Within the hour, she was dead.
Chapter 5
Too much. It had been too much. Maybelline was in a daze as she drove back to the county center, where Oak’s van was parked. She felt stunned, sick. When Oak got out of the car, she sat staring through the windshield, in some kind of shock, he figured. He was also shaken, moved. He didn’t know what to say. After closing the door to the car and standing for a second, he opened it and popped back into the passenger’s seat.
“Are you going to be all right?”
“What is happening? I can’t catch up,” Maybelline answered still looking through the windshield. “I feel like I’ve been run over.”
“She was a warrior, more than us,” Oak answered. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Let’s meet at the tree tomorrow, whenever you get there,” he earnestly suggested.
“I don’t know when that will be exactly.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll be there. It’s why I’m here, and now—” He hugged her. She broke down for so many reasons because grief is not always specific. After a few minutes she looked at him and said, “thank you…son”. It lightened the moment, made them laugh.
“See you tomorrow then, mom,” he said. She watched him get in his van. Once back in her hotel room, two glasses of wine later, she fell asleep, feelings of loneliness and melancholy replaced by an all too real dream of the four of them under the tree, picnicking, laughing; the time when they watched a white hawk with fabulous black epaulets (they later learned was a white-tailed kite) hover over a single spot in the field, Millicent asking, “I wonder what it sees?”
I wonder what it sees?
Chapter 6
At 6 a.m., her cell phone, trying to be her friend, let her know via a chintzy overly electronic version of Moon River, she had messages. She forgot to turn it off again. She wasn’t ready to hear Millicent was dead, maybe they wanted the land back. Maybe she would go to the funeral, get in front of all of them, tell them what Millicent had done to her. Rolling over, she grabbed the phone off the nightstand and pressed “End” with every fiber of her being. This resulted in the phone turning itself off then on again, making her very angry. Tempted to hurl it, instead she got up to go the bathroom where she exiled it under a pile of towels. By then it had turned off.
She opened and closed her eyes a few times, thinking that if she did this, maybe like Dorothy, she would wake up in ‘Kansas’, back home in Santa Barbara. No luck. She was still trapped in her sentimental journey gone off the rails. After performing a slow roll, staring at the ceiling, at the west wall, at her pillow, at the east wall, then back up at the ceiling, she finally fell back asleep. Her eyes next opened at 10:00 a.m. Rested, she sat up in bed and went through the previous few days (daze?), still in disbelief, shock. She couldn’t go back to her old life now—her comfortable, peaceful, predictable life in Santa Barbara. One could do a lot worse! She would call Millicent. What? She was startled by how automatic, near reflex this had become. It was Millicent’s fault she was in a damn hotel room, avoiding Millicent’s son and daughter-in-law in this, this, mess; but there was no one to call now. She didn’t have any close friends in Santa Barbara. She and Millicent’s friendship slipped back into place so easily…She felt completely alone. She and Jay were always going to get in touch, then she was always going to get in touch, and in the end, she did. In the end…an empty space in her life had been filled-up again only to be replaced by what?
“Millicent, why did you do this to me?” she asked the ceiling. “You better help me through this and no, dying doesn’t give you an out.” She paused. “I should sell it back to them. Be done with it. I could always collect acorns from the tree, hundreds of them, find a place to scatter them.” (But are there even places for oak trees to grow big anymore? passed through her mind).
“Jay, look at me,” she said talking out loud again, letting out a scoff. How she missed him. Not that he was all that great at understanding her feelings, especially at the end when it seemed like he took her for granted. The day she went to the farmer’s market and on the way home checked out a trail she had never hiked before. She left him a note. When she got home, he was mad, MAD, because she wanted a break, wanted to take a walk, get out, let him answer the damn phone for a change. But that’s how it gets—you’re around someone so long that it doesn’t really matter any more what you say, if you say anything at all, only that you’re both there, you both still show up. This becomes enough.
It was time to face her cell phone but first she needed coffee. This was absolutely essential. Grateful for the little set-up that came with the room (only two cups out of that carafe but who’s complaining? At least they left real coffee mugs, not those horrid little Styrofoam things), she got it going noticing how the sound of the coffee perking and gurgling itself into the toy-sized carafe made her feel better. When it was good and made, she poured herself a cup. Disdaining the powdered creamer, she decided to drink it black. She didn’t drink her coffee black and she wasn’t going out for milk. She freed the phone from the pile of towels, setting it on the nightstand. She punched voicemail, speaker, and sat down on the bed to listen. (She refused to “text”, considering it a constant intrusion of her life. This would work out well since this was exactly how Oak and Joni felt).
“Mrs. Emmons, this is Jim Bock, Millicent’s son. Millicent died not too long after you and your son left. (Mercy! This thing with Oak as her son had stuck so damn quickly! Apparently everyone wanted her to have a son for some reason and considering she had totally forgotten about him…Wasn’t she supposed to meet him in the lobby or at the tree?) “I know she was really happy about connecting with you again. It seemed to really lift her spirits.” He paused. “So thank you for, uhm, this. It was great you two could meet up again after so many years. It’s just too bad you didn’t have more time, uhm, but it meant, really, a lot to her. A lot.” He hesitated. “To be honest, we thought she was going to die many times before so the arrangements—actually she made them—for her to be cremated, so, uhm, she’s been cremated. It’s what she wanted. No open casket. She put it in writing.” He paused again. “We’re not sure where we’re going to scatter the ashes and, funny, she wasn’t really clear about this so we’re going to hang on to them. We’re planning a memorial service for her sometime in the future so we’ll keep you posted about this. Maybe you will want to say something.” He paused. “I’m sorry to tell you like this but maybe you already…” his voice trailed off . “Of course, we have your information (i.e. the real estate papers, Maybelline thought) so we’ll be in touch, and, well, thanks again.”
She punched “END” and sat quietly finishing her coffee. Sighing, she walked over to the window of her room and opened the curtains. Her window faced a skinny little oak woodland standing in non-native grasses and weeds. She wandered around the room playing-out different scenarios how she could sell the land back to them. She could stipulate they save the tree, put something smaller on the lot? What about—the hotel room phone rang. Who knew she was there? Only Millicent…She picked it up. There was something for her at the front desk they attempted to deliver but she had the do-not-disturb hanger on the door—they would bring it to her. Within a few minutes there was a knock on her door. She opened it. A young man handed her a vase of purple iris, miniature white roses, and baby’s breath. The card read: “Millicent is not dead. Her spirit has been passed to us, is in us as we embark on an important journey together, Mom, to realize Millicent’s and the valley oak’s destiny. Please join us at the tree. Oak and Joni.” Oak and Joni. His wife? Now she had a ‘daughter-in-law’? How sweet…she pressed her face into the brilliant display. How did they know she loved irises?
It was almost noon. Her son, her tree, they needed her.
Chapter 7
Saying hello to what she came to think of as the Acorn Gang—Tamara, BoJo, and Rikki—Terrence too cool to hang around with his little sister and her friends, Maybelline walked to the
base of the tree.
“Mom!”
Maybelline looked up. Oak and an adorable young woman were squatting on a fat branch about ten feet above her head. They were both smiling very wide if not mischievous smiles. They appeared far too cheerful, healthy, energetic…She had a lot on her mind, was thinking about going home. They both dropped to the ground. The young woman resembled a Barbie doll, Maybelline thought at first then decided, no, she was more like a sexy Skipper doll, one with long legs and unruly short curly blonde hair.
Immediately Oak hugged Maybelline. She teared up.
“Thank you for the flowers. They’re so lovely. That was so thoughtful. I don’t remember telling you where I was staying but it was all a blur.”
Oak took a hotel business card out of his back pocket that she had given him. Flashing a look at Oak, Skipper thrust out her hand. Maybelline shook it. The grip was strong, like Millicent’s…
“I’m Joni.”
“Maybelline.”
“Yeah, sorry. And she picked the flowers out. Mom, this is Joni, my girlfriend, Joni, Mom.”
“Yeah, we just did that,” Joni chided.
“You know I’m not really his mom, right?” Maybelline clarified.
“Yes she is!” Oak teased.
Ignoring him, Joni continued. “Oak told me about what happened yesterday and though I’m, we’re not surprised, we’ve been at this for a few years, I guess it blew you away. People can be such assholes…and your friend dying…”
Maybelline thanked her. Joni continued, “we have two spirit guides on this sit. The tree, always our spirit guides, and your friend, Millicent. This is really significant. We will save this tree.”
Oak assertively nodded his head yes in agreement, affirmation.
“Save it from what, exactly?” Maybelline asked, anxious, a little thrown.
Joni flashed a look at Oak that said, “oh boy”.
“It’s okay,” Oak said flashing his own look back at her. “Come with me,” Oak said leading Maybelline to the van. This time Maybelline noticed it. It was a high-end (read: expensive) white utility van of European design, taller, more streamlined, with solar panels on top. She could relate to utility vans, though this one was far fancier—she and Jay ran the locksmith business out of a white Chevy utility van.
Maybelline made a face that said both “impressive” and “how can you guys afford this”?
Reading her expression, Oak answered “we actually get a lot of financial support, from our parents, other sources. We can talk about it later.” He unlocked the back doors and opened them. It was impressive. Inside were well organized cabinets and drawers, perfectly designed for a moving vehicle. There were tools: hand saws, drills, hammers, wrenches, screw drivers, many tightly secured to a peg board. Smiling, Oak undid some latches and a full-size bed dropped down, very comfy looking. He dropped another latch and a nightstand appeared beside it. After putting them back up, Oak directed his attention to five vertical slide-out shelves on the right side of the van. Each shelf held one large sheet of plywood, the thickness of each varying. All the sheets had rounded corners.
“All saved from the dump, this wood. We’re sizing for the tree,” he said fingering through the plywood sheets. “We’re professional tree sitters.”
While Maybelline’s mind was getting blown, Joni continued.
“We go where the earth needs us. Nobody should cut this amazing tree down. It’s genetically superior for one thing, able to survive the human race for this long. Cutting it down would constitute a criminal act, a murder.”
Too dazzled, confused to say anything, Maybelline watched as they pulled one of the large plywood sheets out. It had hinges. Resting it on the back of the van, Oak flipped it open at the hinges while Joni fitted what appeared to be rubber molding onto the rounded corners. Obviously they had whatever it was they were demonstrating to her down to an art.
“We lodge one of these platforms in between the bigger branches then camp out on it. The rubber molding on the ends keeps us from damaging the tree. We have different sizes. Every species is different in terms of what size platform it will accommodate,” Joni explained.
“Redwoods are easy because their branches are fairly close together, strong. This valley oak, the crown is broader, more spread out, but the boughs are incredibly strong,” Oak added. “You need to come up with us.”
Still unable to say much, Maybelline shook her head in amazement.
“We go where we’re needed. We heard about this whole thing on the news. That’s how I knew to come to the meeting,” Oak said as he nodded at Joni to get the other end of the platform.
“But I own the tree now, the land. You don’t need to do this. I admit to not being sure—”
“Put it down,” Oak told Joni. They gently laid it on the ground. “You’re going to sell out?” he pointedly asked Maybelline.
After a few seconds of looking at them, Maybelline gained a little more composure, found her vocal cords. “You have to understand, you two, this has all come as a complete shock. I came here to see an old friend, Millicent, and now—”
“Because you are her friend, it sounded like maybe her last friend on earth. You were part of her real life, the one she had before…I would have done the same thing.”
“And anyway, not everyone cares that you own it,” Joni said, firing a very intense look at Maybelline.
“She’s right. Tank was here today. Told me the timber rights were not included with the land sale. It’s easy to get the picture: Squirrel-Mart starts sniffing around for a logging company, somebody to cut the tree down. Of course the Darden Family name comes up. They call him and all of a sudden he has the timber rights to cut the tree down. He says he’s doing it soon. Yeah, I bet he is,” Oak commented.
Maybelline shook her head. “Can it be?”
“We’ve seen this before. Somebody in the family needs money so they sell off the timber without telling the rest of the family. The logger shows up when the rest of ‘em are gone, they come home and—boom, the trees are gone.”
“Oh my God,” Maybelline winced.
“Nobody, not even the county as far as I can tell, has seen ANY legal documentation that big mouth has the right to cut the tree down. You need to search your paperwork, see if there is anything in it about timber rights. If it’s true, they sold you the land and didn’t disclose the tree was held by separate title, you could sue their asses off, technically speaking.”
“Who’s asses?”
“You know. The son, his wife.”
“I’m not suing anyone’s ‘ass’. There is a chance they didn’t know. In fact, it’s very likely they didn’t know. Apparently Millicent didn’t know. She thought it was all bluster to grab the opportunity to make some money. I’m hoping this is all it is.”
“You need to search your paperwork, the deed. Just punch in words like “timber”, “trees”, “wood”, “board feet”, “forestry resources”, maybe even something like “held in reserve” or “separate deed”, “contract”.”
“Punch in?” Maybelline asked, confused.
“Search the document. The paperwork,” Oak insisted again, then realizing Maybelline didn’t know what he was talking about, he clarified. “I mean on the computer. Search the document on the computer. You know how to do a word search, right?”
“I don’t have it on my computer. I just have it on paper, a hard copy, as they say. Millicent said something about sending me the computer file except for the small problem that she died.”
Oak shifted his gaze to the ground, sighed, and nodded his head. Nobody said anything for about 30 seconds. He continued, only this time, he talked to the sidewalk, as if this was some way of showing respect to Millicent, sensitivity to Maybelline.
“Get it scanned then. You have a scanner? If not, take it somewhere. They’ll scan it for you. It’ll go faster than trying to read every damn word. Or get it to me and we’ll read it. We’ll have time
on our hands. Make us a copy, you keep the original.”
Tears forming in her tired eyes, Maybelline sighed. “I’ll deal with it as soon as I get home,” she assured them, “and let’s face it, I should have done it before I signed anything—”
“But some desperate dying little old lady wanted to save a desperate old tree from her own family,” Oak finished.
They got quiet again.
“I’m sorry but I need to sit down.” Maybelline noticed “her” lawn chair was still at the base of the tree, once again lying flat on the ground. She walked over, opened it, and sat down.
“I’m sorry,” Oak said, then after another moment of silence, blurted out, “it doesn’t matter really because we’re going up.” He hesitated then let out a little laugh, “with your permission of course.”
All Maybelline could get out was, “well—”
“No one is cutting this tree down,” he declared. He and Joni looked up at the immense giant. “They’ll have to go through us first. And there is something else I need to tell you. I filed an injunction even before that meeting.”
Treed Page 5
