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“How long are you staying?” she asked. I shrugged.
“Not long, I think,” There was sadness in her voice.
I wanted to hold on to her for as long as I could.
“Tell me about Dad?” I asked her.
She smiled again and said, “Come, I’ll make us tea.”
We went into the house and she poured us some iced tea, sweetened with cactus flower. We sat on cushions near the open door, where a draft provided cool air.
“Your father hated people,” my mother said and laughed. “He said they were too noisy, too needy, too stupid.”
I remembered that. He was so impatient. When he wasn’t working, he was fixing things around the house, building things, working. A man of action.
“His family was killed in the Great War. He grew up an orphan. When I met him, he was looking after the horses on the farm where we lived. The moment I saw him, I knew were meant to be together.”
“How did you know?” I asked her.
She was quiet, deep in thought. “I couldn’t stop looking at him. He was still only a boy, but he had a presence about him. He wasn’t silly, like the other boys on the farm. The farmer grew medicinal herbs, which were used for medicine. There were fields of lavender. In summer, we would harvest them. Then all of us would smell of lavender.”
I knew this story already, but I loved listening to it.
“My father was the manager on the farm and we had our own house and land. He wanted me to marry well but I had already lost my heart to your father.”
Her voice faded away. I knew that my father eventually left to become a soldier. Then he went on to become a bounty hunter. Many years later he came looking for my mother. She was the only one of her sisters still living at home. She had refused to leave, saying she was waiting for my father.
“I want to go to him, he’s waiting for me,” she said, her voice filled with longing.
“Not yet,” I begged her. “Stay for me, I need you.”
She closed her eyes, a tear rolled down her cheek.
“Yes,” she said. She got up and went to fetch something. She handed me a small glass bottle. “This is a special potion I have made for you.”
I looked at the vial with the clear liquid.
“It is essence of the Elkana flower. It grows deep in the desert, and once every ten years, it produces a single flower. Its nectar is the sweetest thing you will ever smell,” she sighed deeply. “When you pick the petals, they must be unblemished and young and boiled in clean, distilled water. I used the water from a new well, coming deep from inside the mountains. I made it stronger than usual, left it in the dark for longer.”
She folded my hand around the bottle. “Keep it safe, a few drops will heal almost any injury.”
I gave her a hug, feeling her thin bones in my arms.
“Thank you,” I felt tears in my eyes because it seemed she would not be around much longer. I didn’t know how much time I had.
“Your father was so proud of you, he said you were going to be a great bounty hunter.”
I snorted. “I have made so many mistakes already.”
“That doesn’t mean you aren’t a great bounty hunter,” she said. “It means you made mistakes. He did too.”
“Not many,” I retorted, quickly.
She shook her head. “Many, he made many mistakes.”
I wanted to defend him, but she put a cool hand on my arm.
“You adored him, and that’s wonderful, but…” She shook her head. “Not everything he did was right, not everything he believed was good.”
