Lewis & Ondarko - Best Friends 03 - Now and Zen (14 page)

“I believe in something more, but whether I think she was taken up to heaven, well, that doesn’t seem real to me.”

“Maybe not, but if you keep your eyes open, sometimes you see a lot more.”

Deb looked out over the beauty of the vast hills before her.

“In my experience, things always seem impossible until someone makes them happen,” the woman continued. “Like your retreat. Look at all these women, together, enjoying the island and each other. They will all take this experience away from here and some will share it. Out, out, out, it will go like waves on the big lake. Goodness spreading. Now that is something that some might think is impossible.”

Deb could only nod her head in agreement, feeling better about her dream.

I guess I won’t kill Pat, after all,
she thought.

The women sat together on the bench in companionable silence.

Pressing her foot on the pedal once more, Pat looked ahead down the dusty road toward the croquet field.

“I have to go see how the croquet tournament is going.” Waving goodbye to Mike’s wife, she turned into the double drive of the old lodge.

Putting along, Pat noticed several women sitting sedately on benches in the gazebo and others on blankets on the lawn next to the croquet field.

Now this is what I thought this retreat would be like.

Relaxing a little, she slowed and smiled at the women as she passed. One or two were so relaxed they were actually sleeping. Or were they? Pat slowed to a crawl.

Wait a minute. That woman fell asleep with a wine glass still in her hand. Could she possibly be ill?”

Setting the brake, Pat climbed off the cart and walked over to the two women. Both of them were out like lights. She gently reached down and shook a shoulder of the first woman. The woman slumped over.

Good Lord, have they been poisoned?
she thought as she knelt down to lay the woman out flat. One whiff at close range was all she needed to let Pat know what was wrong.
What?
Not sure if she was relieved or angry, Pat quickly realized that no matter how much she shook the women, she would not be able to rouse them. They would just have to sleep it off.

Looking around the bucolic scene, Pat realized with growing dread that everyone she could see, walking, sitting, and dancing in the field before her weren’t just happy and relaxed. They were HAPPY.

“Great retreat,” called out a woman. Pat recognized her as a pillar of the Lutheran church in Ashland. The woman weaved as she walked. “Who would have thought a women’s spiritual retreat could be so much fun?” Raising the glass she held in her hand, the woman yelled out one final toast. “Here’s to the moon!” she said as she continued on down the road.

“Would you look at that?” Pat murmured aloud to herself. She leaned against the cart as if for support and pulled her iPhone from a jacket pocket, pressing the quick dial to Deb.

“Pick up Deb, pick up.” After a minute, Pat heard Deb’s granddaughter’s little voice.

“Hi, this is Gracie.” A giggle. “Grammy says she’s busy, so leave a message.”

Now, what are we going to do?
Pat thought.

Saying goodbye to her new acquaintance, Deb headed to her massage appointment. She had reserved the time before coming out to the island and had meant to cancel it when all the commotion started. Refreshed from her time away, she decided to keep it.

She was soon lying on a warm blanket out in the open air. She had allowed only a short time for herself. Ten minutes into the massage, she felt a vibration against her leg as she lay prone on the table in the front screen porch at Lotta’s Cafe. Warm rocks had been placed strategically over pressure points on her back only moments earlier by the busy therapist. She roused momentarily from her drowsiness.

“Damn! I’m so sorry I forgot to turn that off,” Deb said into the room.

“Don’t worry about it,” a woman replied from the table next to her. “At least you have someone who wants to get a hold of you. Unlike me. Some days I wonder what the point is of being married when my husband couldn’t care less. Matter of fact, he has no idea where I am right now.”

“Where are we, anyway?” Deb asked dreamily from her fog.

The masseuse placed more rocks on Deb’s neck and shoulders.

“So, did you hear about the missing person yesterday?” the woman asked. She turned over, facing Deb, and propped her head on her hands.

“I heard something about it,” Deb replied, annoyed by the unwelcome intrusion into her dream state. “What do you know?” she asked, slowly being drawn back into the room.

“Me? Well, I know who it is!” the woman announced confidently.

“What?” Deb reacted, sitting up suddenly. As she did so, the rocks rolled noisily to the floor with a thud. “What do you mean, you know who it is? Tell me more,” Deb insisted.

“Well,” the woman replied, stroking her chin with well manicured nails. “She’s my neighbor.”

“Your neighbor?” Deb responded incredulously. Peering into the dim light, Deb could see that the woman wore a cultured pearl necklace and earrings. “Where do you live?”

“Here on the island. I have this neighbor woman who comes and goes several times a day and now, all of a sudden, she’s gone. I haven’t seen her for nearly two days.”

“That’s it?” Deb replied with a deep sigh as she lay back down on the table. “Uh, sorry about that,” she gestured with her finger to the harried masseuse who was on her hands and knees on the floor searching for a missing hot rock. The woman gave Deb an exasperated look.

“I guess I better go get more rocks,” she muttered.

“Why would anyone leave the island at this beautiful time of year?” Deb asked.

“Probably humiliated to face me after what I witnessed earlier this week.”

“What was that?” Deb asked, suddenly feeling an unwelcome familiarity with this complete stranger.

“Well, I had just returned on the ferry from the mainland. I had to go to Ashland for my botox; a girl has to keep herself looking good, you know. When I got back, I heard my husband talking in the bedroom. I thought he was talking to the maid so I didn’t think anything of it.

‘Honey, I’m back,’ I called.
I heard a scrambling sound and the closing of the bathroom door and I walked in to find him pulling up his jeans. I walked over to the bathroom door and opened it.

‘Maria, is that you?’
I called. It wasn’t Maria. It was my neighbor wrapped in nothing but a towel, the same towel I had used that morning. Can you believe the nerve of that?”

Deb could see that the woman was fiddling with her pearls as she spoke.

Why do people tell me these things?
Deb thought.

“That must have been really hard on you,” she commiserated.

“You’re not kidding! I paid a minor fortune for that towel. It was made of hemp.”

“If I found something like that at my house, I’d be tempted to hurt someone.”

“Oh, I’m used to this drama,” the woman replied forlornly. “I’ve put up with it my entire marriage, nearly ten years now.”

“How can you be so blase about something like that?” Deb wondered aloud.

“Oh, baby, believe me. The truth is, I’d have knocked her off the boat myself if I’d have been there yesterday,” the woman replied savagely. “It’s no wonder that woman left when she did. I am certain that the authorities are wasting their time looking into this. That woman left. She’s not dead,” she rambled into the air, as if trying to convince the dust mites. “She’s too mean to be dead. At least, I didn’t kill her.”

Realizing that she had once again been drawn too far into someone else’s drama, Deb turned her attention back to the hot rocks and put her head back on the table. Making a mental note to herself to discuss the woman with Gary, Deb’s body began to melt into the massage table like molten gold.

“You won’t believe this one, kiddo. Call me,” Pat said, leaving a voice message for Deb. She returned her cell to her pocket, staring hard at the scene around her, and hoping to somehow change it. Before her, the beautiful Victorian croquet field lay in shambles.

Stumbling over a cast iron wicket, she noticed Julie sitting alone on a pretty white bench that was usually reserved for spectators. She was either in shock or in awe of the whole scene. Pat couldn’t tell which.

“What happened?” she asked as she approached. She lifted a handcrafted mallet from the ground and gently leaned it against the bench. Julie turned toward her as if in a daze.

“I had to stop the tournament. I couldn’t trust them with the mallets and the wooden balls. One woman actually used the mallet like a baseball bat and hit a ball right over the fence.” She looked skyward as if she was seeing it all again. “Pretty good hit, I must say.”

They sat together quietly for a minute.

“Where did all the wine come from?” Pat asked, breaking the silence at last.

And how in the hell will we ever pay for the damages? These people will never let us have a retreat here again!

Julie shrugged as if just realizing that Pat was there. “Oh, you know, Coole Park supplied some. They always do that as a courtesy. But the women brought bottles. Lots of them.” Putting her head in her hands she let out a moan.

“It all started out so well, really. Then one lady suggested that when you missed the hoop you had to have a drink of wine. Soon, each time someone missed, everyone took a sip.” She looked through her fingers at Pat who nodded encouragingly for her to continue. “And they weren’t very good players you see. Balls were going every which way. No one took turns, and all it took was someone yelling ‘missed ball’ and down went the wine.”

“Honestly,” she added, “I don’t even think they waited for someone to really miss the ball. They just called it out!”

Pat put her arm around Julie and picked up a half empty bottle from beside her.

“Missed ball!” she said and took a swig and handed it over. Julie took a big gulp and they then both started to laugh, passing the bottle back and forth. After a few minutes, the bottle was empty. They stood up.

“Come on. It won’t take us very long to at least pick this court up a little before the owners see it.”

A serious looking young woman walked briskly up to them, carrying her own mallet in a case.

“Is this where the tournament is?” the woman asked, oblivious to the chaos.

“Honey,” Pat said, looking her straight in the eyes. “The tournament was such a success everybody won!”

“What was the prize?”

“An afternoon nap,” Julie answered as she looked straight at Pat.

They didn’t stop laughing for a very long time. Not appreciating the humor in the situation, the young woman moved on.

Pat felt a vibration of her cell phone on her leg just then.

She chose not to answer it.

After her massage daze wore off, Deb walked back toward the cabin. Off to her right, on the lawn outside the public library, she spied a gathering of young girls seated on colorful blankets.

Two white-haired women were perched in lawn chairs in front of the girls. Piles of books were scattered on the ground.

Oh, there’s Mom and Jessie doing their workshop,
Deb thought, pleased with the turnout.

As she neared the gathering, she read a sign posted over the door behind the elders: “Exploring the Female Warrior: Girls are Strong Too!”

Wow, we really are doing something right here,
Deb thought.
I wish we could have had a session like this for our girls when they were younger.

Approaching the group quietly, Deb stood behind a large oak tree, trying to overhear.

“Even in the Bible, there were women warriors,” Millie explained. Standing for emphasis, she raised a long cardboard sword in the air. “There was even one woman in the Bible who saved her village by putting her sword into the head of a… “

“Mother!” Deb blurted out.

The girls all turned around to stare at a red-faced Deb. Millie’s glare met Deb’s.

“These girls need to know that they have power to use for good,” Millie said quietly.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Deb said, choosing not to make a scene.

“Run along, dear,” Jessie said. “We have this in hand.” She blew kisses at Deb as she walked away, shaking her head.

I wonder how many complaints we’ll get from unhappy mothers about this workshop,
she thought. She straightened her shoulders.
I don’t really care. If we can’t trust our mothers, who can we trust?

“Gramma, let me have the sword. I can do it!” Deb could hear Gracie calling out as she walked away.

Maybe I better check on things down at the camp,
Deb thought, hastily retreating from the scene.

Nearing the beach across from the church, a small group of tents were pitched close together, providing temporary shelter to latecomers without lodging.

A young woman lounged on a cot outside the first tent.

“How is everyone doing here?” Deb asked. “Are you getting enough to eat?”

“Are you kidding? I’m going to have to diet from all the food just from today,” the woman said, holding her stomach. “The Beach Club was putting out free fish livers for lunch. You should have seen all the women there. It was like seagulls going after chum behind the fishing boats.”

Things seem to be okay here,
she thought.

Smiling at the image in her mind of women vying for fish livers, Deb waved and walked towards the Ferry Dock. A truck pulled up beside her.

“Need a ride?” a woman asked from behind the wheel. Deb recognized her as an employee of the Pub, one of the local restaurants.

“Sure,” Deb said. “I’m headed for the ferry.

“Hop in. I’m going there myself to pick up supplies for dinner.”

The woman drove onto the dock just as the four p.m. ferry arrived. A large throng of women walked off ahead of the vehicles onboard.

“Where is this damn retreat, anyway?” a voice asked.

“Why aren’t there any signs here?” another grumbled.

“Where’s the taxi?” called a third.

Oh, Lord,
Deb thought.
They’re still coming. When will they stop? What do they think this is, anyway?