In Search of Eden (33 page)

“Teepees?”

Eden nodded. “They're really just tents with wooden floors, but they're fun to sleep in.” She sighed. “Grandma and Uncle Joseph bring me here sometimes.”

They passed under a signpost. “Camp Berachah,” Miranda read. “I wonder what that means?”

“It means ‘valley of blessing,'” Eden said. “It's from the Bible.”

Miranda stood still and was quiet. It was a little foolish, perhaps, but she felt something prick her then, and she remembered the pastor she had spoken with so many months ago. She couldn't remember his name, but she remembered his kind face and his warm eyes and how he told her that Jesus would help her and bring life into her heart if she would let Him, but He was a gentleman and would never force her to do anything she didn't want to do. She felt that same feeling here as she had felt that night. A warmth, but mixed with longing and a desire to move closer. To what? To whom? She shook her head to clear her mind. Eden and Grady were both looking at her strangely. She put on a smile, and this time she led the way toward the big wooden chapel.

She tried the door and felt a pang of disappointment when it was locked. She should have known better. After a moment of jingling and digging in her backpack, Eden handed her the keys. She unlocked the double doors, and they swung open easily, as if inviting them in. They stepped inside. The air was dusty and close but smelled good, a mixture of woodsmoke and dry warmth, and Miranda could almost see the rows of wriggling, warm children sitting here, scratching mosquito bites and shifting bare legs on the polished wooden benches. She could imagine Pastor Hector teaching them, and an older man who looked like Joseph but with a kinder, gentler face teaching them how to row and fish and swim, then blowing a whistle for them to line up for supper. She shook her head, for it was almost as if the presence of the children who had been through here was still strong. It was a foolish thought. Perhaps it was another Presence she felt. She felt
a longing even deeper than the one she had felt before, and to her dismay tears were pressing at her eyes.

“Let's go look at the lodge,” Eden said.

“You go on. I'll be right behind you,” she said, and after they took off running she had a moment to wipe her eyes on her shirttail.

She followed them to the lodge. Eden unlocked and swung open the door, and they all stepped inside. It was beautiful. The exterior walls were all of log and chinking, and the logs were a rich golden color. There were long trestle tables of the same golden wood in rows, with benches on each side. In the center was a huge fireplace, the chimney made of rounded river rock, the inside blackened from fires Miranda could still smell lingering in the air. The floor was tongue and groove. In the back she could see the doorway to the kitchen and the pass-through where she could imagine Ruth setting out bowls and platters of steaming food. There were plaques on the wall in various places with Bible verses:

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not to your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.

Whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.

We have received the spirit of adoption, the spirit of sonship, in the bliss of which we cry, Abba, Father.

She was shaken again, and she wondered why this place, so long abandoned, had the power to move her. It was as if there were something still living here. If she hadn't felt the sweetness of it, she might have said it was haunted. But there was no ghost here. Just a deep sense of calm and peace.

They went back outside and then over to the house. Eden
unlocked it. It was unfurnished. A beautiful home but in need of some repairs. They inspected one cabin, which was standard camp with four sets of bunks and a bathroom, and a teepee, which was a wall tent. The particular one they looked at was sagging, its pole having been knocked askew in the last windstorm. It looked as if a family of squirrels had built a nest in the corner.

After that she let the children run wild, and she walked down to the lake. The water was calm. She walked to the edge and splashed some on her hand. It was cold and refreshing. She wished she'd brought her suit, although the air was a little too cool for swimming. It was just the beginning of May. In another month it would be perfect. Eden and Grady returned. They continued their exploration, visiting the swimming area, the horseshoe pits, and the craft area, and Eden pointed out the shed that had once been the snack shop and trading post, and the ramshackle remains of the horse barn.

“This was quite a spread,” Miranda said in admiration. “I'm surprised your grandmother doesn't sell it.”

“She said she couldn't,” Eden said. “I think she always wanted my dad to run it, or Uncle Joseph.”

Miranda didn't say anything, since neither subject seemed safe. They wandered and talked, and after they had eaten the other half of their lunches and made sure all the buildings were locked again, they walked back up the road toward their bikes and the trail. At the top of the hill, Eden turned and looked back down, and so did Miranda and Grady. She could have been mistaken, but it was as if none of them wanted to go.

“Good-bye,” yelled Eden, and then Grady joined in and so did Miranda, and their voices echoed down the lake. Miranda smiled and thought she would try to remember this minute. This day, because she was happy and the children were happy and what did it matter if they were hers or not? She was with them, and there was this moment, and she would have it for always.

Ruth had supper waiting for them when they returned, and they were famished. The children took their plates into the family room to watch some television show. She and Ruth chatted easily through dinner. Miranda liked her. She was interesting and had a sharp sense of humor. After finishing her pork chops, creamed corn, mashed potatoes, and salad, Miranda stayed a little longer but excused herself before Ruth brought out the Key lime pie.

“I absolutely cannot fit another bite,” she said. “And I do have to get back and make a telephone call before it gets too late.”

“You come again, Miranda,” Ruth invited. “And thank you so much for going with the children today.”

“It was my pleasure,” she said. “I loved being there. Something about it was sweet and refreshing.”

Ruth smiled. “You must feel free to go there whenever you want.”

Miranda felt that she had been given a great gift. She would like to go there again, perhaps by herself, but of course that would depend on how long she stayed around these parts.

chapter
33

G
rady, shouldn't you call your father?” Ruth asked after Miranda had gone and the dishes were done. Grady looked guilty, which told her the answer to her question.

“Here,” she said, handing him the telephone. He dialed, and she couldn't help but hear his end of the conversation.

“Hi, Dad, it's me, Grady.”

Pause.

“Just around.”

Pause and a buzzing from the phone.

“Uh. No, sir.” Pause. “Yes, sir.”

More buzzing.

“I'm at Eden's house. We ate supper here.”

Pause.

“Yes, sir. Her grandmother's at home.”

Pause.

“Yes, sir.” Then the phone was handed to her. “My dad wants to talk to you.”

Ruth smiled and took the telephone. “Hello, Mr. Adair,” she said.

“Ma'am, I apologize for my son's behavior. I didn't know he
was going to impose on your hospitality like this.”

“Why, it was no problem, Mr. Adair, and I apologize, as well. If I had known you wanted him home sooner, I would never have allowed him to stay.”

“If you'll be so kind as to tell me where you live, I'll come and fetch him.”

Ruth gave directions, finished cleaning the kitchen, and had a pot of coffee on by the time Mr. Adair arrived.

She went to the door and greeted him. He was a tall, lanky man, six feet or so. He was suntanned and had dark hair salted with gray. His face looked weathered and careworn, but he had a very pleasant smile. He was holding his hat in his hands. She opened the door and invited him in.

“How do you do, ma'am. My name is Johnny Adair.”

“I'm pleased to meet you,” she said. “Won't you come in and have a piece of pie and some coffee? The children were just having their dessert.”

His eyes lit up. “You're tempting me.”

“It's Key lime. Homemade.”

He shook his head. “I haven't had a piece of homemade Key lime pie since my mama passed away.”

“Well, come in, then. Please.”

She led him through the family room into the kitchen. They passed Grady and Eden, who were eating ice cream and watching television. Grady looked up guiltily, but his father just ruffled his hair going by.

“I'll call next time, Dad.”

“I know you will, son,” Johnny said.

“Please, sit down,” Ruth said. “I hope you don't mind eating in the kitchen.”

“Not at all, ma'am.”

She had a thought. “Have you had your supper yet?”

“I'll get something on the way home.”

“Heavens no, you won't,” she said in dismay. “I told my son the other day, I throw away enough to feed another person. I've
got some beautiful pork chops and mashed potatoes and creamed corn that are just going to go to waste. Won't you have some? You'll enjoy your dessert more after you've eaten a good meal.”

He gave a mild protest, but she knew she had him. She fixed him a plate and sipped her coffee while he ate, exclaiming and groaning over her cooking. In between bites, he asked her questions, and she found herself telling him her life story. How she grew up in Richmond, how her father died, and how she taught school and then married her husband, how he had taken the job as police chief in the town here, and how they had bought the campground and run it until her husband was diagnosed with cancer, and how her two best friends and her son helped her for a few years, but she had finally given up.

“I know I should sell it,” she said, “but somehow I can't bear to part with it.”

“It's part of your life,” he said simply.

“You're right,” she said, feeling warmth at being understood.

“It would be wonderful if it could return to its former glory,” he said.

“I'm afraid that's not going to happen. Barring an act of God.” She didn't want to speak of David and Joseph.

They chatted a bit more. Mr. Adair had his pie, then he regretfully said he had to leave. He called Grady, carried his plate to the sink, and thanked her for the supper.

“I haven't eaten like that in longer than I can remember,” he said. “Thank you.”

“You are more than welcome,” Ruth said.

Grady and Eden appeared.

“Son, we have taken up enough of these good people's time.”

More protests, but Johnny Adair was firm. “I like to be rested on the Lord's day,” he said. “I'm not in the ministry any longer, but old habits die hard.”

“You were a minister?” Ruth asked.

“Not exactly, ma'am. I was a musician. I provided the music for Ernest Grayson's Traveling Crusades.”

“Well, imagine that,” Ruth said, and she looked at Johnny Adair with different eyes. They told each other good-night, and Ruth watched them leave. As she came inside she felt a twinge of apprehension. About Joseph and what he would say. She could almost hear his voice.
You let someone you don't know in the house? You fed him dinner? How do you know he's not a con man? How do you know he's not out to fleece you? You shouldn't be so trusting,
and so on and so on. Joseph couldn't understand, she realized. He had forgotten how to trust many years ago.

“Eden,” she said hesitantly.

Eden looked up, eyes wide, face innocent.

“I'm not sure your uncle Joseph would approve of letting Mr. Adair come to supper. Why don't you let me tell him about it,” she said.

“Sure,” Eden agreed. “Can I ride my bike until it gets dark?”

“Ride your bike!” she exclaimed. “That's all you've done all day! Aren't you tired?”

“No, I'm not tired,” Eden protested.

“Well, I think it's time for you to take your bath,” she said. “We've got church in the morning.” And in the fuss and confusion that followed, the business of telling Joseph conveniently faded from her mind.

chapter
34

T
he Hasty Taste was closed on Sunday, so Miranda decided today was the day she would get the answers she needed from Aunt Bobbie. After a quick breakfast, she took a walk for a mile or two up the trail and back, rehearsing all the while what she would say to her aunt. Back in her little apartment, she made the call. She asked for what she wanted and didn't back down, even though her aunt was again reluctant.