Where was he? What could be going through his mind? Had Carlton's death brought Jason to this low point? She had not seen him to really know how devastated he was, but he must be in an agony she could not fathom. He could have been in an accident for all she knew. Maybe he was hurt. Maybe he was out of town and hurt.
Nora Hadley at Jason's office had not heard from him in several days. It was so unlike Jason, Nora had said. He had told Nora that he wanted some time to himself, but it was still so out of character for him to be out of touch for this long. Nora was baffled with his behavior and was concerned that so much work was piling up on his desk that needed his personal attention.
It was not so much his business that concerned Jenny. It was his dear Grandma Myrena. According to her, Jason had never before been out of touch for so long. Jason's absence made Myrena think that perhaps he knew of her terminal cancer. Part of her pain, or a contributing factor to her pain, was her personal anguish over Jason.
Jenny noticed some slight movement on the bed, rose and went to Myrena's side. Myrena's lids twitched lightly and finally fluttered open. She looked up at Jenny, blinked her eyes into focus and awareness. Her frail hand moved slowly to meet Jenny's. Myrena spoke in a weak whisper.
“Oh, my dear Jenny, we are putting you through the ringer, I'm afraid. You must have things to do. You must ...”
Jenny gently squeezed Myrena's hand and interrupted. “You are not to worry about my itinerary for a moment, Grandma Myrena. I have lots of sick days coming to me at work and it's about time I took them.” Jenny's soft sweet scolding brought a tentative smile to Myrena's face. “Besides,” Jenny continued, “I like being with you. My projects are up to date. There is no problem there, so, please, don't worry. Okay?”
“Thank you, Jenny. You are a Godsend. Has there been any word from Jason?” The question was asked in a manner suggesting she already knew the answer.
“Not yet, but I've left messages at his office and home. He should be in touch very soon.” Jenny gave Myrena another gentle squeeze and hopeful smile.
“I'm very concerned about him, Jenny. He has a vulnerable spot that most people don't see. I'm convinced that he knows of my cancer. Nelson will say nothing but I believe that he has talked to Jason.”
“But, in knowing, Jason would not stay away long. I'm just sure that he will show up soon.”
“I so hope you're right, Jenny, but I think it's time that we at least check into some possible scenarios.”
“What do you want to do, Grandma Myrena? What do you want me to do? I'll do anything you ask.”
“To be on the safe side, I think we should notify the police that Jason is missing. And we should ...”
Jenny interrupted. “But, if Jason's simply out of town on business or some other reason, that could cause him some embarrassment.”
“We don't know that he's out of town, Jenny. Nora Hadley would likely know if he was, and she is as concerned as we are. The point is,” Myrena's voice still just above a whisper, “Jason had never gone away without letting me know. And, surely, he would not leave Nora in the lurch like this. I believe that he is in terrible pain, maybe not so much physically as mentally. Emotionally, he has had simultaneous shocks: Carlton's death and my terminal cancer. Jason is not a weakling or a quitter, but he does have that vulnerable spot about which I spoke. Jason may be drinking to ease his pain, but it will only make it worse. I have seen his fragile side, Jenny. It can hurt him badly. We must cover all the bases.” Myrena sank deeper into her pillow.
“Then I will talk to the police immediately. I will also talk to Nora again and see if she might know something or someone that we're not considering.”
“You're a wonder, Jenny. It is so easy to see why Jason would be in love with you. Please don't blame him for his actions during this time, dear one. Every person has an Achilles heel. For all his good traits and moral character, Jason cannot handle too well matters of the heart and soul. You will help him through this bad time, I know. I can see in your eyes the love you carry for Jason each time I mention his name. You are my saving grace, my hope. I know that you will not let me down.”
They talked for some time.
Myrena shared childhood adventures of Carlton and Jason, relating the good times in their lives along with the bad. She talked of the family camping trips that brought the most joy to their young lives. She talked of Jason's love for music and his elementary school 'conductor' period. She talked about Carlton's proficiency in mathematics, how he loved playing and winning all the chess and backgammon games; how he loved their high desert adventures; how, at times, he would be so protective of Jason, like he knew Jason better than anyone else. She talked about Jason's eventual transition into business, his great love of land projects, particularly his lifetime project, 'Apple Brown Betty.'
Jenny talked as well, about her childhood, her mother and father. Jenny told Myrena about her father's easy way of turning her teenage problems into insignificant aberrations by uttering the simple phrase, 'Butterflies and Jellybeans.' Her father had conditioned her to the point where that silly little phrase could make her bad day turn good.
She told Myrena that her father had told her so many beautiful and fanciful stories in her youth, stories of heroism, courage, morality, justice, and love. He reminded her, in times of stress or trouble, to say aloud to herself that simple phrase, 'Butterflies and Jellybeans,' over and over like a mantra, and to remember the stories. The phrase was to trigger a subliminal joy within her.
The crazy thing was, when she did have a problem, the utterance of that phrase generally brought her out of her funk. Even today, she told Myrena, with Jason and you so much on my mind, just remembering those stories and that phrase helped her more than anything else.
Jenny told Myrena of her lightning experience which brought her fateful meeting with Jason and their natural evolution into love. She told Myrena that her father's simple phrase was chanted so many times recently to help her get over some rough patches, the concerns and worries about Jason. Oh, yes, she was still heartsick and worried, but she was also confident and hopeful of the future with Jason.
The talk between Jenny and Myrena became a comforting exchange, about love, family, and dreams. A point was reached where they avoided talk of tragedy and death. They avoided conversation about Carlton's death, Myrena's cancer, and Jason’s absence. They had talked enough of angst. They needed, wanted, to talk about light and joyful memories, and the conversation strengthened their bond and their mutual adoration.
The time together in the hospital room was good for both of them. The time would have a special place in their hearts forever. Myrena seemed to have more color to her cheeks, and Jenny thought that, if possible, the old matriarch even appeared younger.
When the nurse entered the room with some medication, Jenny noticed Myrena yawning. It was a good time for her to leave.
Jenny drove home with an odd serenity of mood. Despite all that was happening, she felt calm. She felt that her future with Jason was somehow secure and bright. She did not understand the mood but she gratefully accepted it.
Perhaps it was because of a little phrase which kept playing within her mind and softly dancing upon her soul. It was the phrase that her father had given her, a chant for the times in her life when she knew not where to go. There were times when the phrase got forgotten in the frenzied pace of living. She must remember not to forget.
She smiled and sang it out loudly: “Butterflies and Jellybeans … Butterflies and Jellybeans … Butterflies and Jellybeans ...”
Chapter Twenty-nine
He awoke with a start in darkness.
His mouth felt grainy and dry. He unconsciously wiped at his cheek and found tiny sand pebbles in dense clusters accumulated there. His head had obviously dropped from the makeshift blazer pillow during his sleep and had found the sandy floor of the desert.
Jason sat up slowly, his aching joints and muscles protesting with pain. Remembrance came with a brash and sud
den jolt. His thirst for water was intense, his body dehydrated from the searing heat of the day and his previous alcohol consumption. His head throbbed wildly. His tongue was swollen, felt like an alien object, and wanted to stick to the roof of his parched mouth. His lips were cracked and stinging with pinpricks of pain with any facial grimace or movement, the tiny, dried blood fissures reopened with his wakening. He was nauseous, weak, and terribly disoriented.
He sat hunched with knees drawn up in the sand, surveying the desolate area around him. The high desert night was clear and bright with a fulsome moon and starry canopy.
There was a strange awareness within him, a sense of déjả vu, like he had somehow once before experienced all of this. The subtle sounds of air and animal movement had a surreal clarity. He was both sedated by this awareness and intuitively wary of it. It was strongly primal and elemental. Just on the edge of his consciousness he sensed an awesome and irrevocable truth, some inner adjustment or change, but he could not pull it to him to examine its possibilities. This persistent gauzy cognition gave Jason a nebulous comfort and hope. He tried hard to bring into sharper focus this illusory knowledge, but it faded as other crucial truths became known to him.
A coyote wail from somewhere nearby broke the relative quietness, soon followed by loud baying from a pack of Javelina. Jason was not too frightened by these sounds as he was in and around the desert all of his life. Still, the thought of an aroused rattlesnake or some other angered predator being in close proximity made him shudder.
It was not a cool night in the high desert. The air still carried the heat of the day. His craving for water had become an incessant thing, and the act of swallowing was made all the more difficult with the lack of saliva. Jason knew that he must not make his need for water an exclusive thought or he might drive himself crazy. Had he not already done that? Had he not 'driven' himself here in some catatonic mindset of madness. Oh, he knew there was the alcohol and there was subtle reminiscence that brought him here, forcing him to search for something in the cobwebs of family history; something that might offer succor, a speck of salvation for his tortured soul.
He rose unsteadily from the rough ground and shook out his wrinkled blazer. As he took tentative steps he put on the coat. He thought that he was walking south for there was a sweeping nimbus of light in one direction and shadowy swaths of black and gray in others. He suspected that the wide horizontal splay of light was the greater Phoenix metro area.
He walked toward the inexact center of the horizontal band of light, dodging cactus, mesquite, Palo Verde trees, and dipping arroyos. Along the way he picked up a fallen tree limb and used it as a guiding rod to spook any reptilian creatures that got too close. The night was projected in an eerie clarity, awesome in its breadth and beauty. There was another imprecise quality to the almost reverent space surrounding him, what he might imagine a walk on the moon would produce.
Try as he might to preclude the thought of water, his thirst was a growing, gnawing cinder in his throat. How could he have been so stupid? What had possessed him to drive to the high desert, to walk aimlessly and so far? He did not know the exact route that he had taken in his car. There was so much fog in his brain. He did not know the distance and directions that he had walked.
How far had he come from the valley? Forty miles? Fifty? More?
His car? He had no idea where it was. He would walk toward the distant lights.
Why had he come? Yes, somehow that was more important. Why?
He stumbled along, becoming aware that he was off center and more to the right of the band of light. He corrected his course, slowly moving on.
The lights on the southern horizon sustained him, kept him moving. He was sure it was the southern horizon. It must be the lights of Phoenix that drew him on.
Had he had any education about the stars and the moon? He could not remember. He had heard of the big and little dippers; heard names like Ursa Major, Minor, Pegasus, Orion; heard of planets like Venus, Jupiter, Pluto, Saturn. They were only words to him, beautiful words that could not help him. It was enough for him to know that these constellations, planets, stars, were up there in their celestial prominence. It had never occurred to him that their locations in that vast dark sky would ever have useful value for him.
He was bemused that he carried no fear with him. He was not afraid. Thirst, he carried. Yes, an incredible amount of thirst. With each step he felt the stinging, suppuration, throbbing lips, his parched throat and bloating tongue. There were cramping calf muscles, painfully tender feet, his entire body a mass of screaming neurons. There was all of that, but he was not afraid. He was slowly edging his way home.
Home, a wistful, compelling little word. Here, now, in this strange night land, the word had a meaning more special than he could express. Home had suddenly become more important than the last few days would have indicated.
There was something else that struck him. There were no black thoughts. His mind seemed more clear than it was lately. Were the black thoughts just taking a break? No, he thought not. Jenny came to him now like the light crossing in the southern sky. She sustained him. Her face, vivid in his mind like a haunting piece of music, her tresses falling softly on her shoulders, her lips slightly open in a caressing smile, her votive eyes the deeply drawing beacons of his salvation. He loved her. That was enough.
The sadness over Grandma Myrena's terminal cancer had constricted his soul, had choked his reason. No less grievous now, that sadness lay on his consciousness like a resolved truth. He would survive her passing. He loved her. That was enough.
Even the awful heartache of Carlton's death, of times and chances wasted like golden coins in a mountain cache, lay oddly relieved. He loved his brother. That was enough.
How strange and lucid this inner night vision! Was his mind betraying him with this new awakening? Was he simply in a survival mode where all else was secondary and temporarily on hold? He thought not. He was not afraid.
Now, with this amazing metamorphosis, this catharsis of soul, it was important that he live. His life had meaning beyond the scope of his desire to know its significance. That was the elemental truth he was finding here in this high desert cathedral of space. That was the strange essence of this night. Like a lifting malarial ague the strain and stress of black thought and death had left him. Except for the abiding thirst for water, his mind was clear of recent demons, clear like the lustrous quality of the evening sky.
What of this new essence? How? What? Why? Was it a high desert purgation of the soul? Was it a new thought that held so much promise? Or, was it the beginning of some awful delirium?
Jason grinned, despite the sting that came to his lips. He lifted his face to the full moon, the planets, and the quaking stars, and thought of the ludicrous spectacle he must be presenting to an omniscient deity.
He walked on through the tangled brush and detritus, anxious now to catch up with his life, anxious to see Jenny and Grandma Myrena, anxious to proceed with 'Apple Brown Betty.' In his thirst and weariness, hope came to him.
The high desert air became cooler as time passed, and the crunching sound of his feet on the ancient sand mingled with the subtle, near inaudible movements of indigenous fauna. Jason wondered about the unseen eyes that would be monitoring his jagged movements.
Chapter Thirty
Jenny had talked to the Scottsdale police. She had not known what kind of car Jason was driving, but, through computer checks, the police had determined the make and model. Jenny had provided personal vitae about Jason that might be helpful. Because of Myrena's and Jason's stature in the community, the Scottsdale Police Department had assured Jenny that the search would receive high priority.
After talking to the Scottsdale authorities Jenny had returned to the hospital. She kept Myrena company during the intervals between all the testing that was being done. Finally, Myrena had insisted that Jenny leave for some needed rest and handling of personal business.
Just before Jenny left the ho
spital, Wardley had arrived. He had brought a couple of items that Myrena had requested. He stayed on for a while to visit. Wardley was clearly distressed by Myrena's dire health problems, and Jenny suspected that he might even be a little lonely. He truly was part of the family.
Jenny went mechanically through time and space, spending much of the evening writing checks for past due bills, cleaning an already neat and uncluttered apartment. During the next day she kept busy with amendments to work projects, talking and meeting with coworkers and clients. All activities seemed to have a robotic sameness, performed beneath an always present cloud of worry and concern for Jason and for Grandma Myrena. She silently chanted the lovely phrase her father had given her … 'butterflies and jellybeans.'
The hours passed slowly. A day. A surfeit dullness settled in. Time passed, not a lot in mortal terms but still tedious and cumbersome ... time, stretching, yawning, in its sometime dull drumming design and uniformity.
The telephone would ring at home and at work, breaking the routine, sparking hope, only to become a part of the pulsing, marking of time. Time, honored and respected, sacred and not to be wasted, clung to with passion by the old and the dreamer, was now to Jenny a dimension that she could not consolidate into her mind. She wanted that time would fast forward to her reunion with Jason or to whatever dubious destiny she awaited. The waiting, the uncertainty, was a palpable and painful thing.
When Jenny really thought about it, time was the controller of us all. Without time, we would not exist. Time could march along at any speed it wished and smirk at us all. Time manipulated us all. We wanted it to pass quickly so our fun time could start. We wanted it to pass slowly to delay old age and sorrow. Time was the supreme arbiter of us all. It was a concept much like the chicken and the egg conundrum. Jenny wondered about eternity where time would be no more, only to return to the chicken and the egg.
Jenny called home to Kansas, spoke to her father and mother, presented a cheery chatter of trivial monologues. Then, during the family phone conversation, it would come to her that someone, Jason, the police, might be trying to reach her, and she would end the call.
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