A crow glided through the air, sailing past her before landing on a nearby tree limb. She kept an eye on the bird. The winged creature appeared to be watching her, as well. The bird flew from perch to perch as she moved down the trail.
“Just don’t crap on me, buddy,” she cautioned, and now she’d clearly entered the conversing-with-animals portion of her heartbreak. But this bird had a familiarity to it. Yes, it was your typical black crow, yet the bird vibed with her.
“Catch you later, bird, namaste,” she said as the rec center’s entrance came into sight. But before she’d left the trail, a jingling sound caught her attention. She’d barely blinked when an arm shot out from the center of a bush—an arm adorned with several bracelets.
The nature lover’s back was to her as the bush dweller twisted her way out of the leafy foliage.
It was a woman.
“I talk to that crow, too, Libby Lamb,” the mysterious foliage frolicker chimed.
Libby gasped and pressed her hand to her chest at the sound of a woman’s voice.
Who was this?
And how did the covert shrub bandit know her name?
Thirty-Two
Libby
“Libby, it’s Ida.”
Libby caught her breath as a jolt of adrenaline hit her system. “Sorry, Ida, I didn’t see you there, chilling in the bushes.”
Ida dusted several leaves from her green tunic and plucked a small twig from her white, flowing hair. “I was meditating with a butterfly.”
“Good, great, yeah, butterflies have terrific energy. And you do find them outside in bushes,” she blathered, her pounding heart beginning to slow.
Ida raised her hand, and a butterfly landed on her palm like she was Snow White, albeit the crystal-wearing, leaf-covered, yogi sage version. “They do. They teach us that we’re capable of great transformation.”
Libby watched the brightly colored insect open and close its wings a few times before flittering down the trail. She and Ida stood together, silently looking on as the butterfly disappeared, and a crow—that same crow—settled itself in the branches of a birch tree not far from them.
Ida inspected the bird. “I suspect you know what crows symbolize.”
Libby eyed the creature, that again, seemed to be watching her. “Many yogis and mystics will tell you crows symbolize the past, present, and future.”
Ida nodded. “Notice how its feathers change in the light. A crow’s plumage is iridescent. They reflect the colors of their environment. See how this one has taken on a blue-violet hue.”
Blue and violet.
She and Raz had once shared those shades.
How she longed to feel his lips on hers. She could almost taste the colors, juicy and sweet, as she disappeared into their auras.
Stop.
She pushed the thoughts aside and concentrated on the bird. “A crow pooped on me after you gave me the aquamarine stone,” she said, not exactly sure why she’d shared that nugget of information.
Or perhaps there was a reason.
She studied the bird.
It felt like this crow was the same crow that soiled her yoga wrap.
She was totally getting that vibe from the winged creature.
It couldn’t be, could it?
She was no crow expert, but there had to be thousands, if not millions, of the birds circling the city.
Ida pointed to the creature, still hanging out on a branch nearby. “You took a shit on her? My goodness,” the woman added, then burst into a rolling belly laugh.
Was Ida okay? There was communing with nature, and then there was losing your damn mind.
“Were you doing anything else in that bush besides meditating, Ida?”
Like psychedelics or popping pot gummies by the handful?
The woman was Hash Pants’s great aunt. There was no telling what a dude with that nickname could get his hands on.
“I was, actually. I was thinking of you, Libby,” she answered, rosy-cheeked from laughter.
“Because you have something for me? That’s what your nephew said when he texted.”
Ida’s features grew solemn as the yogi looked her up and down, then touched a strand of her dark hair. “It’s uncanny to see you in the light after all this time,” the woman said, the lines around her eyes deepening.
What was uncanny?
Libby froze as Ida and the crow zeroed in on her as if they were memorizing her every freckle and each strand of her raven-colored hair.
She understood a yogi’s contemplative nature. She was a yogi herself. This encounter, however, tapped into a part of her, a part deep within her psyche.
Could Ida and this bird see into her soul?
It certainly seemed like it.
“Come with me,” Ida said as the crow took off and landed on the ground near one of the rec center’s large floor-to-ceiling windows. “What I have for you is in my bag back in the studio.”
She followed a step behind Ida, observing the community center’s entryway. “Do you teach classes here?”
“Yes, I’ve been gone for a while, but I’m starting up again.”
Libby nodded, taking in the space as warmth radiated through her body. She hadn’t entered the building since her mother passed. And in over a decade, very little had changed. A gumball machine stood half-empty near the door. The boys used to love that thing and beg their mother for quarters. She smiled, recalling how they used to guess which color they’d receive when they opened the metal lid. The circular check-in desk with three pendant lights hadn’t moved from the center of the lobby, and the pale green walls were just as she recalled.
“Still the same, huh?” Ida commented, glancing over her shoulder, the crystals around her neck clinking as they walked down the hall.
How would Ida know the last time she’d been here?
“Yes, I haven’t been inside this rec center in a long time.”
“And I hear you’ve been in my neck of the woods,” the woman continued, but she didn’t look over her shoulder this time.
Libby followed her into a small yoga studio. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Rickety Rock,” the yogi answered, pinning her with her gaze.
Libby’s jaw dropped. “You’re from Rickety Rock?”
A smile stretched across the woman’s face. “Born and raised. My siblings and I were the first triplets in town.”
“Triplets!” Now she saw the resemblance. “You’re—”
“Ida Askew.”
“Your Bob and Maud’s sister?” she said, amazement coating her words.
“I sure am.”
“That’s quite a coincidence,” Libby answered, shaking her head. “Not only did I sublet your apartment. I also spent most of the summer in your hometown. It’s a lovely place. I spent quite a bit of time with your siblings. They provided us with donkeys and helped train us for the Ass-in-Nine.”
“I heard Doug took a shine to you,” Ida tossed out with a twist to her lips.
How did she know that?
Libby glanced away. “Doug is…”
“Not for you,” Ida supplied, lifting an eyebrow. “You see, Dougie came to Denver to visit me and Henry Peter. He had some extra time before he left for the yoga retreat because a young lady named Libby Lamb had canceled on him.”