Too Far Under

by Lynn Osterkamp

  “And you! I suppose you invited her here,” Lacey screeched. “Don’t you even care that this is Angelica’s special night? You can screw whoever you want, but please don’t bring your whores around for family events.”

  The gallery was completely silent by then, except for Lacey’s tirade. All eyes were on her. What a drama queen! I was already congratulating myself that I hadn’t agreed to take her on for the Contact Project.

  Then a young girl in a white dress with long dark hair down to her waist walked confidently toward Lacey and put her hand on Lacey’s arm. The young girl paused, gazed into Lacey’s face and spoke in a calm, clear voice. “Lacey, our joy is within us. She can’t touch it. Don’t give her power over you.”

  Lacey closed her eyes and took a deep breath. I could almost see waves of tension leaving her body. She opened her eyes and turned to Angelica with a smile. “You’re right, Angelica,” she said, “Let’s go look at your paintings.” She clasped Angelica’s hand and they walked off toward the back of the gallery.

  As I watched them move off together, I marveled at the ability Angelica had to calm Lacey so easily. She was clearly a powerful ten-year-old. I felt strangely drawn to her, almost as if she radiated energy that connected with me in some spiritual way.

  Chapter 5

  As other guests gradually returned to their conversations, I pulled my attention back to the people around me, thanked Tim for his help and excused myself. I considered going to the back of the gallery to meet Angelica, even though I had reservations about getting into a conversation with Lacey. But as I looked around I saw Pablo, who had finally shown up and was standing over by his work. Mia wasn’t with him. He beckoned me over with such a big smile that I couldn’t resist.

  He gave me a huge hug and I relaxed and hugged him back, loving as always the solid feel of his well-muscled body. I hung out there for a while with him, listening as he answered questions about his sculptures. I love to hear Pablo talk about his art because while he’s serious about it, he doesn’t take himself too seriously. I heard a man ask, “How do you manage to breathe so much life into sculptures you create out of rusty gears and tools?”

  “Basically they’re reincarnated from discarded stuff into new creatures and they come alive in the process,” Pablo said. “As I sculpt them, each cat or frog or chicken or person reveals its distinct personality to me. Most of them come out humorous—kind of like they’re laughing at being made out of stuff people threw away. But some seem to have something serious to say—mostly about recycling.” I laughed along with the crowd and felt proud that Pablo is a guy who is able to combine being a hard-nosed cop with being a soft creative artist as well as a witty outgoing conversationalist.

  Of course it’s his outgoing personality that leads to situations like him taking Mia for a drink before tonight’s show. And whoops—there she was, walking slowly through his sculptures, carefully checking out each piece. “Great work, Pablo,” she said, giving him a hug. Then she stood beside him like she belonged there.

  I was tired of doing the jealous girlfriend thing by then. He knew we were both there and it was his problem to solve. I wasn’t going to hang around looking needy. So when I noticed Lacey and Angelica leave, I went off to the back of the gallery to look at Angelica’s work.

  Her paintings were impressionistic new-age-type portraits of faces, each surrounded by a unique swirling multi-colored pattern. Vibrant colors and well-rendered, especially for a ten-year-old. It’s not easy to tell how a child artist will develop or whether she is a prodigy, but Angelica did seem to have talent. I wondered how Faye had discovered her work.

  It was almost time for the gallery to close by then and my day had been long and stressful. I was so ready to go home and crash. But there was Pablo to think about. We were going to a wedding in Estes Park the next day but we hadn’t made any specific plans about tonight, whether he was coming home with me again or going back to Longmont. We tend to sort of go with the flow on that stuff. I knew that if he came home with me, we’d get into a big fight about Mia and I didn’t have the energy for that.

  I noticed that Mia had moved on to look at some work at the other side of the gallery. She was absorbed, examining the art with an artist’s eye, which gave me the opportunity to talk to Pablo without her. So I walked over to him and said, “Hey, great show. But I’m on my last legs, so I’m going home and get some sleep. What time do you want to pick me up tomorrow?”

  Pablo looked surprised. “I thought we could all grab some dinner after I get done here—maybe hang out and talk a while,” he said.

  All? He wanted me to go to dinner with him and Mia? No way I had the energy for that. “Thanks, but I’m too tired and I’m not really hungry,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”

  He put his arm around my shoulders and gave me a sideways hug. “Oh, right. I’m sorry I haven’t had time to talk with you about the Shady Terrace closing. Are you sure you don’t want to go for dinner so you can tell me about it?”

  The hug felt good and I was briefly tempted to go with him but I was too exhausted to cope with Mia. “Pablo, I appreciate your concern, but I don’t think I can talk about it any more today,” I said. “We can catch up tomorrow. What time is good for you?”

  “How about 1:30? That will give us time for a hike before the wedding.”

  “Perfect. See you at 1:30,” I said moving toward the front door.

  Elisa came out the door right behind me and offered me a ride home, so we walked back to the St. Julien parking lot to get her car. I live in west Boulder, only about ten blocks from there and my office is in the 200 block of Pearl so I had walked over to the St. Julien after work and I could have easily walked home. But the evening had cooled and a breeze had picked up, so I was glad for the ride. We hustled along the sidewalk trying to stay warm. “So you decided to let Mia win out?” she asked.

  I knew Elisa had a point, but I didn’t want to think about it or talk about it right then. “I don’t want to confront him until I’ve had some sleep. I’m too tired to even think about it right now. So it can keep until tomorrow.” As we dodged a couple of cars on Walnut, I decided to change the subject to get Elisa off my case. “By the way, how come Tim Grosso was at the opening?” I asked.

  “He and Faye have been in a relationship for a while now. You didn’t know?”

  I stopped dead in my tracks. “No way! Really? I had no idea. But I don’t see Faye that often. And we don’t talk about personal stuff, just painting.”

  Elisa put her arm over my shoulders and pulled me along. “Come on, girl. Let’s get out of that cold wind.”

  I picked up my pace. “Do you know why Faye is showing Angelica’s work?” I asked. “An unknown child artist is unusual for her.”

  “One reason might be that Mirabel Townes was her silent partner in the gallery.”

  “Wow, I guess I really don’t know Faye all that well. But you know everything as usual.”

  “Honey, you know me. I like to be in the middle of everything and know all about whatever is going on,” Elisa said. We’d reached the parking lot by then, got in her car and drove out.

  “That Lacey Townes sure is a piece of work,” Elisa said. “After what we saw tonight, I’d say she’s not a prime candidate for your Contact Project.”

  While I’d had the exact same thought myself while watching Lacey’s over-dramatization, somehow hearing Elisa say it aroused my oppositional side. I have real problems with anyone telling me what to do, even when the advice-giver is a good friend. So I said, “Maybe Lacey truly is desperate to find out what happened to her mom and that’s why she’s behaving this way. So tonight could be a sign that she really needs help.”

  “Suit yourself, but I’d say you’re the one who’s going to be needing help if you get involved with her. Remember you heard it here first.”

  “I’m still thinking about it,” I said, “Interesting family. So I guess Derrick Townes is Faye’s business partner now that Mirabel’s dead
?”

  “Or maybe the kids,” Elisa said, turning into my driveway. “I heard they inherited a lot.”

  “Right. Lacey did say she had money to pay whatever my going rate is. I could use a little influx of cash about now. I lost a few clients during that mess we were involved in last summer.”

  “Give it up, Cleo. Not worth the money.”

  “Maybe not, but I’m not sure,” I said as I gave Elisa a quick hug and jumped out of the car. “Thanks for everything. Talk to you later.” She waited until I unlocked my front door, got inside and turned on the lights before she drove off.

  I wasted no time getting ready for bed, but once I lay down I was suddenly wide-awake worrying about Gramma again. I kept running the problem through my mind, hoping a new solution would somehow pop up.

  Instead what popped up was Tyler, a spirit who visits me now and then—usually when I’m wrestling with a problem. I guess you’d have to call Tyler a ghost. I never knew him as a live person. He originally showed up one day when I was trying to contact my dead grandfather. Instead of Grampa, I got this blond, blue-eyed spirit-guy in a faded gray “Never Stop Surfing” tee shirt, black nylon shorts and gray rubber sandals. I know enough about spirit contacts to believe Tyler is real. But I don’t tell people about him. I did tell Pablo and that was probably a mistake—but I’ve learned Tyler comes for a reason, and it’s important for me to follow his directions.

  Tyler always visits without warning. It’s as if he drops from the clouds. I’m not always glad to see him. He’s not only dead, he’s bossy. He speaks in this stupid surfer slang and tells me what to do like I’m his flunky, and he won’t leave me alone until I do what he says. But even though it can be problematic to figure out what he’s telling me, I know I need to take him seriously when he says someone needs my help.

  Today I needed his help, so he was a welcome sight sitting cross-legged on the end of my bed. I sat up but stayed at my end. “Tyler! Great! I have a huge problem.”

  “Yo, Cleo. You’re into some mean waves, dude.”

  “What about Gramma and how she has to move? What should I do?”

  “She’s in the impact zone. Got snaked. Might take a nose-dive and wipe out.”

  His cryptic answer was more and at the same time less than I wanted to hear. Frustration surged through me like one of his waves. “What do you mean, wipe out? What can I do to stop it?” I shrieked.

  Tyler answered calmly like he always does. “That’s not my dog, Cleo. Angelica and Lacey are in the waves you need to grab.”

  “But Tyler,” I begged, edging closer to him on the bed. “Won’t you help me with Gramma’s problems first? At least ask Grampa what he wants me to do. He’s dead too, so you should be able to ask him.”

  Tyler bounced—or whatever he does when he moves—over to the corner of the room, where he floated in midair. “Back down, Cleo. I’m not in that channel. You need to help Angelica. She’s out there alone body surfing in those mean waves.”

  “How about you help me and then I’ll do what you want?” I said boldly.

  “I don’t do deals. Angelica needs you. You can’t just splash around. Get out there and get on before the wave starts to break.”

  “Tyler, I don’t—”

  “I gave you the word. Now I’m gone,” he said. And he disappeared.

  I flopped back down in my bed, disappointed and confused. So Tyler wanted me to help Lacey and Angelica, but he had nothing useful to say about Gramma’s problem. His visit had just added to my distress.

  I had plenty to think about but I was beyond fed up with this day. So I put it all out of my mind and went to sleep hoping that somehow life would look better tomorrow.

  Chapter 6

  When Pablo picked me up the next day, he was in a great mood—all smiley and affectionate. He gave me a big kiss, then said, “Faye called this morning.” A guy who was at the show last night came back this morning and bought two of my pieces.”

  “That’s terrific news,” I said, hugging him and kissing him back. “A great way to start this beautiful weekend.”

  “Exactly,” he said with another big smile. “We’re headed for some fun. The wedding’s going to be a great party and today is a perfect day to drive into the mountains.”

  We decided to take the slightly longer route to Estes Park along the Peak-to-Peak Highway where we’d get the most stunning display of fall color. In Colorado we don’t have the full palette of autumn color that many other states do. Our dominant color is the brilliant golden yellow of aspens. The sight of luminous yellow leaves sparkling in the sunlight, set off by the dark green evergreens, is truly spectacular. It was a gorgeous day and I relaxed into it for a while as we drove up Boulder Canyon.

  But my thoughts kept drifting back to Mia. I needed to know more about her and why she was visiting. I waited to see if Pablo would bring her up. Big surprise—he didn’t. So as we got close to Nederland at the top of the canyon, I turned toward him and said in what I hoped was an interested-but-not-accusatory tone of voice, “I don’t recall you ever telling me about Mia before.”

  Pablo kept his eyes on the road. “Nothing to tell. I knew her a long time ago.”

  I waited a minute to see if he’d go on, but he didn’t so I forged ahead. “So what’s she doing here now?”

  He continued to look straight ahead. Well okay he was driving, but a few seconds of eye contact wouldn’t be all that dangerous. His answer was brief. “She’s visiting her cousins in Denver and checking out a couple of job possibilities. Hey, look at that bunch of aspen on the right up ahead.” He pointed at a gorgeous stand.

  I took a minute to enjoy the sight. I’m used to Pablo changing the subject when I ask a sensitive question. He doesn’t like confrontation, even when it’s gentle. I respect that to a certain extent, but this time I felt he owed me at least some explanation. So I got back to business. “Mia’s looking at jobs—does that mean she might be moving here?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Are you hoping she does?”

  “What’s with all the questions, Cleo? Mia’s just a friend. Here we are lucky enough to have hit the peak weekend for fall color. Let’s enjoy it.”

  I took a few minutes to think and admire the scenery before I answered. I was frustrated with his responses, but he had a point about the peak weekend. It can be tricky to get into the mountains at just the right time to see the aspens turning and today as we drove along the winding highway, curve after curve revealed yet another stand of glowing trees. I didn’t want to ruin a good time by continuing to push him.

  It occurred to me that Pablo’s and my relationship had as many twists and turns as this road. Sixteen years ago when we were twenty-one-year-old art students in love, I thought Pablo was my soul mate. Back then our future together stretched out in my mind’s eye like a long sandy beach where the sun reflects off the crashing waves day after day as we stroll hand-in-hand through the surf. But Pablo’s mind’s eye held a different vision—one that left me here in Boulder while he went off traveling the world to find his artistic voice. It took me nearly a year to accept that he was really gone and not coming back any time soon. Once the shock finally wore off, I got over being left, and began to see my future without Pablo. I moved on with my life and into other relationships—some intense and even serious.

  When Pablo moved back to Boulder ten years ago, I was so over him. No way did I want to open myself up to that kind of hurt again. But in the last few years we’ve gradually drifted back together. One reason is that we know each other inside and out and we have fun together. Another is great sex. But I don’t have those old illusions about where we’re headed. Now that he’s a cop I’m not thinking he’ll leave town on a whim and be gone for years. But he likes to keep his options open. And I’m liking that freedom too. We don’t have any claim on each other.

  Like Elisa said, I don’t want commitment right now, so why does it bother me when he pays attention to someone else? Am I like some petulant two-yea
r-old who wants only the toys someone else is playing with? I knew I needed to sort out my feelings about the Pablo and Mia thing and he clearly didn’t want to talk about Mia, at least not right now. So I decided to drop the questions until I had more time to think about what I wanted to say.

  “You’re right,” I said. “It is a gorgeous day and I’m ready for some relaxation. This thing with Gramma is driving me crazy.”

  “She has to move? That’s a shame. What’s the deal?”

  I filled him in on the meeting at Shady Terrace and what Tim Grosso had told me. “And from what Tim said last night I’ll have to act quickly to get her a place,” I continued, “so this morning I dropped in on one of the possible nursing homes she could maybe go to. Tim said visiting unannounced is the best way to see what a place is really like, especially if you go on a weekend when staffing is lighter.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Easy Living Care Center. I picked that one because one of Grampa’s old friends, Dr. Loberg, moved there after his stroke and I’ve been meaning to visit him. I figured I could check the place out and look in on Dr. Loberg at the same time.”

  “How was it?”

  “Not great. When I got there it was nearly 11:00 and Dr. Loberg was in his room, still in his pajamas. Then an aide came in and told him he needed to stop fooling around and let them dress him in time for lunch. I left and went down to the dining room. There were a bunch of residents slumped in wheelchairs outside the door waiting for lunch. When lunch got started at about 11:15, I noticed three nurse aides standing by the wall chatting instead of helping residents who couldn’t feed themselves. That’s definitely a deal-breaker for Gramma, since she eats pureed food and usually needs help at the table.”

  “Sounds grim. I’m so sorry, Cleo. Your grandmother is a terrific lady and I know how much you care about her.” He reached over and gave my hand a squeeze. “Do you think there’s any possibility Shady Terrace won’t go through with the closing if enough families complain? Or what about calling the paper and getting the corporation some bad publicity?”