River's End (9781426761140) (21 page)

Anna smiled. “I suppose my taste in those things is rather simple. I can satisfy them here on the river and in town.”

“But what about the pace?” the other woman asked. She and her husband were new to the inn. “Do you ever get bored out here like this?”

Anna laughed. “Not at all. In fact, Clark sometimes complains that it's going to be harder for us to keep up at this pace. Especially as we get older. Trust me, it's not always this slow around here.”

“And if you don't believe her, you should see this place in the summertime,” Mrs. Parrish told the new guest. “It's hopping. We've brought our kids here since they were preteens, and, oh, the memories we have here on the river. We plan to bring our grandchildren in July. It will be their first visit, and we can hardly wait to see what they think of it.”

“Anna?” Diane called into the dining room.

Anna looked up from where she was stitching a triangle shape of robin's egg blue. “Yes?”

“Lauren is on the phone.”

“Oh?” Anna looked at the big clock in the dining room as she stood. It wasn't yet ten o'clock, and since it was a weekday. Lauren should've been in class.

“She said it's important,” Diane told her.

“Thank you.” Anna made her way to the door. “Perhaps you'd like to put some tea on for the ladies. I was about to do that.”

“I'm on it,” Diane called as Anna went out.

Anna felt conflicting feelings as she hurried to the house. Was something wrong at school? Had Lauren gotten hurt somehow? Or, more hopefully, perhaps Lauren had some kind of good news.

“Hello, Lauren?” she said breathlessly.

“Oh, Mom!” Lauren sounded upset. “Have you heard the news?”

“What news?”

“About the tragedy in
Guyana? Jonestown? The Peoples Temple?
”

“No.” Anna sat down. “What is it?”

Lauren's words came tumbling out, one on top of the other, something about a cult group that had left the United States, a crazy leader named Jim Jones, hundreds of followers dead . . . including children, poisoned Kool-Aid. Horrifying!

“What?” Anna felt her heart giving a lurch. “Poisoned Kool-Aid?”

Lauren was talking between sobs now. “Yes, that's what they're saying on the news, that this horrible man forced all these people—men, women, children—to drink
poisoned Kool-Aid
, and they found them there, and they were all dead. All of them!”

“Oh, dear.” Anna felt a tightness in her chest. “Do you think? Do you know? Was Sarah among them?”

“I don't know, Mom. I'm trying to find out. I've called some numbers. The guy told me it's going to take some time to sort it all out. I gave them my contact information. And yours, too, in case I'm not home. I hope that's okay.”

“Of course.” Anna took in a deep breath, trying to hold back tears. “But you don't really think . . .”

“I don't know what to think. But it's too close to home for us to ignore. The Peoples Temple was in northern California, Mom. They left from there to go to Guyana a few years ago, but it sounds as if they continued gathering members even up to fairly recently. And from what I've heard, they didn't sound that much different than the last group, you know, the one Sarah and Jewel belonged to. Do you think Jewel would know anything about the Peoples Temple or if that other commune had any connections to it?”

“I'll ask her.”

“I'm sorry to call with such alarming news,” Lauren said in a shaky voice. “But I didn't want someone to contact you with . . . bad news about Sarah . . . without you even knowing about this.”

“You did the right thing to call.” Anna tried to keep her voice even. “And I'll turn on the radio and see what I can learn. But you know how we are out here—we don't get the latest news like you do.”

“I'll keep you posted. And maybe we should keep the phone lines free.”

“Yes.” Anna hated to hang up. “And I'll be praying. I'll ask everyone here to pray. Not just for Sarah, but for all those poor people . . . and their families.”

But before Anna could tell anyone else this gruesome news, she had to hear it for herself from a news source. With a trembling hand, she turned on the radio, hoping that it was all just a mistake. Perhaps some horrible mean hoax that a student had played on Lauren's college. Really,
poisoned Kool-Aid?
It sounded crazy, like something out of a horror movie. But when the hourly news came on, it was the first thing mentioned. And it was as bad as what Lauren had reported . . . and worse. It seemed a California congressman and a number of other delegates and newsmen had gone down there to help some members defect from what some considered a dangerous cult, and that they had been shot by Temple members. Some were injured, and some, including the congressman, were dead. The estimated toll of dead men, women, and children was mounting. More than four hundred bodies found so far. But that many, or more, were still missing. Most suspected to be Americans.

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.

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.”