River's End (9781426761140) Page 15

  “I love you, too, Mom.”

  By the time Anna hung up the phone, Jewel was putting the pies into the oven and Janelle and Diane were coming into the house, expressing their sadness and sympathy. Anna asked if any of the guests were concerned or disturbed by this afternoon’s turn of events. “Is there something I should do to reassure anyone?” she asked Diane.

  “No,” Diane told her. “We’ve been explaining the situation. Everyone has been really sweet and understanding.”

  Later that evening, after dinner, Anna asked the entire staff to come up to the house for a meeting as well as for some apple pie. Clark explained to them that he wanted to hold the memorial service at the river. “It was her favorite place in the whole world,” he told them. “It seems fitting that we should commemorate her life here.”

  “What about the other guests?” Diane asked. “Only about half the cabins and rooms are full right now, but we do have quite a few booked for the weekend. Will that be a problem?”

  “Everyone will be invited to everything,” Clark explained. “I think Mom would’ve liked that.”

  “I agree,” Anna said. “Hazel was always a natural when it came to interacting with the guests. She loved meeting them and hearing their stories. And Hazel is a part of the history here. I would think most guests would appreciate hearing her story and honoring her memory.”

  With Diane acting as secretary, they went over the details, making plans for a real celebration of life that would begin with an afternoon service on Saturday, followed by a dinner, and finally a bonfire. “Mom always loved the bonfires,” Clark said finally. “Hopefully there will be a lot of sharing and remembering on Saturday night.”

  Hazel would’ve loved her memorial service. Anna knew it. Not just that it was well attended and that her family and friends remembered her fondly. But something about the spirit of the day was so sweet and special—almost as if she had orchestrated it herself. Hazel would’ve been proud of how her son handled everything. Throughout the day, Clark had played the part of host with honor and dignity. Whether he was with a guest who’d never met his mother or with his grieving son, Marshall, Clark remained gracious and kind.

  And later that evening, during the bonfire and after everyone else seemed to have finished sharing stories and memories of Hazel, Clark stood and told everyone about how his relationship with his mother had been less than ideal during his early years. He confessed that he’d sometimes felt neglected by Hazel’s career and responsibilities when he was boy. “But I came to understand these things better as I grew older. When I became a parent, I began to realize why my mother did what she did, and I came to fully respect her for it. She was an amazing woman, and I’m extremely thankful she was my mother. I’m also very thankful for the time I got to spend with her these past twenty years. I realize the quality of that time had a lot to do with being here together on the river,” he said finally. “Something about this place allows people to slow down and take time to fully appreciate life and relationships.” He turned to smile at Anna as she stood beside him. “That is a very special gift.”

  “A gift that Hazel had a lot to do with,” Anna continued. She swept her hands across the small crowd gathered around the fire. “I can honestly say that without Hazel’s help and encouragement, The Inn at Shining Waters might have never been realized. This place, all it’s become, all it will continue to be, is due in part to Hazel. I will be forever grateful for the part she played in my life . . . in all our lives.”

  Anna paused, watching as the bonfire crackled and snapped, shooting bright orange sparks into the ebony sky. And now, Marshall started strumming on his guitar, and he and Janelle sang Hazel’s favorite hymn, “Amazing Grace.”

  18

  It wasn’t unusual for Clark to spend more time away from the inn during their off-season. In fact, it was something Anna had always encouraged him to do in previous years. It seemed only fair that after working so hard during the height of the season, and after finishing some building projects, that he should enjoy some free time to go fishing or crabbing or to just meet a buddy in town. Now, with some additional staff hired, plus the new cabins and store finished, there wasn’t all that much for Clark to do around the inn.

  But during the weeks following Hazel’s death, Anna noticed that Clark seemed to be gone more than ever. Breakfast would barely be finished and he would be heading down to the docks, hopping into his boat, and heading downriver. At first she assumed this was his way of dealing with the loss of his mother. But as October drew to an end, she wasn’t so sure. She began to notice that when Clark was around the inn, he seemed distracted or preoccupied. And sometimes he would sit at his desk for hours in the evening, but if Anna asked him what he was working on, he’d close his desk and say, “Nothing much.”

  When Anna asked him if he was grieving for his mother, he seemed uncertain. They would talk about it for a while and then he would assure her that he was handling it. But the next morning, off he would go again. Anna couldn’t decide whether she was more worried about him or if she simply missed his company. But she was definitely disturbed by his absence.

  It didn’t help that she now missed Hazel as well as Lauren and Sarah. How was it possible that all the women had been removed from her life? And now, the man she depended upon seemed to be removing himself as well.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked him one evening in early November.

  He glanced up a contractor’s magazine he’d been poring over. “Wrong?”

  She looked directly at him. “With us?”

  He shook his head and set the magazine aside. “Not that I know of.”

  “Oh . . .” She closed her book.

  Now he got up and threw another log onto the fire that he’d built earlier that evening, and coming over, he sat next to her on the old leather sofa. “Do you think something’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” She reached up to touch his gray hair, thinking that he was overdue for a haircut. “I just feel like, well, maybe we’re drifting apart.”

  He looked slightly alarmed. “Drifting apart?”

  She nodded. “You seem different, Clark. I thought it was losing your mother, but now I’m not sure. Is it us?”

  He touched her cheek and smiled. “It’s not us, not as far as I’m concerned, darling.”

  “What then?”

  He made a mysterious smile and shrugged. “Maybe your imagination?”

  “Or maybe I’m just lonely.”

  “Lonely?” he looked surprised. “But you’re always surrounded by people, Anna. Jewel and Diane and Janelle always seem to be coming and going up here. And there are the other workers. And the guests. It seems every time I turn around, one of them wants to speak to you. If anyone should never feel lonely, sweetheart, it’s you.”

  Anna knew that was true. She did seem to be in constant demand at the inn. Even with the extra workers, it seemed she remained busier than ever. But that was partly due to Lauren’s leaving. Anna had probably taken for granted how much Lauren’s presence here helped. “I guess I’m just missing Lauren,” she said sadly.

  “Why don’t you call her?”

  “Because I know she studies in the evenings.” Anna looked at the clock, surprised to see that it was so late and wondering if Lauren might still be up. “And then she spends her weekends searching for Sarah.”

  Clark frowned. “Any hope on that front?”

  She just shook her head. “At least she is narrowing down the list. We know where Sarah isn’t. And even though Oregon has more than its fair share of communal farms, there is a limit to them. So maybe we’re getting closer.”

  “Unless . . .” He paused.

  “Unless?”

  “Never mind.” He pressed his lips tightly together as if wanting to retract that last word.

  “No, what were you going to say?”

  He sighed. “Unless she’s left the country.”

  Anna didn’t want to think about that. She read the news en
ough to know there were many cults and groups moving about these days. Sometimes they’d arrive in this country only to get opposition from the government and then leave again. With all this coming and going, it would be nearly impossible to track someone down on an international level.

  “Sorry, darling. I didn’t mean to suggest that. And I doubt that’s happened. It wouldn’t be easy to get out of the country without a passport and money, which I doubt Sarah has.”

  “Unless someone with money and influence helped her,” Anna said quietly.

  “Sarah has a good head on her shoulders and a strong will. She won’t let anyone take her where she doesn’t want to go.”

  Anna wanted to believe that. On many levels she did believe that. But she also remembered Jewel telling her about how Daniel had recognized Sarah’s intelligence and how he’d wanted to harness her spirit and energy for his own gain. What if another “spiritual leader”—perhaps someone more evil than Daniel—wanted to do the same?

  Clark reached up to pull Anna from the sofa. “It’s late, sweetheart, and you look tired. Let’s say we call it a day.” He kissed her forehead, inhaling the scent of her hair, just like he used to do when they’d first met. And, as small as that gesture was, it was reassuring. Perhaps they weren’t really drifting apart after all.

  Life at Shining Waters calmed down as mid-November approached. Anna loved this time of year—everything from the deep russet and golden-toned leaves to the musky earth smell of the river. This was a time of year for slowing down, contemplating, preparing for winter. Not that their winters were ever too difficult here. Sometimes in January, the temperatures would stay in the upper sixties, and it was hard not to believe it was June.

  To Anna’s dismay, Clark continued going his own way. Usually without saying much about where he was going or why he stayed away so long. It was some consolation to see that Johnny Johnson was often going with him. Perhaps Clark was simply trying to help a troubled friend. And, she reminded herself, she was the one who had brought Johnny into their lives. She had asked Clark to reach out to him.

  To distract herself from feeling lonely for Lauren and Sarah and Hazel, Anna had taken up one of her mother’s old hobbies. She was making a quilt. It had been Jewel’s idea to start with when, while rearranging a closet at Babette’s house, she’d come across a box of old quilt patterns and quilting tools. She told Anna about her find and asked if she could use them to make a quilt.

  “I’d like to see these things myself,” Anna said. “Perhaps we could make something together.”

  So Jewel had brought the box, along with another box of fabric scraps, over to the inn. And one quiet afternoon, the two of them sat down together to figure it out. Anna thought this might be a lovely way for them to spend time together. And she’d been missing Jewel since she’d relocated to Babette’s house. And for a few days, they both thoroughly enjoyed the process of selecting fabrics and colors, of pinning and cutting out the various shapes. But it didn’t take long for Jewel to lose interest.

  Anna knew this was partially due to one of the guy workers hired last summer, a sincere young man named Skip Halverson. When Jewel realized that Skip was interested in her, her focus on quilting seemed to evaporate. And her spare time as well.

  But Anna persisted with it. She found something very soothing about using a softly worn paper pattern to cut shapes of patterned fabric then using needle and thread to work these small colorful pieces into something larger. The process felt like a sweet metaphor about life and people and relationships, carefully positioned and stitched together. Besides that, it gave her a sense of control and well-being . . . and hope. And, inspired by comments from some of the guests who’d heard what she was doing, she decided to set up a quilting corner in the downstairs dining room. She repositioned one of the big wooden dining tables over by the woodstove, laying out a rainbow of fabrics as well as the necessary quilting tools, hoping to entice even more interest. It wasn’t long before several of the female guests were joining her.

  “I feel as if I’ve gone back in time,” Mrs. Parrish said as they worked together one gray morning. “My husband is out fishing in the fog, and I’m here sewing by the fireside.” She chuckled as she threaded a needle. “And to think I could be answering phones and typing transcriptions in the law office right now.” The Parrishes were regular summer guests who had come to the inn for several days to celebrate their thirtieth anniversary.

  “Does it make you want to live like this always?” a younger woman asked her.

  Mrs. Parrish tilted her head to one side as if giving this careful thought. “I don’t think so. Vernon loves practicing law, and I love assisting him. No . . . this is a nice change of pace for us, and it’s always a good reminder that sometimes we all need to slow down. But, no, I don’t think I could live like this always.” She glanced at Anna. “I marvel that you and Clark can do it full time. That you’ve been doing it all these years. Do you ever miss things like theater, music, or the arts?”

  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.