A Nation of Mystics - Book II: The Tribe

by Pamela Johnson

  “We’ve talked about this. Give up the business. I’ll take care of things for both of us. You’re my lady now.”

  “I won’t do that. My business is the source of my freedom. To stand by myself, I need to make my own money.”

  “Can’t you stand with me?”

  “Yes, that’s just the point … with you … as an equal. Not asking every time I need something.”

  She watched with some trepidation as Christian looked toward Dharma. He was clearly uncomfortable about what he would have to say to Dharma … or Bob … about her proposed living arrangements. He folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes.

  Finally, he said, “This isn’t what I want. I want you to care for my home. I want you next to me every night, your warmth something I can rely on, fall into. And I want to be there as much for you as you are for me.”

  “Christian …,” she began.

  He stopped her with a shake of his head. “If having things your way enables you to love me with your heart, then have it your way. For a while. We’ll see how it works.”

  “There’s something else. I guess I’d better say it all now. I’ve tried being like Julie and Annie. I really have. But I’m not like them,” she moaned. “They’re so … so exasperatingly meek! God, I’m sorry. I love them, but I can’t be like them. I mean, I can cook and do laundry and run stuff around. But there’s more to life. Housework isn’t what you live to do, it’s what you do while you’re living. Do you understand? I’m going back to school. And I want to be involved in the world and the politics we’re trying to create.”

  Oddly enough, when Christian nodded, she could tell he was getting it, maybe even beginning to understand these were the very reasons he’d been attracted to her.

  “You’re right,” he’d laughed in good-natured resignation. “Hawaii was just a dream. For both of us. But, dear God, it felt so good while we were there.”

  On the rainy December day, just before Christmas, when Kathy told Christian she would help locate another base source, she intended to have him meet Richard. Richard and Christian knew of each other, but Kathy had deliberately kept them separate, guilty over her manipulation, especially since Richard had been wanting to meet him for over a year. Still, there was nothing else she could do. Without closely guarded secrets, she got cut out of business transactions once introductions were made.

  That same day, Kathy drove up to Richard and Marcie’s house, trying to think how she might approach Richard about the base. She knew he had it. Richard had let it slip to her, glad to speak of it, because the base was his pride. If he’d been sure of himself before, it was nothing compared with what he was now. The base was his key to the lab he was determined to create.

  “Hi, Marcie!” Kathy gave her a hug. “Where’s John?”

  “Over there. Trying to reach the knobs on the stereo. John, come say hi to your Aunt Kathleen.”

  “John, give me a hug,” Kathy called, holding out her arms.

  John smiled with four new white teeth, crawled over, and Kathy kissed him fervently over and over on his neck and face, leaving him squealing with delight.

  “Morning, everyone.” Richard walked down the stairs, disheveled and barefoot.

  “It’s almost afternoon,” Marcie told him, holding up John. “And who’s this?”

  “Come give Daddy a hug, John. Marcie, make me some breakfast, will you?”

  “Kathy wants to talk to you.”

  “What’s brought you by today?” he asked her.

  “Base,” Kathy smiled. “I need some.”

  “Well, that certainly gets my eyes open,” Richard answered. “Come on into the kitchen. I need something to drink.”

  “Have you been able to cook up what you have?” she asked once they’d sat down at the table.

  Richard couldn’t hide his irritation. “No. Lots of people have wanted to try, but I haven’t found a chemist reliable enough. Ergotamine is too precious for experimentation. I need someone who knows what they’re doing.”

  “I have something I want to show you,” she said, pulling a small bottle from her bag. “What do you think of this?”

  Richard held the glass vial to the light, bouncing John on one hip. The baby was immediately interested and lifted his hands to it, making gurgling noises.

  “Attractive, huh?” Richard teased him. “I know you’d like to have a little, but you’re just going to have to wait.”

  Inside the jar, fluffy white powder fell to the side each time Richard turned the bottle to examine it. “I presume this is acid. It looks good. Have you tried it?”

  “Lots.”

  He handed Kathy back the vial and rinsed his hand.

  “The same chemist is looking for base,” Kathy told him. “What do you think?”

  “I think I’d like to try some.”

  “Will you meet the person who’s put this trip together?” she asked, taking John from him as Marcie set down his food.

  “Christian?” Richard queried. “Finally going to trust me, huh? How long am I going to have to pay for Larry?”

  She ignored the question. “Will you trip with Christian?”

  “Why don’t we go up to Humboldt and visit Merlin’s farm?” he suggested. “That would be a good place to be ourselves and see if we can work together. I still haven’t made it up there, and I really would like to see Merlin’s land.”

  “Oh, Richard! Do you mean it?” Marcie cried.

  “Yes. Send them a letter and ask them to call. We should hear from them in a few days.”

  From the start, it was apparent to everyone that a liaison between Christian and Richard would be inevitable. The dinner Marcie arranged was a rollicking affair at Norman’s Restaurant in Oakland, the four so congenial that Kathy regretted not having earlier brought together all these people she loved.

  Richard and Christian were much alike in their politics, and few words were needed to reach a perfect understanding. As they talked together, Kathy observed them. Richard, tall and thin, his long dark hair hanging in a ponytail, his aggressive sense of humor, the pirate mustache still with him. Christian, tall and blond, his mustache and beard a little darker than his hair, giving impromptu lectures, intense, always the light in his eyes.

  After a few days of dry weather and the prospect of a passable road to Merlin’s, they made the drive, arriving at the clearing at the top of the mountain at sunset. The weather was cold and damp, the sky laced with gray clouds, hinting at possible rain. Ahead, they could see the little cabin with smoke climbing from the chimney. Chickens ran through the yard, and two dogs barked outrageously as the car approached. Merlin opened the door wearing Levi overalls, boots, and a heavy jacket, and walked to the car to greet them. Greta followed close behind, beautiful in her new pregnancy, a shawl wrapped around both Rosie and her shoulders, eyes bright, vapor lacing the air when she breathed.

  “Welcome!” she cried from the porch.

  Merlin shook Richard’s hand and took a hard look at Christian. Then, pointing to the vista, gray clouds tinged pink by the sunset, tree-covered mountains stretching away into the distance, asked, “Well, what do you think?”

  “You get to see this every day?” Richard grinned sheepishly. “And this smell. You get to breath this smell?”

  “Come on in. It’s getting colder, and it’s going to rain again. Down, Magic!” Merlin commanded the dog.

  Entering the front room, they were assailed by the aroma of a spicy vegetable soup simmering in the kitchen. The fireplace was well ablaze, the room warm and cozy and close around the fire, the floors amazingly clean, the windows covered in condensation from the warm steam traveling from the kitchen.

  “Let me put the cornbread in the oven,” Greta told them. “We should eat in about twenty minutes.”

  “I’m glad you could finally make it up here.” Merlin sat in an old, padded, high-backed chair near the fireplace.

  Richard took a jay from his pocket and passed it to him. “I’m only sorry I
didn’t get up here sooner.”

  “You’re here now. That’s all that counts. I guess things finally quieted down in the city, huh? That was a rough trip you went through last summer.”

  “Yeah. Strange. Just as quickly as the violence started, it stopped. We never quite figured out where it all came from. I still have my eyes open, but the threat seems to be gone.”

  “I wish we could say the same.” Merlin took out his lighter and lit the doobie. “We’ve had some real problems up here. A couple of people we know were burned out. It’s made me wary.”

  “Burned out?” Kathy asked.

  “It means having your house burned out from under you. The rednecks up here hate hippies. See them as a threat to their way of life. They don’t really know any of us. Don’t know what we’re tryin’ to do or what we believe. But a group of them’ll get together and go burn someone’s house for fun. Happened to some friends of ours—Martha and Matthew Callahan.” Merlin’s eyes stared at the fire, the reflection of the flames alive in the lenses of his glasses. “They have two kids, Heidi—she’s four—and Ian, about eight months old.

  “Coupla months ago, right after Christmas, they were gettin’ ready for bed when Martha thought she heard somethin’. Turned out to be some dudes in a pickup who doused the house with kerosene, set the fire, and took off laughing. They almost didn’t get the kids out. It was a real neat house, too. Matthew had made every piece of furniture in there. Martha had woven the rugs.”

  “She’d birthed both her babies there,” Greta added. “Now they’re living in a tent trying to make it through the winter. Next spring, the community’s going to help them rebuild.”

  “They drove on over here,” Merlin told the silent room. “We did what we could. I’d told him to get some dogs. No one gets up here without us knowing about it. Only problem is someone has to be here all the time—day and night.”

  Kathy took a good look at Merlin. His arms and chest were larger from heavy manual labor, his frame bulkier. The childishness was gone from him, the stoned innocence.

  “What about the law?” Richard asked. “What are they doing to help?”

  “What they can. But vigilante groups meet secretly, come and go in the night, and have strong alibis. What’s really happenin’ is a lot of misplaced anger. There’s no real economy up here. Things are tough for a lot of people. With lots of free time, men get together and drink and bitch and decide to go burn out some hippies.

  “There’s this one guy,” Merlin picked up his pipe and filled it with the hash Christian laid on him, “Neil Bolton. He’s been by a coupla times. Has these really nice-lookin’ dogs. Hunters. I know he’s here scoutin’ out the place. He tries comin’ on real mean. But there’s somethin’ in him that likes me, and it bugs him. He knows deep down that we really want the same things. We love the land and the forest, the quiet slowed-down pace of the country. And he knows I like those dogs of his.”

  Suddenly, Greta stood, her cheeks apple red and shining, her hair wrapped in a braid around her head.

  “Come to the table,” she called to them. “My nose tells me the cornbread is ready. We didn’t mean to burden you with such tales. There are so many happy things going on here. Tomorrow, we’ll show you the farm. The gardens and animals. And I believe it is possible to live in peace with all our neighbors.”

  Kathy was tired by ten o’clock, and when Greta and Marcie picked up the babies and went off to the trailer, she wished she could go with them. The drive up had been long, and she was spaced from the pot and hash, but Christian had already taken out his little bag of tabs.

  “These are tabbed to about a hundred mics,” he said. “I’d like to see what this dose is like.”

  “I’ll have one then,” Kathy told him. “That should be a nice short trip, and we can get some sleep.”

  Christian laughed. “Think so, huh?”

  His laugh was filled with such good humor that she didn’t care anymore how long the trip lasted, only that Christian was there, and that they were going to journey together.

  “Same for me,” Richard said holding out his hand.

  “One,” Merlin said.

  Thirty minutes later, Kathy began to feel the effects. The pot hangover was pierced with stabbing flashes from a new source. References began to slowly shift; her body tingled, energy rose. Looking around the room, she could see the flushed grins, the red-faced smiles. Merlin crawled over and worked on the fire. Richard leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes.

  Christian was restless as his body changed. Kathy brushed his arm. He looked at her and saw that her eyes were closed and her mouth held the acid grin. He followed the contours of her face—nose, lips, chin, bared neck slightly tilted to one side—and reached out to touch the soft skin, his fingertips exploding with sensation, his body eroticized. She opened her eyes at his touch, rubbing her head into the soft silkiness of the cushion, and smiled into his eyes. The smile enticed him, and he moved closer, slipping in next to her, feeling the heat waves rush his body, bounce between them, yet … the restlessness was still with him.

  Why? he asked himself. Maybe all the talk about the burnings.

  A wave of memory swept over him, only for an instant, then fell away, but the impression lasted long enough for him to see the city of Amritsar, sense the heat from raging fires on his face, the shouting mobs, the carnage and looting, the men engaged in combat, the odor of burning buildings and cars and flesh, his abject terror.

  “Kathy,” he mumbled to her.

  The light from the fire was reflected in her eyes, red and gold and yellow, glimmering with her own inner light. Christian was mesmerized by it, leaned over, kissed her cheek and neck, softly brushing his lips against her skin, his emotions liquid, her body tied to his own.

  When Kathy heard Christian murmur her name, she looked toward him, and in the soft sound, she heard a plea.

  She felt his fingers comb through her hair, her ears picking up the electrical crackling, her body stirred by his touch. She had tripped with Christian many times, knew the erotic sensation that was building. And this dose … so manageable, not like some of the more powerful doses that just sat them down on their butts. This was sexual fantasy, everything totally turned on, both body and mind melding, and she could easily begin to move with him.

  She laughed and reached out to touch him, sensed him merge with her spirit, knew a need from him. Men had looked at her before with desire, but never had she seen the look of longing Christian had for her. Stirred unbelievably, she glanced at Richard and Merlin.

  “Christian,” she whispered softly, giggling, trying to make him remember that others were still there.

  At first, both Richard and Merlin had ignored the energy, locked into their own thoughts, but now Christian was undoing the buttons of her blouse, his hair falling over her, mixing with her dark strands.

  Kathy glanced again at Richard and Merlin, wondering how to handle this, the sexual intensity in the room heightening. Laughing, she pushed at Christian’s head with rubbery arms, only to be more stimulated by the soft silkiness of his hair.

  “Christian,” she whispered weakly, beginning to laugh. With each of his touches, she laughed again, until the sound filled the room.

  Christian, she sensed, had lost it. Trapped somewhere between the grooves of the acid and the reflection of the fire in her eyes, between her beauty and his love, between desire and trust, between running from memory into warm safety, the world had slipped away. All that was real was the two of them. He pulled her to him, passionately devouring her mouth and fumbling at the snap on her jeans.

  Merlin looked at Richard and smiled broadly. “Let’s take a walk. Here’s your jacket.” He threw the coat to Richard, and watched as Richard awkwardly stood and slipped on his shoes. Once they were on the porch, Merlin closed the cabin door.

  Christian didn’t even realize that Merlin and Richard had left the room. He continued to tear at Kathy’s clothes, pushing her to the rug in front of the f
ire, pulling at the legs of her jeans. There was none of the gentleness she had always known with him, and still, she could only laugh, trying to sort through her feelings, match his lust with her own. Responding to his desire, all she knew was sensations flying away, one, then another, emotions come and gone before she could realize them.

  When he came, he still moved in her, squeezing every last electric sensation from his act, breathing hard, holding tightly, trying to catch his breath, melting into her, grasping the moment and nothing else, pushing aside any reality that tried to rear from memory.

  Then he saw her face, moving, aroused emotion and tenderness mixed in her eyes, and he was lost again, desperate with too many thoughts. He laid his head on her breasts and began to cry.

  “My love,” she rubbed him gently, “it’s been with you for a long time. In your face the first time I saw you. At the river in Hawaii. There are times when you fade away from me, and I can see it there. Tell me. It’s time.”

  CHRISTIAN

  AMRITSAR, NORTHERN INDIA

  MAY 1964

  Graduation from the British boarding school was imminent, and his father fully expected that Christian would return to the United States to study for the ministry. Both Christian and Nareesh had received acceptance letters to the college, dorm housing had been secured, and airline reservations confirmed. All his life, Christian had planned to do just that—study and return to India—but with his coming of age, he uneasily began to suspect that one religion no longer held all the answers. His father would have called it a crisis of faith. Christian called it a crisis of reason.

  The teachings of Ram Seva and Daya Nanda made perfect sense in their discussion of charity and mental clarity. The mythology of Hinduism was no more or less reasonable than the creation story of Eden. Lama Loden’s lessons on wisdom and compassion were seductive, especially the tiny glimpses of where wisdom could take humanity. More, secular worlds had been opened to him, worlds of sensation and pleasure. He should have been focused, sure of his next college year—instead, he anxiously found himself adrift, searching, wondering how he should proceed. Was he really ready to dedicate his life to a ministry? Could he teach without reservation?