Clover Blue

by Eldonna Edwards

  I close the drawer and open the one below it, hoping to find more of Goji’s secret stash. No candy. Just a pile of letters bound with string. I start to slide the drawer closed when I recognize Gaia’s handwriting. I pick up the pile and fan through the envelopes. They’re all from Gaia, and they’re all addressed to Harmony except the last one, which was mailed to Goji. It’s postmarked about a week after she showed up with Rain. I get why he’d hide forbidden candy, but why wouldn’t he want Harmony to hear from her mom? Did he think it would upset her?

  Outside I hear voices. I quickly switch off the flashlight and close the drawer. It gets quiet again. I tiptoe out the door and wait, my heart banging against my chest. A great horned owl hoots from a nearby perch. No voices and no footsteps. It must have been my imagination. Or maybe my guilty conscience. I jog in the direction of the tree house. Halfway there I nearly slam into Rain running up the path.

  “Sorry, Rain! Why are you running?”

  She pulls a blanket tighter around her shoulders but not before I see that she’s naked from the waist up.

  “I’m, uh . . . I need to use the bathroom.”

  “I have a flashlight. Let me walk you there.”

  She glances toward the Sacred Space.

  “Rain, were you . . . are you okay?”

  She nods. “I’m fine. Sorry, I gotta go.” She takes off toward the outhouse, her blanket flapping behind her like a cape. I think about chasing after her, but it’s clear Rain wants to be left alone.

  I find Harmony sitting with Moon and Aura on one of the beds they share with their mothers. Harmony is telling one of her scary stories.

  “And then the ugly old witch looked into the cracked mirror and . . .” When I walk in she stops talking. “What took you so long?”

  “I wanted to get this.” I hand Moon my copy of Where the Wild Things Are from my backpack. It’s one of his favorite books and mine, too. I’d borrowed it so many times from the library over the years that one of the librarians gave me my own copy.

  Harmony frowns. “I was just getting to the best part of my story.”

  “I know that story. It’ll give them nightmares.” I turn to Moon. “Do you want to read?”

  He takes off his glasses and hands the book to Harmony. “My eyes are tired from seeing.”

  She passes it back to me. “You read it, party pooper.”

  I read the lines from the Max character and Harmony reads the mother’s parts. Moon does the monsters, lines he knows by heart, just like I did at his age. Halfway through the story, Rain quietly peeks into the room. She looks tiny beneath a bulky sweater I recognize from the community box.

  Harmony pats the bed for Rain to join us. Aura snuggles into Rain’s lap and sucks her thumb, worrying the silky edge of a wool blanket against her upper lip. When we get to the part of the story about the wild rumpus, the kids perk up. By the time the sister-mothers appear in the doorway we’re all jumping on the mattress, growling and whooping. Moon flops on his back so that our jumping bounces him toward the foot of the bed.

  Sirona shakes her head, laughing. “What in the world are you doing?”

  He looks at his mother, smiling to show the gap where he recently lost a tooth. “We’re rumpusing!”

  Willow, Jade, and Sirona break out in big grins before joining us on the bed, hooting and hollering. Rain seems to have forgotten her earlier troubles, laughing and jumping along with the rest of us. Even Sunny, who was curled on the rug, starts barking at us until we all fall down together and laugh like a bunch of lunatics—the word the townies use when they talk about us. They say it like it’s a bad thing.

  15

  May 1977

  I’m supposed to work on my essay about TV but since we don’t own one it’s tough to write. Harmony remembers shows from when she was little, living with Gaia in the city.

  “What did people watch?”

  She blows on her sketch of Willow and wipes away bits of charcoal. “Cartoons, mostly. We lived with people who were usually stoned or tripping so they laughed even harder than I did.” She sees me thinking and makes a sad face. “Sorry. I always forget that you’ve never seen cartoons.”

  I shrug. “I think I’ll write about how advertising makes people buy things they don’t need.”

  “Goji will love that. But someday I’m going to show you Bugs Bunny and Porky Pig and The Roadrunner.”

  Harmony goes back to drawing. I still haven’t told her about what I found in Goji’s desk. If she knows about the candy bars she’ll want to sneak into the shack to steal one. If she looks in the other drawer she’ll find the letters Goji has been keeping from her. Maybe he thought it would be easier for Harmony all these years to forget about the past. She seems content here without Gaia. But I can’t help but wonder if she’d be less pissed off knowing her mom has been trying to stay in touch.

  Willow stops stirring a huge pot of beans when Jade pulls up in the station wagon and climbs out, carrying a sack of supplies from town. It’s hot for May, and she’s sweating. Aura starts toward her mom, then stops to chase a lizard around the table until it darts under the stack of logs near the pizza oven. Jade sets the bulging cloth bag on the other end of our long wooden table, which makes my pen bump along the page, leaving a long streak of ink.

  Jade straddles the bench and pats between her legs. “C’mere, little girl.” She combs out Aura’s tight curls with a wide pick and snaps a rubber band over the wad of black frizz. Aura leans back and shoves Jade’s blouse up, then pats her mother’s face as she nurses.

  Willow rummages through the groceries. She sets aside sacks of flour and oats to make her special bread.

  “Have you ever noticed we’re the only hippies left?” Jade says to no one in particular. “Everywhere I looked today I saw polyester leisure suits, gold chains, and platform shoes.”

  Willow looks up from the food bag and frowns. “We’re not hippies, Jade. We’re antiestablishment individuals who refuse to comply with social norms.”

  Jade laughs. “Isn’t that the definition of a hippie?”

  Willow moves back to her pot of beans. “We may be a product of the counterculture movement, but our way of life has more to do with community and mindfulness. We’re about spiritual evolution, not tagging a ride on the average hippie train.”

  “Yeah, but it seems like the country is tightening up its collective asshole, you know? People seem cranky, greedier, more self-centered.”

  Willow takes a sip from a wooden spoon and frowns. “I blame the coke. That stuff makes people crazy.”

  Jade strokes Aura’s back as she nurses. “Have you ever tried it?”

  Willow looks up from her pan of soup. “Cocaine? No way. Not my thing. You?”

  “Yeah, just once. I didn’t like it. Made me itch all over.”

  Harmony kicks my leg under the table. When I glance up she makes a monkey face and pretends to scratch her armpits. Willow and Jade both look over at us as if they’ve just now realized we’re here, which is probably true.

  Willow shakes her spoon at Harmony, trying not to smile. “What are you two up to?”

  Harmony flips her sketchbook around so the sisters can see. In the drawing, Willow bends over a pot, steam rising, a scarf tied at the back of her neck.

  “That’s really good!” Jade says. “You’ve captured her perfectly.”

  Harmony closes the pad. “Nah. It’s sloppy. I didn’t get her eyes right.”

  “Lemme see,” I say. Harmony tries to snatch her notebook away but I beat her to it. “Please?”

  “Okay. But they’re not very good.”

  I flip to a page with a drawing of Coyote, a joint in his fingers, blowing a puff of smoke. The next page is filled with various critters including a raccoon, a chicken, and a ground squirrel. On the following page I come face-to-face with myself propped against a tree.

  “I look so serious.”

  Harmony props one elbow on the table and leans into her fist. “You are serious.”
/>   “No I’m not.”

  “Yeah, Blue, you are.”

  I slide the book back to her. “I’m just a deep thinker.” “More like a deep stinker,” she says, laughing.

  “Har de har.”

  Aura pulls away from Jade and climbs on top of the table. She’s wearing little brown sandals she found in the community box that are too big for her feet. Harmony pulls Aura into her lap and tickles her chubby legs. “Look at you getting so big you’re wearing Moon’s old shoes!”

  Jade glances at Willow, then at me. “Those were your shoes, Blue. The ones you were wearing when you . . . when we adopted you.”

  Harmony slips one of the shoes off Aura’s foot and hands it to me. “Aw, Bwoo, wook how tiny your widdle feet were.”

  I grab it out of her hand and study the shoe. I have no memory of the sandals or my feet in them. For some reason I have an uncontrollable urge to sniff it.

  Harmony grabs the shoe back. “Ew!”

  Goji strolls up and leans forward at our end of the table. The sisters go suddenly quiet and busy, stealing glances in his direction.

  “How’s the essay coming, Clover Blue?”

  He almost always uses my full name except when he calls me little brother.

  “It’s a hard one since I haven’t watched TV.”

  “Then find a television.”

  “You want me to watch TV? I thought it wasn’t allowed.”

  “No, I want you to watch people watching television.”

  He turns to Harmony. “What about you?”

  “I’m working on my art project.”

  “Of course you are.” He glances at her sketchbook. “May I see?”

  Harmony flips through her work and lands on a drawing of Goji meditating. He’s cross-legged, a small amulet hanging from a leather thong around his neck. His eyes are closed and his hands rest on his knees, palms upward. Ziggy is curled in his lap.

  “Very good, Harmony.”

  She blushes. “Would you like to have it?”

  He pats over his heart with his hand. “I already do.”

  Goji gently squeezes both our shoulders before moving toward the sisters. He kisses them on the cheek, one at a time, lightly touching Aura on the forehead as she settles back into Jade’s lap. “Hello, sisters.”

  “Hello, brother,” they say.

  The way the women look at him, it’s always the same. Their eyes glisten and they freeze, as if they might miss the slightest glance or word or touch. The brothers show a deep respect in their exchanges with Goji, but with the sisters it’s outright reverence. Goji’s calming energy is like a peace that washes over us and we all take comfort in it. It’s the reason people rarely leave once they join SFC. Maybe Jerry Garcia has the same effect on Gaia as Goji has on all of us. Maybe it was stronger with him because of the music. I don’t understand why a person would leave. But I know why they stay.

  It wouldn’t be that hard for me to leave. I could just wander off when we’re in town. Or I could sneak away in the middle of the night. I don’t plan to. Partly because I love everybody here and I don’t want them to get in trouble. And because when I see other people I assume they’re secretly envious of our freedom. Something tells me I have more of it here than I ever would out there.

  * * *

  Mrs. Fuller parks her car at the gate and walks up the path, carrying a box of baby chicks from the feed store. The Fullers always sex the chicks before bringing us just the girls. One time a rooster got through and we kept him. We didn’t want to give him back to the Fullers because we knew they’d butcher him. The rooster was very protective of the hens. We had to separate him from the coop anytime we got near it after he attacked Sirona while she was collecting eggs. Then one day he disappeared, leaving behind a mess of feathers in his struggle with the bobcat who took him. I was sad but not too sad because I was afraid of the rooster. I imagine that cat paid for his dinner in scars, though.

  Sirona and Willow run to greet Mrs. Fuller, wearing only sarongs tied around their waists. Willow takes the chicks from our neighbor’s arms. “Hello, Lois!”

  Mrs. Fuller wipes her damp forehead with a hankie. She shoves it back in her pocket, looks the sisters up and down, and laughs. “I’m a little jealous of you naked free birds today. I don’t remember it being this hot in May.”

  Sirona takes Mrs. Fuller’s hand and squeezes it. “You know you can be free with us any time, Lois.”

  Willow hands the box full of peeping yellow chicks to Harmony. Aura jumps up and down as Harmony walks them to the table, where Moon and I are shucking corn. “Lemme see! Lemme see!”

  “Hold your horses, Aura. You’ll get to see them.” Harmony sets the box on the table and immediately reaches inside to pick up a chick.

  Aura’s lip starts to quiver. “I want one!”

  “Okay but you have to be really gentle.”

  Harmony hands her the chick. Aura squeals and immediately smothers it with kisses. “She likes me!” The chick drops a runny white curl on Aura’s hand and she flings the bird to the ground.

  I chase after it. “Aura!”

  “It pooped on me!”

  I set the chick carefully back in the box. “You pooped on me when you were a baby and I didn’t throw you on the floor.”

  Aura starts crying and Harmony slaps me on the back. “Way to go, Blue.”

  Coyote walks over from where he was chopping wood and scoops up Aura, then sets her atop his shoulders. He trots around the table until she starts laughing, grabbing his hair to keep from falling sideways.

  Willow loops an arm around one of Mrs. Fuller’s arms. “We were just about to cut open a big fat watermelon. Come join us!”

  “I don’t know. I should be getting back to my ironing.”

  Sirona encircles her other arm. “Ironing can wait. It’s too hot today anyway.”

  “But Charlie . . .”

  Sirona winks at Mrs. Fuller. “Charlie can wait, too.”

  Willow drives a knife into the center of the watermelon, then turns it until the two halves fall away. She divides it into enough pieces that each of us gets a wedge, with enough left over for the others when they show up. The goats will get the rinds and the garden will get the seeds for next year’s crop.

  Doobie and Wave show up just as Mrs. Fuller stands to leave. Doobie has a joint tucked behind his ear that Mrs. Fuller can’t stop staring at.

  Doobie grins. “Would you like a toke?”

  Coyote gives him a look and Doobie shrugs.

  Mrs. Fuller smiles. “Maybe another time, but thanks for the offer.”

  Doobie hands her the joint and winks at her. “Take one for the road.”

  Everyone’s mouth drops open when Mrs. Fuller tucks it inside her blouse. She hugs Willow and Sirona. “Thanks for sharing your delicious watermelon. I’d better be getting back home.”

  Coyote waits until Mrs. Fuller is out of earshot to read Doobie the riot act. “You’re going to get us busted!”

  “Nah, she’s cool, man.”

  “How do you know she won’t narc us out?”

  “Because I sold her a nickel bag last week.”

  Sirona gasps. “You what?”

  Doobie pulls a pack of rolling papers from his pocket and sprinkles it with a thin line of crumbled pot leaves. He rolls the joint tightly and licks the paper to seal it. “You need to give people credit. Not all the townies are as square as they look.”

  Sirona shakes her head. “I can’t believe Lois Fuller smokes pot. She irons her husband’s jeans for crying out loud. She goes to mass every Sunday.”

  “Yeah, but she’s also an artist. She protested the war. And she voted for Kennedy. Don’t assume you know somebody.”

  Coyote frowns. “I still think you should be more careful. Growing pot is a crime.”

  Doobie looks at Coyote and shakes his head. “So is being a judgmental hippie, my friend.”

  Sirona snickers and hands them each a dripping wedge of watermelon. “He’s got you the
re.”

  Goji and Rain walk toward us from the direction of Gojis shack. Rain is wearing the plain white dress that Jane abandoned along with her SFC name. Rain still isn’t comfortable going without clothes, even on days when it’s warm enough for watermelon.

  When they get within earshot I overhear Goji say, “Guilt is its own hangman, sister. Don’t give him any rope.”

  I can’t imagine what Rain might have done to feel guilty about. She seems like the type of person who’d wrestle guilt from your arms so you wouldn’t have to carry it by yourself.

  Goji surmises the sweaty, sticky lot of his family and grins. He takes a wedge of watermelon for himself and offers one to Rain.

  “No thank you,” she says.

  I hate seeing her look so down. I reach inside the box and hand her a baby chick.

  Her eyes light up. “Oh my goodness, it’s so cute.” Then she breaks down in tears, dabbing the downy chick to her eyes like a hankie.

  “I’m sorry, Rain. Did I do something wrong?”

  She smiles at me through her tears. “No, no, Blue, you did something exactly right. I’m just a blubbery mess today. I’m sorry.”

  Sirona whispers in Rain’s ear. Rain nods. Sirona takes her by the hand. “Let’s go make you some moon-time tea.”

  Rain hands the chick back to me. “Thank you, Clover Blue.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Doobie punches me lightly on the shoulder and winks. “Girl stuff.”

  I nod as if I know exactly what he’s talking about. I haven’t a clue what he’s talking about.

  16

  The waiting room at the clinic is half full of women, some with babies in their laps. Other than Moon, I’m the only male in the room. I don’t like coming here but the sister-mothers told me a TV was installed since the last time I was here and I’d be able to research my paper. It’s a small set, hung high on the wall. The TV was off when we got here but the receptionist just reached up and clicked it on because the doctor is getting behind on patients.