Time seem to stand still between Westin and Celeste when Candice barks out, “How dare you Westin my friend doesn’t deserve.” Westin cuts off his sister’s sentence in mid stride, “Candice calm down now is not the time for bullshit. I’ll talk with you later.” Westin gives Candice a deadly gawk and shuts her up immediately. She stomps her feet heading toward Peter’s room in anger leaving Celeste alone with Westin. “I’ve been trying to call you cowgirl.” Celeste nods yes in silence, “Tis strange for me to answer phones Westin; besides there was nothing else I could have done. The illness is inevitable unless caught in an early stage.” She withers with care looking into his tired distraught eyes, and touches his lips softly with her finger in a tender moment to ease his agony. Westin closes his eyes to relish in her gentleness, “I’m happy you’re not mad at me for not showing up.” Celeste softens her gaze on the trouble man and runs her fingers through his soft hair, “We don’t own each other my darlin’ just because we’ve grind each others core. Remember it was I who wanted to learn and explore the boundary of love making, and yes I too have missed you.” Westin soared in spirit of no restrictions with Celeste’s views on relationships, and is about to plant a kiss on her lips when his father came out of Peter’s room to request her presences. “Westin, Peter wants to talk with cowgirl,” Celeste feels goose bumps spreading with urgency throughout her soul. Part of her spirit is screaming out not to enter his bedroom to partake in the suffering of the little boy who loved her unconditionally until she hears inside her head a powerful man’s voice pushing her forward. Westin senses she is fearful of something and is battling debating to move. With loving care he grabs her hand and walks her to Peter’s room with a heavy heart.
Cold shivers invaded her body the minute she is close to Peter’s room. She releases her sweaty hand from Westin’s to stop and take a deep breath to gather her spiritual strength before entering. “Go Westin please give me a second to compose myself.” Westin kisses her forehead and leaves her side. She leans her body against the wall in the hallway and hears the raspy weak voice of the child of light. Celeste had stopped praying to God long ago, and reverted to the Cherokee ways of spiritual guidance; but when Peter educated her one evening she promised her little crush to keep an open mind about praying to his religious God. “If you are up there god of Peter’s, then show mercy and give the boy a painless path.” She grabs her throat in a hurry the minute she spoke her words and feels the pressure of what Peter is experiencing. She squeezes her fist hard in pain and chokes out to catch a breath. The half breed hears Damn dog howl out with sorrow, and shakes her head to fights back the urge to breathe with normalcy. In a few seconds she feels the dog nuzzle his wet muzzle across her fist, and bumps her out of arbitration with spirits to enter the death room.
Celeste gathered up her mustard and steps into the doorway with dog by her side. She takes a quick intake of breath and stood shock still to see her Scottish grandfather’s spirit float beside the little boy’s death bed. She sees no one else in the room when she whispers out, “Mi Papa.” The family turn their eyes upon the half breed with inquisitive stares who in the hell was she talking too, and moved out of her way as she reaches out her hand in the air for her father to touch. The half breed takes careful steps forward with dog by her side as her tears stream down her face. In a blink of an eye she kneels down beside Peter’s bed and speaks in Scottish tongue. Peter smiles at the cowgirl and chokes out, “He said he will take care of me, so should I go with him?” Celeste quivers her lips in distress and nods yes to the cloudy eye boy. She hears a woman yell out, but their words are muffled in her ears as the half breed takes out a brown eagle feather from her medicine bag, and the horseshoe diamond necklace her grandfather never gave her on her sixteenth birthday. She sees his spirit approval and warms to her grandfather’s ghost. In Cherokee she sings out a passing tune to Peter and places the eagle feather in one cold hand, the necklace she places over his heart. She holds the gold against his tiny pale blue chest, and is about to whisper out in English as Peter slowly covers her shaky hand. “I feel better with your magical touch upon me. Thank you for everything you’ve given me my love, my teacher, my sister of God’s light hood, and my mystical cowgirl.” Celeste melts into tribulation and begins to sense the evil spirit of death consuming his weak body. She takes a leap of faith to beg Henry too give her a miracle of life. Henry’s large ghostly frame stands before the kneeling Celeste. She hears his words of comfort inside her brain and realizes there was no turning back the clock of time. Damn dog howls out and whimpers while licking Peter’s blue finger tips on top of Celeste’s large hand. “I love you too Peter, doh-nah-dah-goh-hun-i (until we meet again) my brother,” Celeste murmurs out with devotion. Peter’s breath is failing when Celeste senses her grandfather touch her elbow. She looks up to her father’s ghost and rises only to reach inside her medicine bag for a dry stalk of lavender. With loving care she kisses the dying young man’s lips, and blows her breath of life upon his kisser only to hear his soft tone words with a smile before he took his last breath, “I love you cowgirl…always.” Celeste places the herb in his other hand and leaves the room with a bleeding heart.