Chapter Sixteen
Steve picked Phoebe up at seven that same night. “Faegre’s all right with you?” He guided her with his hand at her back and opened the passenger side door of his Blazer, helped her into the car and closed the door.
Phoebe relaxed against the car seat. Steve’s gesture of helping her into the car made her feel comfortable, almost like being tucked in. When Steve joined her in the car she said, “Faegre’s sounds nice. Sure. In the Warehouse District? Right?” Phoebe had never been to Faegre’s but Karen’s gallery and the library where she worked were near there and she’d mentioned the food and atmosphere were great. She wouldn’t have taken Steve for an artsy, warehouse district type, but realized she really knew very little about him. Maybe tonight she’d be surprised further.
“Yeah. I’ve never been there myself, either, but I consulted “City Pages” and “The Twin Cities Reader” and they give it high marks. Thought we might both be up for something urban, for a change. Hope that’s okay.”
That evening Phoebe opened her heart to the possibility of a new love.
* * *
She allowed herself days and nights in the gentle company of the accountant cowboy. Though excited, Phoebe was haunted by torn and clandestine feelings. Haunted too by a fear of losing a chance at love. She anticipated her first Christmas without Marc with a sense of distance and wonder punctuated by acute grief. Even when she and Steve were close she often felt it was grief’s arms that held her.
Tonight, in her own home and without Steve, she’d risen from her solitary bed after sleeping from ten to one. She plugged in the cord that lit the white lights on the fig tree she and Marc had raised from a near seedling and that now tipped its upper limbs at the edge of the ceiling.
At the hearth she hesitated before holding the match to the kindling, worrying a fire so early in the morning was a selfish indulgence. She pictured Karen applauding such boldness, said, “What the hell?” and added a birch log to the fire. Petals from flowers dead for more than a week cluttered the coffee table. The flowers remained after a dinner party she’d relished and she hadn’t been willing to part with the blooms in the aftermath. Besides, the dry flowers looked almost Victorian in their decay. In the floral decadence a too tall candle split the face of the fire she watched from across the room. A chill of irritability at having to move the candle out of her line of vision caused her to sigh and pull a blanket from the arm of the sofa and wrap it warm around her legs and feet.
She sat holding herself warm in the blanket cocoon and let her mind carry her where it would. A strange craving for a Pixy Stick descended on her and her mind was off and running in a silent reverie that helped fill her loneliness and warm the fire lit room.
Phoebe always kept a twenty-five pack of Pixy Sticks in her glove compartment for road trips and was mildly tempted to slip into her boots and retrieve a few from the Escort. But, no. She was too comfortable. Too settled in, and the night was dark and cold.
When she was a little girl there was no such thing as Pixy Sticks. She remembered Lick-M-Aide in tiny packs she secreted away under her school desk. First she’d lick her finger then dip it in the flavored sugar. Her stained finger gave away her secret though, appearing blue, green, red or purple around her yellow pencil depending on which flavor she’d chosen that day. Life was easier now. Cleaner, she thought. Now she could rip the tip off the little Pixy Stick straw and conveniently funnel the candy onto her tongue whenever she needed a sugar shot. She remembered her last road trip and the Pixy Stick feast she’d allowed herself. She’d gone to visit her sister Janet in Wisconsin this past fall after Marc died.
She thought back to the drive and the way the Chippewa River through the bare trees showed glitter-speckled like a silver Christmas ribbon. That day she was singing along to “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow?” by the Shirelles and she’d remembered times she and Marc would sing it together. Always when they got to the line “should I believe the magic of your sighs?” they’d look at each other with grins and raised eyebrows and replace in their minds, the word “sighs” with the word “size” and laugh at how clever, amusing and naughty they were. Marc’s occasional lapse into naughtiness or sexual innuendo delighted Phoebe. She told herself it didn’t really bother her, was quite understandable, really, that a minister would be reserved about outright bawdiness. In the years since Jade developed body-awareness and a sense of male/female differences — ever since she was six or so — any silliness about sex, on Marc’s part, had diminished to almost nothing. Phoebe thought she understood but, still, she’d missed those playful moments.
Tonight, thoughts that seemed like betrayal crept to consciousness and she let herself realize, only for a moment before pushing the heretic thoughts aside, how careful, maybe even stilted she’d become in Marc’s presence. She sang and danced in secret. Never played her saxophone or turned a cartwheel in front of him. She was her most playful with Jade when Marc was away. She’d sometimes felt more like Marc’s secretive and rebellious child — maybe even felt she couldn’t be completely true to herself in the presence of her husband who was also her pastor.
Her solitary trips to visit her big sister gave her a sense of freedom.
On her trips to Janet’s house Phoebe liked to stop in Thorp. She always wondered why they spelled it that way, leaving off the final “e”. On her last trip through Wisconsin the sign introducing her to the small town of Thorp announced “Thorp Celebrates Completion!”
She decided to stop and see what that looked like — completion, that is. She looked around her as she pumped gas at the Standard/Clarks/Mister Donut and decided the citizens of Thorp sure had a different concept of completion than hers. To her the farmlands outside Thorp looked a lot more complete than what she’d seen of the town.
Bales of hay, perfect cylinders glistening in the mowed fields under black plastic made her think of giant crows overfed in this land of plenty. The occasional stand of barren trees, planted long ago by a farmer who dreamed future protection from fierce winds, stood straight against the horizon like toothpicks or birthday candles on a cake for an 85 year old. Wisconsin barns, painted deep red, silos skimming the cloudless sky, appeared beyond the trees as if an artist added the red brush strokes for just the right touch of color.
Phoebe thought how little had changed in 20 years, thirty years even, except that the shape of the bales of hay had shifted from Monet’s famed haystack style, then to a rectangular brick and now, when left without their plastic protection, resembled nothing so much as a thick golden chunk of jelly roll. She’d longed to stop the car, run into the field, throw herself on her belly on the giant golden pastry and roll over and over and over again until she reached the next stand of birthday candle trees.
Part of living the moment, living in the here and now, Phoebe was coming to understand, had to do with relishing momentary glimpses of the past. Often they came to her with vivid clarity and filled her eyes with either tears or laughter. But no matter. Always they were moments filled with truth. They were clear experiences like something happening right here, right now. She believed these moments were intentional fresh winds sent from Marc to her. Wanted to believe it was Marc who sent her a sense of freedom and release in spite of her loss. Strikes of lightening and bright sun he sent to her as presents.
And though Marc, even in death, visited Phoebe in so many ways, still she felt so much of who she was in her solitary moments was a secret from everyone who had ever known her. She wondered if she sometimes wore a mask, even if Marc, Karen or Jade came upon her in an unfamiliar setting, and she behaved as her own true self, was there anyone alive or dead who would ever recognize her in her true skin and acting as her true self. She stood and stirred the fire. Would any one of them recognize me? The solitary Phoebe solving my own particular version of lonely?
Chapter Seventeen
It wasn’t going to work out. Steve and Phoebe had been seeing each other more or less regularly for well over a year now. Steve and Lani had finalized their divorce provoking outrage from Jacquie and throwing her headlong into early adolescence in its most frightening and virulent form. She dyed her hair purple, cut it short and spiked it in small paint-brush tips all over her head. She wore black lipstick and nail polish and pleaded for a nose ring. She wore excessive amounts of face make-up, much of which she stole at odd moments from Phoebe’s purse or out of her medicine cabinet on those rare occasions Steve brought the girls to her house. She moved her belongings out of the room she shared with her sister and set up housekeeping — more aptly described as demolition — in the finished basement of her father’s house. She’d turned twelve in January and was still very much a little girl. Steve, Lani and Phoebe all knew she was a little girl who needed help. Though Lani and Steve ultimately parted amicably and Lani held no hard feelings toward Phoebe, Jacquie insisted, if it weren’t for Phoebe, her mom and dad would be back together.
The company of Jacquie’s twelve year old peers no longer interested her, and frankly, the mere sight of her frightened most of her classmates. She took up with thirteen and fourteen year old kids whose parents allowed them a lot more freedom than she was allowed. She played a lonely game of trying to fit in with these kids who wondered what was up with her.
Both her mom’s and dad’s energy were subsumed in their desire to protect, comfort and guide this hurting child who was determined to self-destruct, however subconscious the desire. It was punishment she meted out in her rage about her life containing the ultimate childhood embarrassment, a broken home. Why Jodie was so okay with the changes in her life and Jacquie so devastated, no one could know. Certainly the attention Jacquie required left Jodie in a position of fending for herself more than was healthy for a six and then seven year old.
She missed her sister’s presence in her room at night. Felt that sister had disappeared for good, unrecognizable in the transformed Jacquie. She became quiet and withdrawn, careful not to upset her parents who were already overwhelmed. She feared the isolation of their anger, should she do anything to upset them further than Jacquie already had.
Jade, for her part, tortured Phoebe with her disdain. Accused her of being happy her dad had died so she could have sex with Steve. Told her she would die and go to hell for all the times she now missed Sunday morning services after spending Saturday evening with Steve.
Steve and Phoebe often had Saturday to themselves, with his girls going to their mother’s and Jade caught up in parties, sleep-overs or sporting events with her friends. These were times that were good and close between them, though, looking back, each would have to admit, the bulk of their conversation revolved, not around true shared interests, but in comforting and supporting each other in their attempts to do the right thing for their children. It was a pleasure to cook for each other or go out to a restaurant, then, across the table, look through candle light at the eyes of another person who cared for them. They rode the horses, took long walks, sat in a patch of sun together. When they were alone together it was a relationship about rest and comfort.
They’d taken their time getting to know each other. Been careful in introducing their daughters to shared activities. Jade barely tolerated these occasions but kept her rudeness and negative behavior in check until she was alone with her mother. Jodie attached herself to her father’s pant leg or climbed in his lap when he sat down. She often stroked the cloth of his shirt sleeve or pant leg. Jacquie took great care to be as shocking as possible and did a veritable strut in and around Phoebe, Jade, her father and sister when they were all together. Invariably she’d appear in full regalia. If her parents wouldn’t let her pierce her nose, well, then, she’d settle for a ring that just looked as if her nose was pierced. Claire’s costume jewelry at the Mall — where she hung with the older kids as often as she could get there — carried a vast supply of fake-punk jewelry and this was the direction she threw her weekly allowance.
* * *
In March, 1986, just after Jade turned twelve, Steve and Phoebe rented a three bedroom log cabin overlooking Lake Superior and took all three of their girls with them for Spring Break. They pictured roasting hot dogs over a fire on the lakeside rocks, hikes at Gooseberry Falls, board games and popcorn in the evenings. The girls were urged to bring books to read during quiet times, stories to share and Steve and Phoebe packed art and craft materials with the idea they could work together on certain fun projects.
In the nearly one and a half years Phoebe and Steve were seeing each other, this would be the first time they would share a bed in the presence of their daughters. They promised each other they’d be discreet. They would certainly not make love on this trip. They saw it as more of the kind of tent camping excursion where both boys and girls are thrown into shared living quarters with nothing but innocence on their minds. Besides, they really thought the girls were too young to think much about who slept where and they were certain Jade and Jacquie suspected they slept together when they weren’t around and had probably gotten used to the idea by now.
The five of them packed into Steve’s Explorer Friday afternoon when school finished. The three girls had to share a seat since the back part of the truck was loaded to near overflowing with supplies. Jacquie sat behind her dad who drove, her face perpetually aimed out the window, her arms crossing her chest and a look of supreme disgust on her black lipped face. Her mascara had run from her eyes and left a streak under her nose ring in the little dimple that led to her lips. Her ears were attached to the headphones of her Walkman. To Steve, who could see her in the rear-view mirror, she looked like a sad little circus clown.
Jade’s pose was identical to Jacquie’s, and she, too, wore Walkman headphones, though her hair was combed neatly away from her face and caught up in a pony tail in a black Scrunchy. She wore a crisp red canvas Land’s End jacket and stared out as the landscape streaked in colored layers beyond the car window. Phoebe could see her daughter through the side view mirror.
Jodie sat sandwiched in between Jade and Jacquie, her long blond hair caught at the top in a shimmering rhinestone barrette. She concentrated on her attempt to get tiny silver balls into the point slots of a plastic road trip game her father bought at Super America. Of the three children she was the only one who attempted to put a pleasant face on this sojourn.
At Forest Lake they made a bathroom stop and bought drinks at McDonald’s. Jacquie and Jade didn’t have to go to the bathroom and weren’t thirsty. Jodie wanted Chicken Nuggets and a milkshake and held Phoebe’s hand on the way in to use the bathroom. Phoebe, having however briefly lost sympathy with the other two and who was thinking of terrible things she wanted to call them, like “creepy little snot faces” for example, was tempted to give Jodie a big squeeze right outside the car windows, just to rub something in a little. She had to remind herself, again and again, that she was the adult and these children were not monsters, they were simply suffering children.
Once on the road again, Jodie suggested—the little sweetheart, Phoebe thought — a game of “I’m thinking of something…”
Both the creepy snots turned on her with a vengeance spewing forth the words,
“It’s twenty questions,” — Insert here ‘you stupid little twit’ if either of them had felt they could get away with it. Not necessary though, their tone implied it.— “Not ‘I’m thinking of something’.” That said, they rolled their eyes all the way up into their heads and resumed their former poses.
“Okay. All right! Let’s! How about it Steve?” Phoebe offered.
“Sure thing. Who wants to start? You want to start Jodie?”
“No, Dad. You. You think of something and the rest of us will ask the questions.” She turned to her sister and lifted one earphone. “Come on Jacquie, play with us.”
“You too, Jade. Remember we used to play this on our road trips with your dad.” Phoebe turned to look at her daughter and received a dull stare in response.
Phoebe, Steve and Jodie attempted a pleasant game, and though the others refused to play, each was quick to correct any stupid questions or answers raised by either Phoebe or Jodie. Phoebe was Jade’s problem child and Jodie, Jacquie’s.
They stopped at Tobie’s in Hinckley for supper and though the older girls joined them, they would not engage in either eye contact or conversation with each other or anyone in the present company.
Once up at the lake Jade cloistered herself in her room. Jacquie claimed one of the rooms as her own, “Why should Jade get her own room and not me?” she whined in one of her rare verbal communications. She didn’t wait for an answer, just entered a room, threw her backpack on the bed and closed the door against the rest of the cabin.
Steve went to the office and got a fold out cot for Jodie to sleep on in the room he would share with Phoebe.
There was truly no let up the week they suffered together on the North Shore. Even Jodie was exhausted. You could see it in her eyes and she was often found curled in a corner of some piece of furniture or against her dad, sucking her thumb.
The morning they were set to go home Jacquie and Jade seemed to experience a sudden burst of glee and enthusiasm and went out to sit on separate rocks to watch the waves crash and the seagulls soar overhead. Jodie was asleep in Phoebe and Steve’s bed.
Phoebe and Steve sat side by side, looking very much like stiff ceramic salt and pepper shakers, straight backed, on the futon sofa feet away from the window wall through which a cold sunlight streamed and showed them holding hands, a look of resignation and defeat on each of their faces.
* * *
It was as if Jade and Jacquie formed some silent, secret pact and telepathically communicated a perpetual high-five all the way home in celebration of their success in defeating their parents hopes for an on-going relationship. Phoebe thought she detected a little tail-between-the-legs demeanor on the part of Jade and maybe even Jacquie.
The two of them were actually communicative, offered to help load the car, put the cabin back in order and made gestures both funny and kind toward Jodie. It was the kind of phony polite behavior that barely disguised a gleeful gloating and it was nearly as obnoxious as their rudeness had been. Now, all the way home Phoebe and Steve were the silent ones.
Jade told a story she thought was funny and when she didn’t get the desired response from her mom, said, “What’s the matter Mom?” in her sweetest false voice.
“As if you don’t know.” Phoebe thought, aiming a dull stare in her daughter’s direction over the back of the seat, much like the stare she’d received from Jade at the other end of the trip.
When Steve dropped Phoebe and Jade in Hopkins he told Phoebe he would call her later. Jade waved a pleasant goodbye as she turned and ran into the house calling, “Warren, Warren, where’s my little puppy-doo?” Jolee puppy-sat Warren for the week and had promised to bring him back so he’d be there when they arrived home.
Jolee was there with Warren and hearing Jade calling for her “puppy-doo,” came to the front door with the wild eyed, loudly yipping puppy who was so excited he leaked pee as he hurled himself against the door. Jade squeezed through the door in an attempt to contain Warren — he couldn’t be let out of the house except in the fenced back yard, for fear he’d be hit by a passing car. Plus, the cute little fellow had a tendency to take quick but hard bites out of innocent passers-by extending a hand to pet him.
Phoebe wanted her daughter to say a proper good-bye and thank Steve and his girls for the lovely time, but told herself Jade’s not unpleasant wave of goodbye would have to suffice. Later, they would talk. Later, they had a few things to sort out.
She smiled weakly at Steve and gave him a quick kiss on the mouth. “Good bye girls. Tell the horses hello for me when you get home, okay?” This was the best Phoebe could muster for a farewell speech.
She faced the house, feeling she was in a movie she would have called “The Last Mile.” Her step could only be defined as a trudge.
Before she reached the door Jolee and Jade came tearing past her with Warren attached to a lavender leash
“We’re goin’ to Jolee’s, Mom!” Jade yelled mid-run. “See ya later!”
In the wind from the departing heals of her daughter’s running shoes, Phoebe pictured herself plastered against the concrete steps of the house like a limp and discarded candy wrapper “Yeah. See ya.” she managed.
Peeling herself from the front steps Phoebe entered the quiet house and put “Misty Blue” on the record player. She sang along, her voice gathering energy as she unpacked her bags and loaded dirty laundry into the washing machine. Singing and letting herself feel all the pathos of the syrupy song of love lost, Pheobe was struck by the realization how bereft of song, bereft of music, her life had been all these months with Steve.
“Now what?” She wondered. But even as she asked the question she felt an answer and with it, a lifting of gloom.
“I know!” she gave herself an answer. “Whitney Houston!”
* * *
Phoebe nearly missed Karen’s phone call, she had the stereo up so loud. She sang a heart felt, “Give – me – one – moment in ti-ime — while I’m racing with des-ti-ny…” and could hardly wait for the part where she would nearly bellow “and, in that one moment of time — I will be — I will be free-ee-ee.” Then softer, “I will — I will be free-ee-ee!” She stood before the full-length mirror in the hallway wearing only a t-shirt, underpants and white crew socks. She held a make-shift microphone — an 8 ounce coke bottle, really — in her right hand. She liked what she saw in the mirror. She liked what she heard through her ears. She heard the faint ringing of the phone and decided to let the machine get it if it picked up before she came to the great fireworks finale. She finished and pushed the off button on the stereo on her way to the answering machine. Karen was talking into the machine.
“Hey, Kare — hi.” Phoebe was breathless.
“Whoa. What’s with the heavy breathing? Did I catch you in the middle of something — you know? Important?” Karen leered.
“Karen, you total slut. How are you?”
“Me, a slut? Phoebe, watch your mouth. Anyway, I asked you first. How are you?”
“Free for dinner. That’s how I am. Why don’t you come over? I’ll fix some pasta, we can gorge ourselves and I’ll reveal the whole sordid story of the fairy tale North Shore Holiday from hell. Yes, you heard me right, sister. I said hell.”
“As opposed to ‘heck’, you mean? Oooh. Sounds pretty bad. Sure. When do you want me? I’ll clear my calendar. Can’t be there in less than a half hour though, sweet cheeks, you’re talking to a busy woman here. A woman in demand!”
“God, Karen. You are a breath of fresh air. Get your dirty mind and your shapely butt over here.”
“I prefer you refer to it as my shapely ass, but, can’t have everything. Must say, it’s clear you’re making progress. How’s five thirty? I’ll bring a baguette and some wine.”
“See you then, and, Karen? Thanks.”
“My pleasure, I’m sure. Ta ta, then!”
Phoebe hung up the phone, put another load in the washer and folded the dry clothes. She took a quick shower, inadvertently bursting into a low-voiced mocking version of “Let it Be” as the water cascaded over her. As a teenager she had liked the Beatles. You know, “This Girl,” “Roll Over Beethoven,” … then as a young adult she liked “Abbey Road” and recently had been fond of “Instant Karma” and John Lennon’s “Imagine” album.
Now that the second generation Beatles fans were coming up, she felt the Beatles were overplayed and mostly it was songs she had never liked that got the air time. Steve’s Beatles collection ran in the vein of “Sergeant Pepper”–y stuff and with too much emphasis on the more insipid songs written by Paul McCartney. Not that Phoebe was adverse to ‘insipid’ — just, she was sick and tired of the “Liverpool Sound.”
Her next inadvertent number, there in the shower, much to her shame and amazement, was “Gonna Wash that Man Right Outa My Hair.” She was shocked how the words, the music just visited her. She started to think Marc must have sent them in some ghostly attempt to chastise her for letting another man into her life so soon after his tragic departure.
She stood watching the soothing hot water pool at her feet and tried to prevent words and music from its brain invasion. She didn’t want to think what this might mean. She was disappointed the romance with Steve was over. Wasn’t she?
“Of course you are!” she told herself as she stepped from the shower.
She had a sudden urge to look and feel absolutely gorgeous by the time Karen arrived. She dried and styled her hair, letting it flow loose over her shoulders, pulling the sides back and clipping them with a barrette, a couple tendrils of hair loose, and waving at her cheeks. She put on a long khaki colored knit dress that flattered her figure and made her feel nearly as comfortable as if she were wearing a nightgown. She called it her “jamy dress” as in “p-jamies.”
She called Jolee’s house to check on Jade. Jade wondered if it was all right if Jolee’ dad took them to a movie up at Knollwood. “Top Gun” was playing and both girls adored Tom Cruise. Phoebe thought the movie might be a bit too much for the girls’ raging hormones, but she was in no mood to make an issue since Jolee’s dad would be there to provide adult supervision.
“We’ll get burgers at the drive in on the way home, Mom, and we won’t be late. I promise. Probably just after nine. Okay? Can we?”
Phoebe said yes, frankly grateful for the chance to just be a girlfriend this evening instead of someone’s mother or lover.
It was close to five now and Phoebe decided to jump in her car and run out to the market quickly to get some tulips for the table. She returned and set the table, arranging canary tulips in a blue Delft vase on the linen table-cloth. She lit a fire in the fireplace then went to the kitchen and started water for the pasta.
Karen arrived looking very much a blonde Whitney Houston. She wore a white oxford button down shirt tucked into belted gray dress slacks. Karen always tried to dress in a way to flatter her bottom, though she was self-conscious about its size. Phoebe truly did think of Karen’s bottom as “shapely” and tried to reassure her regularly though she knew Karen always thought of it as “fat.” Anyway, to Phoebe, her friend was a sight for sore eyes. She hugged her at the door.
“You look pretty Phoebe.” She patted her friend’s hair. “Nice do. Where’s that vicious, friend-eating Warren?” she asked looking around her, lifting her ankles in anticipation of the usual attack.
“Come on in. The coast is clear. He’s off with Jolee and Jade and won’t be back until after nine.”
“Okay, then. Good news. Now, spill. Tell me everything.”
Over dinner and with the strains of Van Morrison’s “Tupelo Honey” album providing the background to their conversation, Phoebe described the details, and, she admitted, self-delusion, of the months she dated Steve.
“Karen,” she said, “I guess I knew from the beginning we didn’t have enough in common to sustain us in the long run. But, oh, what comfort to have that handsome man want my company, want to make me happy.
“And he did too. I had some wonderful moments with him. Of course, you know, everything was so damn furtive! I always felt like a big sneak. Actually, that may have added some excitement to the sex.”
“Yeah, how was the sex anyway?” Karen wanted to know.
“Nice.” Phoebe took a sip of her wine.
“Oh. Nice. Good. Thanks for sharing. Look, Phoebe, this is a pretty nice bottle of wine here, and that baguette’s from the New French Bakery. I think I’m entitled to a little more titillation in terms of details than ‘nice.’” She picked up the wine bottle in one hand, the baguette in the other and held them behind her back. “Tell me, or else.”
“Okay, okay. Uncle! I give. I’ll be honest, the sex was a little confusing for me. The first nights we spent together we wrapped so perfectly around each other’s bodies. He’s quite lovely, you know. Wiry, firm, dark and smooth.”
Karen took her napkin and feigned mopping sweat from her brow.
Phoebe blushed and said, “Now, just stop. I won’t tell you if you’re going to make a joke of the whole thing.”
“Oh all right. I’ll be good. Go on.”
Phoebe just looked at Karen and folded her arms across her chest.
“Pinky swear! Honest, Phoeb.” Karen held her little finger in the air.
Phoebe raised her eyebrows and considered Karen’s pledge. She relaxed her arms and leaned into the table sliding one tine of her fork through the hollow of a piece of ziti. She lifted it in the air and observed it with satisfaction before she put it in her mouth. She chewed slowly, eyeing Karen, keeping her in suspense.
“Oh Phoebe, come on! I mean, what the hell ever happened to honor among women, I ask you? I Pinky swore, woman!” She poised a baby finger in the air in a gesture of false outrage.
Phoebe laughed and clutched Karen’s offending finger in her hand, then began.
“Oh, yes, ‘honor among women.’ Okay. Since you put it that way. Well, here’s the thing, Karen, none of it was so much about sex as it was about comfort. You know what I mean?”
Phoebe let her gaze drift to the fork she dangled above her plate. “We took steamy bubble baths together, massaged each others bodies with special oil … Did you know apricot oil is ideal for massage? It lasts longer, they say. Did you know that?
“Hmmm. Fascinating.”
“And then, well, the comfort, the relaxing into one another, it became love making.”
“Well, what about candlelight? Music?” Karen asked.
“You know… well, yes, a little candlelight. I mean, at first anyway, but…” Phoebe looked at Karen as if the lack of candlelight and music had just occurred to her, “There wasn’t. No. There really wasn’t. I’m not sure why.” She skewered another noodle and snapped it off her fork.
“We didn’t get to spend very many uninterrupted nights together. Most of the time we had to grab for time in a morning or afternoon when the girls were at school or something.
“Steve hadn’t had sex for nearly a year when we got together at Thanksgiving. I wasn’t ready for that depth of intimacy until we’d been going out for six weeks. You know, it all just seemed too soon. I’d had it pretty good with Marc and it took awhile for me to even conceive of sex with someone else. Marc was my first and only, as you know. Then, there was the church. I simply hadn’t formulated moral standards consistent with my widowed state I guess.”
“Hmmm. I can understand that.” Karen spooned more ziti onto Phoebe’s plate and Phoebe continued her story.
“Well, by the time we decided that, yes, we did feel morally okay about having sex outside of marriage, we had agonized over it so much we were incredibly horny.
“We planned it so we’d have a whole night alone, but, in the end, we couldn’t even wait until after dinner!” Now she threw her head back and laughed, then took a sip of wine before confiding further.
“We made love on the couch just inside the living room door, showered together and toweled each other dry. I cooked dinner in my bathrobe. We did it again in the bedroom and then decided to watch the ten o’clock news together. He had a craving for popcorn and brought in a bowl during the commercials.”
“That sounds kind of fun.” Karen said.
Phoebe took a bite of pasta and gazed off in the distance beyond Karen’s face. “It felt funny to have him in my bed — the same bed Marc and I shared for so long. During the night I rolled over to hold him and for a minute thought I’d never lost Marc. When he turned to kiss me I burst into tears.
“He had to get back to the horses early the next day so was up and out before seven o’clock.”
“Wow. So hot and cold, strange and unusual — and all at the same time. Did things improve later on? I mean, did it make you cry every time?” Karen asked.
“No, no, it got better. Yeah. Oh yes, things got lots better.” Phoebe stood and carried their plates to the kitchen. Over her shoulder she said, “But, my friend, you will have to wait for the next installment. That will be the dessert course.”
Chapter Eighteen
Phoebe made a complete transition to Executive Director of the Certain Success Center, a non-profit agency funded to serve the working homeless and their children, in 1987, about a year after her break up with Steve. She co-founded the agency with others in the community and the center was awarded state, federal and foundation grant funding to get started.
Phoebe had gained a quick and essential education in money matters since Marc died. She got her first glimpse of her own ignorance in these things when she and Janet were in the kitchen the day Janet had arrived to help with funeral arrangements. Janet asked Phoebe if Marc had left a will. Phoebe was sitting at the kitchen table concentrating on alternately crumpling and pressing a paper napkin in her hands. Janet stood opposite her holding a cup of coffee.
“Yes. There’s a Will.” Phoebe told her. “There, Janet, right behind you.”
Janet turned to look behind her.
“What do you mean it’s right behind me? That’s the refrigerator. Do you mean behind the refrigerator? Do you have some kind of a safe or something?”
Phoebe was matter of fact. “No. Not a safe, Janet. It’s there. In the refrigerator. We keep it in the freezer.”
“Phoebe, you don’t. The freezer? Here, this freezer? In the kitchen?”
“Well, of course, Janet. Of course this freezer … this kitchen. You think we put our will in somebody else’s freezer?”
“No. No, of course not. You wouldn’t, would you? If you put a will in any freezer, I do suppose it would be your freezer in your kitchen.” Janet gave Phoebe a look suggesting she thought her sister was a bit daft if not altogether insane then opened the freezer and, sure enough, there in the door was a white document labeled in black calligraphy. “Last Will and Testament.”
“Oh. Oh. Okay. Well. Hmm. Sure enough! Here it is!”
“You didn’t believe me did you?” Phoebe asked. “You probably thought your little sister and her husband were just too disorganized to think of these things.”
Janet pulled out a chair and sat down by Phoebe.
“Well no. That’s not exactly it, Phoebe. But I guess you kind of caught me. I do think of you as my little sister, plus, who could have imagined the two of you would have to think about death?”
Phoebe got up and poured herself a cup of coffee and stared out the window over the kitchen sink. Through the window she saw the sort of lush early summer day she and Marc used to relish. Together, on a day like this last summer, they would have wandered, arms around waists from flower bed to flower bed delighting in the progress of the Primrose, Dianthus and Poppies. The sun through the window gave her a sudden chill.
“Yeah. Who could have imagined?”
“Do you feel up to taking a look at this now Phoebe? I mean, maybe it will help us figure out what to do next.”
“I don’t know, Janet. If I really think about it I know what he would want Jade and me to do about, you know, his remains — all that final stuff.”
“But Phoebe, what about expenses? Maybe there’s something in here…”
“Well… I …it’s just that …I don’t want this to be real, Janet.”
Janet put her arms around her sister. “Phoebe,” she said, “I’ll take care of it. I’ll look at the will for now. You don’t have to think about this until you feel ready.”
“Okay.” Phoebe’s voice held no affect. All words and thought happened as if somehow outside of her. She couldn’t think, wasn’t sure she could feel. She left the kitchen and curled up on the couch and watched the clouds surround and then cover the sun like fingers opening and closing in a game of peek-a-boo.
Janet was very wrong about Phoebe and Marc if she thought they hadn’t the foresight to plan for this tragic possibility. Marc never made a huge salary at the church but he and Phoebe purchased a good size life insurance policy to relieve some of their concerns about her never having any career training and having no income producing job since Marc finished seminary. They took the advice of elders in the clergy and insisted on a solid pension plan and added yearly to the amount of life insurance to cover all possible contingencies.
Marc and Phoebe had laughed when they filled out the life insurance application and wrote their check. They were sure this policy was their insurance against any tragedy because there’s no way they could be so lucky as to have fate leave either one of them rich.
For a moment, as she sat on the couch and recalled the amusement she and Marc shared, she returned to herself and made a feeble attempt to tell her sister how funny this all was but the words wouldn’t come and then she forgot what was so funny anyway.
Later, after Marc’s estate was settled and life back to something outsiders might observe as normal, Phoebe took Steve’s recommendation to meet with an investment advisor. This resulted in Phoebe’s relationship with Marilyn Townsend at Piper Jaffrey. Steve had recommended an ‘investment guy’ he knew at the firm and the day Phoebe went to meet him Marilyn came into the lobby, extended her hand in greeting and introduced herself as that guy’s replacement. Phoebe and Marilyn hit if off and Karen started seeking her advice too. Phoebe and Karen forever referred to her as “you know, our investment guy, ‘Marilyn.’”
Now Phoebe worked with Marilyn and Steve on both personal and business finance issues.
Fully engaged with the Center and her attempts to be both mother and father to Jade, Phoebe thought little about music or romance after her break up with Steve. She and Jade went about their lives driven more by practicality than by awareness of their need for love and connection.
Jade, now a teenager, was concerned enough with her own health and safety that it seemed unnecessary to Phoebe to set rigid rules for her daughter’s behavior. If Jade went to a party and, once there, learned there was unsupervised and underage drinking, she would promptly call her mother and ask her to come get her. Jade had her whole life planned to avoid insecurity and loss to the extent possible. She never had to be told to finish her homework. She was often up before Phoebe in the mornings before school, so diligent was she in avoiding tardiness and the lack of self-control it implied.
As Phoebe involved herself increasingly in her work and Jade in her academic accomplishment they saw less and less of each other. Phoebe’s attempts to plan vacations and travel or even a night out together on the town almost always fell victim to the incessant pressure Jade put on herself.
Phoebe insisted the two of them sit down to dinner together at least three nights per week and at these times occasionally felt some of the old stirrings of emotion between them. Phoebe relished the times her daughter needed her assistance to get to a doctor or dentist appointment. She loved the times Jade allowed her to go shopping with her for new school clothes or a special dress for a party or other occasion.
* * *
If Jade could be faulted as a young teen it was because she erred on the side of caution. Perhaps, after losing her father she felt adrift as she watched her mother become a woman so different from the mommy she believed Phoebe was when her dad was alive. What Jade assessed as her mother’s reckless living, she countered by careful planning and control of every situation. Jade stayed active in the church in the years following her dad’s death. By the time she was fourteen and in the eighth grade, she gave up openly condemning Phoebe for ceasing to attend.
The summer after eighth grade Jade participated in a wilderness adventure excursion with the church youth group. Phoebe relished the pre-trip shopping that gave her access to Jade and required evenings after work and regular weekend stops at Burger Brothers, United Stores or REI several weeks in advance of departure.
On one such evening Jade and Phoebe searched the shelves of Burger Brothers in Minneapolis for supplies. Burger Brothers was a two story, mountain lodge style store. Display areas were arranged to entice would be adventurers to climb inside a four man tent the color of a grape or cherry lollipop, stretch out on a cushioned lounge chair or even do a little target practice with a hunting rifle. Little camp sites were set up in niches all around the store simulating outdoor settings and making packages of dried macaroni and cheese dinners or Alpine Chili, all but irresistible. Phoebe clattered around near one of the fiber glass campfires.
“Look at these!” she said, waving white speckled blue pots and pans, plates and cups in Jade’s direction, “Aren’t they just adorable? Worth a fortune…” then turning a couple pieces upside down feigned burned fingers and said, “Whoa. Look at the price! They cost a fortune, too.”
“Quit playing around Mom. I’ve got this long list, remember? Focus. Focus.” Jade took the blue plate from her mother’s hand and returned it to the shelf and steered her away from the pots and pans aisle.
Jade often played the ‘mother’ in these situations. She behaved as if she believed her mom needed to be kept in check. Acted as if she had to exercise this control to avoid embarrassment. She took her mother’s elbow and dragged her toward the snake bite kits and water pills display. Phoebe played her part perfectly, tugging a little toward the blue playthings and saying, “But… but…”
After a few minutes of sincere research among various sizes and types of snake bite kits, Jade said, “Mom, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about, well, you know … danger?”
“Danger how, honey? What kind of danger do you mean?” Phoebe read the cautions on the label of an insect repellent. “Bugs? Snakes? Poison water?” She put the can back on the shelf and looked at her daughter. “No wonder sweetie. Let me see that list of first aid items these guys want you to bring along.”
Jade handed her mother the crumpled sheet from the notebook she’d written her list on at the last meeting of the youth group. The youth group had been meeting two and three times per week since the fall. Jade hadn’t told her mom much about what went on at the meetings and her mom didn’t seem that interested. She didn’t ask Jade a lot about it. Jade felt her involvement in the church kept her, however loosely, in touch with her dad, and couldn’t understand how her mom could have so easily walked away.
“No Mom. That’s not what I mean. It’s more about … Oh, why bother? You just don’t get it do you?”
Phoebe handed the list back to Jade and turned to look at her. “Jade, I’m sorry. I guess we don’t have matching moods tonight do we? I’ll be good. I promise. What’s troubling you, honey?”
“I … I’m, well, I’m worried is all.”
Phoebe put her hand on Jade’s back and guided her to the camping chair and cot display in a corner away from the main aisle of the store.
“Let’s just sit and talk about this ‘danger’ for awhile, okay?”
“Here Mom? I don’t really think so.” Phoebe sat in a green canvas thing that was somebody’s idea of a compact folding chair but resembled nothing so much as a Venus Fly Trap. She waved her legs and arms in the air in mock terror as if she was being swallowed whole by the thing. She stretched her foot and pulled another fly trap, this one royal blue close to her and signaled Jade to join her.
“Mom. Stop goofing around! Can’t you just be serious? I mean, just this once?”
“Can’t you just be goofy? That’s what I’d like to know.” Phoebe folded her arms across her chest in a gesture of seriousness.
“Sometimes I think you’re just too scared to talk about real stuff, Mom. I don’t think you’re really always in such a good mood. As a matter of fact, I think you just put it on around me because you’re too scared of …. of …. stuff…” Now Jade sat in the chair opposite her mother but looked down at her lap.
“Oh, honey, now …” She knew Jade was on to something, but didn’t feel safe admitting she was afraid. She believed she had to be somehow above fear. That then Jade would feel safe. She had no idea how desperately her daughter sought to suppress her fear by controlling her world.
Jade kept her voice low to be sure no one walking by might hear what she had to say. “No. I mean it Mom. I can’t talk to you at all. You only want me to be all happy like everything is just so … so… peachy keen or something. Well, it’s not, you know. It’s just not.”
Phoebe leaned forward and took Jade’s hands from her lap.
“Do you have any idea how smart you are Jade? You caught me, didn’t you? I haven’t been able to fool you any more than myself, have I?”
Jade didn’t say anything, just swung her legs back and forth in a subdued rhythm and looked away from the eyes searching her face for confirmation of what they both knew to be the truth.
Chapter Nineteen
On a Saturday afternoon, the summer Jade was fourteen, and the day before Jade would depart the church parking lot via aging yellow school bus, for Love Canyon, Colorado, Phoebe watched through the front window as a blue Toyota Corolla pulled up and stopped in front of the house. Jade, dressed in khaki shorts and a white T-shirt, hugely oversized and bearing the insignia “Redeemer Bound” emerged from the passenger seat and stood waiting for the driver to get out of the car.
Phoebe noticed Jade’s smile and animated hands as she talked to a young woman carrying a guitar case. The young woman wore a long flowered dress with a white linen, lace trimmed collar and her light brown hair pulled back from her face in a long pony tail. Short, curly bangs angled across her brow and her lips smiled revealing big, white teeth but there was no smile in her eyes. Phoebe distrusted her on sight.
Phoebe opened the door, frankly relishing the possibility Warren might nip at this stranger who so apparently enthralled her daughter. Warren kept his distance though, first jumping and yipping loudly at the presence of his beloved Jade, then backing away with a whimper when her friend admonished him with her eyes.
“Mom, this is Lila. Lila Bruce. Remember I told you about her? From the church?”
Phoebe did remember something coming up about this woman the night Jade raised the topic of “danger.” Before she could speak in response, Lila set her guitar case just inside the still open door, and clasped Phoebe to her breast saying, “God bless you, Phoebe. God bless you. Jade’s told me so much about you and I’ve wanted so much to tell you I remember you daily in my prayers. We both do, don’t we Jade?” Lila stepped back and put one hand on each of Jade’s narrow shoulders. Jade nodded but didn’t make eye contact with her mother. She blushed with what Phoebe guessed was pleasure to be held in the grip of the admirable young woman.
Phoebe didn’t know what to say and mumbled something about, “Come in. Come in,” and walked further into the house to give Jade and Lila room to enter. Over her shoulder she said, “Your guitar too, if that’s what it is. Bring that inside too.”
Phoebe knew she didn’t sound the least bit welcoming or gracious and she didn’t really know why. She just felt so creepy and suspicious about this woman. Lila seemed so condescending, so self-righteous.
“Mom, Lila wrote a song she wants to sing to you.”
“Me? A song for me? Well, okay. But why?”
Lila had already made herself quite at home, opening her guitar case, getting out her sheet music and setting it on the coffee table in front of the couch where she sat. Already she was thumbing chords in preparation for her performance.
“Talk about too much too soon,” Phoebe thought but felt compelled to keep her mouth shut and sat down on a chair in the corner of the room furthest from the couch. Jade held Warren on her lap and slid in beside Lila and looked at her with something like adoration. Without further ado, Lila began to sing.
“No man but Jesus,
Only God’s son loves you right,
Take Jesus in your heart.
Call only His name out loud
In your bed at night …”
Phoebe could not believe her ears. She just about called out His name right then and there and would have declared a loud and expletive “Jesus Christ!” in her horror at this young woman’s presumption, if only she’d been more diligent in practicing her cussing lessons as Karen so often urged.
How long the song went on Phoebe couldn’t say. Tears of dismay filled her eyes. The singing stopped and Lila, catching sight of Phoebe’s tears, glided in for the kill, landing herself at Phoebe’s knees. Throwing her arms around her thighs, she started to pray a tearful prayer into Phoebe’s lap. Phoebe wanted nothing more than to push the offending pony-tailed head from her and rush from the room but Jade came and knelt next to her chair and took her hand in hers, bowing her own head and listening as Lila prayed for the soul of the wayward mother, Phoebe.
“Isn’t Lila just the most wonderful person you ever met, Mom?” Jade crooned in her mother’s direction after closing the front door behind the departing Lila and her guitar.
Her back turned to her daughter to disguise her true feelings, Phoebe made about the room straightening the cushions of couch and chair. She forced a pleasant tone into a murmured, “Hmmm … umm hmm.”
“Yeah. She’s the greatest. She said she’d teach me some chords when we’re in Colorado, too.” Jade said as she walked down the hall and away from Phoebe.
Phoebe walked through the dining room and kitchen calling to Warren as she opened the door to let him out into the back yard, “Warren, come on, puppy dog. Let’s go outside. Time to doggy poop.”
Phoebe shuddered to think about Lila’s influence on her daughter, then put it from her mind telling herself she had no right to worry or be upset when so many other mothers had to worry about their fourteen year old’s involvement in drugs, sex and petty crime.
The “Redeemer Bound” teenagers and chaperones left the church parking lot at 4 p.m. Sunday afternoon and were due back early evening a week from the following Wednesday. Phoebe didn’t hear a thing from her daughter all the time she was away. Her hope that the chaperones might insist the kids drop a postcard in the mail came to nothing.
Bill Bronson, the youth pastor, called the church office periodically to let the church secretary know to tell any concerned parents that everyone returned safely from rock climbing or white water rafting or whatever the activity of a given day. If parents wanted information they could call the church during regular business hours. She was satisfied that she would be notified if anything went particularly wrong or if Jade needed her for some reason.
Having heard nothing to the contrary in the ten days Jade was away, Phoebe expected to see a slightly leaner, meaner, perhaps a bit bruised and tired Jade exit the bus she greeted on Wednesday night. She watched patiently, leaning against the car, as one tired and dirty child after another loaded sleeping bags and duffels into their waiting parents’ arms and leaned their faces toward Mom or Dad for a kiss on the cheek.
Jade didn’t come. Phoebe climbed the steps to the bus, thinking Jade must have fallen sound asleep or was looking for her gear under the seat or something. But, no. There was no one on the bus.
“Bill. Bill …” She approached Bill Bronson, calling his name to his back as he conversed with some parents across the way.
Bill waved to her and came loping, basketball player-like across the lot. A red baseball cap pushed back on his head bore the same “Redeemer Bound” insignia as his t-shirt and shorts. “Hey Phoebe. Didn’t think you’d be here! Bet you’re excited about Jade getting to stay on there in Colorado … Hey, that’s some gal there … that Lila! Really taken a liking to your little girl. Really looks out for her … Should have seen…”
“What? What are you saying, Bill? What? I can’t believe this.”
“Phoebe, what’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter? What’s the matter? God Bill! Where is Jade? Where did Lila take her? Why didn’t anyone tell me? You mean to say she’s not coming?” Phoebe was livid and ranting. Walking in circles, her hand clenched to her scalp, she alternately clutched and released handfuls of hair.
“Oh, Phoebe. I’m sorry. You mean no one called you?”
“No. No one called me. No one said a single thing. Now when and how is Jade coming home? Where the hell is she Bill?”
“Hey, no need to get upset Phoebe, and I sure didn’t take you for a swearing woman …”
She cut him off. Pushed her face close to his, upsetting his baseball cap and revealing his sparse, sweaty hair. “I don’t give a good god damn what kind of a woman you take me for. I want my little girl and I want her now!”
“They said they would call you. I was sure they would. I mean, that Lila is a gem of a Christian woman. Loves the Lord Jesus like nobody’s business. I’m sure she’s only trying to help. You know, give Jade all the benefit of her love for Christ. Didn’t call you though, eh? Hmmm. I’m surprised. I really am.”
“Bill,” now Phoebe had the front of his t-shirt in her fist. She pronounced each word as if it were an entire sentence with a period at the end. “Where. … Did. … They. … Go?”
“Well, Lila’s familiar with this retreat center in the mountains near Colorado Springs. Said she’s got a standing invitation to come there whenever she wants and she can bring young people who show “special promise,” — that was the way she put it, I believe. She seemed to think Jade has that kind of promise and we all thought this was a great opportunity for a young kid. You know, with all the stuff kids can get into now days. Any parent would be thrilled to have somebody like Lila in the picture.”
“No Bill. No. I’m afraid not. Any parent wouldn’t be thrilled. Especially this parent. That Lila gives me the creeps. I couldn’t be more scared if you told me they were walking the red light district of Amsterdam alone after midnight! Now, I want a phone number. I want an address.”
Bill stared at her, shaking his head slowly from side to side, “Gosh Phoebe. I sure didn’t expect you to react this way. I just don’t get you. You’ve really changed since Marc, haven’t you?”
“Bill. Listen to me. We can take time to analyze my severe decline at another time and place. Right now I want to talk to my little girl.” She put out her hand. “Give me the phone number and address and let me get this thing settled before I really loose my cool here.”
“But that’s what I’m saying, Phoebe. They said they’d call you and tell you how to reach Jade. I thought they’d made all the arrangements with you several days ago. I don’t even know what the place is called.”
“Unbelievable! Un – fucking –believable!” Parents turned from loading their trucks to purse their lips at the maniac Phoebe.
“Kidnapping,” she said. “Pure and simple. This is kidnapping and,” she moved close to Bill again, “I’m calling the police.” She folded herself into the driver’s seat and slammed the car door. She rolled down the window, stuck her head out and yelled once more, “Un – fucking – believable!” into the sweltering and hellish air that filled the church parking lot.
Phoebe left Redeemer Baptist and headed straight for the police department in downtown Minneapolis. She didn’t think the Hopkins police would be able to help her.
The police department in Minneapolis was housed in a fortress of a building made of red/brown limestone. The mere sight of the place reassured Phoebe. The officer at the front desk recognized a distressed woman when he saw one and offered his assistance immediately.
“Come sit down right here, Ma’am.” He pulled an orange plastic chair from along the wall and put it next to his desk. Phoebe told him all she knew about the circumstances that brought her to the fortress.
“Ms. Thorpe, you’re not the first person we’ve heard from that’s been affected by this racket. Let me get you Officer Jacobson, okay? He’s the one can help you.” He turned away from Phoebe and walked through double doors beyond which Phoebe saw a scattering of desks and some offices with their window pane doors closed. The double doors closed beyond the desk officer but he soon returned with another gentleman, presumably Officer Jacobson.
“Ms. Thorpe, this here’s Officer Jacobson.”
Extending his hand the new officer said, “Ms. Thorpe. What can I do for you?”
She started to tell her story again but the officer interrupted her when he heard her mention Lila Bruce.
“Ms. Thorpe,” he said. “Let me stop you right there. Would you come with me? Let’s find a more comfortable spot out of the din of the front office and see if we can sort through your difficulty.” He led her through the double doors, past the desks she’d seen earlier and opened the door to a private office. He asked her to sit and then went to the other side of the desk and sat down himself.
“Listen, Ms. Thorpe. I don’t want to alarm you here, but I’m a big one for the truth. You understand?”
“Understand what? Tell me. What am I supposed to understand? What do you know?”
“Well, I just know this Lila Bruce you describe is a recruiter for a fundamentalist cult called “Savior’s Ranch” about twenty miles outside Colorado Springs.”
“Oh God.” Phoebe gasped and let her head sink into her arms on the police officer’s desk. “What can we do? How do I get my little girl back?”
“Well, first let me give you a little reassurance here. It’s likely your little girl won’t be harmed — physically, that is. Our experience is this woman is well-intended. You hear what I’m saying?”
Phoebe tried to take comfort. “Tell me more officer, but we both know what they say about good intentions and the road to Hell… Tell me all you know. How can I get her back?”
“Well, I’ll need a few more facts from you. You say she’s under-age? Only fourteen, didn’t you tell me?”
“Yes. She’ll be fifteen in March.”
“Okay. Okay. That’s good. In our favor. Now, do you know how your daughter feels about Lila? I mean, did she know her for long? Seem to like her at all?”
“Oh criminey — like her? She practically worshiped her!”
“Hmmm. Trusted her, huh? Well, in that case she probably went with her willingly. Hard to make a case about kidnapping. Except, of course, your daughter — what did you say her name was? Jade? Of course, Jade is too young to leave home without parental consent. That’ll work in our favor too.”
He leaned close to Phoebe and took a confiding tone. “Here’s what I know, Ms. Thorpe. Usually what happens is ‘Lila,’ and that’s a made up name, by the way — She goes by several different ones. Sometimes she gets the kids who are already eighteen or older and then it’s one heck of a bear getting them away from her. These kids adore her charisma. Believe she’s saved their very lives. It’s a little unusual her taking a kid Jade’s age. This could get her in legal trouble and I’m pretty certain she doesn’t realize it — thinks she fulfilling the Lord’s mission, no doubt.”
Phoebe said, “Jade comes across as someone older than her years. I suppose Lila might be ignorant of her age, but I really don’t think so. So, what do we do? What’s the next step? Can’t I just go out there, tell them I’m her mother and if they don’t hand her over I’ll sic kidnapping charges on them?”
“Tell you what we’ll do. I know the authorities in the area. I’ll give them a call. Let you talk to them and we’ll get it all set up how to proceed. So far, there’s been no real harm done to kids at Savior’s Ranch as far as we know, but the situation is delicate. These cult folks get pretty high and mighty sometimes thinkin’ the Lord’s on their side. It’s a form of vigilantism that can turn pretty ugly in some cases.
“Tell you what. Let me get you a cup of coffee or something, okay? Then I’m going to call Colorado Springs and see what I can find out for you. All right?”
“Yes. Yes. Okay. Yeah, some coffee. That’s fine.” Phoebe forced the first full breaths into her lungs.
“Officer, can I use your phone while you get the coffee, please?”
“Sure can. Dial 8 for outside. I’ll be right back with that coffee. And, hey,” he opened his eyes wide to capture hers, “It’s going to be alright. You hear me?”
Phoebe forced a weak smile and pushed 8 on the keypad of the phone on his desk then dialed Karen’s number.
“Hello?”
“Karen! Karen! I’m so glad you’re home. Can you come to the police station right away? I really need you.”
“Phoebe, what’s happened? Are you all right? I mean, sure, I’ll be right there. But, can you tell me anything?”
“Oh Karen. Jade didn’t come home from Colorado. That Lila Bruce — remember I told you how creepy she made me feel? She’s not really who she pretended to be. She’s got Jade up in the mountains at some cult compound!” Phoebe had trouble grasping her own words through her fear and horror at the possibilities.
“Phoeb, no! Oh, I’m so sorry, kiddo. What can I do? Can I help? You need anything?”
“Just need you to come. Right away, okay?”
“I’ll be there in an instant. You hold tight, you hear?”
“I’m okay. I’ve got a good officer here and he’s somewhat reassuring.”
By the time Karen arrived at the police station Officer Jacobson had contacted the police department in Colorado Springs to let them know Lila Bruce was up to her tricks again. This time had crossed a critical line by inducing an underage girl to join the compound.
Officer Jacobson put Phoebe on the phone with the Colorado Springs guy and he assured her they’d get in touch with Lila immediately about releasing Jade. Phoebe and Karen stopped briefly at each of their homes, packed the few necessary items for the trip, delivered Warren to Maggy, Phoebe’s next door neighbor, and were on the road to Colorado within the hour.
They took turns driving through the night and made the trip in just under sixteen hours. All those years they’d talked about what fun it would be to take a road trip together — they never imagined anything like this.
While Karen drove, Phoebe either looked in a blank stare out the passenger window or slept in preparation for her turn at the wheel. They hardly talked at all. They stopped only to change drivers, go to the bathroom and, once, at the drive through window of Hardee’s where they bought some fried chicken neither of them ate. They refilled the gas tank, once in Yankton, South Dakota and again in Denver. Each time they stopped Phoebe called Colorado Springs for a progress report.
Yes, they’d managed to reach someone at the compound, but they still didn’t have any word on Jade, they told her when she called from Yankton.
“We’ve reached Lila by phone but we’re not sure yet how much trouble she’s willing to get herself into. Don’t think she means to harm your little girl. Seems to think she’s doing the best thing for her. You just get here fast as you can and we’ll see where we are.” This at around 7 a.m. when Phoebe stopped and called from Boulder.
It was 10 a.m. Colorado mountain time when Phoebe and Karen arrived at the Colorado Springs police station.
An officer named Betty Damron had been looking for them and came out to greet them at the curb. Phoebe rushed toward her, her voice a shaking and frantic blur of words.
“You must be Phoebe Thorpe. I’m Betty Damron.” The officer clearly understood Phoebe’s panic and hastened to say, “It’s going to be all right. Everything is okay, you hear me?”
“Yes, okay, Officer, this is my friend Karen Kline. Have you heard anything? Is Jade all right? What can we do? Is she safe?”
Officer Damron nodded a silent hello to Karen and put her hand on Phoebe’s shoulder. Her voice was kind and her manner helped calm Phoebe. “Ms. Thorpe…”
“Just Phoebe, please.”
“Sure, Phoebe. Well, I want to tell you right away we’ve got really good news for you.”
“You do? Karen, did you hear that?” Karen moved in closer. They let the officer speak.
“Your little girl is just fine. Just fine. Lila handed her over just about an hour ago.”
Phoebe fell into Karen’s arms.
“Not sure why Lila didn’t hand her over right away yesterday so you could have known everything was alright before now. But, we’ve got Jade over at my mom’s and she knows you’re on your way. I’ll take you over there, but, first, you need to know you’re daughter is one unhappy camper.”
“She is? What happened? What did they do to her? What did Lila do?”
“It’s not Lila making her unhappy, Mom.” Betty broke the worst of the news to Phoebe, which was still a relief given her fears. “Your little girl is mad as a hornet at you. She seems to think Lila’s the best thing since sliced Wonder Bread. Told me you’ve got no right to interfere in her decisions where the ‘Lord’ is concerned.”
“Oh God. I know. You’re right. Why didn’t I think of this? I guess I was just so afraid.”
“Well, you’ve got every right to be. You just never know in these situations how tight a grip a zealot might have on a child. I think it will all work out fine. Lila was a pussy cat with this one, but, I thought you ought to know not to expect Jade to fly into your arms wailing ‘My Hero!’”
“Let me go to her, Officer. You’re right to warn me and I appreciate it, but, right now, I’ve just got to see and touch her and remind myself she’s real.”
* * *
Phoebe and Karen followed Officer Betty’s squad car the several blocks to her mom’s house. Betty’s mom, an older, slightly wider version of her daughter and wearing an apron tied around an ill-fitting sweat suit, greeted them at the door. Her face wore a gentle smile as she came out on the porch to hold the door open for them.
The living room blinds were closed against the morning sun so the room was dusk dark. Phoebe saw Jade sitting, tiny and tired looking, on the far corner of the living room couch. Jade looked at her mom, then turned her head to face the other way when Phoebe sat down close to her. Phoebe wanted to take her in her arms, stroke her hair and rock her. She reached for Jade but Jade just shrugged her off and wouldn’t look at her. Just said, “Mom, do you have any idea — any idea? — how much you’ve embarrassed me?”
And when Phoebe started to answer how sorry she was and tried to explain why she’d had to come for her, Jade stood and walked away from her toward the back of the house.
“She’ll come around, Mom.” Betty’s mom said to Phoebe. “Her gear’s all out there in the kitchen. I expect she’s just collecting it now.”
Jade emerged from the kitchen, her pack over her shoulder and dragging her duffle bag. Phoebe went to her and took the duffle bag on her own shoulder and led the way to the car. She said to Betty and her mom, “Thanks so much. I … it means so much…”
They followed her out onto the porch.
“Think nothing of it, Phoebe.” Officer Betty said.
“You be safe now.” Said Betty’s mom.
Phoebe and Karen needed a chance to take a deep breath and they decided it wouldn’t hurt Jade either if they took their time going home. They drove as far as Estes Park and rented a little Mom and Pop cottage in the canyon for a night.
Jade said very little on the way to Estes Park. She sat alone in the back seat thumbing through magazines with titles like “Radicals for Jesus.”
Of course Phoebe was sad her daughter was so unhappy to see her. Sad, too, that they wouldn’t be singing and laughing as they used to do on road trips, but mostly, she was deeply relieved to have Jade safe and nearby.
They stayed in Colorado just long enough to tour the National Park briefly, take a trail ride and eat one of the best Mexican meals of their lives. By the time they dropped Karen off at her house Jade’s mood had lightened just enough that she got out of the back seat and slid into the passenger seat next to her mom.
“Sorry I scared you, Mom.” She said.
First thing they did when they got home was walk together, arm in arm, to the next door neighbor, Maggy, to collect Warren, Jade’s gleeful Puppy-Doo.
* * *
In the weeks that followed their return from Colorado, Phoebe tried time and again to get Jade to talk with her about what happened and the gulf that seemed to be growing to a deep and open chasm between them. Jade shunned her mother’s advances and just barely followed the rules Phoebe set. Their conversations were superficial and perfunctory. When Phoebe tapped on Jade’s door at bedtime in the hope she might welcome a more grown-up version of the “tuck-ins” they used to share, Jade just called out “Good night, Mom” from behind the closed door.
Sunday mornings Jade slept in. She severed all ties with Redeemer Baptist, and when Phoebe asked her if she didn’t miss the church, she just shrugged her shoulders and walked away. It was pretty clear to Phoebe that Jade was punishing her for her crimes.
Jade took a summer job working at a play center at a park the next summer after she turned fifteen and saved every cent she earned in the hope of buying herself a car the minute she turned sixteen. Phoebe didn’t know at the time that Jade’s fierce resolve to raise this money and get her license was part of her plan to leave the little green house in Hopkins and move in with Jolee’s family to complete the last year and a half of high school.
When Phoebe went with her daughter to watch her hand over a check for $1750 for a faded orange Dodge Colt she had no idea how far that cheap, dilapidated car would take her daughter from her.
Jade moved in with Jolee. Warren often went for visits but Phoebe was never invited and Jade, thereafter, went by herself to her dentist and doctor appointments.
Phoebe did her best to stay involved in Jade’s life but more often than not felt unwelcome and in the way.
The Certain Success Center prospered and by 1992, the year Jade graduated from high school, funding accumulated to allow the purchase and renovation of a three story, fifty room former mansion not far from the Dorothy Day Center in downtown St. Paul. The building now served as homeless shelter, day care for children and a counseling service helping the poor deal with career and personal issues.
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