Lost in Dreams

by Roger Bruner

  “Maybe not, honey, but I love hanging with those old men and listening to their wisdom.”

  Who won the World Series in 1964—and how—was wisdom? While the men might not have appreciated Aleesha’s “old men” reference, they would have warmed to her sincere appreciation.

  “Mr. Rob and Mr. Scott are the best. You know what, though?” She didn’t pause long enough to get a reaction. “I’m a great judge of character. Right?” No pause there, either. “But I’m still not sure about Mr. Graham. There’s something about him.”

  “He’s okay,” I said, suddenly shy about admitting I’d grown rather fond of him. Graham, why did you just look at me that way? We weren’t talking loud enough for you to hear your name.

  But I couldn’t argue with Aleesha’s statement. Graham was just as much a mystery now as the day I met him. One I doubted any of us would ever solve.

  “So, ladies, are you walking or not?”

  “It’s fun, Aleesha,” Jo said. “Count me in.”

  “I guess I can stand a little girl talk, although I prefer woman talk. I’ll have to go. You might talk about me if I don’t.” Aleesha snorted, Jo and I giggled, and the men looked at us and rolled their eyes.

  “Let’s go,” Jo said as she grabbed her coat from the back of the sofa and started putting it on.

  “What’s the rush?” I said just before she reached the door. “The service doesn’t start for another hour, and we don’t need but twenty minutes to walk there.”

  Dummy! We need more time than that for what I want to discuss.

  Jo broke out in a bright blush. Ah! That’s right. Alfredo. Was she hoping to talk with him before the service started? Did she expect him to be waiting for her? We needed to discuss my concerns before their relationship got out of control.

  Trembling and perspiring profusely in spite of the cold night air, I kept drawing back rather than setting my foot on the road.

  “Here,” Aleesha said, holding out her right hand. “Close your eyes, and I’ll guide you across.” Her powers of observation equaled her sensitivity. When Jo gave her a quizzical look, Aleesha said, “That woman’s accident this morning. Kim doesn’t want to see where it happened.”

  We’d barely made it to the other side of the two-lane road before Aleesha started talking. “Jo, why did you want to come over here so early?”

  Although we all carried lighted flashlights, the shadows hid Jo’s face.

  “I … hate to rush,” she answered. She couldn’t have fooled a deaf and blind person with that excuse.

  “Then why are we walking so fast?”

  Until Aleesha said that, I hadn’t noticed that we were zipping up Red Cedar Lane as if we were Olympic runners and Jo was slightly in the lead. This was no casual stroll. Aleesha seemed to be waiting patiently for an answer that never came. I decided to give it a shot, but I’d try a different approach.

  “That Alfredo is pretty cute, isn’t he, Aleesha?” I reached over and squeezed her shoulder in the darkness.

  “My word, yes.” Aleesha’s exaggerated enthusiasm would have made a statue jealous. “If I didn’t have to wait for him to get out of jail, I’d set my sights on him. I still might.”

  I heard a thud up ahead of us, followed by the crash landing of Jo’s flashlight and the sound of batteries rolling all over the asphalt.

  “You okay, Jo?” I said.

  “I … I tripped.” I shone my light where she’d bent over to pick up her flashlight parts. “Over my own feet.”

  “And it didn’t have anything to do with Kim’s mention of Alfredo …?” Aleesha asked.

  “No.” From her tone of voice, she wasn’t enjoying this conversation. “It was your comment.”

  “Ah? You’re kind of sweet on that fellow, aren’t you?” Aleesha might have intended to be more subtle, but even she wasn’t a good enough actor to pull it off on an occasion like this.

  Silence.

  “I’ll take that as a yes,” Aleesha said.

  “There are other issues involved,” I said, “but I’m most concerned about your behavior during the service.”

  “I know that’s right,” Aleesha said.

  Although I couldn’t see Jo clearly, I could tell she was facing us.

  Dad had once caught a possum in one of those animal-friendly traps. When we stayed away from her, she was just mean and ugly, but if we approached the cage, she opened her mouth defensively and bared the most ferocious-looking set of teeth imaginable.

  I wondered if Jo was looking at Aleesha and me that way now.

  “Nobody minds the talking when you’re translating hymns and prayers,” Aleesha said as if aware we weren’t going to make any progress unless we helped Jo out of the corner we’d backed her into.

  “Translating the message is especially important,” I added. “Alfredo is lucky—”

  “Blessed,” Aleesha said.

  “He’s blessed to have somebody as talented as you to help him worship. But you two were getting a little close”—I purposely drew out those last two words—”during Dad’s prayer last night.” Aleesha’s coat swished as she turned in my direction. She must not have known about that.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong, and we weren’t disturbing anybody.” Talk about a defensive tone of voice.

  “No one but me maybe,” I said.

  “And why didn’t you have your eyes closed?”

  We’re just trying to keep you out of trouble, Jo.

  “The two of you were chattering pretty loudly during the message,” Aleesha said in a tone that—for her—was neutral. “I don’t believe you were translating the sermon and discussing it, too.”

  “If it’s any of your business, I was … witnessing to him.”

  “And he thinks the Gospel is amusing?” Aleesha said. Neutrality had given way to bluntness. Anyone lying to Aleesha should expect major repercussions.

  Dead silence.

  Although Jo shot out ahead, leaving us by ourselves for a few seconds, we ramped up our speed and got close enough to stay maybe ten feet behind. She was huffing and puffing, and I suspected she was pouting as much as breathing hard from exertion.

  Aleesha raised her voice to a level the insiders could have heard. “Miss Kim, I don’t think Miss Jo is happy with me.” Her tone had a slight lilt. Like she didn’t care what Jo thought.

  “You think?” I played along. “Why’s that?”

  “I don’t think she likes hearing the truth.”

  “The truth? And what truth is that?”

  “That I love and treasure her as a friend, but I have to step in and speak my mind when my friends act like they have a limited amount of good sense.”

  You know I’d never dare to talk to Jo that way. Just be careful.

  “So you’re speaking the truth in love?” Although that was a biblical concept, I couldn’t remember the actual context. Didn’t it have something to do with correcting Christians who’d strayed from the straight and narrow? If so, I’d worded my question in a more appropriate way than I realized.

  “I’m trying to. But since Jo’s not paying attention to me, I’ll have to share it with you instead.”

  “Go, girl.”

  “I’m not too sure I’d take the affections of a fellow I met in prison too seriously.” “How come?”

  Jo couldn’t have shut this discussion out if she’d stuck her fingers in her ears.

  “He probably hasn’t been around a woman in ages. Any woman would probably look good.”

  “And anyone as cute as Jo would be an even better prize.” No need to be completely negative.

  “I’d say ‘desirable target’ and not ‘better prize.’ Nonetheless, if that woman isn’t very experienced …” That statement flattened the nail head. Jo hadn’t dated nearly as much as I had.

  “If she doesn’t have your street smarts about men, you mean?”

  “Right you are, Miss Kim. She may think she’s picking out a ripe watermelon”—I barely kept from cracking up—”but
she can’t be sure because it’s locked inside a glass case where she can’t give it a proper thumping.”

  I tried to keep from smirking while waiting for Aleesha to continue, but I couldn’t.

  “A gal can’t be too sure what that watermelon’s like inside until she can check it out more closely. Can’t do that until somebody unlocks the case.”

  “Are you saying he may not be what he seems to be?”

  “He may be perfectly ripe and fine. Or he could be rotten to the core. Or somewhere in between. I don’t know. Wouldn’t do to let a good friend pick some potentially rotten fruit because she isn’t sufficiently cautious, though.”

  Aleesha, no! I said to be careful. I think you’ve gone a little too far.

  But it was too late. She’d already said it, and Jo took off running.

  Aleesha and I didn’t even try to catch up. Our concern was no match for her anger.

  chapter forty-one

  Forget being friends with Aleesha,” Jo said as we began working on the next-to-the-last unpainted unit. I hoped she didn’t expect me to feel that way. “She butchered my feelings last night. Treated me like I don’t have any sense at all.”

  “In matters of the heart, any woman can, uh, lose her perspective.” Definitely eggshell-walking time. “But she loves you. She just wants to protect you.”

  “Yeah, sure. It’s not like I’d marry Alfredo the second he got out of prison.”

  “When is that? Do you know?”

  “He’s in for another seven years.” She answered the next question before I could ask it. “And, no, he didn’t say what he’s in for.”

  I decided not to suggest that he might have committed rape, assault, or some other violent crime. After all, he was in a medium-security prison for less dangerous offenders. Still, seven years would be a dreadfully severe jail term for failing to pay a couple of parking tickets.

  “I’ll be glad when Aleesha goes home and it’s just you and me again. You understand, accept, and respect me.”

  “I do, Jo, but I said some … things last night, too.”

  “That’s okay. I forgive you.”

  How could I tell her I meant everything I said and wasn’t sorry? I didn’t need or want her forgiveness. I just wanted one of my two best friends to come to her senses and remain friends with the other one.

  “I wouldn’t have said it the way Aleesha did—”

  “How can you stand being friends with someone who’s so blunt and outspoken?”

  She may be that way at times, Jo, but that’s not the issue.

  “She says what she thinks,” I said. “You don’t have to wonder where you stand with her. That’s better than having a friend who’s always talking about you behind your back.”

  “Not in my book, girlfriend.”

  I kept my sigh as quiet as I could. Jo wasn’t thinking straight, and I wouldn’t have much chance of changing her mind.

  Time for a change of subject. “Thank you for not chatting last night at inappropriate times, by the way.”

  “Sorry about the night before. You were right about that.”

  “We were.”

  “You were. You singular.”

  “I’ll have you know I kept my eyes closed during the prayer time.” I winked at her. “Thanks.”

  If I ever wrote about our experiences at Red Cedar, I’d have to edit that conversation down to basics. It went on and on like that forever.

  “What do you think of that mountain?” Jo said, throwing the last shovelful of dirt on the previous topic.

  Duh, Jo. Mountains are everywhere here. “Which one?”

  “The one back of the hostel. The locals call it Tabletop Mountain.”

  What locals have you met? Graham? “I’ve never paid attention to it. I enjoy looking east toward the sunrise.”

  “But those mountains are too far away to climb.” She laughed, and the tension that had my stomach in knots earlier finally loosened its grip. “This one’s right outside our back door.”

  I stepped outside, looked behind the hostel, and then came back in.

  “I see why it’s called Tabletop. And you want to climb it?”

  Such … ambitious ideas from a girl whose mom hadn’t let her cross the street by herself when there wasn’t a car in sight? Then again, maybe that’s why she wanted to make this climb now.

  “I asked Rob about it,” Jo said. “He’s climbed it. Graham, too. They both say the climb’s not hard, but it’s easy to get lost up there. Rob has written directions and a map. Got ‘em off of the Internet, he said.”

  I laughed.

  “You want to go with me, girlfriend?”

  “I’ll have to think on that one. Any bears up there?”

  “All kinds of wildlife, Rob says.”

  Hmm. Not sure this would be my glass of soda. I might be able to face a bear if he wasn’t very big, but not an uncaged possum.

  “Let me know, Kim. Your dad says we’re not leaving till Monday, and we won’t do any work on Sunday.” “We’ll still do a final service, won’t we?” “Sunday night.”

  Before I could say anything else, Aleesha came flying in. The look on her face was something to behold. I couldn’t tell if it was fear, anger, or both.

  “Jo …” Aleesha sounded like she was warming up for an attack. What in the world …?

  “I’m not talking to you, Jefferson,” Jo said, turning her back on Aleesha

  “You’d better talk to me.” I’d never heard Aleesha so upset. “Where is it?”

  Jo turned halfway. “Where is what?”

  “The letter.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I didn’t know whether Jo was telling the truth, but it didn’t

  matter. I couldn’t make heads or tails of their argument.

  “That Chaplain Thomas. He called Mr. Rob. Told us not to come back. Said the warden agreed.”

  My stomach felt like I’d just dropped to the ground in one of those free-fall amusement park rides.

  “What are you two talking about?” I hoped my tone was exasperated enough to force an immediate answer from somebody.

  “Jo …” Aleesha could barely get the words out. “She brought a letter out of the prison for Alfredo.”

  I narrowed my eyes and stared at Aleesha. She couldn’t have been more serious.

  “Yeah, Jefferson,” Jo said. “A letter to his lawyer. I told him I’d mail it for him.”

  “Thomas saw you. He reported you to the warden.”

  “So? It’s not like I was helping Alfredo break out.”

  “You really don’t get it, do you?”

  I didn’t get it yet myself, but I had a nagging memory trying to break through the recesses of my brain. I’d read the rules when we got back from our first night’s service. Hadn’t they said …?

  Jo shrugged.

  “It’s against the rules to mail a letter for an insider. For all you know, you could be helping him plan an escape.”

  “You don’t know Alfredo like I do,” Jo said before slopping a big glob of paint against the wall. She stood there watching it drip without making any effort to spread it.

  I didn’t have to wonder whether she would’ve preferred giving Aleesha a good coating of white instead.

  I was surprised that Jo had broken the rules, but I wasn’t incredulous or even angry. I was too concerned about the fact the warden was punishing all of us. If we couldn’t get back into Red Cedar, this trip would be a partial waste.

  Construction was worthwhile. Even the limited amount we’d done. But interacting with the insiders—sharing with the real believers and witnessing to the ones who might be faking their Christianity—was our real purpose in being here.

  If Jo’s stupidity cost us that ministry, I wasn’t sure I’d be in a rush to reset my forgiveness counter.

  “Why’s the warden punishing all of us?” I asked.

  “Mr. Rob didn’t say. Jo, you didn’t mail that letter yet, did you?”

>   “I haven’t seen a mailbox around here.” Bitterness and sarcasm were a nasty mix. “Have you?”

  “Mr. Rob has an appointment to talk with the warden this afternoon. He’ll plead for forgiveness.”

  “Fat chance of that,” I said. “Even a good Christian brother like Warden Jenkins has to obey the rules of his workplace. Especially somewhere like Red Cedar.”

  “That’s why Mr. Rob asked me to get the letter. We’ll give it back and show him we’ve all learned a lesson—no harm done.”

  “You think the warden’s going to let me back in?” Jo said. “Not if he’s that much of a stickler for those dumb old rules.” An eighteen-year-old ought to have a more mature whine than that.

  “You might be surprised,” Aleesha said with a hint of kindness I couldn’t have managed right then.

  “He’d better let me back in. I can’t leave without seeing Alfredo again.” The quality of her whine was going downhill fast.

  My parents used to sing a folk song that had been popular during the 1960s. Actually a protest against the Vietnam War, which was going on at the time, it had a line that went, “When will they ever learn? When will they ever learn?”

  I was beginning to wonder the same thing myself. About Jo.

  chapter forty-two

  God must have understood Rob’s reason for asking me to accompany him to see Warden Jenkins, but He didn’t explain it to me. I couldn’t have been more terrified if somebody had thrown me in the cage with that nasty possum—only to have the ferocious critter look me in the face and start licking its chops. Or maybe start foaming at the mouth.

  “Rob … Kim.” Although Warden Jenkins shook hands with both of us, his greeting wasn’t nearly as pleasant as it had been on our first visit. His tone sounded more formal. He pointed to two ordinary straight chairs, and we sat down. Oh, man! We’re in for it … “Thank you for seeing us, Larry. I—”

  “I’m sorry if I seem out of sorts, but I’ve just gotten off the phone with my boss. He’s not a Christian, and we have major differences of opinion about how to run a prison. As if that’s not enough, he likes to micromanage. Need I say more?”