by Hope Lyda
As we make our return ride, sore and worn out, Melanie asks if we can sing trail songs. Sadie turns to me and pretends to cry in anguish.
Delilah is, it turns out, quite the ukulele player and is pleased as punch to whip it out and lead us in several rounds of camp songs. The lyrics to somewhat familiar tunes have been slightly altered.
By the time we have finished singing At Home Without a Range, my behind is numb. I’m tired of staring at Sadie’s back, and I cannot stop thinking about Beau. Lyle hadn’t completely finished the trick because Beau was backstage after the show was over. He was jazzed, he said. And when I didn’t respond in kind, he defined that term. Pumped. Excited. Hyped. Wired.
I tried to reroute the walking thesaurus by bringing up past words like space, argument, silence, confusion. But Beau was too jazzed to focus on the past. He practically spit the word “past,” as if it were detestable and useless. We left the theater separately with plans to meet up after the bachelorette party.
“I’m so glad we did this. It felt like old times,” he had said sincerely.
I smiled because it was all I could muster without tears.
Now on a horse named Hawkeye, the tears start to come. I’m thankful it is dusk.
Rhonda stops her lead creature, Hotlips, and about-faces so that we can see her stern expression. “Francine and Angelica will be our chuck wagon hosts. We know you all are probably pretty tired about now. That calf roping exercise was a bit more difficult than usual. Delilah has never forgotten the actual ropes in our twenty years here. So that was a hoot to watch. You all deserve some fine cuisine. Best in adventure camping.”
I find myself salivating at the thought of food. Even settling down for a tin full of chicken potpie would suffice at this point.
“Mari and Melanie, get busy with the bunks. After the meal, y’all will be itching to sleep.”
“Please don’t use itching and sleep in the same sentence,” Angelica whines.
“Little Miss Fancy Jodhpurs just got herself a stint at KP. Anyone want to help her?”
Sadie raises her hand immediately. “It’s the least I can do,” she mutters.
Francine and Angelica leave with Delilah to cook up some grub and Melanie and I make our way to the cabin. It isn’t difficult; there is a beautiful full moon. The landscape is so surreal in the night light, it has the look of a movie set—a movie about aliens.
Melanie walks at a brisk pace ahead of me. She has the manner of Sadie, and the figure, but not the poise. She clumps along among the sagebrush. We get right to work, each taking a task on the faded list nailed to the wooden door.
“I’ve enjoyed this,” I say to break the silence.
She stops sweeping and looks up through her long, thick hair. “Really?”
“At first, I wasn’t too sure. And I didn’t know we’d be here overnight. But once we headed out on the horses, I thought it was very exhilarating.”
“Me too!” She says happily.
“Sadie has your smile.” I offer her the primary status of smile-holder, and she accepts this warmly.
“And our voices sound the same.”
I pause and nod slowly. “I do hear the same tone.”
She keeps sweeping, and I make up another bunk.
“Mom’s kinda worried about the wedding. It’s going to be so fancy. That’s why she—we, really—wanted to do this kind of party. To feel more…” she stops, seemingly afraid she has divulged too much about her insecurities.
“Comfortable?”
She laughs. “Yes! But the funny thing is, we are hardly outdoors people. I don’t know what we were thinking.”
“This was good for all of us. It sort of, I don’t know—evens the playing field. Just to spend time with Angelica without her dang cell phone was a huge treat.”
She smiles again, and I notice that her bottom teeth are crooked. She covers her mouth with a cupped hand and laughs. Then, as fast as the laughter began, she stops cold. “I don’t think Sadie sees it as a good experience.”
I wave a “get outta here” wave. “This just isn’t Sadie’s element. Except, did you notice she was writing down the different plants she saw during the road? I think she was inspired by this place.”
“Really? I hope so. I’d hate for her to be mad at me. She is so darn perfect, you know?”
“I do know. It is hard to relate to sometimes.”
Melanie nods and takes a seat on a lower unmade bunk bed. “It’s why I went with those fancy dresses for us. I knew that I couldn’t possibly choose something classy like Sadie would. But she asked me to make this one choice for her big day, so I did. Do you like them?”
I fluff a pillow in front of my face to hide my initial expression. “We think they are the most colorful, stylish dresses we’ve ever seen.
“That’s what I thought too! When I touched the silky fabric, all I could think was that Sadie deserves dresses this nice for her wedding. They were really expensive, ya know.” Melanie traces a knot in the wood above her.
“Our salesperson in Tucson told us how rare a find they were. You chose something that is one of a kind. Just like Sadie.”
Her eyes get misty. “That’s right.”
From outside we hear Rhonda hollering, “Chow, ladies.”
“You heard the woman. It’s time for chow.”
Melanie reaches for my arm on the way out. “Do you honestly think Sadie will forgive me for today?”
“I’ll go one better. I think she will thank you for today.”
Melanie sighs with relief, and I send up a prayer. We head to the campfire together, where we are greeted by the aroma of rosemary and basil.
Caitlin is setting a rustic table with colorful Fiestaware and linen napkins. Rhonda helps Francine and Angelica carry platters of roasted chicken, red potatoes, pepper cornbread, and spinach salad. Delilah strums her ukulele as we sit down to a table decorated with votives in crystal holders and small bunches of rosemary and lavender.
“Every time a group of women comes through the Happy Campers experience, we believe it is special. But when one of the women is about to embark on the journey of marriage, we consider it a privilege to join in the celebration. We’ll begin our feast with a prayer. Delilah.”
Goodness, Rhonda and her sidekick are full of surprises.
Our musician stops playing and stands up. “Let’s join hands,” she says, clearing her throat. “Dear Creator, we thank you for the opportunity to enjoy the work of your hands today. We join in this time of fellowship with hearts and lives open to the wonders you have in store for each of us. We are grateful for the bounty of your grace. Amen.”
“Amen.”
We all look around at one another. Sadie is glowing. We all are. Each of us, in this moment, knows full well how lucky we are to be here—together. We hold hands for a few seconds longer until Angelica’s stomach growls and we all laugh.
The sacredness of the evening, of the day, is not lost in our laughter—it is made even more real. I look around at my friends. Caitlin was so right. We are starting new lives. This day has been in honor of Sadie’s beginning, but it is also the end of an era for all of us.
Sadie sips from a goblet filled with sparkling cider and then catches my eye. We are thinking the same thing. She raises her glass. “A toast…to family, friends, and to a perfect day.”
“Here, here.”
Clink. Clink.
As I raise my glass to meet Melanie’s, I wink at her. She winks back and turns to look at Sadie. I was wrong—there is not a bit of jealousy in her gaze. In Melanie’s eyes, there is only admiration for her little sister.
That night I don’t dream about chasing after Beau, and I don’t dream about falling off of horses as Rhonda warns us most guests do. I dream that I am surrounded by a white cloud, and I am happy. I’m running as if my lungs and legs are used to the pace. I don’t know what I am running after, but I know it is something important.
All Making Sense
Help, I’
ve fallen and I can’t get up,” Chet calls to me jokingly as my saddle sore body creeps past him.
“Want to borrow my walker?” Gracie taunts when I walk by her room on the Canyon View wing.
“That’s enough out of you two. Chet, I’ll tell Wanda you removed numbers from the Bingo game. And Gracie, don’t forget I know you rigged your birthday round of pinochle.”
Sadly, I don’t have blackmail material on all the residents who choose to toss cheap jokes at me during my crawl to Rose’s room. Willis decides to race me and nearly wins, except his cane gets caught on the doorjamb. And we had bet Oreos, so I show no mercy.
My knock on Rose’s door is unnecessary. She is standing on the other side listening for my arrival. The door swings open, and she gives me the once over before quickly hugging me in a businesslike manner. I reach to give her another warm embrace, which she endures for a few seconds before pulling back to adjust her hair—a self-conscious, unnecessary response because her hair is perfectly pulled back into a bun with her trademark ornate hair combs creating a jeweled halo.
“Shall we walk to the cafeteria?” I ask, holding my hand out to her.
She waves away the help. “I’d prefer to stay in today. The holiday choir is using the cafeteria for their rehearsals and it is painful.”
“Now, Rose.”
“I meant excruciating.”
“Let’s sit at your table then. Do you have the fund-raiser checklist handy?”
“I do. And you will be quite pleased to see that many of the items are crossed off as of yesterday.”
“You’ve all been working so hard. I appreciate that you are taking charge of this. I know my absence has been difficult on the committees around here, but I’ll make up for it in the New Year, I promise.”
She pulls her head back, her chin toward her throat. It is the look she gives the Scrabble team members when they put down a fake word to gain extra points.
“What?” I ask, awaiting her rebuke in some form. Rose, most of all, will make me pay for my absence in the months to come.
“I suppose it depends on what Paige allows?” Now her eyes examine my face as I give her a look of confusion.
“Paige?” I’m surprised that the residents even know about Paige. Lysa reported to me that she pretty much flits in and out on weekends and has Beau do all the interviews with the residents if they need more data clarification. Lysa sensed Paige preferred the hands-off approach when it came to other humans.
“You don’t know what they are up to, do you? Just as I suspected.”
“Who, Rose?” I watch her face now, looking for the furrowed brow and the wandering gaze to signal her dementia is taking over.
Her forehead and eyes are perfectly clear as she speaks. “Bonnie and Clyde.” Her slender hand reaches up to the intercom, and she presses the button marked “Desk.”
Lysa’s voice answers. “Ready?”
“Ready,” Rose responds.
I ask several logical questions. “Who are Bonnie and Clyde? Do you know what year this is? Who is the president?” to which Rose responds with the extension of her hands to the side, palms down—an umpire calling “Safe!”
Lysa taps on the door within seconds, and then she enters with Sonya on her heels. They tiptoe in as if fulfilling a clandestine operation. Lysa retrieves the manila folder protruding from the neckline of her smock.
“Don’t tell me we are changing the color theme of the fund-raiser?” I say with mock horror.
Lysa pretends she will knock me on the head with the folder, but she stops midway and her own look becomes seriously serious. “Mari, we don’t have great news.”
“The ice sculpture of the manger scene won’t fit on the holiday fair stage?”
“You know the project Beau and Paige submitted?”
I didn’t know he had finished, but I keep this to myself to protect him and to avoid giving away the fact that Beau has not shared anything real with me in weeks.
She shakes her head apologetically. “I’m sorry, of course you know about the project. Well, I saw a copy of the final report. Beau and Paige had printed it out the night before he left to visit you in Washington. This surprised me because Beau had been asking me to stay late to help anytime he needed to print or merge files or gather data. So I knew he didn’t want me to read it.”
“And?”
“When he left the next day for the airport, I pulled up the recently printed documents,” she confesses, “and I read his report. Their report. It has both their names on it.”
“Lysa, I knew they were submitting this as a team,” I say, pointing to the folder. “Is that what you are worried about?”
“This team report could jeopardize your job,” she blurts.
“How could stating the case for effective recreational therapy hurt the person providing that service?” I drum my fingers on the table, passing time until everyone’s paranoia comes into check.
Lysa looks forlornly at Sonya, who eyes her back with encouragement. Lysa confronts me. “Their findings, using your data, show that it is more cost-effective to have contracted recreational providers working with several facilities rather than having someone full-time on staff.”
“I don’t buy it. I make a pittance. Golden Horizons and any other facility with a recreation director still on board gets more than triple their money’s worth.” My defensiveness takes on a French accent in my head. I poo-poo l’evidence.
“Nevertheless, it would cost facilities one-third of your pittance to provide more programming for several units. Or so this says.” She points to the incriminating section of the report.
“Mari, what we cannot be sure of is whether Beau would act on these findings. We have to keep in mind that he was creating this report in order to get more grant funding to help the programs here. Maybe he is giving the state committee what they want to hear but does not plan to follow through with it at Golden Horizons.”
She is reluctant to bad-mouth the best boss we have ever had.
“But…but Beau believes in the work I do. He practically screamed how much he believes in what I do when he visited…” I stop cold and my mouth goes dry.
“What?”
“He stated the case for my value, but then he immediately started talking about Majestic Vista. He told me that you, Sonya, mentioned that the recreation director position was open again.”
Sonya adjusts her cross necklace and sits down on Rose’s bed. “I never brought it up. I didn’t even know it was a possibility. Then, a couple weeks ago I led a stretch class at Majestic, and Lionel mentioned how great it will be to have you back. When I looked surprised, he explained that Beau had told him in confidence that you wanted to return. He asked that I keep this news a secret until you chose to announce it officially.”
“And she did,” Lysa adds. “But then I showed her the report a few days ago. I didn’t trust my interpretation of the situation or of their thesis.”
“When I read it, Mari, the possibility that Beau was planning all this without your consent made more sense to me than the idea of you voluntarily leaving,” Sonya says passionately, her blond hair falling forward and obscuring her cheek.
My mouth falls open and my mind is closing in on the reality. “During our fight at the zoo, I couldn’t understand why he’d think I’d give up Golden Horizons. But he never believed I’d want to—he knew I’d have to.”
Rose sighs. “Maybe you should have stayed with the National Geographic photographer.”
“You dated a photographer?” Lysa inquires.
“It’s a long story,” I answer.
“What are you going to do?” Rose brings us back to the grave matter at hand.
My hands are shaking, but my mind seems quite calm in the midst of the storm. “I’m going to wait for him to do the right thing.”
Rehearsal
I need to go over my lines one more time,” Caitlin demands, anxious and sweaty.
“Why did you save this for the last minute? I
cannot believe you have not told your parents. Do you want to call ahead? Because we could do that and then they could just stand out in the circular drive with the valet guy and you could roll down your window and we could holler something like ‘Caitlin’s moving to New York and you can’t stop her.’ Then I’ll hit the gas before they can respond.”
“Okay. I’m a coward. I could use a little support, you know.”
“I’m here, aren’t I? We have the wedding rehearsal in an hour, but instead of getting ready or relaxing before the busy night, I’m driving you to your parents’ house. Which brings up another question. Why am I driving?”
“I got a new old car with the advance from Isabel. A new car would be a dead giveaway.”
“That’d be even faster than my idea.”
“I’m beginning to think a taxi would have been a good idea.” She frowns and juts her lower lip out.
“Ah, my point is made. Oh, here we are.”
Caitlin looks at me pleadingly before we knock on the door and greet Margaret the maid. “Support.”
“I’ll say only fabulous things about New York,” I vow.
She relaxes slightly, but her jaw is still tense. I’m glad to note that she is wearing her hair in an elegant style, straight with a slight curl at the ends.
Her mother seems to approve as well. “Caitlin, darling. You look beautiful. Hello, Mari. So good of you to join us for dinner.”
“Not dinner, Mom. We have to leave for Sadie’s rehearsal.”
“Yes, of course. We are looking forward to the wedding day after tomorrow. That’s strange.” She pauses to consider the timeline. “Most weddings are the day following a rehearsal. Is this a new thing?”
I step in to move things along. “Thursday was the only night they could get the church for the rehearsal, and Saturday was the only night they could get the Mesa for their reception. It worked out with everyone in the wedding party to be here the full three days, so tonight it is.”
Caitlin’s mother nods in full agreement. “The Mesa is worth a little inconvenience. Fabulous chef and the setting is glorious.” Her thoughts seem to wander to a previous event and then she resurfaces abruptly. “If you don’t have long, what is it you needed that couldn’t wait? Your father and I will be at the wedding.”
