by Deb Lewis
The woman coughed.
Carolyn stopped stomping and looked at the woman as though seeing her for the first time, examining her closely.
My God, this woman must be my age and she looks really old.
“How nice for you that you have so many blessings in your life,” the woman said sweetly.
Carolyn started at the woman’s words, as though stung by them. At that moment, she felt a soft breeze on her face and was reminded of the journal entry.
“You know, I am blessed,” she said, “but I don’t think it’s my stuff.. and by reminding me, you’re a blessing to me.” Pausing, she unbuttoned her sweater, removed it, and handed it to the woman. The woman hesitated, looked at Carolyn and saw her nodding encouragement. She took the sweater and put it on. Carolyn turned and began to button it for her.
“Thank you,” the woman said with tears in her eyes.
“No. I owe you a big thanks,” Carolyn replied, tears welling in her own eyes. After a quick hug, they both turned to the stage as the class began.
Deb turned to look out at the crowd, while squinting into the morning sunlight. What would bring all these women out here? she thought. I know exactly why. It’s the same reason we used to drag our kids out and meet our friends for Yoga and Tai Chi. No matter the craziness in my life back then, it meant so much to me to be able to escape and get energized and relaxed for a few hours. And it still means a lot.
* * *
“Good morning, again. How many have done Tai Chi before?” Julie asked. Her smile radiated out at the crowd as many hands were raised. “For those of you who haven’t, let me start with a simple explanation. Tai Chi was developed in ancient China as a martial art and is sometimes described as ‘meditation in motion.’ It promotes serenity through gentle movements - connecting the mind and body for stress reduction and to help with a variety of other health conditions. Well, guess what? We’re not going to do it the man’s way. Today we’re going to do it a woman’s way, and since I’m Italian, we’re doing it in the style of old Italy. You could tell by the music, right?” There was a roar of laughter. “We’re not going to use symbols of war or strife, but instead, today, we’re going to make pizza.”
The crowd laughed again, and Deb knew by watching that Julie had them in the palm of her hand.
“So let’s begin. Let’s start with some centering breaths… Breathe in and imagine the smell of fresh marinara sauce.”
As Deb took her first deep breath and let it out, she looked around and marveled at the scene.
It’s working. It’s going to be okay.
As if the lake had heard her, a cooling breath of a breeze arose around the crowd.
Julie expertly led the women through the movements that followed.
“Now, let’s do our warm-up. Just follow along. Twisty step left. Twisty step right.”
“We’ll just pretend to do some of the things we women do. Take your right hand and reach out and pretend to pick up a rag from the hook. Now, wipe the imaginary glass… lean… lean… lean… lean over and get the corner of that window,” she said, gesturing to an imaginary window with her hand.
“Come on up here, girls,” she called to three little girls in the front row. “I need your help to show these women how to do this.” The three tots enthusiastically followed Julie’s motions.
“First, we’re going to pat the dog. Nice dog… pat, pat. Next, we’ll pick up a bowl of food and feed the dog. There you go, doggie, here’s your food, oh, look, you dropped some dog food on the floor. Scoop it up and put it in the dish.”
“Since we have these beautiful long-haired girls here, let’s pretend to part the girl’s hair… and now, let’s braid the girl’s mane. Very good, everyone.”
“Now, before we make our pizza, let’s do a little dreaming. Stretch your arms way up over your head, like this,” she continued. “Now, pull the window shade down. Good job.”
“Now that we’re done stretching, let’s begin to make the pizza. That’s right, we’ll start by making the dough. Roll it out, roll it out… now spread the sauce. Let’s finish by shaking the cheese… put the dough into the oven. Don’t forget to take a deep breath and take in that delicious smell of fresh bread baking and garlic. Ooh… that’s it, you’ve got it! Now, shall we try it all again?”
“Now we’ll go into overtime and end by serving the pizza while holding back the pup,” Julie said grandly, as she held her outstretched hand face-up directly in front of her while holding her right hand curled backwards next to her right hip.
“Wow, that was fun,” Noreen said, wiping her face with a small hand towel. “But quite a workout.” She and Carolyn were headed toward the coffee line where they saw Pat already drinking a cup. “Hey, how did you get yours first? Did you skip out early?”
“I left at the part about putting it in overtime,” Pat answered. “If I had stayed, I would have had to find a pizza to eat afterwards. My body can’t take the calories. Speaking of calories, let’s get to Lotta’s before every table is filled. The church called and said they had enough help.”
Deb walked with Julie, who was surrounded by groupies.
“Great job. Rendezvous at Lotta’s, okay?” Pat called out to them as they walked across the street toward her.
The day is going to be alright after all, she thought. She hurried to the cafe. It will be a good place to ask questions about that missing woman. I’ve got to remember to check the message board.
Chapter Seventeen
June 22
“I’ve got to hand it to you. You make a great breakfast. Where’s this bread from? It’s wonderful.”
“Oh, I get it from Coco’s in Washburn. She used to be an islander you know, and we islanders stick together.”
“Well, it’s great,” Pat said between bites. “Got a minute?” she asked pulling out a chair and patting it.
Looking around, Lotta nodded.
“I guess. Just a minute though. Hey Jill, I’m taking a break, cover the front, will yah?” she called out toward the swinging doors on the kitchen.
“Right boss,” a voice answered.
“So what’s up, besides chaos?” Lotta asked as she sat down with Pat.
“Funny woman. First, thanks a lot for all you’ve done. But I was thinking; people are always telling you things.”
“Don’tcha just know it! Yesterday this woman came in and…”
“Right…,” Pat interrupted. “What I’m wondering about is whether anyone has said anything about the missing woman.”
Lotta paused and thought for a moment.
“Truth is, lots of people have been talking about it in passing, but no one has said they know of a specific woman missing. But hey, I had one woman who thought your writing class today should be titled Whatever Happened to the Missing Woman?”
“Good idea.” Pat laughed.
“Hey, Lotta! Can you come in here?” a voice called from the kitchen.
“Sounds like I better get in there,” Lotta said as she stood up uneasily. “Oh, and Pat? Deb called and said to remind you to check the message board. And one more thing,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I still want to talk to you and Deb sometime when there’s no one else around.”
Modern technology. I can’t hide from it, Pat thought.
* * *
Everywhere on the island, women were laughing, talking, and working together. Having once given themselves to getting away, they lost no time getting into the mood and fun of the crazy retreat.
“Hi, my name is Josie, I’m from Houston. And you are?”
“Really? You’re from South Dakota, too? What a small world.”
Greetings went round and round and women, who might have never been bold enough to speak to each other ordinarily, were having coffee together and, of course, discussing their families. The island seemed to have drawn them all together for the event, and the ambiance of natural beauty was encouraging them to enjoy themselves. It was as if the retreat now had a life of it
s own, and it was good. If there was a word or two of criticism for the chaos of the event, it was more than overcome by the overwhelming feeling of joy about attending a happening that no one would soon forget.
* * *
It had been a long morning and Pat and Carolyn took advantage of their break. They were walking down Main Street to stretch their legs when they heard the strains of guitar music.
“I think that’s coming from the Beach House,” Carolyn said. “Come on, Pat. Pick up the pace. Let’s go see who’s playing.” Tugging on a reluctant Pat, Carolyn continued to urge her along. “Isn’t it you that says we should welcome opportunities as they come?”
My relatives walked down this street, Carolyn thought. They might have come to enjoy a musician in a place like this, enjoying the free music and perhaps spending what little they had on a cup of coffee, she mused as she came upon the outdoor patio.
I can’t believe someone might not have enough to buy a simple cup of coffee. I just hope if they couldn’t afford it, someone was nice enough to buy them one. When was the last time I noticed people enough that I knew to offer a cup of coffee to them?
“Come on Pat, I’ll buy you an espresso. This is a moment to say yes to music, not work! Besides, someone might know something about the woman.” She pulled Pat down the steps to where the music was wafting up from the fire pit area.
“You’re right, Carolyn. Let’s do it. Thanks for offering to buy. I’ll get some chairs if you get the Joe.”
“I can’t explain it. I just feel so alive today. More than I can ever remember. Maybe next year, I’ll buy for everyone!”
As Carolyn hurried off for the coffees, Pat nodded at two women who sat listening and tapping their feet. She was quickly swept away in the old folk song, Those Were The Days. Without realizing it, she started to softly harmonize with the singer.
From first childhood memories, Pat felt fed by all kinds of music: from the piano her sister practiced each day, to the sound of the wind through the birches, to the wild call of the crows.
Her sister recognized her hunger early on. “Wash my dishes for me tonight,” she bartered, “and I’ll play Moonlight Sonata while you work. A bargain, thought little Patty, whose hands were in hot soapy water, but whose soul was in the sky.
Now, enjoying the sun and the song, Pat didn’t realize at first that she was being watched by an amused Native woman. When Pat eventually noticed her, the woman smiled back.
“Go up and sing with her,” she whispered encouragingly. Startled by the support, Pat started to shake her head no, but then remembered what Carolyn had said.
Why the heck not? she thought. She got up from her chair.
Minutes later, Carolyn returned to hear Pat’s familiar voice singing harmony with a local singer. She placed the cup beside her friend on the ledge of the fire pit and settled in to listen.
So this is what living in the moment means, she thought happily. I’m going to try it more often. I’m going to call Tom and tell him about this.
The harmonies floated on the crisp lake air of the bay as she pulled out her cell and sent him a text instead.
Wow, I’ve got to remember to tell Pat to publish her songs, she thought, losing herself in the music.
Endings and Beginnings
When I was a girl, life was always beginning.
New starts, new stories, new shoots from the root.
Always beginning when I was a youngling,
Life was a spark I thought always would glow.
Life is beginnings, the start of a new bud,
The egg becomes bird, and the bud a sweet fruit.
But the wind keeps us moving to places unknowing,
Like seasons we keep changing, the changeling her suit.
When I was a young woman my life breath was strong,
Beginnings continued like lines in a song.
A life full of beginning, strength without end
The sparks would keep coming, always my friend.
Then endings began, one first, then another,
You can name them yourself, if you have been me.
And then I thought it would always be endings,
Nothing ever new, nothing ever free.
But endings are temporary or so I am learning,
Arms round each other we sit here again.
The wind once again it seems to be turning.
The spring always comes as my mother once said.
The spring always comes and with it now sunshine,
The bird on the tree, life rising from earth.
So sing the song softly, a woman’s song sweetly,
But sing it most strongly because it’s rebirth.
A round of applause drew Pat from her song. Looking up, she noticed Carolyn smiling and waving her cup.
“Thanks for letting me sing,” she said to the guitarist.
“You’re most surely welcome anytime. See you at the bonfire tonight. Let’s sing it again there, okay?”
Winding her way through the tables, Pat was startled to see that her chair was taken by a man. He was engaged in an animated conversation with Carolyn.
“Oh, Pat,” Carolyn said, as she gave her a high five. She appeared flustered, as if caught at something.
“This is…,” her voice trailed off. When he was not forthcoming, she continued. “Anyway he has a cottage here, and he lives in it six months of the year. Can you believe it?”
Pat turned to the big man whose wide smile showed gleaming TV white teeth. His two-hundred-dollar hair cut was unmessed by the winds; the sides of his hair had just a touch of grey.
Charmer, she thought.
“Not really a cottage; it’s more like a house. Great song, by the way. Was that an old Joni Mitchell?”
“Nope, it’s an old one of mine, actually. Hi, I’m Pat,” she said, holding out her hand. “So, you’re an islander?”
“No, not really. We go to the West Indies in the winter. Hey, barkeep, a drink for the lovely ladies. Lets make it that drink of the weekend I heard so much about, a cup of ‘Witches Brew’ for everyone.”
The waitress studiously kept her face straight, but glanced at Pat knowingly.
Everyone has met men like this before, Pat thought.
“Ever tried Maui? We have a condo there. It’s great,” Carolyn said.
He turned slowly and looked at her with renewed interest. “Yes, yes we have, but the crowds… So, you own there, on the beach?”
“Oh, yes. Of course, we rent it out when we’re not there.”
“We? I take it then, pretty lady, you are attached?”
“What?” a flustered Carolyn replied. “Yes, of course.”
“Me, too,” he said with a sigh. Turning to the waiter who was now standing with a bill, he waved his hand dismissively.
“Put it on my wife’s tab.”
“Where is your house, may I ask?” Pat inquired, as something niggled in the back of her mind.
“Over down Nebraska Row. Perhaps you would like to come for cocktails while you’re here?”
“That would have been great, really,” Carolyn jumped in before Pat could answer. “Maybe another time. We’re so busy with the retreat, you know. Is your wife currently here?” she asked pointedly.
He stared into her eyes and then shifted them slightly down.
“Yes, yes. She had a great hot rock massage at Lotta’s yesterday, thanks to the masseuse you brought in. Well, I mustn’t take up anymore of your time. Ciao.” He walked away, looking for all the world like a snake hunting a nice fat mouse.
“Do you think that was a toupee?” Carolyn asked. They laughed together. “You’ve still got a great voice, girl. But wait until you hear what I heard in the bathroom!”
“You were eavesdropping on women in the stalls?” Pat asked, pretending to be shocked.
“Worse,” Carolyn said, leaning in conspiratorially. “I was listening to guys in the men’s toilet. It’s a common wall, and they were loud,” she added when she saw t
he surprised look on Pat’s face.
“Spill it. Even though I don’t like eavesdropping, what the heck, the damage is already done.”
“Well, of course I don’t know who they were. They didn’t use names or anything, but two men were, you know, peeing and… “
“No physical details, please. Just get on with it.”
“One was talking about his girlfriend, or ex, I suppose, because she had left him, you see, or at least that’s what he said, but Pat, what if she didn’t leave, but was the one on the ferry? And he, you know… “
“Slow down. Start over… from the beginning,” Pat added, “except not the urinal part, please.”
“Well, like I said, this one guy was sort of bragging about getting rid of his girlfriend. That’s his exact words. ‘I got rid of her,’ he said. I couldn’t quite catch what the other guy said, some darn woman flushed, but it was sort of like he thought the woman had dropped him. He was cynical-like. Then, the first guy got real loud, and I didn’t have to try to listen at all. ‘Hell, no,’ he said. ‘That bitch was in my life too long, wanted me to change everything, and complained about everything. Finally, two days ago, we had this big fight, and I told her to get out.’ Then the other guy laughed and said, ‘more like she walked out you mean.’”
“What happened next?”
“Well, they must have left. I washed my hands, and went out hoping I could see who they were. And there they were sitting at the bar. I recognized their voices. Boy, did I go by fast.”
“Would you recognize them again?”
“You mean in a line up or something? Sure. At least I think so. One was a big lumberjack kind of guy, sort of like my second husband, you know with long dark hair? And the other was older, a little weasel with a fat mustache. But here’s the thing… do you think he followed her onto the ferry and you know?” She made a pushing motion with her hands.
“Good work, Nancy Drew. We’ll call Gary and tell him. Got your cell?” She punched in the number she really shouldn’t remember by heart, but did.