by Deb Lewis
“I couldn’t find any earlier,” Carolyn replied, “but I found candles.”
Reaching to the mantle she pulled off a box of white tapers and began handing them around to the other women.
Julie reached into the budding fire in the woodstove and lit her candle, reaching out with a light.
“Silent Night, anyone?” she joked.
“Beats going out there in the dark,” Deb answered, lighting her candle first and turning to light the others in turn.
“This is like some bad Gothic novel,” Pat remarked. “Five women carrying lit candles into the dark. I know there’s a sermon here somewhere.”
Leading the way, Deb unlocked the front door opening to the yard. They paused for a moment and listened to the silence. A door slammed behind them, causing them to jump.
It was a clear starlit night. Deb could hear a crunching noise to the left side of the cabin.
She walked stealthily in the dark toward the sound, practicing the soft step learned from her walking meditation in Yoga class. The other women huddled together on the steps.
“It sounds like someone is whacking the ground with a stick,” Deb whispered.
Ahead of her lurked a large shadowy shape on the ground. She could just make out an outline.
“What the heck. It almost looks human. Is someone hurt?” she asked. The dark shadow moved up and down as if it was breathing. She took a deep breath, summoning her courage as she took a step closer to the form. One step, followed by a pause, and then another. The dark shape moved at the sight of the light.
Crunch… crunch… crunch…
“Hello!” Deb called softly. “Do you need help?”
“I’m going back in,” Carolyn said in the darkness behind Deb. “I’m calling the police.”
“Shh! I doubt there’s any police on duty out here now at this hour. We’re on an island, for heaven’s sake!” Pat whispered. She walked quietly behind Deb.
Deb crept slowly toward the noise, holding her candle boldly upright toward the night sky. Ahead of her she could see two glowing eyes low to the ground reflected in the light.
“I can’t stand this,” Pat said in a shaky voice. “The last time I saw eyes like that it was a skunk in my path on the way to the outhouse.”
The others laughed nervously behind them. Inching closer, Deb could make out the unmistakable form of a large dog lying on its back. Julie moved forward and shone a light on the animal. Crunch. Crunch. Legs wide apart, the dog playfully itched its back.
Realizing she had been holding her breath, Deb let out a sigh of relief.
“It’s just a dog,” she whispered towards the women behind her. “And it’s cute.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Julie answered. “We got worked up over that?”
The women turned around and walked back to the front door, swatting mosquitoes as they went. The dog followed and before they knew what was happening, the beast went to the rug in front of the fire, turned three circles and lay down as though it belonged in the room.
“Get that dog out of here!” Linda said. “I just swept the floor.”
“Aww, look at him. He’s happy!” Deb cooed.
“It’s a girl,” Julie said.
The dog was a full-grown golden lab. No gray hairs were encroaching on her muzzle. Sighing contentedly, the dog closed her eyes and went to sleep.
“I’m not making her leave,” Deb said to the others. “You can if you want. For me, there are few sweeter sights in life than a content dog by a fireplace.” The women shrugged and moved back to their seats, as the dog was soon temporarily forgotten.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t call the police,” Deb teased, patting Carolyn on the arm.
“It’s late,” Carolyn said. “I’m going to bed. It’s an early morning.”
“Good night,” the others called, as Carolyn retired.
“So, I remembered one thing we didn’t do yet for the retreat. What are we going to do to make sure everyone knows where to go tomorrow?” Pat asked.
Julie smiled mysteriously and glanced at Noreen.
“Shall we tell them now?” she asked.
“Better now than tomorrow,” Noreen replied.
The two women went into the bedroom and returned with a pile of poster boards already attached to stakes.
“Wow!” Pat looked at the pile. “Where did these come from?” she asked, reading the titles aloud:
RETREAT BREAKFAST AHEAD
Heavenly food at St. John’s Church
PIE CHI HERE
Tai Chi with an Italian flair
WRITING WORKSHOP
Write the story you never wanted your husband to know
TAROT READING
Need an answer to a life question? Bev is your gal
SELF DEFENSE
Don’t count on that male in your life to take care of you.
Learn to defend him!
DEB AND PAT’S CABIN THIS WAY
Everyone laughed.
“Great job!” Pat said.
“We got to thinking this afternoon that you might need some help with organizing,” Julie said with obvious pride. “We thought we could have those of us who are not leading an event stationed around the signs to help direct the people. So we just tried this. We’re a step ahead of you.”
“More like half a mile, you mean,” Pat replied, picking up a sign. “Oh, you women! I knew there was a reason we invited you along. You think of everything! But do we really need one that tells where we’re staying?” she asked, pointing at the signs.
“‘Fraid you’re gonna get lynched?”
Pat smiled.
“Okay,” Deb said. “With the ghostie and all, we forgot to talk about the missing woman. Did anyone hear anything?”
“I’ve got enough on my plate,” Linda answered dismissively. “We’re not the police.”
“I’m not asking you to be; all I’m asking is for you to keep eyes and ears open… and mouths, too,” Deb replied.
“That won’t be hard for you, Pat,” Julie joked, playfully punching Pat on the shoulder.
“What do you want me to do?” Linda asked, picking up a tablet and a pen from the table.
“Well, tomorrow there’s going to be a breakfast at the church and the restaurants will be all full of hungry women. That should be a good time to do a little gumshoeing, you know, just quietly talking to people. Ask questions.”
“Like about what they saw on the ferry?” Linda asked.
“Sure. But also about what they didn’t see. Remember to be sure and write down quotes word for word. And don’t forget to write down their names and phone numbers for each statement you get,” Deb continued. “Otherwise, it will be useless afterwards.”
“I can do that!” Linda exclaimed, as she meticulously wrote down the instructions.
“I’ll make sure we make an announcement at Pie Chi,” Julie said.
“And I’ll be listening to the gossip during my art class,” Noreen added.
* * *
“Tired?” Bev asked after the others had retired to the kitchen to clean up. She offered Deb a candy dish filled with mint chocolates.
“I’ll be okay,” Deb replied, sucking on a mint. “I’m still a little worried that we’ve forgotten something important. You know, that old ‘responsibility’ tape.”
“I know what you mean, but just look at all you’ve done to get ready. You and Pat are two of the most industrious women I know. You must have put in a lot of hours, or days, getting ready. And you’ve got all of us.”
“That’s us, alright. Always working hard to chase our dreams.”
“To live your dreams, you mean?”
Deb paused.
“Did you say live? What do you mean by live your dreams? I’m much better at being busy than living.”
“Aren’t we all?” admitted Bev.
“It seems to me there must be a few people in this world who know how to really live. Why is that anyway?”
“N
ow there’s a question that’s been asked forever.”
“I’m getting closer to being about ready to push the ‘done enough’ button and let go. I’m just so tired of being the responsible grownup… then, to top it off, we manipulated our daughters into coming, and now they’ll really know we’re crazy!”
“Nothing you can do about that… Don’t worry about a t’ing,” Bev sang lightheartedly.
“‘Cause… every little t’ing’s gonna be alright,” Deb joined in loudly.
“We heard that!” Julie’s voice called from the kitchen. “No singing without us. We’re coming in.”
“What’s going on in here?” Linda asked, drying her hands on a dish towel as she entered the main room.
“Oh, Deb’s just trying to throw away her superwoman cape,” Bev teased. “Come on in, and help us burn it in the fire.”
“Deb! Were you sacrificing your joy again?” Pat accused, following the others from the kitchen.
“Not on your life, girlfriend!”
Thank goodness for levity, Deb thought.
“So here’s what I know,” Bev interjected into the quiet room.
“Drum roll, please,” Julie joked.
“After I got M.S., it was like God was asking me to live… for goodness sake,” Bev said softly.
“Live for goodness sake?” Deb repeated.
“Yes, as opposed to dying for the world’s sake. That’s what I thought God wanted from me. Dying is easy, bit by bit, inch by inch: a P.T.A. meeting here; a little guilt there; a church council meeting; always doing the dishes; a load of self-sacrifice there. It’s the living for goodness that’s hard.”
Noreen nodded in agreement.
“My priorities changed totally when I found out I was dying.”
“So my question for you,” Bev continued as she looked at them, “is are you willing to really live for the goodness of the world?”
“Let’s just do a little practicing right now,” Deb said. “Julie, stoke up that fire. I’ve got a cape to burn!”
* * *
“Wow, this is really going to be something! You two never do things half way, do you?” a voice called in the door.
Just what I need, Pat thought. The mothers have arrived. She put her hand on her forehead.
“Hello mother, glad you could make it,” she said. Please don’t start, she thought.
“We’ve come to help. What can we do? Are you settled in already? Do you have some coffee? I need mine in a cup with a saucer,” Jessie said, her presence taking over as she walked slowly into the room.
Millie ambled in behind her, eyeing the table.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” she said.
“Make that two,” Jessie chorused.
Settling in around the table, the two older women looked around eagerly.
“So, really, how can we help?” Millie asked.
“Mom, you’ll have to give us a minute,” Deb stalled. “I don’t know what you could do yet.” She shook her head. “Lots, I guess.”
Millie looked sympathetically at her daughter.
“Don’t worry dear, I’ll help you organize.” She turned to Jessie. “She never was that great at it.”
“Mom!”
“Listen,” Pat said, jumping into the fray before her friend exploded. “We really just wanted you to just have fun, and you know, relax. Take a class or two. Learn something new.”
“See. What did I tell you, Jessie?” Millie said with a heavy mother sigh. “I knew they would think we’re too old to help.”
“No, no, that’s not it at all,” Pat answered guiltily.
“Right,” Jessie said, shaking her head. “So what do you need?”
“Well, we don’t have anything for the kids yet…” Julie suggested. “What?” she asked, noticing the surprised faces of the others. “You know we need all the help we can get.” She turned back to the mothers. “We don’t have anything for the kids yet. Could you maybe read some books to them? The library will give you some to use, I’m sure. And it would be nice for the mothers, you know. They could get in a workshop without them.”
The older women rolled their eyes at each other. Millie sighed again.
“Sure. Once again we’re relegated to child care. Okay.”
Millie stood up to leave. “Thanks for the drink. Just let us know the time and place and we’ll let you know the title of our kid’s workshop. We refuse to just be babysitters. Right, Jess?”
“Right. Besides we have to get going. We haven’t checked out the Burned Down Cafe yet.”
“Mothers!” Pat said after they left.
“Daughters!” Jessie said loudly, as the two white-haired women walked down the street. “Let’s party!”
* * *
After everyone finally had done enough planning, Bev sat quietly in her room, arranging everything so that it was convenient for her. All the lights in the cabin were off and she could hear the sounds of snoring in the distance as she settled in for the night. She, however, was wide awake, so she sat on the edge of the bed and reached for a book from the pile of old journals.
I wonder if I can find a long lost relative like Carolyn, she mused. I wonder
Thumbing through, she paused at a page.
“Why doesn’t the toilet work in this place?” someone had written. She turned the page.
“Great place! Wish we could stay!”
That’s boring. Hmm, here’s one that looks interesting, she thought.
I can relate to that, Bev thought.
I never thought this would happen to me, either, Bev thought.
Aren’t we all midwives, Helen? Bev thought as she gently closed the book and laid it on the night stand next to the bed. Brushing her hair out of her eyes she reached for the mask to her breathing machine.
Why must there be so many losses in life? she wondered, remembering back over the years. She knew first-hand the indignities of inch by inch creeping loss of independence and bodily function.
We all have to respond to what the world gives us, she reminded herself. Still, with the limited choices I have now, life is still worth it. She pulled the blankets under her chin and closed her eyes.
“I must remember to write in a journal before I leave,” she promised herself, just before floating off to dreamland.
Chapter Twelve
June 21
The sun was just coming up when Pat peeled open her eyelids.
Darn, someone’s snoring woke me up just in the middle of a great dream. I wonder what time it is.
Stretching her arms over her head, she sat up in the log bed and looking around, saw no one else in the room.
Oops, I guess Mitch was right. I must snore. Damn, getting old is hell, she thought. Of course I’m just sure it was a polite little sexy snore. Ignoring the memory of her husband’s voice a week earlier telling her she snored like a band saw, she stretched out in the comfy bed. I could lie here all day. Maid, oh maid, she daydreamed. Could you bring me my fresh squeezed orange juice? she pretended to call out. Now you know I like it in a crystal glass.
Suddenly, reality hit home like an icy washcloth in the face as she remembered where she was and why. Jumping out of the bed as adrenaline pumped through her body, she glanced at the clock.
“Glory halleluiah!” she said aloud.
Mitch had remarked a few days earlier that she seemed to be “damning” this and that a lot lately. And although she vehemently denied it to him, she knew in her heart it was true.
How could this be?
She didn’t even like it when she heard other people swear. From childhood until college she had believed lightning would strike her dead if she used God’s name in vain.
What had happened to her moral standards anyway?
Come on old girl, get a move on. Throwing on her new orange sweat suit, she hurriedly brushed her teeth and ran out the door, not caring much if it banged behind her.
Those other women will need to get up anyway. As for me, why did I
promise to help with the big breakfast at the church?
Yawning, she looked around outside for the golf cart that Julie had rounded up the night before. Not seeing it in the driveway, she starting jogging down the street. Guilt is a great motivator, especially for Lutherans, and she’d had a lifetime to perfect it. She picked up her pace even more.
I hope I’m in time at least to help a little, she thought, her breath coming at an even cadence. Thanks to yoga and being on that damn treadmill I can do this. Shoot, I did it again… although I don’t know if it really counts if it’s only in my mind.
Running down the street, she waved to small groups of women, also making their way in the same direction. Pat stopped abruptly, almost running into the woman pastor in the dim light, who was carrying a large pile of plates.
“Oops, sorry,” Pat panted out. “Can I help?”
“Sure, take these in, will you? And I’ll get more from the car. Do you think we can have people eating outside?”
Pat looked around at the cool dim morning.
“Outside? Isn’t it a bit cold?” she asked. More like freezing, she thought to herself.
“Maybe,” the pastor replied over her shoulder, already on her way for another load of plates, “but frankly, this is going to be the best fundraiser this church has had in years. We don’t want to turn away paying customers.” She waved Pat toward the church door and bent over the back seat of the old Volvo to pick up another load.
Still panting a little from her run, Pat carried the box down the stairs into the church basement. She took a deep breath, taking in the smells of coffee brewing in the big aluminum pot, steamy buttery aromas coming from the oven, and bacon. Her mouth started to water.
There is something about the scents in church basements and kitchens that is like no others. Noticing the casseroles with covers all waiting in a row on a long table covered with a pink plastic table cloth, she laughed out loud. Even for breakfast the eggs couldn’t just be fried up. They had to be served as hot dishes! It was a scene straight out of Garrison Keillor’s imaginary Lake Woebegone.