River's End (9781426761140)

by Carlson, Melody

  Anna fell to her knees on the floor by the radio and began to pray. With a sense of sickened shock and panicked disbelief, she prayed on behalf of all those poor lost souls . . . she prayed for their surviving families . . . and finally she prayed for Sarah.

  News of the Jonestown disaster spread quickly around the inn. As did the fear that Anna and Clark’s granddaughter could be amongst the dead. When Clark got home, shortly before dinner, Anna was still sitting in the living room, next to the phone, with the radio on. A part of her knew this was senseless. What was done was done, and there was nothing she could do to change anything. But another part of her felt paralyzed.

  “I just heard about it,” Clark said as he gathered her in his arms. “I’m so sorry, Anna. But, really, we don’t know if Sarah was there or not. Maybe we should just hope for the best.”

  “And be prepared for the worst,” she said quietly.

  “Has Lauren heard anything?”

  “She called about an hour ago. So far Sarah’s name hasn’t shown up on any of the records, but it’s going to take time to sort it all out. Lauren is saying she wants to go down there.”

  “No,” he said firmly. “If anyone goes down there, it will be me. Does Sarah’s dad know about this?”

  “Lauren said she knows he has to have heard the news. Who hasn’t? But he hasn’t called her. She figures he assumes that Sarah isn’t down there.”

  “And he’s probably right,” Clark said solidly.

  “I hope and pray he’s right . . . but we don’t know.” Anna pushed a strand of hair from her forehead and sighed.

  “Don’t forget how many communal groups there are in Oregon and California alone,” he reminded her. “Chances are in Sarah’s favor that she’s still up here in one of them.”

  “Maybe . . .” Anna took in a steadying breath. “But we’ve contacted so many . . . and she’s never found.”

  “But what about the guru from India?” he asked. “This Jonestown place didn’t have a guru like that.”

  “You know how those cults and communes are,” she said. “Kids come and go, traveling from one place to the next . . . searching . . . hoping to find that perfect utopia, that piece of their soul that’s missing.”

  “Or to find a family,” Clark offered.

  “We are her family!” Anna exclaimed. “We love her, Clark! Why couldn’t she see that?”

  “You’re exhausted from all this emotion and stress,” he said as he walked her to the bedroom. “I want you to take a break. I’ll sit by the phone; and I’ll listen for news on the radio. And I’ll have one of the girls bring our dinners up.” He set her firmly on the edge of the bed. “You just close your eyes for a while. Sleep if you can. Pray if you need to. But do not get up.”

  She did as told . . . except that she could not sleep. Images of those lifeless people—children, mothers, and babies, all laid out across the Peoples Temple property just as the newscasters had described them today—seemed to be embedded into her mind. It was all she could think of . . . and so she continued to pray.

  19

  Anna knew from experience that family was more than just blood relatives. And the day following the horrific news in Guyana, she discovered a renewed sense of family in her staff and guests. Their concern and support was evident and encouraging. And it was a great comfort to know that many of them, like her, were praying.

  “My nephew joined a commune about eight or nine years ago,” Mrs. Parrish told Anna as several of the women gathered in the quilting area a few days later. “My sister told me that he even experimented with LSD.” She made a grim expression. “But he only lasted about a year in that place. You’d never know it to look at him now. He cleaned himself up, finished college, got a good job and a nice wife—and they’re expecting their first child in December.” She smiled. “So, you see, these things can still end happily.”

  Anna nodded. “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  The women shared more stories about friends and relatives who went through rough periods and how things eventually turned around for them. “And don’t forget it’s a difficult era for young people in our country,” Mrs. Croft said thoughtfully. A former high-school teacher, she’d been a regular guest at the inn since the early days. “Going through the Vietnam troubles and then the Nixon scandals . . . well, it was demoralizing for everyone. But I feel especially sorry for the younger generation. It’s so different from when we were young, during the Depression when we all worked together to get by. And during the war, we experienced a sense of patriotism and pride, followed by victory. This generation hasn’t had that. Can you imagine how frustrated they must feel?” She sadly shook her head. “I witnessed so much apathy in my students . . . it made it easy for me to retire last year.”

  “Anna?” Diane called from the doorway. “Lauren is on the phone—in the house.”

  Excusing herself, Anna left and hurried with Diane toward the house. “Did she say anything?” Anna asked as they climbed the stairs. “About Sarah?”

  Diane shook her head. “But I didn’t ask.”

  Anna hurried to the phone. “Hello Lauren?” she said breathlessly. “Have you any news?”

  “The number of victims increases daily. I think it’s over 900 now. But Sarah’s name isn’t on the list,” Lauren told her.

  “So she wasn’t there,” Anna said in relief.

  “They told me they can’t guarantee she’s not among them, Mom.”

  “But her name’s not on the list.” Anna wanted to hold onto this hopeful piece of information. “How did they make the list?”

  “It seems that Jim Jones had confiscated all the members’ passports and put them in a locked box. The authorities found them and made a list. Sarah’s name wasn’t on it.”

  “Then she wasn’t there,” Anna said again. “Sarah wasn’t in Jonestown.”

  “I feel really hopeful, Mom.” Lauren let out a choked sob. “But at the same time I’m still scared. To think someone like Jim Jones can control people like that . . . to get them to take their own lives . . . and their children’s . . . it’s so frightening.”

  “I know.”

  “I don’t like this world we live in, Mom.”

  “That is not the world we live in,” Anna said calmly.

  “How can you say that?”

  “That world—the one that Jim Jones created in Guyana—is not our world.” Anna looked out the window toward the mist-covered river, now a silvery shade of gray, draped in the soft afternoon light. “Our world is where we live, Lauren. It’s being with family and friends. It’s doing our best. It’s the beautiful world God created for us. The river, the trees, the sky . . . this has been our world since our ancestors walked here. It will continue to be our descendants’ world when we are gone. Remember that.”

  Lauren exhaled loudly. “You’re right. Thanks, Mom. I needed to hear that just now.”

  “We are going to believe that Sarah is all right,” Anna said firmly. “And we will keep praying for her welfare and that she’ll be returned to us.”

  “And I’m going to keep looking for her,” Lauren declared. “More than ever now. As soon as finals week is over, I’ll make it my full-time job. I’m going to find her, Mom. I just know it.”

  “Let us know if there’s anything we can do.”

  “Keep praying.”

  “We will.”

  “And I have a feeling that there will be a lot of parents as concerned as we are now. Maybe we can help one another.”

  “Speaking of other parents . . . does Donald have any thoughts about this?”

  “Donald is oblivious, Mom. That’s the way he likes it.”

  “He’s not concerned about his own daughter?”

  “He acts like she’s just going through a phase that she’ll outgrow someday.”

  “Hopefully, he’s right.”

  “Well . . . yes. But it might be nice if he wasn’t so nonchalant about it. If he showed a little more interest in helping search for h
er—instead of being so wrapped up in his new wife and her kids. It’s like Sarah and I were never part of his life. Like we never even existed.”

  Anna controlled herself from reminding Lauren that she had as much to do with their failed marriage as Donald, probably more so. That was water under the bridge now.

  “I know . . . I know . . . Donald is just being Donald. After all I put him through, I shouldn’t expect anything more. And if I really wanted his help, all I’d need to do is ask.”

  “Donald loves Sarah.”

  “I know. The truth is, I’m glad he’s not involved. I couldn’t handle that stress right now. I’d rather do this—search for Sarah—on my own. I feel like I owe it to her.”

  “And to yourself.”

  “Yes. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t at least try.”

  They talked a while longer, and when Anna hung up, she felt a wave of relief washing over her.

  “Good news?” Diane called from where she was working in the office.

  “Sarah’s name wasn’t on the list!” Anna told her. “I don’t think she was there at all.”

  “Thank God!” Diane exclaimed.

  “Yes. Thank God!” Anna smiled. “Now I want to go tell the others the good news.” As she went outside to search for Clark, who had been staying close to home recently, she silently sent up a heartfelt prayer of thanksgiving. Sarah was alive! She just knew it.

  News continued to trickle in about what was now being called the Jonestown Massacre, but none of the news involved Sarah. While this was a relief, it was still disturbing to read the various accounts of the tragedy in Guyana. And yet Anna felt compelled to follow this story and to continue praying for the surviving family members, as well as families with missing loved ones involved in other cults. Anna knew that Jonestown was a wake-up call of sorts, a startling reminder of how a “utopian” society could easily become a scary place—not to mention a lethal place.

  One morning in early December, Anna woke from a vivid and frustrating dream. As she made coffee, she replayed what she could remember of it through her mind. The dream had started out pleasantly. It was a lovely sunny day on the beach. Her feet were bare and the sand was warm. It seemed like it was Heceta Beach, near the campground where she and her family used to visit when she was a child. A hotel had been built there recently. Big, fancy, modern—and totally unlike Shining Waters.

  But on the beach in her dream, the hotel was missing. And Anna had been walking by herself in the sunshine when she’d found a wounded seal. She tried to help the seal, but then the seal turned into a dog and ran away. And for some reason that had made her sad, and she was walking down the beach crying. As she walked, the sunshine was being swallowed by a bank of fog and clouds, and her despair continued, along with an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

  Soon she saw someone walking up ahead and somehow knew it was Lauren. Although Lauren was dressed differently and her hair was in long braids, Anna knew it was her. She called out to Lauren, trying to catch up, but couldn’t make it to her. And then, she saw another image which looked like Sarah. She, too, was wearing long braids, which wasn’t so unusual, and a long dress that looked like something their Siuslaw ancestors might’ve worn.

  Again Anna called out and ran but couldn’t catch Sarah either. Still she could see the two women walking up ahead of her. But she could see they weren’t walking together because there was a wide space between them. Anna kept trying to catch up with them, but it seemed hopeless. Just when she was almost there, close enough to see them and close enough for them to hear her, they didn’t stop walking. And finally they both just vanished in the fog, and she woke up with tears running down her cheeks.

  “What did it mean?” she said quietly to herself.

  “What did what mean?” Clark said from behind her.

  With her hand over her mouth, she turned to see him. “You caught me talking to myself,” she confessed.

  “Anything I should be concerned about?”

  “Just mulling over a bad dream.” She reached for another coffee mug.

  “So . . . what did it mean?” he asked as he waited for her to fill the mugs.

  She told him the dream as they sat at the kitchen table with their coffee, finally asking him if he knew what it meant.

  “I’m not much good at interpreting dreams.” He scratched his head. “That’s usually your territory.”

  “Usually. But sometimes it’s hard to be objective—or maybe it’s subjective—about your own dreams.”

  “I think I know what it meant.”

  She tried not to look too surprised. “Really?”

  “Actually, it seems pretty obvious now that I think about it. I suspect your dream was telling you that you need to separate yourself from your daughter and your granddaughter.”

  “Separate myself?” Anna frowned. “Lauren lives two hours away, and I have no idea where Sarah is. How much more separate can I be?”

  He shrugged then took a slow sip of coffee, and for a while they just sat there.

  “You think my life is too entwined in Lauren and Sarah?” she finally asked him. “I’m too emotionally involved?”

  “Maybe.”

  She considered this.

  “Or I could be all wet,” he said lightly.

  She smiled. “Actually, I think you could be onto something.”

  He looked hopeful.

  “Your mother told me that she thought the women in my family—all the ones she knew of anyway—that we all had to walk our own trail of tears. Remember the long walk on the beach to the reservation?”

  He nodded.

  “And maybe my dream meant we all have to walk it alone.”

  “Is it like you used to say, about how everyone has to paddle their own canoe?”

  “Probably so.”

  “Do you think you lost sight of that?”

  She sighed. “When Sarah came home last summer, I thought everything was going to be so perfect. Finally, my family would be complete. We’ve been through so much. I thought we were going to move beyond it. I finally had Lauren and Sarah, and even Hazel came home. And, of course, there was you. What could be better? I felt so hopeful for us. But then, as fast as it fell into place, it all started to unravel. I lost Sarah . . . then Lauren . . . then Hazel . . .”

  He made a crooked smile. “I’m still here.”

  “And I’m thankful for that. But in some ways you’ve been missing, too.”

  His smile faded. “Sorry about that. But, trust me, it’s going to get better. I promise.”

  “Don’t get me wrong. I like that you’ve been spending time with Johnny. And I know he needs your friendship.” She made an uneasy smile. “But I still need you, too.”

  His face lit up. “I’m so glad you do, Anna. Sometimes you seem so strong . . . you help everyone . . . I wonder if you really do need me.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “I know you’re not crazy, Clark. But that’s an insane thing to say. Of course, I need you.”

  “It’s nice being needed.”

  “I’m sure I needed you more than ever with this whole Jonestown thing,” she confessed. “And maybe that’s why I needed that dream. I’ve probably been trying too hard to hold onto Lauren and Sarah since that scare. I needed to be reminded that they are both on their own journey and that I can’t go on it with them.”

  “Makes sense to me.”

  She smiled at him. “Seems as if you’re a pretty good dream interpreter after all. Thanks.”

  20

  December was always a slow month for the inn. But over the years Anna had come to think of this as her time to gather and reflect. In the past she used to “gather” what she needed for the upcoming season in the way of supplies and improvements and to “reflect” on how the previous year had gone and what she could do to make the inn a more pleasant experience for her guests. But then, Lauren had stepped into the management role. Because she took over many of the practical aspects of the business, Ann
a was able to enjoy a more philosophical sort of gathering and reflecting. But with Lauren away at business school and Diane’s recent decision to return to college for winter semester, Anna found herself back in that old management role again.

  Still, she appreciated having this distraction. It kept her from worrying about Sarah or missing Lauren and Hazel. Anna knew her world was changing . . . constantly changing. It had been like this since the beginning of the inn. But it seemed the older she became, the more she wanted to resist the changes. Or perhaps they just seemed to come at her at a more rapid pace. As crazy as it sounded, Anna sometimes wished she could stop the clock . . . and take a break from change.

  “I have good news,” Jewel told Anna one morning as they were working in the kitchen together. During the slow season, Anna liked to move the cooking back into her kitchen in the house, serving the guests at the big dining table, just like they used to do in the old days. It wasn’t as convenient or modern as the downstairs facility, but it was much cozier and homier. And the guests seemed to appreciate it.

  “What sort of news?” Anna asked as she adjusted the gas and turned the fried potatoes and onions in the big cast-iron skillet.

  Jewel came over and held up her left hand in front of Anna’s face. On her ring finger was an interesting-looking ring of twisted gold vines and a glowing opal that reminded Anna of a summer dawn.

  “Very pretty,” Anna peered curiously at Jewel, noticing that her eyes were sparkling even more than the ring. Anna blinked as realization set in. “Is that an engagement ring?”

  Jewel nodded happily. “Skip proposed to me on Saturday.”

  Anna didn’t know what to say. This seemed so sudden. How long had Jewel known Skip? Just a couple of months? No, Anna remembered, they’d met last summer. Even so, they were so young . . . and neither of them had been to college or even had much employment history. And yet, Jewel looked so incredibly pleased that Anna knew she couldn’t spoil this for her. Anna set down the spatula and hugged Jewel tightly. “Congratulations,” she told her. “Skip seems like a fine young man.”