I slowed my vehicle to a crawl, still debating whether I should talk to him. He leaped out and began tying up the boat, then turned, like he’d felt someone’s gaze on him, and surveyed the parking lot. Our eyes met. At first he looked confused, then a startled hint of recognition, followed by more confusion. He knew me, but he wasn’t sure how. I pulled over and parked the car. He continued to tie up the boat, glancing in my direction once in a while.
I walked toward him, my stomach suddenly tight and rolling, my hands clammy. Blaming it on the sway of the wharf, I took a few deep breaths and planted my feet square. “Hello, Levi. I’m not sure if you remember me.…”
He stopped what he was doing and took another look at my face. I was about to give my name when he said, “You’re Nadine.”
So his confusion hadn’t been about not recognizing my face, but something else. I’d misread his expression. Another person who didn’t want to be reminded of their time at the commune?
“You do remember me?”
“You look just like your mother, thought I was seeing a ghost.”
I was feeling the same way. I flashed to the image of Coyote’s limp body, mouth hanging open, slack as the water ran out. I shook off the thought.
We studied each other. I was uncomfortable, but not sure why. Then a gust of cold wind blew off the lake, making me shiver. Levi noticed, saying, “Did you want to go into my office?” He gestured behind me. I turned and saw that he had a cabin beside the lake, with its own private dock and wharf, where boats, Jet Skis, and paddleboats were lined up, most of them covered for the season.
“Sure, that might be better.”
In his office, which was in the front room of the cabin, I spotted a door leading off into what I assumed were his living quarters. He offered a coffee, from an old coffeemaker that had seen better days. I passed and watched as he poured himself a cup, then sat behind the desk, tapping his pen on a pad of paper. He had an aged-surfer look about him, his face weathered from sun. He also radiated a wired-up energy, his eyes never quite meeting mine, and he was thin, almost gaunt. He sniffed, tossing his head in a quick backward motion. Drugs?
He said, “So what brings you up here?”
I noticed the use of the word “up.” So he knew I lived in Victoria. Who’d he been talking to? My body stiffened, but I kept my tone friendly as I said, “How did you hear I moved to Victoria?”
He narrowed his eyes, like he was thinking, shrugged. “Don’t know, someone must’ve mentioned it.” I thought about the day I’d seen him on the phone outside the museum, suspecting he’d gone over after and asked about me.
“I was just visiting Robbie.”
“What’s he up to these days? Still running the excavator?”
I nodded. So he knew a little about Robbie. I didn’t want to show my cards, but I wanted to test whether Robbie had lied or not about talking to him. “Things seem to be going well for him, but I guess you already know that.”
Another tap of his pen. “Haven’t seen Robbie for years, just his truck around town.”
I decided to cut to the chase. “Why did you leave the commune?”
He stopped tapping but smiled his goofy grin, reminding me of the happy kid that he was, at least until his father died, and the grin had become scarce.
“That’s kind of a personal question.”
“So you don’t want to answer it?”
He laughed. “I don’t care, just thought it was a funny question. I left because they were freaks.”
“I heard some bad things have been going on there.”
His smile faded a bit. “Aaron, he’s twisted, man. Like really twisted.” His voice took on a bitter tone. “He’d preach all this stuff about freedom, but then he kept a tight rein on all the pot and everything. I hated that place.”
Aaron had called marijuana our salvation because it was the closest we could come to experiencing the bliss we’d find on the other side. None of the members were allowed any for personal use, and it was only doled out by Aaron. If Levi had a drug problem, as I suspected, it would have been difficult for him at the center. I also sensed there was something deeper to his anger, an embarrassment, and I wondered if he’d been made to leave.
“Can you tell me more?”
“I try not to think about that time, you know? I like to just live for today.” He gestured toward the lake. “That’s my religion now.”
Living for today or running from the past?
I said, “Is your mother still there?”
“No, she died before I left.” When he ran his hand through his hair, his sweater gaped at his forearm, showing a crescent-shaped scar. He caught my stare and quickly pulled his arm back down, watching me now, the smile gone, like he was waiting for me to make a comment. I thought of Mary. Had his scar also been a punishment? This time no memories came back, but still the feeling of unease.
I said, “Your scar. Did you get that in the commune?”
He laughed. “Nah, just drunk and stupid on the boat one night.” He laughed again, but something didn’t feel genuine. Before I could put my finger on the reason or ask for details, he changed the subject. “So why you want to know about the commune? You writing a book or something?”
He said it like a joke, but again I had a feeling he might’ve talked to the girl at the museum, and now he was trying to find out what I was up to.
I decided to go with the straight approach, maybe shock him into answering truthfully. “For years I’ve suffered from claustrophobia and memory loss.” I explained about psychogenic amnesia, leaving out Heather and just saying that a recent event had triggered memories of being sexually abused. “I’ve been trying to find people who used to live in the commune, to see if there could be more victims.” I also decided to keep Tammy and Mary to myself for now.
He sat back in his chair, his face a portrait of shocked dismay. “No shit, oh crap, jeez, I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes seemed honest, but the way he said, “Man, that’s terrible,” like he was trying to convince me he was upset, had me wondering. He added, “What’s it called again? Memory suppression?”
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“And they just come back on their own?”
“Some. Some of them I have to focus on.”
“Isn’t that stuff kind of hard to prove in court?”
“Yes, well, that’s why I’m trying to find possible witnesses.”
He said, “Wish I could help. I remember you spending a lot of time with Aaron. You guys were always down at the river, but I never saw anything, you know?” His expression was one of disappointment, his tone saying, Sorry I can’t help more. Still, I thought about how the courts would look at those facts, how they would look to anyone else. He was a nice man, just trying to teach her to swim. She’s making it all up.
I blinked a couple of times, cleared my throat. “What about after, when you moved down to Victoria. Did you witness any sort of physical violence or abuse? You mentioned they were ‘freaks.’ Care to shed some light on that?”
He’d been rocking back and forth in his chair, but he stopped abruptly. “I told you, I don’t like talking about that stuff, okay?”
So, yes, he’d seen something.
I said, “Okay. I can respect that. I didn’t mean to stir up anything. I know how painful those memories can be.”
He looked away, got up, and poured himself another cup of coffee. I wondered if I should mention what Steve Phillips had told me about Levi seeing a woman with Finn. But as Levi splashed a small amount of coffee on his hand, cursing and bringing the burn to his mouth, I had a feeling I might have exhausted his patience. He’d recanted his story for a reason, one that I didn’t think he’d be willing to divulge. Not yet anyway.
As he sat back down, I said, “Do you remember Willow?”
He nodded, his goofy grin back in place. “Yeah, she was real nice. Man, your brother had the hots for her.” He laughed. “When she split, I thought for sure he’d go after her
. I was kind of hoping he would—leave the other girls for me.”
He broke into a big swoop of laughter at his joke, his face flushed. But under his joviality, I sensed a lot of truth. Had Levi been jealous of my brother? Was that what sparked their arguing that summer and the eventual demise of their friendship? It didn’t sound like he had any additional information on Willow’s whereabouts, but I still said, “Have you heard from her?”
“Willow?” His head bopped back in surprise. “Hell, no. Not since she split that morning.”
“You saw her leave?”
“No, the last I saw her, she was…” He squinted, like he was thinking back. “We were all out on that reflection walk, but I don’t remember if she was there.” She wasn’t, but I waited for him to search his own memories. “When we got back, we all went swimming.…” He was quiet, thinking, then shook his head. “Nope, don’t think she was at the river, either, so I guess the last time I saw her was before the walk.” He focused back on me. “Why you asking about Willow?”
“She was just someone I remembered. I liked her a lot.”
He said, “We all did. Man, I wonder what she’d look like now.”
His face was thoughtful, imagining an older Willow. I observed him across his desk, his aged skin and windblown hair, catching sight of my own reflection in the window behind him. For a moment I could almost see the ghost of our younger selves: my black hair in braids, his youthful, lean body and gap-toothed grin. I also thought of Willow, with her tanned skin and husky laugh. Did she have short or long hair now? Had she aged well? Was she happy?
“Yes, I wonder what she looks like too.”
* * *
I’d taken my leave after Levi picked up a call that was obviously going to take a while—he’d started to list various pricing options for rentals to the person on the other end while he rolled his eyes at me. I’d taken one of my cards out of my purse, writing on the back, Call if you want to talk about the commune, and also included my home number. He glanced at it when I passed it to him, giving me a thanks-for-stopping-by dismissive smile.
As I followed the path back up to my car, I looked back at the cabin and could see Levi through the top window. He dropped my card into the garbage.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Later that evening, though all my doors were locked, I felt exposed and uneasy. I’d been talking to a lot of people about the commune, stirring things up. Aaron had many loyal followers, not to mention people who’d probably invested in the center. It was a successful business, and they wouldn’t want someone messing it up for them. I reminded myself that the police were more aware of the center now and that Aaron was smart enough to keep a low profile. Still, I checked all the doors and windows again, shaking my head at my paranoia. I was trying to distract myself with gardening shows on TV when the phone rang, startling me and causing me to spill my tea. Nursing my scalded finger, I picked up the phone on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
A harsh voice, muffled and distorted, said, “Stop now, or you’ll be sorry. You don’t know who you’re fucking with.” He hung up.
Shaken, I stared at the phone in my hand, “private number” showing on the display. Was it someone from the center? I couldn’t tell if it was a woman or a man. The voice sounded like it was being altered by a computer, which only made it sound more terrifying. I pressed *57, hoping they could trace the number.
I sat on the couch and tried to think things through. It seemed my earlier fears might be more accurate than I’d anticipated. Somewhere along the way, I’d angered someone. I considered what I should do next. The threat had been upsetting, but if it had been from someone at the center, I still didn’t think Aaron was going to hurt me, not for a sexual-abuse case which he knew would probably be dropped. If something happened to me, he’d be the first suspect, and he wasn’t a stupid man. However, it was possible he was trying to scare me off before there was any negative publicity for the center.
The phone rang a second time, spiking my pulse. I waited a moment, gathered myself, and then looked at the call display. This time it showed a number that I vaguely remembered, but I still answered with a cautious “Hello?”
“Hi, Nadine. It’s Tammy.”
“Tammy! How are you?” I sat back on the couch, relieved.
“Not good.”
She sounded stressed, anxious. Concerned about her, I sat back up and quickly said, “Is everything okay?”
Her voice now thick and nasally, like she was crying, she said, “My husband doesn’t want me to talk to the police.”
I leaned back in my chair. Disappointed but not surprised, I said, “And what do you want to do? Do you still want to speak with them?”
“I don’t know. I see his point. He’s just scared for me and Dillon. People think the center is so great, and Aaron is this important guy with tons of money. He just doesn’t want me to be dragged through the mud, with all the newspapers and stuff, everyone talking about it. He doesn’t think people will believe me.”
The way she said it, the sad tone told me that she was also disappointed, in her husband or the truth of the matter, I wasn’t sure. But he was right—she would have an uphill battle. Many people wouldn’t believe her, and if it did go to trial, it would be an emotionally exhausting process that would put a lot of stress on her life and marriage. I knew this all too well.
Now that the search hadn’t turned up anything at the site, and Tammy wasn’t willing to talk, the chances of ever building a case against Aaron were dwindling rapidly, but it was also important that Tammy feel good about her decision. I said, “Tammy, I know how hard this must be for you. Going against the wishes of people close to us is extremely difficult. But sometimes we have to do what feels right to us, even if it means upsetting others in our life. I respect whatever decision you make, I just hope you do what’s best for you.”
She lowered her voice. “I have to go.” Muffled sounds in the background, like an argument: a raised man’s voice and Tammy’s, pleading.
I said, “Tammy? Are you okay?”
A man’s voice answered. “Stay away from my wife.”
He hung up.
I sat in my dark living room, my heart hammering in my chest. I was worried about Tammy, but I didn’t hear anything that I could call the police about, and if I phoned back, it could just cause more problems for her. I hoped that she was okay. When my system had settled down, I decided what to do next. There was one more person I could try to reach. I took a moment to calm myself, then phoned Daniel. It had been a few days, and he hadn’t called with any news of Lisa, so I wasn’t sure if he’d moved back to the center yet, or if he’d even still have his cell. He answered on the second ring.
“Daniel, it’s Nadine. I was just following up on our last conversation.”
“Sorry, the job is taking longer than I’d thought. I promise, as soon as I get to the center, I’ll look for Lisa and let you know.”
I dropped my head onto the back of my couch as tears pricked my eyes. “Thanks.” I took a breath. “No one else I’ve talked to has been able to help.”
His voice was curious. “Who have you been talking to?”
“There was another victim, with a family member at the center. But she isn’t ready to speak to the police, and she can’t contact her family on the inside.”
“She probably just knows her lies will be found out. If you’d ever been to the center, you wouldn’t believe any of these accusations.” His voice was confident, proud. “Aaron’s a brilliant teacher. You just don’t know them.”
“I do know them, Daniel.”
I caught myself before I revealed more, hoping that Daniel might not have picked up on my slip, but he was quiet. Then, speaking slowly, as though he was still putting it all together, he said, “Wait.… Were you a member? Is that why…?”
Now it was my turn to pause, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him anything more. How much did I want him to know? I scolded myself. How can I expect ot
hers to share their stories when I’m still scared to talk about my own?
“I lived at the commune in Shawnigan when I was a child, with my mother and brother.”
“Really?” He sounded stunned, and confused. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
“It wasn’t appropriate given the situation.” It still wasn’t. I was opening myself up to a lawsuit if Daniel ever did decide to sue the hospital.
Daniel said, “If you know them, then you know that the center isn’t doing anything wrong. They’re good people.”
I had already stepped out of my comfort zone, I might as well go all the way. “Daniel, I was one of Aaron’s victims. I made the report.”
Dead silence. Then, his voice angry and cold, he said, “Did you tell Heather these lies? Is that why she was so upset? What did you say to her?”
I saw the dangerous turn his thoughts were taking. He was one step from blaming me for her suicide. “I never told her any of this. She didn’t know.” I held my breath, hoping I hadn’t just lost Daniel. He was my only chance.
Daniel said, “Don’t call me again.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
The next morning, I came in early before my rounds so that I could talk to Kevin and get his advice. He’d phoned once since he left my house, but I’d been outside in my yard and missed it. I hadn’t had a chance to return his call, and I wasn’t sure yet what I wanted to do about that situation, but I had decided to go to the commune. If Lisa was there, I’d deal with it—I just needed to know one way or the other. But, and I hated to admit this, I was worried about facing Aaron.
Late the night before, I’d received two more harassing calls, both stating the same sentiment—they wanted me to stop. If I didn’t acquiesce, I was going to regret it. The police were looking into it, and I still suspected they were empty threats, but no less unnerving. Meanwhile, I was hoping Kevin would accompany me to the commune. When I got to the hospital, though, his office was closed, and Michelle told me he was at an all-day seminar. I called his voice mail and left a message, asking him to get in touch with me later.
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