A Fractured Peace

by Elia Seely

  “That’s all for now,” I said as I finished writing. “Thank you for your time and information. Could you have the next person come in after you?”

  Tsewang left with a nod and the little bow. I rose and stretched my arms overhead. Elijah’s interviewee had left a few moments before, and he finished writing and looked up at me with an expression between a grin and a grimace.

  “Any luck?” he asked.

  “Some interesting information, yeah. You?”

  Elijah shrugged. “Maybe. Tenzin—my last guy—didn’t really like Choden. I mean, he didn’t say so, but there was some kind of tension there. He thought he was a bit of an amateur, or, what did he say, ‘led by illusion.’ Whatever that means. But he also said that he thought that Choden and Lobsang had some kind of altercation. No love lost kinda thing.”

  “What about? Lobsang didn’t indicate that in my little chat with him yesterday.” Of course, he wouldn’t have, if for some reason it implicated him.

  “Tenzin wasn’t too specific, just that Choden had been copying out something from the Unfolding Lotus sutras and I guess you aren’t supposed to do that. There’s a whole bunch of protocols—superstitions, more like—about that book. Like, it’s only supposed to be memorized and there’s never supposed to be another copy made. But Choden broke the protocol and Lobsang hauled him over the coals for it.”

  “Interesting. We’ll just have to take that up with Lobsang when we talk to him. God, it’s like being in a foreign country. Or another planet, more like. Let’s take a break after these next two. I’m going to need a pee in the not far future. Jesus, it’s two-thirty already.”

  “Okay, jefe. I’m going to need coffee myself.”

  “Maybe Pema will bring you some. With cream and sugar.”

  “Maybe I’ll just ask her to have some with me,” he countered. We smiled at each other and then the next two monks entered the room.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Yes, yes, I spent some time with Choden. We had a lot in common. Study of language, and the sacred texts. I spent a long time out in Asia—my parents were missionaries in China. I started my monastic journey in Nepal, so I speak Mandarin, Nepali, many other more obscure languages and dialects.” The monk, Rabten, smiled and shrugged, as if knowing a bunch of languages was no big deal. “We also shared an interest in the iconography of thangka painting. He was a fascinating guy, if a little dry. Funny sense of humor though.”

  He leaned back in his chair, but kept the eye contact with me. His hair was close shorn, but I could see that it was naturally white blond, as were his eyebrows. Blue, blue eyes and the right kind of laugh lines.

  I really hoped he couldn’t tell how magnetic I found him. I broke his gaze to look at my notes. As if I needed help remembering my questions.

  “It’s bizarre that he’s dead. Who would want to kill him?” Rabten said.

  “Yes, who?” He didn’t seem upset that Choden had been killed, yet he spoke of him warmly. It was odd. “So, you liked him. Was he popular with others here?”

  “Kept to himself, mostly. Me, Lobsang, and some of the younger students were the ones with the most contact with him. He’d only been here a couple of weeks, remember. Hardly time to get close to anybody.”

  “And your position here is?”

  “I teach language classes. Many of the sutras are written in rare dialects not understood now. But I teach English too. The bulk of our younger monks come here from India, Nepal, or other Asian countries. They are sponsored by various organizations, here to learn what isn’t available to them in their own countries. But they have to be serious about it.”

  “I would think any and all monks were serious,” I countered.

  “Well—”

  “And your activities, Thursday through Saturday of this week?”

  “I can tell you that Choden was alive when I left him Thursday,” Rabten smiled as if he’d just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

  “Go on.”

  “He came down with me for the evening meditation and dharma talk in Gold Creek. It was just the two of us that went down. We meet in the basement of the Methodist church, on Broad. You know it?” He grinned again, as if this mixing of religion delighted him.

  That smile turned his face wolfish and I could feel my tell-tale flush rising. “No, yes, I mean yes, I know the building. And so he attended this event?”

  “Yeah. Well, the meditation part. I assumed he went over after to get an ice cream at Lloyd’s. He liked his ice cream. Anyway, he left. I don’t know what time exactly, because it was a good group, pretty vigorous discussion. But he didn’t meet me at the nine-thirty departure time. I had to go back up, couldn’t wait forever. I assumed he’d hitch up or catch the bus. There’s one late one that serves Two Dog Canyon and would leave him off at the gate.”

  “So, you last saw him when?”

  “I last noticed him at the end of the meditation, around eight. Like I said, it was fairly crowded, people come and go. I wasn’t watching for him. But he wasn’t there when we finished. I waited ‘til about nine forty-five, but I have to be up early and it’s a half-hour drive as you know. I figured he’d be okay. He’d stayed down the week before.”

  “Did he know anyone in Gold Creek? Anyone that he would go see?”

  Rabten shrugged. “Jerome Taschen, maybe?”

  “Who is—”

  I saw Pema come in the room with a look on her face that I didn’t like. She looked at me and motioned that there was a phone call for me.

  “Uh—okay, excuse me, Rabten, I think I’ve got a call I need to take. If you could just wait here a minute? Thanks.” I got up and went over to Pema who stood at the door.

  “I’m sorry to disturb—”

  “Yep, fine, who is it?”

  “A woman named Norma calling for you, she said it was urgent.”

  “What? Oh, God.” I started down the hall.

  “There’s an extension in the library,” Pema said, “I’ll show you. I hope nothing is wrong.”

  “Norma looks after my daughter, and she’d never know to call me here. Must have called the sheriff’s office first. She’d never interrupt me at work if it wasn’t important.” I felt like birds were flapping around in my chest.

  I pulled open the library door, with Pema close behind. Lobsang looked up from his desk and stood, though his face remained impassive.

  “Your phone—where is it?”

  “It’s in the back cataloguing area—here,” Pema said, grabbing my arm and directing me to a door at the end of the room behind the stacks. She went ahead of me and entered, grabbing up the phone and pushing the button to connect me with Norma. Then she left me alone. The door fell shut behind her.

  “Hello? Norma? Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine, he’s still at the hospital, but you should get home when you can.”

  “What? Who are you talking about?”

  “Oh dear, I thought that Bill would have gotten ahold of you by now. He told me that he’d call and tell you. But since I hadn’t seen you yet …”

  “Norma! What’s happened?”

  “Dan’s had an accident. He’s okay, but—”

  “Wait, Dan? My Dan? Where is he? Where are you? And Margo?”

  “Shannon. Everything is okay. I didn’t mean to alarm you. Margo and I are at your place, and Dan is at the hospital. He had an accident on his bike coming home. He will be fine but the doctor is checking him out. He may have a broken collarbone, and he’s banged up. His dad is there with him. Margo was pretty stressed out, so I brought her back here. She’s in her room, reading a book.”

  “Oh God. I’m—oh God—we’re in the middle of these interviews here. Bill didn’t call! Okay, I’ll figure it out. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Thanks, Norma. You’re a rock. I’ll let you know … I’ll figure it out.” I ended the call. To my horror, tears welled up in my eyes and spilled down my face. I don’t do crying; it never gets you anywhere. I took some more deep breaths. O
kay. Dan was fine—well, he was going to be fine. Margo was fine. It was just this place and the people. And this crime. The shock of it. The muscles in my neck tightened with the effort of holding back sobs. More breaths. Count to three. Up and back. Okay.

  Pema waited just outside. She looked at me inquiringly.

  “My kid, my son, had a bike accident. He’s all right, but I just need to get down to the hospital. Thanks, Pema.”

  “Of course.”

  “I need to let my partner know. He can finish up here—we’ll figure out how to get him back down.”

  Pema nodded; it was nothing to do with her, of course, I was just thinking aloud. And where was Jim? He hadn’t joined us for lunch, and I realized that I needed to find him.

  “Have you seen that other man that came up with us—Jim?”

  “Yes, he came to the office before I brought lunch to you. I told him he could eat in the cafeteria or I could bring him some food and he just asked for a piece of fruit and then said he needed to see the rest of the buildings and the community. He must still be looking around?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Well, if you see him, tell him I’ve got to head down to town, to the hospital.”

  Pema nodded and left me; I returned to Rabten and asked him to wait for Elijah to finish the interview. Then I told Elijah what had happened. He agreed to finish with the senior monks and then to find Jim, figure out the ride back to town. I nearly sprinted down the stairs and out to my vehicle. I jumped in and had the ignition started before I’d even shut the door. A quick, dust-raising drive to the highway and I was off, speeding way too fast down the hill.

  Chapter Twelve

  I parked haphazardly in a handicapped spot, after a completely illegal trip down the canyon. I blazed into the ER, focused on finding Dan, forgetting for the moment that Chenno would be there. When I saw him, my stomach twisted immediately into a knot. He sat, arms folded, in one of the black plastic chairs in the ER waiting room. His eyes were closed, and I had a quick scan of exits and doors before yanking myself back to reality. I wasn’t going to run away from Chenno like a beaten dog. I was going to get my kid and go home.

  I didn’t see Dan, so I took a deep breath and walked over to my ex.

  “Hey. Where’s Dan?”

  Chenno opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, dark circles underneath. His face shadowed by a day’s worth of stubble. Chenno could grow a beard in three days; I used to think that was so sexy and masculine. So Miami Vice. Now he just looked scruffy.

  “Where have you been? I was in the middle of a job.”

  “Doing my job, you know, the one that supports your kids? Now where’s Dan?” I would not get into it with him, I wouldn’t. Get my kid, go home.

  “You can’t not start, can you? Jesus—”

  “Hi Mom,” Dan’s voice, uncharacteristically small, interrupted Chenno’s ramp up to indignation. He had appeared from behind the scuffed and stained door that led into the ER proper.

  “Hey little man—you okay?” I strode toward him but stopped short of grabbing him into my arms. The childhood nickname was enough of a slip. Plus, his arm was in a sling.

  Dan smiled weakly, but he looked glad to see me. Besides the sling, he had angry gashes on his left cheek and both knees. Chenno stood up as old Dr. Ellis swished through the door, following my son.

  “Broken collarbone,” the doctor announced, “those nasty gashes, but otherwise fine. He’ll be sore for a few days and needs to rest. The sling needs to be worn, even when he’s sleeping, for six weeks. Keeps the bones in place so they can mend. No showers …”

  I tuned out the doctor, a wave of both tiredness and gratitude washing over me. I could get Dan home, check-in with Norma and Margo, and get back to it. Follow up with Elijah, call Butch, see what Jim had found out, get things arranged for childcare the rest of the week. A lot to do. But Dan was okay, they were both okay.

  “Mom?”

  “Huh? Sorry, what?” I focused on Dan and Dr. Ellis, who looked at me expectantly.

  “Can you—or someone—stay with him the rest of the day, make sure that there’s no reaction to the pain medication, no other complications that arise?” Ellis looked as though he were asking the most obvious question in the world.

  “Uh, well, I’m in the middle of this investigation—”

  Dan looked down at his shoes and I heard Chenno’s exaggerated sigh. Why did it always come down to me? My anger flared like the strike of a match, and just as quickly dimmed. I was a mom. Dan was my first priority.

  “But yeah, of course. I can work from home; we can all just hang out. That will be fine. I’ll figure it out.” I made myself smile at the doctor, ignoring Chenno.

  We left after finishing some paperwork. Chenno drifted out with us. Dan walked ahead toward the already-wilting circle of flowers and lawn that marked the entry to the hospital. I felt the separation between Chenno and I; more than the physical distance he kept, a chasm of misunderstanding and bad feeling yawned between us. I still couldn’t understand how I’d ever loved him, or how we’d made babies together, thought we could have a life. I looked at him sideways. He looked bad; I knew he was probably drinking again. We slowed to a stop as we neared his big Dodge work truck.

  “I’ll be just a sec, Dan,” I said. “Go on, get in the Bronco.” Dan walked off to my rig, glad, I was sure, to absent himself from the palpable tension between Chenno and I. “Well, thanks for showing up for him this time,” I said at last, unable to keep the bite from my voice. “What was he doing leaving the ranch in the middle of the afternoon? I thought he was working ’til four?”

  “He wanted to leave. I’d showed him around, had him fix a couple flats on one of the trucks, replace a washer in my kitchen tap, small stuff. I had my own work to do. I can’t babysit him.”

  “But Chenno, you offered to give him a job. It’s up to you to mentor him.”

  “Well, I did. But then I needed to—”

  “Have a drink?” I just couldn’t help myself.

  Chenno sighed elaborately and opened the door to his truck. “You don’t know anything about my life, Shannon. So don’t start.”

  In fact, I did know most of Chenno’s excuses for drinking: physically abusive dad, bitter mom, both Russian immigrants that hadn’t exactly gotten the American dream they’d hoped for and taken it out on the kids. But I’d had a traumatic childhood too and managed not to drink, so his excuses didn’t wash with me anymore. And I didn’t have time or energy to argue with him. “Whatever, I don’t want a fight with you right now. I guess the job is over anyway, since he’ll be in that sling a few weeks.”

  “Yeah,” Chenno rubbed his face and climbed in his truck.

  “Chenno— he needs you. He needs his dad, he’s becoming a man now. He needs to have a relationship with you. I don’t know what is going on in your life, and I don’t really want him hanging out with you if you’re drinking, but—”

  “Listen, Shan, I’m really busy right now. I’ve got a big project going up at the summer range cabin way to hell and gone up in Big Fish Canyon. I’m staying up there most nights. I’m not really even at the main house.” He didn’t look at me, stared down at the steering wheel, picking at the unraveling leather cover.

  “He’s your kid, don’t you care about that?”

  “Yeah, I care. But, you know, kids have to figure out life on their own. It’s too late to give them a perfect childhood. You always want things to be different than they are.”

  “I don’t want him to have a ‘perfect’ life, I just want him to know his dad! Do you know how hard it is to—” But his face closed; he had stopped hearing me.

  “I’ll be back in town next week sometime. I’ll call him.” He started the ignition.

  “Chenno, goddammit—”

  But he pulled away, ignoring me and the role of father he should want to play, but didn’t, maybe couldn’t. I looked toward the Bronco. Dan sat, door open, with his head leaning back against the passenger seat. My heart ached for him
, for what he must feel but never say. If I felt abandoned by Chenno, imagine how he felt. I wanted to scream, punch someone; and at the same time my heart hurt for Dan because I knew what it was like to have your dad not even see you.

  I strode over to the Bronco, shoving my anger and outrage down inside and got in.

  “Okay, bud?”

  “Yeah. Can we go home?’

  “Yes—wait—where’s the bike? Where’s your backpack?”

  “Um—I guess my pack is still in the hospital? I don’t know what they did with the bike. It was creamed. Some guy in a pickup bumped me and I went over the handlebars and slid on the road and into the ditch. He kinda ran over the bike.”

  “Oh, Dan. I’m so sorry. Did he stop?”

  “Yeah, he made sure I was okay but he didn’t want to move me. So he went somewhere and called the ambulance and then came back. He was an old guy. I think he might have been kinda drunk. He smelled like it. But he was cool. Told me a big long story about all the bones he’d broken riding bulls, kept me kinda distracted. It hurt. Hurts.”

  “Did anybody get his name? Plate numbers off the truck? Anyway,” I said, moving on as I observed Dan’s grey pallor underneath his tan. “Let me go grab your bag and then we’ll get home. I’ll track down the bike later.”

  I jumped out of the Bronco again and jogged inside and asked about Dan’s things. The bike apparently had been taken by the guy in the truck and now it was God knows where, but his pack they found and gave to me. I decided to make a quick call to the office and went to the payphone on the wall. Butch answered.

  “Hey Butch, it’s Shannon here. I’m just leaving the hospital with Dan. He’s okay but had a bike wreck. Got hit by a car.”

  “Yeah, Bill said. He felt terrible he couldn’t get through to you at the monastery. Lines were busy so he finally called Norma—but I guess she got through eventually, since there you are. I’m glad he’s all right. Elijah and Jim with you?”