Rebecca went over to her parents and gave them each a big hug. That seemed to settle her father down, but Rebecca suddenly felt a little more emotional. She had been looking forward to freedom from her parents’ rules and regulations since she had officially become a teenager. Now that she was really leaving home, however, it was a little overwhelming. She realized how much she would miss them.

“Mom … Dad … I-I love you guys so much,” she stuttered.

That was when her mother finally lost it and started crying. Rebecca was actually surprised she’d made it that far. Mrs. Hope had cried at almost every single landmark in Rebecca’s life, from her kindergarten graduation to her first violin recital. Even her father forgot to stay angry; he was so choked up over the thought of saying goodbye to his little girl. Rebecca had to wipe away a few tears as she watched them walk toward the door.

Matt had already disappeared, but Darlene lingered behind a few minutes after Rebecca’s parents had gone. She gave Rebecca a huge hug before turning to her son. Justyn looked as calm and collected as ever, but Darlene’s eyes were misty with tears. For once, she seemed a little less ethereal.

“Make sure to smudge the apartment at least once a week,” she instructed and reached out to wrap her arms around her son. “And if your shoulder bothers you, I have some all-natural massage oils in that basket. I made it myself. Becca, you’ll take care of him for me, won’t you? Make sure he doesn’t overdo it?”

“Of course,” Rebecca agreed.

“Darlene … please,” Justyn rolled his eyes, “you don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

“I know that.” Darlene’s voice was thick with emotion. “Your father would be so proud. In fact, I know that he is proud. He tells me so all the time in my dreams.”

Now Justyn had to clear his throat. It was never easy for him to talk about his father, who had died when he was just a baby.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” he told Darlene. “You always supported me, no matter how far out my dreams were. You made so many sacrifices, especially all those years we were on our own. I don’t know if I ever thanked you for that.”

She nudged his arm and wiped away a few tears, careful not to smudge her eyeliner. “How dare you make me cry?”

“I love you, Mom,” Justyn whispered. “You’re the most amazing woman I know.”

“I love you too, kiddo.” She embraced him one last time. “You call me later this week and let me know how things are going, okay?”

He nodded. “I will.”

Again, Rebecca felt a little sad as she watched Darlene glide out the door and disappear down the stairwell. Over the last few months, she had become like a second mother to Rebecca. She would miss her almost as much as her own parents.

“You called Darlene mom,” Rebecca said once they were alone. “I’ve never heard you call her that before.”

Justyn shrugged. “It’s a special occasion.”

“I guess it is,” she agreed. “I can’t believe we’re actually here. In our place. It sort of feels like a dream.”

“A dream come true.” Justyn smiled. “I’ll miss Darlene, but having you all to myself definitely has its advantages.”

Rebecca blushed for what must have been the tenth time that day. She glanced awkwardly at the freshly made bed that was visible through the open bedroom door. She and Justyn had only been able to sneak in a few nights alone together since the prom. As much as she looked forward to waking up beside him every morning, she was still a little nervous about things like bedhead and morning breath. She wondered if he would still think she was beautiful with sleep-encrusted eyes.

From A Pit Story by Shelli Rosewarne

“Who has authorization on-site at the moment then?”

One of the foremen shifted uncomfortably.

“We have two first-aiders underground, but we don’t know if they might be injured too.”

Maud shook her head. “If they’re badly injured, they can go into shock when they get moved. They need a shot first.”

He glanced away. “There’s no one who can do it,” he said simply.

Before she realized what she was saying, Maud replied, “There’s me.”

The yard almost turned as one to stare at her.

The foreman coughed. “Er, ma’am, you know that’s not possible. Women aren’t allowed underground.”

She glared. “Are you prepared to let people die because of that? Robbie Stanham, I knew your mother and God bless her soul, she would be ashamed.”

He flushed under the layer of coal dust and looked away.

“It ain’t safe, ma’am,” he muttered, but she knew he was only saying it for show.

She paused—was she really going to do this? Not only was it dangerous, but even if she made it out again safely, she would be in world of trouble … maybe even lose her job. Harry might be down there … or Danny. Even if they’re not, it’s someone’s husband, someone’s son … you owe it to them.

She squared her shoulders. “Someone get me a helmet.”

By the time she was decked-out in overalls three sizes too big for her with an overlarge helmet weighing down her head, she doubted her sanity. This was crazy—she’d never been underground before. While she supposed she might have been a little curious, both the rules and a well-placed sense of self-preservation had kept it at just curiosity.

She carefully checked her pack—that was the main thing, getting the first-aid supplies down to those who couldn’t be moved safely without them. Focus, Maud. Lives are at stake here … this is what your job is about, remember? She stepped gingerly toward the entrance, where half a dozen waited to go with her. She was grateful, knowing they could be risking discipline as well simply by helping her.

Lord, it looks dark.She peered into the gaping hole in the earth. As though he read her thoughts, one of the men stepped forward and gently flicked on the light on top of her helmet. She smiled a little sheepishly at him and muttered her thanks. The small bulb gave a pale watery glow, only seeming to deepen the shadows. You volunteered for this. No backing out now. She shook herself and stepped into the blackness.

It was like stepping into another world. The darkness was so thick she could barely see a few steps in front of her. The lights from their helmets and the lantern one of the men carried reflected off the gray walls. As they moved away from the entrance, the passages became narrower, the roof lower. Maud could almost feel the dirt and stone pressing in on her. The light of the day didn’t penetrate here and she could feel the cold and damp seeping through the heavy overalls. She tried to take deep breaths, but that just seemed to fill her lungs with dust and she found herself coughing.

The man ahead of her turned back. “Are you okay?”

She forced herself to nod and he smiled briefly at her.

“Always bad your first time down. Turn your collar up and take shallow breaths.”

She did as he suggested and although it helped a little with the dust, she felt the cold settling into her bones. She tried to concentrate on the broad back of the man in front of her.

Lord, she couldn’t imagine doing this every day!

She focused on the monotony, the stepping forward, the lamps set at intervals down the passageway, the stamping of their footsteps and the constant grayness around them. She didn’t even notice the man in front of her had stopped until she nearly ran into the back of him. He turned to her and gestured to a slumped form on the ground. Maud carefully stepped round him, gesturing for the man with the lamp to come forward, as she crouched down beside the fallen miner. The warm glow of the lamp glinted on his blood-stained form and the white shine of bone poking through his shin. She gently touched his shoulder and he turned pain-filled eyes her way.

“Am I dead?” he whispered.

She tried to smile reassuringly. “No, pet. The angels are a great deal prettier than me.”

When I arrived at my office, there was a case file already sitting on my desk waiting for me. Interesting. They normally came through via an email alert first. I picked up the file to peruse it while I sipped on my coffee.

Attn: Sydney Porter
New Case Management File
Security Clearance: Highly Classified
Highly Decorated Officer

Included was a hand scribbled note:

This case is to take highest priority.
All of your other cases have been moved to other case managers.
No additional cases will be sent to you.
Appointment scheduled for 10:30 am today. Incoming.

I began to read up on my new one and only case. This guy must be someone special, or more likely, be related to someone in the high ranks. Sergeant First Class Aiden Thane. He was seriously decorated, too. He had the Purple Heart, the Army Commendation Medal, the Army Achievement Medal and the Army Distinguished Service Cross. I hadn’t met a soldier decorated with all of those medals before. He had no family listed, and no formal education after high school. He seemed to have joined the military right after graduation. In fact, there was really no more information listed, other than his army career. He was being granted an honorable discharge. I’d get the whole story in person from him, I was sure.

With no other work to do until half past ten, I grabbed my coffee, and set off to visit Cheryl, who worked Triple-D (Death Detail Duty) as we called it. It was her task to deal with the dead, those poor souls who never returned from war. She was given lists of all the deceased, waited for their bodies to be delivered home, and then made sure they arrived safely to wherever they needed to go. I was so much happier working with the living. She seemed to prefer working with the deceased, because she didn’t have to worry about every soldier hitting on her. Her wife Gina greatly appreciated her work ethic. Cheryl was downright gorgeous. She had shoulder-length, bleached blonde hair and a face that could have any man crouching at her feet. And the gorgeous didn’t stop there. It went from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. She was just stunning. Gina was quite the looker, too. She was the tiniest thing, and every movement she made was a bounce full of energy and grace. Her reddish-brown hair was cut into a cute bob, which hugged her petite facial features. She was a dance teacher, which probably explained the bouncy, graceful part. She was a delight in every way; always happy and never a bad word escaped her lips. The only way to describe her would be as angel embodied in human form. You just couldn’t help but to be drawn in by her enthusiasm for life.

“Hey, babe, what’s happening?” I smiled and said, as I graced the edge of her desk with my backside.

“Oh, I’m doing just great; ten more incoming this morning alone. It’s such a shame. All babies, too. Good morning back, by the way. How about you?” She sat back in her chair and put her feet up on her desk, and smiled.

“Well, looks like I’ve been given aspecial assignment,” I said, making quote marks in the air above me. “They pulled all my other cases for this one guy.”

“Seriously? What’s so special about this one?” Cheryl was the best sounding board for pretty much everything. Since I no longer had my dad, she was my go-to-girl.

“Highly-decorated. You should see the list of medals he has. Other than that, I’m clueless. Guess I’ll find out at 10:30; we have a scheduled appointment already.” I gave her the double-eyebrow salute. I usually scheduled my own appointments, but this one really was making its own path.

“Well, this should be interesting. I love hearing about all your guys,” she teased. She was always pushing me to date, and often with soldiers I worked with.

“Okay, I’ll stop back after I meet with him. Are you and Gina still coming for pizza and a horror flick this Friday night?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” she said as she spun her chair around to face her computer. She lazily waved goodbye to me over her shoulder.

“Right. See ya later, babe.” I turned and headed back to my office to get all my paperwork in order for my meeting.

Human life starts with a simple cry, a cry that is universal: the cry for Mother. It means warmth and love and security. It calls for food. It brings a scent indelible in our memories and primeval in our response. It brings the scent of Mother. It’s inexplicable, we just know the smell when we’re around it and barring childhood trauma that disconnected us at an early age, it’s a smell that relaxes us and makes us happy. So the journey begins before we have words for it.

Just as the child longs for Mother before there are words, so we women on our Goddess paths long for Her before we have words for what we seek. There is a sense of not belonging in the world of Father-identified Godhood, a vague unease with the male-only terms for creation, an inner tug that tells us that something more is out there. Someone more is out there. That someone loves us and waits for us. We sing a chant that flows from our lips before we realize it’s a heart-felt cry, “Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” We call for our Mother in baby words, soul words. We are answered as we were as infants, with a feeling of warmth and love as Mother hears us and holds us and reminds us that She was always there waiting for us. And just that quickly, we know—we know why our longing filled us and caused us to journey in a spiritual wilderness away from the known world of FatherGod, through dark places where we questioned our journeys and doubted our inner needs—because out there waiting in the still soft warmth was Goddess just longing for Her daughters to hear the call and call to Her in return. We are suddenly home.

I cannot say with any truthfulness that the journey is always easy. For most women I know, myself included, it was hard. It was a journey fraught with a million temptations and obstacles all designed by the paradigm of the FatherGod to bring us back, either by luring us with treats if we are “Good Girls” or by threatening us with punishment as “Bad Girls”. Many times, these obstacles and lures are all within us; we drank in their existence with our first milk and they were taught to us as simple truths by our parents before we were old enough to think and question. They can make even the most dedicated doubt the journey, even after Goddess has been found.

I remember hearing with great surprise a woman who was an early voice of Goddess Spirituality and deeply respected in the community express the fear and doubt she had when one of her children died suddenly that the FatherGod was punishing her for following the Goddess Path and spreading the word of it to other women. It was a surprise but also a relief. I have had those feelings myself at times for other reasons. The feeling that the FatherGod can always reach out with His long arm and strike us down or the feeling during times of struggle that maybe life would be better and easier if we just returned to the FatherGod is one that hits many women during our journey and even after we have found Goddess.

My never-ending dream usually began this way…