Love Story: In The Web of Life

by Ken Renshaw

  I moved away and watched the plane go down and crash in flames. I realized that trying to win the Blue Max was not the result of engaging in dogfights between chivalrous knights of the sky: it was awarded for murdering children.

  I believe I dozed for a while, and then the vision came back. I was at an assembly of military personnel on the parade ground of the airfield, and the commandant was cutting off my medals and insignia. I felt totally disgraced. Then, I sensed that I later died in a trench as an ordinary infantryman.

  I woke up and cried openly. I slowly walk back to the ranch house, assimilating what I had experienced traveling in space-time, wondering why I had been exposed to such dreadful vision.

  When I entered the kitchen, Sofia glanced at me, then looked at me carefully and said, "You OK? Did you really run into Sasquatch?"

  I replied, "I'm OK. I just recalled a terrible time when I lived in that logging town, when I discovered a dead body in the woods." That really had happened: it was a passible explanation.

  "I'll bring you your breakfast. Go into the dining room. Buster is there with Cody who drove your car up from LA."

  Buster introduced me to Cody who didn't look like a western movie stuntman at all. He was five–feet, seven–inches, about one-hundred-seventy pounds, brown eyes, and wearing a short haircut, carefully made to appear spiky. He looked exactly like me!

  Buster explained, "Cody is your, shall we say, stunt double who will be living at the farmhouse we stopped by up the road. He is well trained, like all members of our organization, and will give Mr. S an appropriate welcome if he shows up."

  I looked in astonishment at Cody and said, "Are we related? You look like you could be my brother."

  We went outside to the black Camaro parked next to Buster's truck. Buster handed me the keys. "We have modified the alarm system. Since we wouldn't put it past Mr. S to tamper with your car, you have a special electronic door opener on the key chain. It has two indicator lights above the door open button. If either of those is lit, don't go near the car. The yellow light indicates that someone has been in the car since you locked the door. The red light indicates that someone has had the hood open since you turned off the engine. If either of those lights is on, walk away. I'll probably be nearby to take care of you. This is a very important instruction. Also, don't give your car to anyone else to drive unless it is at my instruction."

  "I get it," I said wondering what this was all about. "I want to go into town for dinner tonight at Bob's Cafe. I will plant the idea that I am staying at the decoy farmhouse and pick up any the gossip."

  "Good, I follow you in my truck. You can get the townspeople used to the idea that this is your car."

  As I went back in the lodge, Sofia appeared carrying a hanger with a white Hawaiian shirt with hula girls on the front and back.

  "Wear this into town," she said. "It may not be your usual style, but we want you to stand out. It is part of the plan."

  That evening I went to the town to have dinner with Agnes at Bob's Cafe. I parked my Camaro in front of the cafe and went in. There were eight people in the cafe, four men in Stetsons sitting at one booth. Three women in simple dresses, maybe belonging to the men, sat at another booth busily gossiping. A man wearing a Caterpillar Tractor ball cap occupied a booth at the end of the restaurant. The ladies noticed me and bent over in secret conversation, perhaps speculating on who I was.

  I sat at the counter, and Agnes walked over and announced, "The dinner special is pork chops, best in the county."

  "I can't pass that up, and I'll also have an MGD," I replied.

  Agnes announced, "One Miller Genuine Draft coming up." She slid the order slip onto the carrousel at the service counter and brought me my beer. "I didn't expect you 'till next week when the trial starts."

  I saw Buster drive up in his green pickup.

  "I came up to do a little relaxing before the trial. I have rented a place ten miles down the hill, off a dirt road. It was a farmhouse and is now a vacation rental.”

  Agnes thought a minute and then said, "Is it a boxy grey house with white shutters?'

  I nodded yes. Buster came in and sat at a booth, without either of us acknowledging each other.

  "That is the old Williams' house. They used to own many properties around here. I heard they fixed it up, some."

  "You're right. It has a fine new kitchen, and it looks as though it has been repainted and has new furniture."

  The ladies were huddling again.

  The cook rang the bell, and Agnes retreated to deliver some orders.

  I sat alone for a while, heard the bell ring again, and watched Agnes bring my special.

  "Looks good," I said.

  "Best in the county. You staying there alone?"

  I nodded yes as I took my first bite.

  "Get you anything else?"

  "No. This is good," I said.

  I noticed that Buster had the special also.

  After Buster left and was sitting in his pickup, using a toothpick, and seeming deep in thought, I paid my check and left, leaving Agnes a big tip.

  As I drove back to the ranch, I saw Buster a good distance behind me. I turned on the dirt road, and then Buster followed me for a while, passed me, and then stopped by the driveway to the 'old Williams house.' I stopped behind him and saw Cody come out from behind a bush and walk over to my car. He was dressed in the same hula shirt I was wearing.

  "You can ride with Buster the rest of the way."

  I stood and watched Cody drive my car into the driveway before I joined Buster.

  "This will be the routine," said Buster.

  "What is he going to do all the time hanging around?"

  "Cody is a screen writer. Two of his scripts have been made into movies. He is working on the rewrite of a script he has recently sold and is going into production this summer. If someone could peek into the window of the 'old Williams' place' they would see a man hard at work on his laptop, looking ever so much like a lawyer preparing a case. He even has a bunch of law books laying around."

  As we drove to the ranch, we exchanged views about the best pork chops in the county and other worldly matters.

  I spent Friday getting ready for the trial. I went to the courthouse to file some papers and then went to Bob's Cafe for lunch. I noticed Buster drive by but not stop, I talked to Agnes briefly, and had their luncheon special, an open-faced chili hamburger. I commented to myself that I couldn't get food like this on Melrose Avenue.

  I thought to myself, 'I'll bring Tina here for a treat and celebration after we win the case.'

  When I left for the ranch, I noticed Buster following me as I left town.

  After we made the switch with Cody at the Williams' place, I got in the truck and asked Buster where he ate lunch.

  "I had fine dining at the Tasty Freeze."

  "You know how to live," I observed.

  Back at the ranch, I worked for a while and then decided to have a nap in the brightly colored hammock behind the lodge, strung between two trees at the edge of the woods,

  I was dozing off, enjoying the sun reflecting off the needles of the pine trees, listening to the wind of the trees and some raucous jays.

  Suddenly, I was back in the space-time of my biplane years. I was standing in my desecrated uniform missing the patches, talking to a beautiful lady dressed in a white lace dress and wearing a floppy wide brimmed lace hat that I could see the sun's rays through. She was angry, scolding me, and shaking her finger at me. I couldn't get what she was saying, but it was making me feel sad, rejected. Then, I felt betrayed! This was someone I had trusted and loved. She walked away, and I felt my heart sink or maybe it was a heart attack. The pictures faded and all that was left was a profound sense of despair.

  I drifted off to sleep feeling that great feeling of despair. When I woke up, the despair was gone. As I rubbed my eyes, I decide that I actually felt good, as though a burden had been lifted. I stayed in the hammock for about an hour mulling over my visi
on, eventually rising into a rather joyful mood.

  I sat up. Put my feet on the ground and took out my cell phone. Yes, I had two bars here from Buster's local service. I called Tom who answered right away. He said he was composing but wouldn't mind a little interruption. I explained where I was.

  I explained my two visions, the dogfight ending in my disgrace and the argument with the lady in white.

  Tom said firmly, “I thought I told you not to try this at home. You can really get screwed up with attention stuck in some space-time.” Then, he said, "Go over the last part of each vision slowly."

  I did as he listened.

  "You are OK," he said. “From sensing your vibration from here, I can tell you have dealt with whatever that was all about. It is OK to think about what it all means, but don't go back there again. If you sense you are drifting into another space-time, do something to wake yourself up. It would be an extremely bad habit to cultivate, sooner or later you might get very sick. Don't aimlessly wander through space-time, OK?"

  "Agreed," I replied. "Is there anything I need to watch out for now?"

  "Not especially. If you start to drift, grab onto and sense and observe some objects around where you are. That will ground you. When can you come in again?"

  "I might be up here a couple more weeks."

  "Be careful. Is Tina up there with you?"

  "She will be here tomorrow."

  "Good. Tell her to punch you or slap you if you start to drift off. Better yet, tell her to kick you in the balls. That will really ground you. Nobody travels in space-time bent over in pain. Take this seriously, it can be dangerous. I have known people who never really get back."

  "Good. Let's get together as soon as you get back to LA."

  "Thanks," I said. "Goodbye."

  I walked around picking up and examining pinecones and feeling and closely examining the bark of the trees, until I felt confident I was in present time. Then, I walked to the lodge and went in. Buster was stretched out in one of the easy chairs, listening to music on his iPod.

  He sat up, fumbled with his iPod to turn it off, and said. "What's happening?" He paused, looked at me with puzzling expression. "You look like a cat that has just eaten a double order of canaries."

  "Oh. I was snoozing in the hammock and had a really interesting dream."

  "She arrives tomorrow doesn't she?"

  "Yes, but the dream wasn't about her. I was kind of traveling in space-time to World War I, flying biplanes and that sort of thing."

  "Was that good?"

  "Yes, I think so. I think I am learning some lessons from traveling there."

  Buster smiled and then picked up his iPod, and said, "I think I can travel in space-time with this thing, sometimes. When I listen to a superb performance by a superb orchestra under superb conductor, I feel as though I am transported to the mind of the composer and feel his emotionality. I was listening to Mahler's fifth symphony. It is a real emotional roller coaster ride."

  I observed. "That is an interesting idea. I saw a PBS show about Leonard Bernstein. In an interview, Bernstein said when he conducted he never remembered anything about a performance from the time he was offstage, waiting to make is entrance, until the time he was taking his bow at the conclusion. He said he gauged his performance by how close he thought he came to becoming the composer."

  "That sounds like some sort of channeling, which is a form of space-time travel."

  Buster added, "An excellent performance transports the orchestra and audience to the composer's emotional space. I guess that would be in some other space-time when the composer was creating the work. There are relatively few performances that do that for me. I often will buy five CD's or versions of something before I find one that is worth listening to. I have learned which conductors and orchestras can do good jobs on certain composers."

  "You surprise me, Buster, with your knowledge of art and music."

  "I have a master's in Art History. I don't reveal that too many people. It might be bad for the tough man persona. "

  Buster's eyes suddenly went from soft to hard and he cracked his knuckles. "Colson hired the tough guy. He is here except for these unguarded moments."

  Buster laughed as I said, "You have to be tough to enjoy fine dining in Rocky Butte."

  I was excited, anticipant. Tina's plane was coming in at 2:30. We had lived together for two wonderful days, and it felt as though we had always been together. The four days of separation was an eon. I thought I could feel her energy of anticipation in being together again.

  I rode to the dirt airstrip with Ben in the Jeep. Ben didn't say much, he was an authentic silent cowboy type. He was slim but muscular, about six feet two, with chiseled features, about thirty years old. I didn't expect that he had a master's degree like Buster, although people like Ben often surprise me.

  The bright Sierra sun was stronger than I was comfortable with so I moved over into the shade of a pine tree. I was careful to not allow myself to drift in space-time, heeding Tom's warning. I sat for a few minutes, enjoying the quiet and my anticipation. The distant sound of the twin engine airplane interrupted my reverie.

  As it circled low over the field, checking wind direction shown by the windsock, I felt my sense of excitement at seeing Tina increase. The airplane disappeared and then, a long minute later, appeared over the trees at the end of the runway, landed and, taxied to where we were. The engines sputtered to silence. Tina was sitting in the back seat and Elizabeth McKenzie, the young attorney who would be my assistant for the trial, sat in the front.

  Elizabeth climbed out first, dressed in a business suit. I shook her hand and said welcome. Tina jumped down and ran to me and gave me a big kiss. I felt whole again.

  Elizabeth said, "That's a relief. Tina and I talked on the plane, but I didn't know how she fit into the operation. Carolyn is on a week-long vacation, and I feared I might find her up here."

  I laughed and said, "Thanks for thinking so much of me."

  She looked at Tina and said, "You are obviously in a much bigger league."

  Elizabeth is a tall lady, six foot two, and a whole head taller than I, with a low maintenance, short haircut, very athletic and looks like and was a member of the US Olympic women's volleyball team. She still trains, wears very little makeup, and generally looks stoic. Although she is very outspoken, and does not have the tact to deal with clients well, she is a great legal researcher and has great powers of observation. It must be her volleyball training that gave her the ability to sense everything going on between everyone in a room. She reads juries.

  I said to Tina, "The lodge is about a mile away. I see you are wearing tennis shoes. Want to walk?"

  "Sure."

  Elizabeth was eyeing Ben with great interest as he loaded the baggage. She seemed to be fascinated by the fill of his Levis jeans.

  I said, "We will walk. Elizabeth is staying in cabin two. Show her around the lodge and then take her to her cabin. We will be there in about a half hour."

  We hugged and then kissed, Tina said, "I really missed you. It feels like we have been separated for months."

  "Me too, although, when I think of you, I am kind of where you are, I feel your marvelous energy."

  As we walked holding hands, Tina told me of the frantic activity in ending the school year. I told her about fine dinning in Rocky Butte, about how Buster and Sofia were our bodyguards. She displayed mock disappointment when I told her she wouldn't be able to enjoy the fashionable eating establishments in Rocky Butte until after the trial. I did promise her a night on the town after the trial, including dining and clubbing at the Claim Jumper and Diggings, if we could talk Buster and Sofia into going with us.

  I related my recent space-time travels, "I have had some more interesting new visions. The biplane thing got cleared up more. Apparently, I was a Word War I German fighter pilot vying for the Blue Max. Early in the war I believed I was involved in some chivalrous combat, a modern version of medieval noble knights jousting in
armor. Later in the war, as the allies put more airplanes in the air, it turned into wholesale slaughter of untrained pilots. I had this incident where I saw the people I was shooting down. They were mere boys. I refused to fly and kill innocent children. They apparently court–martialed me, publicly tearing the insignias and rank from my uniform. I was sent to the infantry to die an inglorious death in trench warfare.

  "In another vision I saw a woman, someone I loved, scolding me for disgracing her, and dumping me. I felt very betrayed. Maybe that is where some of my trust issues originated.

  "I think some of my passion for flying sailplanes may be related to those World War I times. I may be still trying to prove myself and get the Blue Max, the order of Pour le Me'rite. I don't think I have lost my interest in flying, but it will be different, maybe less serious, and more fun."

  Tina replied, "Wow! You are getting a lot out of this space-time travel. Did you talk to Tom about this?"

  "Yes, I did. He told me to be careful not to do it alone, unguided. It is possible to get mentally stuck out of present time. He said that you could help me stay in present time. If I start to drift in space-time, you should do something to get me grounded, such as take me to bed and jump on me."

  She chuckled and then added with a wry smile, "Oh, the sacrifices one must make out of duty."

  We walked quietly for a while, arm-in-arm, interrupted with side-hugs. I was relishing having her near.

  Buster and Sofia greeted us when we got to the lodge. Sofia looked delighted to meet Tina. "It will be so good to have another woman to do girl–talk with. Here, let me show you around."

  Buster and I chatted for a while, and he related to me that his men in town had picked up the gossip, 'a lawyer had moved to town and was buying the old Williams' place.'