“What do you think? Wouldn’t this be a good place for us to live?”
For a moment I’m not sure whether he’s lost his mind or is suffering from some form of post-coma delusional thinking. Then I see a twinkle in his eye. What a rotten thing to do, giving me such a fright.
“You almost had me there. It’s… nice.”
Amadeus has a different opinion about it. Irony is dripping from the words he’s hissing in the back of my mind. “All that’s missing is a Disney ride and a choir singing in the background it’s a small world after all. We should get out of here. Next, he’ll wrap us in cotton candy and then we’re stuck. I don’t trust this guy.”
He’s right? Everywhere we look we see a Disneyesque world. Families in tidy outfits mill in the park, girls pushing little prams for their dolls and boys playing catch with their fathers. None of the children has a dirty trouser or a smudge on their face. Nobody cries because they fell and scraped their knee. A display of perfection. Did I fall into the set of The Stepford Wives or Pleasantville? Could Raymond have staged it all to impress Scott and me? Yes? Na!
I have little time to ponder the question. Ray stops the car in front of a building that looks like it started as a schoolhouse before someone upgraded it with beautiful wood cladding and oversized windows.
“This is our Community Hall. Here we share our meals and, like today, have performances and entertainment. It also doubles as our meeting place where we discuss important decisions about our community.”
Raymond’s voice dims into the background as I listen to the crunching sound our shoes make on the gravel. Something has to be less than perfect. I look around for a crumbling bit of plaster or at least a dripping tap. Can it be that living in a house with no electricity and running water has ruined me for civilized society to the extent that I criticize tidiness and order?
The Community Hall has an immense park as its backyard. And when I say immense, I mean at least the size of four if not six football fields. The lawn, of course, is pristine English sward. Not even the tiniest dandelion or buttercup dares to disrupt the picture of excellence. The park features random groups of trees sprinkled throughout, and benches placed at the edge of a small pond complete the picture-perfect, ideal world. I’m convinced people who see this for the first time can’t wait to join the community.
When we leave the car Scott links his arm with me. “What do you think? Isn’t it impressive?”
“It is very nice. Too perfect for my taste. I would miss Aunt Amanda’s cooking range that fills the house with smoke if the wood is too wet. I’m sure they don’t have wet firewood here.”
Ray locks the car and joins us. He must have heard my last comment. He shakes his head.
“Closer to the pine plantation, we have a large barn to store firewood and keep it dry. How did you know?”
“It was a guess. Everything is so well-thought-out here; I couldn’t imagine you not having thought of a solution. It’s not easy to keep firewood dry in our wet climate.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Elise: 20 March 2017, Afternoon, Gateway
Before we can reach the steps of the Community Hall we are surrounded by a group of children.
“Are you coming to watch our play today?” A small girl, no older than five years, pulls on my jeans. “I’m playing a little birdie.” She looks at me with large, light-blue eyes, the color of the early morning sky that is full of promise and beauty. Her raven-black hair is braided and wrapped like a crown around her head.
“Rena, come here. Leave the lady be.” A middle-aged woman comes rushing up to me and tears the girl away. “My apologies. Rena is too small to know how to behave around strangers.”
“I don’t mind. She didn’t bother me at all.” I meant it. When you live with a bunch of inside kids you have to like children or they will drive you around the bend and push you into the craziness.
Raymond smiles and nudges the girl aside. “This is Miss Granger, our preschool mistress. The kids have playtime before they come in for lunch.” Then he turns to the preschool teacher. “Ms. Seagar and Mr. Thompson are joining us for the lunch concert today.”
The woman nods a greeting but doesn’t show any surprise. They all knew we’d join them today. I’m trying to convince myself that’s not unusual in a small, tight-knit community.
“Welcome to Gateway. We have to hurry to get the children ready. We’ll see you inside.” And as quickly as they appeared, the children disappear inside the building, giggling and chatting like a flock of excited chickens.
Inside, the hall is light and friendly, with large windows offering a view of the beautiful park and the lake. Someone had decorated the walls with oversized paintings depicting some of the stunning places on the West Coast. Rows of ten yard long tables with chairs on each side fill the room. They have set with flowers and yellow and white crockery. Large white serving plates with yellow rims stand in the middle piled high with baked goods.
A surge of thoughts is flooding my head.
“I had the impression that the happy world outside was staged for our sake. Now I’m not so sure anymore. This is all very light and relaxed.”
Sky expresses exactly what I feel. But there is a lot of talking inside my head that I better pay attention to.
“This is very different from how it was when we were little.”
It was good to hear Maddie not being afraid, although she’s far from relaxed. What we see here is so different from the dark catacombs and the dungeon-like cubicles of torture and misery I expected. I feel bad and have the urge to apologize to Ray. The least he deserves is that I give him the benefit of the doubt.
“He wants us to be at ease. Don’t trust him.”
Amadeus has a point and the different thoughts and feelings inside me are at war with each other. I turn to Raymond and notice that he is observing me with his sharp eyes. There is no smile in his eyes. Even though the whole environment is inviting, I’m far from being relaxed. It’s hard when parts of me are on tenterhooks and scared.
Sky is working hard on comforting me.
“We have to move on from the past. If we view every moment through the broken glasses of our past, we’ll never be free.”
“So, how do you like what you’re seeing so far?” Ray’s question pulls me away from my internal dialogue. For a split-second, I listen to the light-footed, classical music playing in the background.
“I think it’s amazing. You’ve achieved so much. I don’t remember how it was when I was here as a young child, but it can’t have been anything like this. I commend you on the changes you’ve made.”
We walk through the rows of tables and take our seats in the first row near the stage.
“Simon Baker said you need Wrights Homestead to expand your outdoors program? As we drove through your compound, I was puzzled. I would have thought that you had more than enough space for setting up your outdoor program on your existing property.” I’m glad Scott asks the question that has been on my mind for a while.
Raymond doesn’t look fazed by Scott’s direct approach.
“You are right. If it were for anything other than the outdoor program, the logical thing would be to build a house on our grounds. The whole valley is ours, right up to Quarry Valley. What your homestead offers, however, is the proximity to the higher mountains. That’ll help with upping the challenges for young people. The advantage of having it separate from here is twofold. Participants are forced to rely on themselves and their problem-solving skills. They can’t run home to mum or dad to help them out. That’s what makes the homestead so special for us.”
“That’s a good point. I hadn’t thought of that aspect.”
I look up and study his face. He hadn’t thought of it? That’s so unusual for him. Perhaps he’s not well? The drama of the last weeks might have taken its toll. It could be too early for him to be out and about after his hospital stay. He still looks a little pale and tired.
While a group of young wom
en brings in plates of food for lunch, I try to turn the attention away from Scott.
“I can’t get over the fact that everything is so light and inviting. You must’ve put a lot of work into renovating, or has it always been like this?”
Raymond looks pleased about my question and seems more than happy to explain the situation to me.
“Some have been like this from the beginning. They built the individual houses after plans by Sebastian Feldman. His family emigrated from Switzerland and the houses are a nod to his Swiss heritage.”
“I love the houses, they look so cozy and inviting.”
“Thank you. What we’ve done since the police arrested the old guard, is to inject new life into the Community Hall. Before our renovation, it was more clinical and utilitarian. Now it’s a place where people enjoy coming together. We needed something that brought us together again after the shocking, demoralizing revelations.”
At that moment he gets up and soon the chatter stops and the room turns quiet. The women set each table with bowls of soup, platters with sandwiches, pastries, and a wide variety of fresh fruit. He lifts his hands shoulder high and casts his gaze around the room. Then he blesses the food and includes Scott and me in his blessing.
Soon the room is brimming with chatter again as people eat their lunch. I must say, the spread is amazing and tastes delicious. Ray fills our cups with coffee and points to the children lining up on a small stage.
“The show begins. They are performing Peter and the wolf today.”
“You have a theater group? That’s amazing.”
“No, not a specific group. Everyone takes part in our performances either as actor, singer, or working backstage on costumes and props. The kids read the book at school and then they write the script. We put on one of these a month, often enough to give everyone a turn. You are lucky you came today.”
Raymond offers me a small bowl of chocolates. “Take one, we make them here on site. They are delicious with coffee.”
I take a piece of chocolate and stare at the beautiful performance of the children. I even spot Rena sitting on a tree branch tweeting like a little bird.
“Scottie, try one of these.” I point to the chocolates. “They are delicious.”
While we are finishing our meal with coffee and chocolates, I forget my surroundings and get lost in the beautiful performance on stage. Even when the tree topples over as Wolf climbs it to catch the bird it takes nothing away from the captivating performance. After each song, I join the parents showering applause on the young artists.
“They are brilliant.” Scott’s eyes are glued to the stage where now another group of children performs a ballet to songs the younger children are singing. He loves children.
I am blown away by the talent and the atmosphere of ease and enjoyment. I turn to our host.
“This is wonderful Ray. I don’t have words to express how impressed I am. The kids are amazing.”
For a while we engage in lively conversation with other community members at the table and a lot of rushing to and fro is happening as the children reunite with their parents.
It’s getting hot inside the hall. It could be it the food, or the coffee, or the activity in the hall, but after a short while tiny rivulets of sweat are dripping down my back. I feel a bit off-color. For someone who lived isolated most of her life, this onslaught of people and conversations seems to be taking a lot out of me.
I’m sure I should blame Lilly for stuffing herself with too many chocolates. I glance over to Scott who is having a lively conversation with his neighbor. He too seems to have trouble breathing.
“I’m very hot, I’m going outside for some fresh air.”
“I’ll come with you. Fresh air is a great idea,” Scott says and gets up.
Raymond looks concerned. “We should say goodbye to the boys and girls here and continue our tour. There is so much more to see.”
When I stand up from my seat I sway and have to hold on to the chair. I’m usually not sensitive to heat. Maybe it has to do with our integration? Miss Marple warned us that it’s difficult to predict what sort of impact it would have on us.
It’s impossible to leave the hall without everybody noticing our departure. Plenty of smiles and good-bye-waves accompany us on our way out.
We stand outside under the large canopy when Scott takes a deep breath, holds his head, and—folding up like an accordion—tumbles to the ground. In shock, I stare at Scott. This can’t be happening. I rush to his side and hold his head.
“Scottie, darling, talk to me, what’s the matter?”
“I’m feeling very unwell and weak my love.” It’s the last I hear from him and then he lies motionless.
I look at Ray. “We need help.”
“Perhaps he is still suffering from the after-effects of the coma? Coming out here might have been too exhausting. Let me call our doctor. We have an infirmary, where he can lay down until he feels better before you go home.”
Raymond gets his cell phone out and with the punch of a few buttons, he calls for the ambulance and the doctor.
I’m holding Scott’s hand and wait with Raymond for the ambulance. It takes only minutes until it arrives and Scott is helped onto the gurney. Raymond and I sit next to him as the car drives to the infirmary while the doctor examines him.
“You have a very good organized service here.” I am so grateful for his presence. I can’t believe not long ago I would have frowned on the perfect set up at Gateways. Now it can’t be perfect enough for me.
“Yes, we’re always thinking about what we need to improve our self-sufficient status. We even assess the people who want to join us by their profession and what they can contribute to our small community.”
“Your husband will be fine and on his feet in no time, Ms. Seagar. I believe he simply fainted.”
The doctor speaks softly as he folds his stethoscope back into a bag and smiles at me.
That’s good news. I let out a sigh of relief. I don’t correct him on the husband-statement.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lilly: 20 March 2017, Early Afternoon, Gateway
I watch the doctor taking care of Scottie, ready to jump at him any moment if I detect even the slightest, the tiniest sign of mistreatment. But he’s doing a good enough job. His voice is soothing and his words… it’s hard to hear his words. My nausea and dizziness have returned. I pushed it aside when Scottie collapsed. Somebody moans and—after I checked Scottie, Raymond, and the doctor—I realize it must have come from me.
“Miss Seagar, take this, it’ll make you feel better.” The doctor gives me a thimble-sized plastic cup with two pills. I hate taking pills but he smiles and nods encouragingly … I hesitate but I need to be okay to watch over Scottie and swallow the pills with a gulp of water from a water bottle.
The ambulance stops and Raymond jumps out and helps me climb down the steps. He looks at me with eyes that say something important, but I can’t decipher what it is. His words reach me through a layer of cotton wool. I’m desperate to stay alert, but I’m sliding down a slippery slope.
My vision becomes hazy as if a cloud of thick fog engulfs me. My stomach roils. Even though it’s not a hot day, sweat is dripping from my forehead into my eyes. Two males in white hospital uniforms pull Scottie’s gurney out of the ambulance and walk towards a white house. The noise of their chatter and their steps on the gravel is booming in my ears like rolling thunder that comes closer.
“I need to stop and catch my breath.”
Raymond grabs my arm. “Please let me help you. Take my arm.”
I take another deep breath and the fresh air runs like a fresh mountain spring through my lungs. Still, the funny head is not clearing. I’m feeling sick. I’m not sure if I’m sick or whether one of the little ones had a flashback. It was a mistake to come. Didn’t I promise Maddie never to come here? Perhaps she’s having a hard time and I’m paying for it.
I’m looking up to Ray. “I need to put my head do
wn. I’m terribly dizzy. Is there a place where I can lie down?”
“Let’s follow Mr. Thompson. I’ll make sure we’ll find somewhere for you to rest.” He takes my arm “Take it easy, one step at a time. That’ll help clear your head.”
We walk up the stairs and enter the white house. People walking past us staring at me with odd expressions. Is it pity? I don’t need pity. I need a clear head.
“Are you feeling better?”
“No, I don’t think so. I don’t know what happened. I never get sick. Maybe some of what I ate for lunch? But … it makes no sense that I’m so unwell.”
I turn to the side, away from Raymond, fearing that I’ll be sick at any moment.
He holds me tight now. “Don’t worry about me if you need to get sick. Let me get you to a room ASAP and I’ll ask our doctor in residence to have a look at you too. We can’t have our guest being unwell while visiting us.”
When we walk along the hallway I have suddenly an explosion of stars happening inside my head and panicked voices are throbbing in my ears.
Maddie. I hear Maddie’s voice. First, it’s hard to make out what she’s saying but then …
“Oh no, this is the house. Lilly, go back, this is the house. The bad house.”
My breathing accelerates and my heart is pounding like a herd of wild horses racing over barren highland. No words are forming inside my head, just panic and a knowing that Raymond has tricked me. My hands are balling to fists and I’m clenching my teeth. What started as fear turned into an explosion of anger.
“You bastard, you drugged me. You deceitful rapist and debauched animal.”
I take a swing at Raymond and my fist connects with his cheek. His head whips back and he looks at me in surprise. He didn’t expect my attack and holds his cheek.
I don’t know where the strengths or even the technique came from, certainly not from me. Amadeus must have come to my aid. I’m no longer alone in this fight. My hand swings for another punch, but now Raymond has my hands in an iron grip. He slaps his hand across my face.
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