snapped. I stormed towards him with balled fists. Not that I expected to do much with them. It’s not like I have a black belt in karate or jujitsu or anything. But no one insults my mom. Not to my face. I was fiercely loyal to my family and she was the only family I had. At least she was until this guy showed up.

No one talks about my mom like that! She has stolen nothing from me. She has sacrificed everything to make sure I have a good life!

My uncle held up his hands in mock self-defense. The expression on his face clearly stated that he was trying to appease a cranky, ill-mannered child.

Your mother sacrificed for herself, Leeowyn, not for you. She was selfish.

He spoke as if my mom wasn’t two feet away from him. I couldn’t believe she wasn’t snapping him in two right then. She was not the type of woman to take disrespect lying down.

Please, sit down, my uncle said. Give me a chance to explain.

His voice softened. The compelling look in his yellow eyes made me swallow the quick retort that had leapt to my tongue. It was the same look I always saw in my mom’s eyes when she looked at me; like I was a hidden treasure, and only she knew my worth.

It was creepy.

I’m sorry, but we’re in the middle of a birthday party.

My mom had finally found her voice, snapping me out of my state of confusion. The cake in the kitchen was long forgotten and I had no desire to revisit it. My party was the last thing on my mind at the moment.

I disliked this man for the way he talked to my mom. Yet even though he was a complete stranger, his presence pulled at me, taunting my curiosity like raw meat dangling in front of a lion’s cage.

All my life I had lived without a father. I squashed all my questions out of respect for my mom. Now I had a chance to get some answers. Was I really going to pass that up?

Mom…

I turned my face toward my mom, knowing what I was about to do would betray everything she had ever done for me.

I’ll be back in an hour.

Chapter 2

I walked towards the door; the stranger - my uncle, my father’s brother - followed me.

I expected some kind of outburst. I expected my mom to forbid me to go. I expected…something. What I didn’t expect was the complete and absolute silence. She wouldn’t even look at me.

It killed me to see my mom like that, but I had to know. I stepped out the door without looking back.

I had no idea what I was getting myself in to.

We lived right next to the beach, so my feet led me there without even thinking. We walked in silence, my uncle and I. I tried to think of something witty to say, but how do you start a conversation after something like that?

Sorry my mom kidnapped me from your brother and hid me so well for the past ten years, I blurted out. Do you think it would be okay if you just kind of forgot that?

Silence.

Well, that went over well.

We continued walking over the moonlit beach while my mind sorted through the various phrases I could say to cut the tension. I risked a glance at him, and then burst out laughing.

He paused and cocked an eye at me.

I’m sorry, I breathed between fits of laughter. You just look so out of place in those clothes.

I stifled a chuckle and managed to get myself under control.

I thought I was dressed quite nicely, he commented, giving himself a quick once over.

Oh great, not even ten minutes in and I’ve offended him.

No, no. You…you are dressed very well. Just not for the beach, you know? I stammered, wondering if there was any way I could possibly make even more of a fool of myself.

Ah.

He started walking again.

We don’t have beaches where I’m from.

He looked out over the ocean, breathed in the sharp salt air. A look that was something akin to awe crossed his eyes. I knew the feeling. I got it whenever I took the time to actually contemplate the vastness of the ocean.

I wanted to ask him where he was from. If it was the same place I was from. If it was the same place my father was from. But I didn’t want to mess up this conversation any more than I already had.

Instead of talking, I decided to sit down and let him take it from here. He had sought me out, after all. There must be something he wanted to say.

The ocean usually calmed me down. Whenever I was going through some emotional upheaval thing, I would walk down this beach, watch the waves break on the shore, and let the vastness of the universe put my petty problems into perspective.

The ocean’s usual hypnotic effect wasn’t working on me today. My mind was racing too fast, in too many directions, to be taken in by the soothing sounds of the surf on the beach.

He chose not to sit down on the beach; probably didn't want to mess up that nice, three-piece he was wearing.

I’m here to take you back, Leeowyn.

My uncle’s flat declaration cut the silence like a meat cleaver.

I didn’t look at him.

I’m not sure what I had expected from this conversation. My mind wasn’t really ready to take in anything he was saying.

You have a right to… he started, but I held up my hand, cutting him off in mid-sentence. He seemed a little bemused by my sudden demanding action after all my ungraceful attempts at civility.

Look, I’m sure that my dad wasn’t exactly thrilled at what my mom did – stealing me away, and all. But no matter what you say, I know she did it out of love for me.

He opened his mouth to continue, but I held up both hands and added my patented glare to stop him again. I’m sure I looked ridiculous, but no more ridiculous than a guy in a suit on a beach in Florida.

I don’t know why my mom felt like she had to steal me away. She never talks about it and I’ve learned not to ask. It doesn’t really matter. What’s done is done.

I softened my voice, Regardless of why my mother did what she thought she had to...I agree with you.

Those last words tasted a lot like betrayal.

I’m not going to lie and tell you that a day hasn’t gone by that I haven’t wondered what it would be like to have a father, I said, the words spilling out of their own volition.

Quite honestly, months at a time have gone by without me even thinking about having a father.

My words trailed off. I stared out over the ocean again, wishing it would work its familiar magic and still my racing mind.

Recently, I’ve awakened in the middle of the night. It’s happened several times. Not startled awake, like you see in movies. Nothing so dramatic. Just, one second I was asleep, and the next I was standing at my window looking out. In those moments, I had this intense…longing. I’m not sure for what or who. Just a feeling like there was a part of me that was missing. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I’ve never mentioned it to anyone before; not even my mom. Because I knew that the part of me that was missing was the part of me that was my father’s.

I looked up at him as I said this, trying to gauge his reaction in those yellow eyes of his.

Slowly, he lowered himself down and sat beside me. It may have been meaningless to anyone else, but I could see a peace treaty in the gesture.

He may as well have said, You give me a chance, and I’ll stop hating your mom.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, interrupted only by the sound of the ocean. Even the gulls seemed to be giving us some space. I absentmindedly began digging my toes in the sand, watching as little grooves followed the motion of my toes.

You like the ocean.

His comment was an awkward attempt at making conversation.

I nodded. I didn’t think he really expected me to reply, but I didn’t want to seem rude.

I have a proposition, he stated.

Nice transition, I said. I tilted my head and looked at him, waiting.

He merely stared at me.

You look so much like him, you know?

He brushed a strand of my deep auburn hair behind my ears.

Yeah? Well, I mean, I guess so, I murmured. My mom never talked about my dad. I never found any pictures of him around the house. But I assumed I must look something like him, what with mom being all blonde hair and green eyes and all. She was always able to get this great tan if she even thought about going out in the sun, while I just burn. With this hair, my pale skin and these eyes, I kind of figured I got my looks from my dad.

I scooped up a pile of sand and let it sift through my fingers. I always needed something to do with my restless hands.

Seeing you confirmed my suspicions, though. Red hair, yellow eyes, pale skin. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist, you know?

I stood up and dusted myself off before offering him my hand.

By the way, we haven’t really been properly introduced. I’m Leeowyn. Leeowyn Blake. My friends just call me Lee. It’s easier to remember.

I knew that he already knew my name, but giving it to him seemed to somehow make our meeting a bit more civil. And I still didn’t know his name.

I’m Cyle, he replied as he took my hand. Cyle Blake, with a C. And my friends call me Cyle. He smiled at his own joke.

Nice to meet you, Cyle, with a C.

We shook hand, a truce of sorts.

So, what’s this proposition? I asked.

Chapter 3

A cool ocean breeze danced across my skin as I walked back to my house, bringing with it the familiar, briny scent of salt water. I stopped outside of the faded green steps that led up to my front door. I couldn’t make myself go up those steps.

For as long as I could remember my mom had been my whole world. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, wouldn’t sacrifice to keep me happy; to keep me safe. Once I walked up those steps and through that door, I would be throwing that all away.

Cyle asked if he could walk me home. I assured him that as nice a gesture as it was, it would hurt more than help. This was something I had to do myself.

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and tried to let the comforting scent of the ocean calm my frazzled nerves.

No use. It wasn’t working.

Here goes nothing. I muttered, taking the stairs two at a time.

Treat it like a band-aid, one quick motion.

I took one more deep breath before opening the door. Any courage I had built up instantly went down the drain when I saw my mom, sitting near the window in her old wicker chair, looking at her favorite picture of me.

I knew that picture well. She had taken it with the first camera she could afford to buy after she left my father.

I was eight years old and covered in ice cream. We couldn’t afford ice cream very often back then, so when mom bought a carton of Death by Chocolate, it was a treat. I’m not known for my willpower when it comes to stuff I like, and I really liked Death by Chocolate ice cream when I was eight years old. I still do.

When my mom got home from the store with her brand new camera, the first thing she saw was the freezer door open and an entire tub of Death by Chocolate ice cream melted all over the floor and myself.

I had expected her to be furious. Instead she just pulled out that camera and snapped a picture. That photo was a like beacon to her. It was a reminder that no matter how hard things got she could always make me happy. She looked at it when she was feeling low.

Well, crap.

Hi mom, I said quietly, shutting the door behind me with a soft click.

Mom, I have something to tell you.

I walked over and sat down in the chair next to her, reached out and took the picture away, and then took her hands in mine.

I know, she said.

She was smiling at me, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes like it always did. It wasn’t a warm, momma smile. It was a sad, I’m-losing-you kind of smile.

I knew the moment Cyle walked through that door that you were leaving me.

No, mom! I’m not leaving you! I lied.

She shook her head, still smiling sadly.

You’ve always been so much like him.

She reached over and stroked my hair, holding a strand between her fingers for a moment before pushing it behind my ear.

I’ve kept you safe for so long, shielding you from anything that might harm you.

I know, and I’m a horrible daughter… I began, but she put a finger to my lips, hushing me like she did when I had come crying to her as a child every time I did something wrong. I was never able to keep anything from her for long, and it always tore me up inside when I hurt her.

I shielded you from everything, because I was afraid, she continued, caressing my hands in hers. But you are so much like him. Everyday I see him in you, more and more. I’ve guarded you too much, Lee. You are his daughter just as much as you are mine. You deserve to know his life; his family.

I sat speechless. My mom rarely said anything about my father or his family, and when she did, it was something bad. Where had this come from, this open acceptance of all things Dad?

I pulled back and held her at arms length.

Mom, are you sure you’re okay with this? I asked, waiting for the bear trap to snap shut on me.

She nodded, this time the smile reaching her eyes.

Oh darling, I knew this day was going to come. I’ve always known. I’ve been preparing myself for it. I just hoped it wouldn’t come this soon.

She patted my cheek as she stood up. I watched her leave the room, stunned. I sat there staring out the window, for how long I have no idea.

There was a soft rap on the door. I didn’t have to open it to know it was my Uncle Cyle standing outside, waiting.

I walked out to the front porch.

How did she take it? he asked.

I turned and